Hey, everyone! How’s NaNo going? I’m super, super behind!
Eh, I’m not going to be hard on myself about it. One of my projects at work fell back on me because a contractor didn’t come through, and another thing took me way longer than I expected.
Anyway, making overly ambitious plans is kind of my thing. As long as I make a lot of progress on this draft this month, I’ll be happy!
Whether you’re hitting your word count like a champ or trailing behind like me, share an excerpt of your work in progress! Keep it 500 words or less, without sexually explicit content. As always, no critiquing, though cheering people on is more than fine!
Here’s mine! In this scene, my heroine is buying pretty much all of the cupcakes in the café. My hero was in line behind her, and he tried to talk her out of it, because he wanted to buy them for his sister’s birthday party. However, he was unsuccessful.
[AdSense-B]
He asked, “So what is it, one of your students’ birthdays?” She nodded. “Aren’t the kids supposed to bring those?”
“Some kids come from homes where…” She shook her head. “There’s either not enough money or not enough paying attention. Or both.”
That hit him right in the gut. He knew very well about homes like that, because he’d grown up in one.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, his memories transported him back to the first grade, when his best friend at the time loudly asked him why he hadn’t brought treats for his birthday. After his mom had died, his dad had been distant, sleepwalking through life, not keeping track of even some very basic things. Of course, he’d been too young to process all that at the time. He’d just felt embarrassed and angry.
He hadn’t even remembered that in years. The fact that this woman looked out for children like that made something turn over in his heart.
“That’s very kind of you,” he said.
The lady behind the counter said, “That’ll be eighty dollars and twenty-five cents.”
Dismay flashed across her features. It was more than she’d expected, Dylan guessed. Well, she was a teacher; she probably didn’t make a big salary. Without even thinking about it, he said, “I’ll get that.”
She gave him a puzzled frown and the bakery lady said, “She was here first.”
He said to the teacher, “No, I—I just thought I’d get it for you.” Her eyes went wide, as though he’d taken leave of his senses, and, well, maybe that was the case. “For the kid, I mean,” he added.
She shook her head, though a smile played at her lips. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I insist.” Maybe he was being overbearing. “I mean, unless you say no again.”
That made her laugh. “Okay, since it’s for the kids, I’ll let you.” He loved her voice, with its wry drawl: it was like smoked honey. Her cheeks flushed pink. Wow. She was really pretty when she blushed.
He pulled out his wallet, counted out the money, and handed it to the lady behind the counter. “Thank you,” the Rainbow Woman said, picking up the box of cupcakes as Dylan took his change. “That’s very generous.”
Embarrassed, he shrugged it off. “My good deed for the day.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You do a good deed every day?”
“Um…no,” he said honestly. “Almost never.”
“Oh.” She appeared to be at a loss. “Well, I should go.”
“Yeah. Nice meeting you.—I’m actually heading out too.”
She nodded and they both moved toward the exit. Ugh. There was nothing more awkward then essentially saying good-bye to someone and then continuing to walk alongside them. To diffuse the weirdness, he said, “I’m Dylan, by the way.”
Go ahead and share yours–whether you’re doing NaNoWriMo or not–or just comment on how things are going! If you prefer to lurk, well, that is fine, too. Thanks for being here. And in any case, happy writing!
So enjoying the snippets from this WIP of yours, Bryn. Lol that type of exit usually can be embarrassing.
While my word count sucks, I’ve managed a few scenes for a number of stories I have stalled. Last year’s NaNoWriMo, I’d started Scott’s story but never finished it. Here’s a bit more of his story.
~*~
I set about making a coffee and a tea.
“How the hell did you find out where I live?”
“I didn’t. I live a couple of streets away when I saw you working in the yard two days ago.”
Sighing, I turn around and face him. He’s standing on the other side of the kitchen island, towel in hand as he watches me.
“Well, sit down.” I turn away from him to make our beverages then hand him his coffee. “Why are you here, Blake?”
“Not knowing how to find you, I was surprised to see you Tuesday. I was wondering how you were after we last saw each other.”
Rubbing my face then pushing my hair back from my face, for some reason I feel old and tired. And, I still have just under three weeks of my holiday left.
“I’m much better. Recovery took a little longer than we all expected.”
“You still on sick leave?”
“Nah, holidays. I’ve got over two and a half weeks before I go back to work.”
“You don’t exactly sound enthusiastic about the prospect.”
Peering at him, I’m surprised my feelings had been that obvious. I shrug.
