Retched or Wretched

Writers never rest.

Don’t think it’s all correct and you can move on.

I knew it should have been written w r e t c h e d, not retched. How many people read that line and assumed it had been spelled correctly? The context gave retched the intended meaning in the lab accident story, so it was passed over as written correctly many times.

Thanks to a reader it was caught; but even so I could’ve retched over that mistake. We’re editing that section and won’t be using the word now, but it’s a good lesson.

Sandy

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PEEK at IZ~ BOOK 2 CREATION

Having had only two days from our request to completion, Chalice Mitchell came through for us and drew the color page to go with this excerpt from BK 2. It made a fun handout at the FAPA Conference in Orlando on Saturday, August 8, 2015. DORF TZEUS IS HAVING A BAD DAY

Below is a re-edit of the draft shared at the FAPA conference.  Re-edit date 8/16/15

Dorf Tzeus, Chief Administrator of Genetics at the Ponce Heidon Institute of Genetics, is entering the lab. 

Such wonders of technology, Dorf mused. He flexed his shoulders to loosen the newly sprayed cocoon of yellow fibers that created his laboratory uniform, and stepped out of the wraptrap. Thankful for the few moments of peace the spraying afforded and now properly sanitized, he’d complete his… “YEEOWHISS.”  Something pierced his leg. He kicked hard to free himself from the attacker and lost his balance falling shoulder-first against a shelf that held carefully placed vials of cultures and containers waiting for their samples.  He grabbed the shelf to keep from falling but his heavy thrust dislodged it. Cultures, shelves of beakers, crucibles, and spot plates tumbled out hitting Dorf and crashing on the floor. His feet slid out from under him and he landed hard sliding over liquid, blood, glass shards and feces. “Feces?” he blurted as he saw it amidst the mix of liquids.

Sprawled on the floor, Dorf lifted up on one elbow avoiding as much of the glass and unknown substances as he could.

Through the yellow fibrous wrap protecting his calf was a double puncture wound oozing blood and forming an egg-white-like mucous. Ignoring his wound, he watched the mucous absorb his blood while turning a bright orange. The viscous substance, thick enough to maintain its oval shape, slid to the floor and began pulsating. Creepy, Dorf thought. He turned his head in every direction scanning the scene. How would he analyze it? Thousands of cells, bacterial and viral cultures mixed randomly and free of their identification were splattered everywhere. Finding which ones contributed to the pulsating orange mass would be a mind boggling project. He eased himself from the slimy soup, avoiding any contact with the glob that seemed to have a life of its own, and stood upright.

The accident had set off the security alarm. Its deafening sound pounded in Dorf’s head.  How’d an animal ever manage to get in here? Dorf worried as he tapped his DB to deactivate the alarm and send a message to all employees, BIOLOGICAL HAZARD, LAB 11 CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.