Hey there! For anyone who’s new to the blog, on WIP Wednesdays, I share an excerpt of what I’m working on and invite you to do the same in the comments. Keep it under 500 words, with no sexually explicit material. Sharing your work here is a low-risk venture, since we don’t critique work in progress — though supportive comments are more than welcome!
National Novel Writing Month is almost over, and starting next week, I’ll go back to once-a-month WIP Wednesdays. It’s been so much fun to see more of what people are doing, though!
If you’re on track to win NaNo: yes! Good job! And if you didn’t do it: eh, so what? Any month can be a productive writing month.
In my excerpt today, Paige is in her kitchen with her best friend and fellow teacher when she gets some unwelcome news from her landlord.
[AdSense-B]
Harry took a deep breath. “Paige, I was trying to tell you the other day, but uh…” He looked down at his shoes. “The truth is, I’m going to be selling the cabin.”
“What?”
Paige’s whole body felt cold, as though the life had drained out of it. Jessica stared at her, eyes wide with empathy.
The inspection guy said, “Honestly, you were lucky to be renting it for what he was charging.”
Paige couldn’t think of what to say. My cabin. Her sweet little haven. She’d even started writing a story about it. And it wasn’t going to be hers any more.
“You’re just kicking her out?” Jessica demanded of Harry, speaking up for her the way a good friend did.
Harry managed to look Paige in the eye. “When it gets sold, I’ll give you forty-five days’ notice.”
That was more than fair, she knew. It was his right to sell the place at any time. But it didn’t feel fair. It felt like a betrayal. “I thought you liked me.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. For heaven’s sake, she sounded like one of the six-year-olds in her class.
Harry looked pained. Was he going to change his mind?
“I do like you, Paige. But it’s been lonely here without Donna. Like I said the other day.” She hadn’t understood him before. Maybe she could’ve listened a little better. “My daughter thinks I should move down to Albuquerque and be closer to them. So I’m selling my house and the cabin both. I’d just like to be around her and the grandkids.”
Paige’s heart melted. “And I’m sure they’d love having you around.” Harry was probably about the nicest grandpa around. She was glad that he’d be close to his family. It was where he belonged. “Of course you have to go. I just…”
There was no sense making him feel guiltier about it, even if she loved the cabin with all of her heart, and even if it had made her feel like luck was finally on her side. “Well, anyway,” she said. “I should let you get to the inspection.”
She sat back down at the kitchen table, though the sight of the construction paper pumpkins, oddly, made her heart sink.
“Welp, let’s look at the water heater,” the inspector guy said. Harry let him to the utility room off the main living area.
“Oh, honey.” Jessica patted her arm. “I know how much you love this place. And you just made that twill shower curtain.”
“Toile,” Paige corrected her unthinkingly. “And I planted tulips for next spring.” She pressed her fingers against her temples. “Ugh, I’m such an idiot.”
“Excuse me,” Jessica said with mock indignation. “Nobody talks about my friends that way.”
If you want to, go ahead and share your own excerpt below — or just tell us how your writing is going. In any case, thanks so much for reading!
Hey, Bryn, nice use of Paige’s POV. She’s taken such care with the details around her home, it makes me interested in seeing how she goes about making a new one.
Today I posted a cute short story about a gentleman dwarf wooing a lady Qunari. For wip Wednesday, here’s an excerpt from the upcoming chapter 17 (“Herald’s Kiss”) of The Amatus and the Altus:
Dawn on the Storm Coast was as dreary as mid-day had been. Sometimes Dorian wondered how the South had survived so long with so little sun. He pulled on an extra pair of socks before donning his boots, yearning for the broiling heat of Minrathous, sun on his naked shoulders, enough light he could still tell it was daytime if he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky.
“Shit weather,” Varric muttered, “But at least we don’t have to get back on a boat.”
“Hmm,” Dorian said in reply. If there wasn’t any Antivan coffee left this morning, he didn’t know what he’d do. To chase away this chill, he needed something hotter and richer than basic Fereldan fare had to offer.
Thankfully, there was coffee, and he didn’t even have to ask for it. As soon as he followed Varric out of the tent, Karl was there, handing him a steaming mug. The beautiful Marcher offered him a shy smile that made him want to kiss him, but they had an audience of strangers, so he settled for squeezing Karl’s hand.
Karl’s smile widened, and Dorian felt warmer even before he raised the mug to his lips. Imagine, making Karl Trevelyan shy. His ego strut about like a peacock in his chest.
Love it. I love reading about new love, I’m such a romantic lol. Thank you for sharing.
Awww, this is sweeeeet. I love how dreary it is…and then all the sudden, he sees Karl and everything brightens up. 🙂
Oh my goodness, how sad. Especially when one loves the place. Thank you, Bryn. I love reading your works.