“Is it because of what happened on that last hunt you weren’t supposed to be a part of?” Brows furrowing, he sounds worried. Not that I know why.
“Nuuh.”
“Then what, Scott? You should talk about it. It might make things easier, it might help. I might be able to help.”
“Yeah, I doubt that, Blake. You may be a therian now, but you don’t know that side of the world.”
Blake let’s out a short bark of laughter.
“What?” I growl at him. I don’t appreciate the kid laughing at me.
“What a childish comment. That is what teenagers say to adults. True, I might not know exactly what you’re going through but that doesn’t mean it can’t be equated to other walks of life. And, remember, I’m not a kid.”
The cheeky bugger grins while chastising me. Thirteen years difference between us but, in this moment, it’s almost like he’s older than me. Running my fingers through my hair, I sigh.
“Scott?” He asks gently.
I really like your dialogue and voice here! Makes me eager to read more!
Thank you, Kimberly. The story is slowly getting there.
I was going to say the same thing — love the voice! I can really hear them talk in my head!
I thought I just posted a comment with more of Ellie’s story but it’s not showing up anywhere. Considering I just fell out of my chair, I think I need to get back into bed and maybe try again later. lol
Oh no..you’d better get some rest!
I love this scene with the cupcakes (and can totoally relate to the $80 price tag – happened to me once. Never gonna do that again!). Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, Bryn. I learn so much from reading your writing style. <3
Attempt #2:
“Wes!” The voice came from behind Ellie. She looked at him first, and he leaned up to look past her.
“Austen, hey, man!” He smiled and waved.
Ellie turned to see a tall, dark blonde-haired man with striking green eyes heading toward their table. What stood out to her the most were the crows’ feet at the edges of his eyes as he smiled. There was something about him that she couldn’t put a finger on.
“Ellie, this is my best friend, Austen Shepperd,” Wes said as Austen took a seat with them. “Austen, this is Ellie Poppe, the nanny from Virginia.”
Austen’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, the new nanny. Poppe like the flower, right?” he asked her with his stunning smile, and then offered his hand. “Nice to meet you. How do you like our city?”
She shook his hand briefly, smiling, and said, “So far so good. Austin is beautiful.”
Austen cocked his head, peered at her and, with a devilish smile, said, “Why, I’m flattered.”
Heat rushed to the tips of her ears.
“I’m kidding. I’m sorry, I do that all the time,” Austen said, gently patting her forearm.
“Please don’t take him seriously,” Wes said. “Don’t take anything this man ever says seriously.”
“Listen, punk,” Austen quipped, smacking his friend’s bicep. “Ah, I see you’re still working out.”
“Dude, I own a bar. It’s all kegs and cases.”
“You’re running the promo next weekend, right?”
“For the council? Yeah.”
“You’re gonna be there, though?”
Wes lowered his eyelids, peering at him skeptically. “Yeah. Why?”
Austen shrugged and grinned at Ellie. “Ellie, did Wes ever tell you about his days on stage?”
Ellie blinked, chuckling nervously. “No, I don’t think it’s ever come up.”
Wes hid his face in his hands. “Oh, God.”
Austen ignored him. “Let me tell you something about this man, right here, Ellie. He’s good. I’m talking about acting, mind you.” He clicked his tongue and winked. “Seriously, though. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”
Ellie was struck with sudden recognition. “Wait. Are you…?” Those green eyes were suddenly far more familiar than she thought at first.
“I am,” Austen said, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “You’ve seen my movies?”
Trying not to be star-struck, Ellie nodded. “Yeah, my best friend is a huge fan. I just… Not to sound cliché, but it really is an honor to meet you, Mr. Shepperd.”
“Please, friends and family call me Austen.” He clapped his hand on Wes’s shoulder. “This man is both, and so are you.”
Ellie gushed. Thankfully, the burger baskets arrived just then, breaking up the awkwardness.
“I’m gonna let you two eat your lunch. Wes, I will see you next weekend, okay, buddy?” Austen stood up and straightened his jeans. “Looking forward to seeing you again, Miss Ellie. Take good care of my nephews and tell them Uncle Austen will kick their little rumps if they give you any trouble.”
A laugh bubbled over Ellie’s lips as she watched him leave. “Wow. Your best friend is Austen Shepperd?”
Wes playfully rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go straight to his head.”
“I take it you gave up acting,” she pried, picking up her burger. She needed two hands to hold it.
