It also occurred to me that the most obvious translation of Signi would be Signs, so, in case there is any confusion, I would like to state that the novel will not contain a) aliens, b) tinfoil hats, or c) Mel Gibson pulling faces like he just swallowed a toad. Sorry if this is a disappointment to any of you.
Probably will start with the real writing tonight or tomorrow depending on whether my dad decides he finally wants to check out Dogma after dinner (we've been watching Kevin Smith college "lectures" and enjoying them muchly). Thinking I'm going to borrow matociquala's habit of posting word counts and snippets along the way. I've already pulled together an opening to join in the sharing at yaandmgwriters, so I will leave you with that:
(Subject to change as the muse strikes me)
From the moment she stepped into the office, Angie knew it was going to be one of those days. She'd only been at McLellan High for ten minutes, and already she was seeing things.
Leaves. They fluttered between the shadowed creases of the trench coat. They unfurled into blunt hearts, like the papery-brown shapes she'd brushed through on the front walk that morning. Poplar. She might have thought they were real, if the light hadn't shone right through them when they flickered out from beneath the chair, and if it weren't rather unheard of for teenage boys to shed dying leaves.