So the entire time I’ve had this blog, and there has been a writing category, and I have not posted any writing.

So here it is, the first few paragraphs of my as yet untitled Dieselpunk Novel.

The oil and grease didn’t wash off anymore, his fingertips were permanently blackened. Within a year he’d have black palms and wrists. Another year and he’d have black forearms and feet. It’s impossible to stop the progression and after it makes your hair fall out, it turns the whites of your eyes black.
Most men don’t even bother washing once it reaches the armpits, because it’s pointless. You can’t go back under the dome with the rest of the static folk; City Lords, Bucky followers and the tower residents. Most of them have never even seen a lifelong engineer with thick black skin and terrifying eyes. They didn’t even want to know about you once you stopped looking like them.
He put a hydro-tobacco cigar between his wet black fingertips and walked away from the engine room to one of the skeleton cars to feel the dirty air on his face. He lit his cigar and looked across the dry, crinkled earth. Danny was an engineer now, and he would never be getting off this train.