Chewing on his first bite, he nodded, set down his burger, and held up his index finger until he could swallow. “It was almost eight years ago.” He sighed. “A long time ago. Life changes, you know?”
Of course, she knew that. About a year and a half ago, she was planning her wedding. “Seems to me that some part of you still wants to see if you’ve still got it.”
He chuckled. “Maybe.” His phone sounded with new text messages and when he picked it up to look at it, he rolled his eyes and glared past Ellie.
She turned to see what he was looking for and saw Austen standing near a small group of people with his phone in his hands and a smirk on his face.
She cleared her throat and picked up a French fry. “You should think about it. What’s the worst that could happen?” It was the best darn French fry Ellie had ever tasted.
Lol I’m loving your snippets and look forward to whatever you share next.
Thank you! I’m really enjoying playing around with this new (for me) genre. No magic powers, no mystical creatures. lol
Ahh what a fun exchange. Wes needs to act again!!
Thank you 🙂 He will! Although that’s when the real trouble for the two of them begins 😉
I love these snippets from your WIP! I’ll be able to post mine after work. P.S. Weekly WIP Wednesday is so much fun. ?
Aww thanks! And yeah, I love seeing what everyone’s up to.
That’s the cutest conversation I’ve read in a very long time!!
Awww, thank you Helena!! 🙂
I like your meet cute, and the cupcake buying from the teacher. I’d do the same thing.
In mine, my character has fallen in love for the first time in her life (she’s 29) with a man who’s been cutting. (I excerpted out 94 words because it was too long!)
***
“You’re my favorite person to talk to here.” He nodded, leaning back. “It’s been nice to make a friend. Hell, right now you’re probably my best friend.”
Warmth filled my chest. I tried to keep my smile from going goofy and probably failed. “Thanks. I, uh…” Now was not the time to tell him how I felt. I converted what I’d been about to say into the next best thing. “…you too.”
He went back to shredding twigs, but this time he smiled as he looked at his boots. “I…well. I have a confession.” His smile curdled. He fumbled at his waist, the side away from me, and withdrew another sheathed, large, single-bladed bush knife. “Here.” He passed it to me, hilt first, without looking. “I bought it in Managua.”
“Miguel!” Exasperation filled my voice. I took the knife out of its sheath and examined the edge. Clean, sharp. Not the sort of thing he should keep. “You need to stop cutting yourself. Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” His lips pursed. I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining all too clearly the damage one of those knives could do. “I’m going to try to go without cutting again, now that I’m back.”
“Good.” I slid the knife into my belt, clipping it in place. “I worry about you. What happens if you die?”
“Then I’m dead.” He side-eyed me again. “Though I don’t want to die nearly as much now as I did earlier.”
My heart melted, pooling, warm and sticky-sweet, in my shoes. “It would hurt”—devastate—”me if you died.”
I took his hand and stood, clutching it as the world wheeled around me. “Are you okay?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern.
I breathed from my belly, trying to make everything stand still for a moment. I couldn’t think, not properly. Tremors raced through me. I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. I looked over his shoulder at one of the trees. I felt curiously light, weak-kneed, surreal, as if I’d float to the top of the highest canopy layer if he let go of me. “I—I think I love you,” I said. My expression had to be a treat. My eyes dropped to his face; it looked—congealed. I inhaled and nodded a third time as my belly settled. “I do. I love you. I fell in love with you.”
There. It was done. I waited, my mind subtracting all sound but his voice.
It started in his eyes, traveled down his face. The sad look. The sorrowing, sympathetic, pained look. It struck me and emptied my world, sucking out all the light, the warmth, leaving nothing behind.
“I’m so sorry.” He looked as if he’d been punched. He dropped my hand. It fell to my side, a forgotten appendage. “I am not in love with you.”
Aww…poor girl. You did a really good job of making me feel her emotions!
Oh my goodness, I was all nervous for her then I bawled my eyes out at his statement. Thank you for sharing.
Oh maaaaaaan. So much about this was so painful! Oooof. Really well done.
Wow, I felt right along with the main character when he knocked her back. Thank you for sharing…awesome job.
Oof. That hurt. Poor thing. Why is he pretending he doesn’t feel that way?? lol!
That was such a cute excerpt, Bryn! I love how you wove in the tidbits of Dylan’s back story.
This excerpt from my NaNoWriMo project picks up from the one I shared 2 weeks ago. Claire’s BFF shows up to school in full zombie makeup and says she’s making a statement. Now we find out what the statement was.
But Dani’s face is serious. “Yesterday Terwilliger told me my tank top was a distraction. He actually measured the width of the straps in front of everyone, then made me go to the principle’s office to cover up. I had to wear someone’s old sweatshirt from the lost and found. It was humiliating.”
“I’ll bet.” Mr. Terwilliger was our math teacher last year, and Dani has him again this year. He’s about a kajillion years old, and he has had it out for her since day one. “But it was 95 degrees yesterday. Surely any reasonable human being would take that into account.”
“Yes, but you can’t put Terwilliger and ‘reasonable human being’ in the same sentence.”
“My mistake.” Mr. Terwilliger nearly gave me an A minus. An A minus. Me. I know how tough he is. He’s going to be a real bear to deal with when we hit the academic Olympics come November.
“I want to show him what a distraction really is.” There’s a glint in her eyes and a mischievous smile that doesn’t crack her makeup.
My mouth drops open and I just stare.
“There’s nothing in the school dress code against zombie makeup,” Dani insists. “I checked.”
“But wouldn’t bringing a cardigan be an easier solution than, oh, I don’t know, waking up two hours early to put on zombie face?”
Dani just stares, pressing her lips into a thin, straight line. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
“Which is?”
“It’s hot, and my arms are nothing to be ashamed of, C.”
“No, of course not.” I want to understand, but fear I’m failing badly. “You have the right to bare arms.”
Ah, a bit of a hot (pun not intended) topic. Love the exchange. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, my gosh. I LOVE this kid! (And I hate that teacher. Haha.)
I love it! I’m a teacher, and I’d SO be behind that. What an excellent idea. I want to read what happens next!
Oh wow, I had an evil flashback to my high school geometry teacher!!! He scared the crap out of me…wish I’d had the gall to do something like this. Good stuff, Kimberly!
Oh, Dani. I feel like Claire is the ying side to Dani’s yang in their friendship lol
This is such a cute story. Looking forward to more!
Here’s where my story left off from last week. Clara’s father’s friend and colleague just showed up at her house when he was supposed to be on an archaeological expedition with her father.
Clara felt her heart sink and turned to walk blindly into the parlor. She sank down on the settee where she had been sitting just minutes before.
“I’ll fetch some brandy,” Mae said, bustling over to the table by the window and pouring three glasses.
“Thank you,” Charles said, accepting a glass. He waited until Clara had a glass in hand and then spoke. “Clara…it is your father. I am so sorry to tell you this, but Augustus has died.”
“What?” Clara’s voice came out in barely more than a whisper as she felt the shock go through her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mae place a hand to her chest and let out a little cry. Tears filled Clara’s eyes, and she shook her head. “It can’t be. Father can’t be dead.”
Charles looked at her sympathetically. “I am so sorry, but it is, Clara. We think it was a heart attack.”
“What…How…? I don’t understand.” Clara couldn’t seem to find words.
“We found him in his tent one morning. There was no injury, no illness that we could see. He was just gone.”
Tears spilled down Clara’s face.
Mae touched her gently on the shoulder. “Have some brandy, dear.” Mae’s voice was choked, but in her haze, Clara could tell the woman was trying to be strong for her.
Clara nodded and took a small sip. The taste of the alcohol on her tongue seemed to imbue her with a least a little of her usual sense. “Where is he now?” She looked up at Charles.
“He is on the boat. I will have him delivered to you first thing tomorrow.” Charles pulled a bag off his shoulder. Clara had not noticed it before. He opened the leather satchel and reached in, pulling out a leather-bound book. “Here is his journal. I thought you would like to have it now. The rest of his belongings are still onboard.”
Clara took the book in one hand and tilted back her glass, draining the brandy. She sat the glass down on the table beside her with a sharp clink. “Thank you.” Her voice had strengthened a little.
Charles looked from Clara to Mae. “I will not tarry. I know you both need your rest, and you need to grieve. I just wanted to come to you as soon as I could. I hope you will forgive the lateness of the hour.”
Mae reached out and patted the man’s hand. “You did well, Charles. Clara needed to know. My brother was lucky to have a friend such as you.”
Charles nodded and started for the door. “I will let myself out.” He turned back and faced Clara. “I will return tomorrow with your father. I hope you are able to find some rest tonight, dear girl.” He turned back, and moments later, Clara heard the door open and then click shut.
Clara turned to her aunt. Mae opened her arms, and Clara fell into them, her sobs finally spilling free.
Poor, poor Clara. I cried too, but could a bit of sleuthing be happening soon? Thank you for sharing.
Definitely some sleuthing coming soon…
Ha! I knew it lol.
Ah, thank you for sharing. You have such a strong historical voice…that can be a hard thing to learn, but I bet you come by it naturally.
Thanks, Bryn! I worked as a living history interpreter and museum educator for several years.
I’ve been enjoying your excerpts. I really feel the setting and characters. Looking forward to more!
Thank you!
“Agnes, this is my friend Reid.”
Agnes had to be at least 75 years old. She had a snowy white bouffant hairdo and reading glasses hanging on a chain around her neck. “Well aren’t you handsome! You done got you a good one Jessie!”
Jess blushed and ignored her comment. “You need a visitor’s badge. Sign in here.”
Reid looked through the names above his as he signed. “Well Miss Agnes, if I’d a known there was a lady as pretty as you out there I might have just thrown Jessie aside and courted you instead.”
“Ha!” she cackled. “I know your kind, all smooth talking and fancy smelling. You let me know if Jessie turns you out.”
“I will surely do that. Say I don’t suppose I could get you to do me a big favor?” he said with a wink.
“What can I do for you?”
He spoke in a loud stage whisper, “I need to see who my competition is. Can I get a copy of this visitor list so I can see who’s been coming to visit my Jessie while I’m not looking?”
“I’ll have it for you in a jiffy. You go on with Jessie and I’ll have it waiting here on the desk when you are ready to leave.”
“You are a gem Agnes.”
Reid pinned on the visitor badge and walked with Jess toward the lab. Jess couldn’t help but laugh. “You certainly know how to sling the woo don’t you?”
“So you don’t think Agnes is woo worthy?”
“I love her dearly. She’s been like a second mother to me since my parent’s died.”
Reid stopped in his tracks. “What? When did that happen? I’m so sorry Jess. How awful for you!”
“They had a car accident five years ago. Hit head on by a trucker who fell asleep behind the wheel. That’s when I started researching my drug. I needed to find a way so no one else will ever have to die like that.”
I’m 20k words into my NaNoWriMo and just finished plotting from here to the end. This is so fun! I love reading all of the snippets! I’ve been using several of your Master Lists, Bryn!
I’m so glad it’s going so well and you’re having fun! That is great. And I’m so honored that my book was helpful!
I’m loving the scenes from this story and look forward to reading it when it’s complete. You are doing way better than me in the word count but at least I have more to three stories than I did before lol.
Hi, Diana! Aww, I like Agnes and Reid! And poor Jess. Thank you for posting!
Oooh, Reid…I’m liking him. And the dynamic between him and Jess. Looking forward to more! And awesome job…20k is massive!!
It looks like I’m going to fail Nanowrimo, but it’s for a GOOD reason. Seriously. It is. I GOT A JOB! *tosses confetti* A REAL LIVE FULL-TIME JOB! *tosses more confetti*
I start first thing tomorrow morning. I will be working in a law office. And I will have a good lunch break in which to write.
So what I am working on is… getting ready for tomorrow, and deciding what writing I will work on during my lunch break.
Yay you! Awesome!
Wonderful news.
Congrats, Debby! That’s terrific. Have a great first day.
YESSSSS! Debby, congratulations! That sounds great!!
Great excerpt, Bryn! My Nano is trash. I’m, so lost in this novel, I’m not sure what I’ve shared. So, I will simply share a brief sketch I made the other day at the local coffee shop. Enjoy!
She sits mesmerized by her laptop. The glow of the screen reflecting a blue hue on her skin, making her paler than she really is. She wears her brunette hair in a ponytail on one side of her head. Her gray eyes accentuated by dark brown eyebrows giving her a sense of Italian mystery. That mystery is solved when she speaks, betraying her Ohio upbringing.
He didn’t mind that so much. Sometimes the slow southern drawl grated on him. He thought her speech somewhat refreshing. He watched her stand, approach the register, and speak. Her full lips barely moved as she clipped, “youwantwhiptcreamwidthat?” He smiles and nods. Then watches her work.
Baristas and bartenders were always interesting to him. They seemed to sense where every ingredient was and moved with the precision of a NASCAR pit crew. It helps that her body is young and vibrant, a welcome distraction to the day.
For a moment, he imagines her with her hair down, softly cascading over bare shoulders. She is wearing a strapless blue evening dress, short but not too. Her make-up is just enough to declare that she is on-the-town, not so much to disguise her natural beauty. She is standing outside his apartment door. Are they going out or returning?
“Blackntanwidcream”
He smiles as he takes the drink and returns to his world, leaving her forever standing at the door.
Hi, Mark! Hey, plenty of good books start out as trash. 🙂 Love the descriptions and the romantic mood of this. Thanks for posting it!
Thank you!
Lol…I was right there with the barista…she reminded me of the girls I used to work with. And don’t worry about NaNo…sometimes you just need to step back from a work for a little while and come back at it with fresh eyes. 🙂
Thank you!
This was such a great interaction, Bryn. I loved Dylan’s honesty…sweet and so funny at the same time.
I’ve been panicking over the idea of editing, and this piece gave me some serious practice (and actually made me feel good when I’d finished tearing it apart). I got it down from 887 to 521 words (still over a bit, but what a massive cull!). It carries on from a few posts ago, when Aeoulys had his ugly encounter and we briefly met Yenndelle. She was ultimately charged with taking him “somewhere they’ll find him.” His jaw is broken and tied up, so his responses happen as thoughts.
———————-
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Yenndelle shifted behind him in the saddle and put her hand on his thigh. “The very first time?”
Aeoulys’s muscles tightened at the unexpected intimacy of her touch. They shared a professional relationship four years ago. Yenndelle had been attractive and infuriating in equal measure, a dark-furred figure of rage with coppery eyes.
He nodded in response to her question. She’d been among the first round of recruits he swore in as Imperator General. He’d been under pressure to establish dominance, and the upstart female forced him to set the tone for his commission. She earned the dubious distinction of being the only new recruit ever placed in solitary confinement on her first day. Not only had Yenndelle earned a dressing down once he released her, he’d assigned her to mucking out the palace stables for a month.
“I’m surprised. You were so new to the office, and I was a nobody. Wait…I take that back. I was a nightmare: angry, loud, insubordinate. My sergeant hated me, especially after I punched him in the face. I remember the look he gave me when they locked me up. I started singing in Graeoran at the top of my lungs…very badly, I might add.”
‘Please don’t make me laugh,’ he kept his face neutral against the pain. ‘You deserved better than the military service your father forced on you.’
She went quiet, her hand still on his thigh. “I remember the first time I met you face to face, Jarus Emparti. You were furious. Oh, the look in your eyes… Thanks to you, I smelled like shit for a month!” Her laughter was beautiful as a string of pearls. Her fingers pressed against his leg, and she sobered. “Half of me hated the establishment you represent. The other half…” She tugged the reins, directing her mount north. Her voice trembled, “That other half would have done anything in the world for you…even now.” She exhaled hard.
His pulse quickened. ‘Did you just admit to having feelings for me?’ He waited to see if she’d say anything else.
“Yeah, I just admitted that,” she whispered, removing her hand from his thigh. “From the moment we met, I…I couldn’t help…” She sighed. “Hands off now; I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.”
‘What? You hear me? Don’t you dare stop listening now!’ Pushing through the pain inspired by fresh movement, he stretched his arm backwards and grasped her wrist. He pressed her hand to his thigh and projected, ‘You can hear what I’m thinking right now?’
Yenndelle wriggled uncomfortably. “Yes, I can hear you…I can feel what you feel, too.”
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She wasn’t under any obligation to share this with him. ‘How much of me have you read? Were you reading me when I was lying on the floor back there?’
“I’m so sorry, Aeoulys. It’s not something I announce to the world, and it’s not something I do on a whim. I don’t want to know or feel the tiniest scrap of what other vardii have in their heads. You…you’re different.”
Hey, Bryn. I like “the Rainbow Woman,” the exchange about a daily good deed, and the saying-goodbye-but-walking-together thing. Nice twist: “I mean, unless you say no again.”
The Trevelyan brothers’ adventure continues in chapter 16 of my Dragon Age romance, The Amatus and the Altus:
Ava got the fire going without magic and Dorian shook his head in amusement, his perfectly sculpted mustache moving gracefully with the twist of his smooth lips. Karl sighed and looked away. It was impossible to have a private conversation here about . . . whatever was—or wasn’t—between them. He’d told Leo the truth when he’d said nothing happened the night he’d slept on the floor of Dorian’s cabin.
Varric stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together. “Sure wish there’d been time to rummage through Josephine’s crates for Antivan coffee before we left.”
Ava pulled a pot and small sack from her saddlebag and handed them over. “There was time. Don’t blame me if it keeps you up all night. We leave before dawn.”
Varric stared at the items in his hands for a moment and laughed. “Is there any miracle you can’t pull off?”
“Yes,” she said succinctly, and turned to unload the tent she shared with Cassandra.
Varric opened the bag. “Uh, Sparkler, you know how to put the beans in this contraption?”
Dorian released an overdramatic sigh. “Of course, my uncultured friend. Give them here.”
Karl and Leo brushed out the horses, set up their own tent, and crawled inside. It didn’t chase away the cold, but the warm orange light of the fire danced along the walls of the tent, keeping the darkness at bay.
“Sure you don’t want to switch places with Varric?” Leo asked, burrowing down into his bedroll. “You and Dorian could, uh, talk.”
Karl made a noncommittal sound in return. They lay in the quiet for several minutes, tired but awake.
“He held your hand, you know, when you were in that healer’s tent, and we didn’t know if—if you would ever wake.”
“He did?” Karl’s heart pounded faster. Had his dream been real, then?
“Are you two really that clueless?”
“No.” Karl rubbed at his Marked palm, more sad than anxious. It didn’t itch so bad this far away from Skyhold. “We’re just . . . cautious.”
“Yeah,” Leo whispered. “Go for the high jump, Karl. You can make it.”
Ooh, I was on the edge of my seat to see what happens between Karl and Dorian! Great excerpt!
Thanks, Lisa! This scene came to me when I had just planned on writing a few sentences to transition from one locale to another, and more heart came through. I’ve got most of the story mapped out, but keep discovering new things as I write about Karl and Dorian.
I love it when characters start “speaking” to you and take you places you hadn’t consciously considered. To me, it means they are coming alive and want their stories told. Looking forward to your next snippet. 🙂
Cute excerpt Bryn! Love that every Wednesday is a WIP Wednesday 🙂 I feel like there’s a lot more to Dylan, with those snippets from his past, which makes me want more! I also like that his interest in this girl is already influencing him, yay character development!
I was inspired by your romantic scene and decided to share my own. It’s from the piece that is taking most of my time for NaNoWriMo. (I’m also behind, ha.)
Clara stopped in front of a plain wooden box. She was about to open it when a warm hand was placed on top of her own, it was clearly a man’s hand, with squared off fingers. The veins that ran up his arm and over his exposed ropey muscles looked like small roots.
“I doubt you want anything in there.” Clara looked up, he was tall, (though most people were taller than Clara) so she had to tip her head up to see the rest of him. He was wealthy, his doublet was embroidered with real gold thread, his buttons set with small rubies. Clara guessed he was older than her, but he was clean shaven which made it hard to tell by how many years. He had light brown tossled hair, a ring through one ear and twinkling dark eyes. Clara blushed and looked back at the box, aware that she had been staring. She removed her hand from under the handsome strangers.
“And how do you know I don’t want anything in there?” Clara asked. The stranger smiled,
“Have you been to Dawnhaven before? I’ve never seen you.” He asked, Clara swallowed, she wasn’t sure how she should respond. Maedith had always told her to never reveal any information to strangers. Clara had always thought that was a little idiosyncratic, but after Maedith told her why… Clara decided to avoid the question.
“I never seen you in Dawnhaven, perhaps you are new.” Clara said. The stranger smiled and Clara pointed towards the box.
“These are glass eyes – or rather – they’re preserved eyes. They used to belong to Seers. Pick one up and you might see all the mistakes you’ll ever make, you might pick up another and find out what your friends really think of you, or how you’ll die. They are unpredictable and very dangerous; but you tell me, are they quite what you’re looking for, my Lady?” The stranger asked. Clara blushed again. She had spoken to young men before of course, but this was different.
“Not today.” She said, Clara wondered if one day she might find herself looking into Aunt Maedith’s eyes in a wooden box, ready to be sold away, she shuddered. The young man moved around the stall, Clara looked over the rest of him as he moved a few feet away. He wasn’t a mountain of muscle, not like some of the Knights Clara had seen, but he was athletic looking in an aerodynamic way. His velvet cloak was flung back over one shoulder, and Clara followed it down noting the way his back tapered into an upside-down triangle. He wore loose fitting pants and no shoes – definitely not human.
A sword was attached to his waist. There was something about the way he moved that fascinated Clara. She wanted to watch until she found the words to explain it. He was confident with his steps, balanced, but he also seemed to glide. Clara picked up a necklace to look at to keep from staring, she was aware that the old goblin was still anxious for her to purchase something.
Clara ran her fingers over the broaches, she knew that she should buy something quickly and go, but she didn’t really want to leave the handsome Fae so soon. The stranger stepped up to her
“Perhaps one of these interests you. If it’s not your day for eyes.” he said. He held out a bouquet of lace handkerchiefs, there were flowers pressed between the fabric.
“They’re beautiful.” Clara said, she could feel magic inside, like a tiny pulsing heartbeat. Clara looked up at the handsome young man, who was watching her face with his brown eyes.
“And will it tell me secrets about myself?” Clara asked, her lips quirked up on one side.
“Why my Lady, just the opposite.” the stranger said with mock seriousness.
“It keeps all your secrets, stores them with your tears, your wishes with every eyelash.” He said, they locked eyes. Clara was the first to look away. He cleared his throat.
“They are very lucky.” He said, he picked one with blue flowers
“And these match your eyes.” he said smiling. Clara laughed, looking away again.
“A handkerchief for the Lady please.” The young man said to the goblin. She smiled a wide toothy smile, and the young man paid before Clara could take something out of her purse.
“Do you make a habit of buying handkerchiefs for obscure young ladies?” Clara asked.
“Only when they don’t want eyes.” he said, Clara laughed, blushing.
“I should go, thank you.” Clara said stepping back. The young man stepped forward,
“Do you have a name my Lady?” he asked.
“I do.” Clara said smiling, though she didn’t say anything else. The stranger smiled back, he knew her silence was deliberate.
“It’s just that, I wondered what initials will be going on that handkerchief.” he asked, Clara swallowed, she knew what Maedith would say, but what were the chances they would meet again? And besides, Maedith had left her, vanished without so much as a goodbye, she could take all of her flaming rules with her Clara thought angrily.
“C. R. for Clara Ravenhill.”
Ah, the tall handsome stranger! I liked the way they danced around their attraction. Hope you share more!!
I’m anxious to read more of this story. Nice work!
Ok. You’ve hooked me with this little excerpt. The eyes and the handkerchiefs are so fun to read about. Very curious!
Bryn that was a nice short read as I drink my morning coffee! I like your positive commentary in your blog! I’ve not written in a while, being plagued with negative thoughts on my writing ability. I continue to lurk amongst my favorite contemporaries and see what you’re doing! Mickey Goad, Maryland
Ooohhh, this is fun to see people’s excerpts!! I’m a bit behind—I’m both NaNo and emails:)—because of a family trip to Disney, but here is an excerpt from my very first NaNo:
Handsome?
The word had flitted through her head before she could stop it. Running a hand through her long, dark bangs again, she stepped onto the elevator, thankful that she could ride alone and have a moment to gather her thoughts. She held her hand against her forehead and guiltily shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the thought. Truth was, she thought Colin Clarke to be incredibly handsome and it both terrified her and riddled her with guilt. His warm, friendly demeanor shouldn’t compel her to always return his smile, his deep brown eyes shouldn’t send her stomach into somersaults; she was a widow, happy with her quiet, single existence and the memory of having loved someone so completely that it had shattered her when he died.
The elevator dinged to announce her arrival to the ground floor, and Madeline squared her shoulders and straightened her hair before exiting to the lobby–she had to face Brandy to check-out and, no doubt, deliver her report on any findings of Detective Colin Clarke.
“That didn’t take long,” Brandy said with a disappointed look as she passed the person in front of Madeline a visitor’s badge. “Elevators to the second floor,” she said absently to the man she’d just checked-in, waving her hand airily toward the bank of elevators.
“Detective Clarke was pulled away just now.”
Brandy picked up her police radio and checked the dial. “I didn’t hear another call go out for ERT.”
Madeline shook her head and pulled the badge from her jacket and handed it to Brandy. “Something personal, I think. I did learn something for you,” Madeline said, smiling at the disappointment written on the woman’s face.
“Ooh, do tell,” she said excitedly as she took the badge.
“He’s got two kids, both boys, but no mention of a wife.”
Brandy looked at her skeptically before looking to her computer screen to check Madeline out of their system. “He’s too cute to be single.”
Madeline shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that, but he has a picture of his two boys on his desk, but no picture and no mention of a wife.”
“Girl, you are blind if you think he’s not cute,” she said with an impatient look as she typed.
Madeline opened her mouth to change the subject just as a voice behind her said, “I’m glad at least Brandy thinks I’m cute.” Startled, Madeline whirled around wide-eyed to see Colin standing a few feet behind her, the leather-bound notebook she’d used to take notes in his hand.