Last day of NaNo for me and I’m not going to hit the half way mark lol. But, I do have more words to four stories so that’s good 🙂
This continues from last week. Oh, and f bomb warning…
~*~
“I feel like I’m burning out. What the f*** am I fighting for when the rogues and victims look like they’re still kids. Even twenty five to forty years ago, both at least looked like they were adults. It’s like I’m not making a difference at all.”
“True, I don’t know the specifics of the world you fight in but change the career and apply those issues to those that fit in with any given job and most will understand what you’re going through. You fight because you know it’s right. It’s true most Altereds have been changed against their will, but not all are bad and break the law. Nor do they normally try to get revenge.
“I’m sure, others like me, are willing to let guys like you get revenge for us. But…!” He holds up a finger. “Even you guys need to take time off. If you work too hard and too long, then physical and mental exhaustion can set it. The physical side of it is easy to deal with. It’s the mental exhaustion that definitely needs the time.
“Scott, if, at the end of your holidays, you discover you’re still feeling this way then you need to seriously consider taking more time off. If still so at the end of that, then definitely think about what it is you would like to do. It’s no use continuing to do something if your heart and mind aren’t into it anymore as that could get you killed.”
I stare at him. I didn’t expect such an intelligent response from him and that assumption is my own fault.
“So, in other words, enjoy the time off now and think about it and decide upon it later.”
“Yep.”
Surprisingly, a weight eases off my chest. It doesn’t completely disappear but it’s not as crushing as before. Going over to the sink to rinse my cup, I note how dark and heavy the clouds are sitting in the sky. Picking up my mobile, I check the weather app.
Next Chapter
“Looks like the rain is settling in and going to get heavier.” I look up at him. “You have the choice of leaving when you’re ready or staying until the rain eases.”
“Well, if it’s okay with you, I think I’d rather stay until the rain lightens.”
Working at keeping my expression neutral, I mentally groan. That’s what I get for giving him a choice. It’s going to be torture, I know it. Instead, I nod and head to the freezer. It’s still summer, despite the cool weather the rain has brought with it, so something simple is the way to go.
I grab out some snags for dinner tonight; lamb with rosemary, pumpkin and fetta sausages sounds good. They’ll thaw quick enough. I’ll just fry them up and serve them with salad on the side. Easy. Catching sight of Blake out the corner of my eye, I grab a second pack, as well as two packs of bacon for tomorrow’s breakfast. If he’s still here, I’ll worry about dinner tomorrow after breakfast.
I used to laugh at Kaelan’s stories about Sarah’s appetite. Now, I’m going to learn firsthand how much a therian will eat.
“Stupid question here, but are you hungry?” I ask.
Hi, KC! Oh man, I really liked this. Such a realistic evocation of burnout and frustration.
Annnnd then I got hungry at the end.
Poor Paige!
NaNo is getting real in this house!! 8,000 words to get in before the end of Thursday—I will do it! Here’s more of the cuteness between MC and the hottie Brit love interest.
With one last fortifying breath, Madeline knocked sharply on the open door of Colin’s office and stepped inside, her pulse speeding rapidly when he looked up from the copy of the Washington Post he was reading as he reclined casually in his chair.
“Ms. Talbot.”
Telling herself she wasn’t disappointed by the formal, overly-polite greeting and half-smile he gave her that wasn’t the easy one she decided she preferred, Madeline asked, “Hard at work today?” She fervently hoped she sounded friendly rather than sarcastic.
Colin folded the paper and set it on his desk. “I’m actually waiting on an informant to bring me a tip about a possible robbery suspect.” He motioned to the chair she’d sat in before. “Have a seat.”
Debating whether or not to apologize for her comment the weekend before, Madeline shook her head and said, “I’m–”
“Is this–”
They’d spoked simultaneously as Madeline had been about to apologize, both stopping for a moment before speaking at the same time again.
“Go ahead–”
“I just–”
The awkwardness of the conversation was unlike their previous interactions, and Madeline could feel a tinge of pink fusing into her cheeks as they stared at one another. At this point, she couldn’t see ever getting her footing back with this man.
Colin grinned, and Madeline was glad to see it reached his eyes this time. “Ladies first, as it should be.”
Annoyed at how foolish she felt, Madeline opted to start right in on business rather than make their conversation any more awkward than it already was with an apology she would surely fumble at this point.
“Did you see this morning’s emails with the man who runs the new food truck?”
With a nod, Colin raised his eyebrows and said, “Groovy Guy’s Fries?”
“Catchy, isn’t it?” Madeline asked, trying her best to suppress a smile, but failing.
“Quite.”
“Regardless of the name choice, I was going to book him since he’s willing to give us a deal and is available on very short notice. But I didn’t want to spend Department money without permission if we go over their fifty meal limit.”
“The expense will be covered by the grant money.”
“Great,” Madeline replied, still not sure whether she’d made the right choice in stopping by Colin’s office. Nor did she really know what her goal was–besides not wanting to appear to be a complete shrew. “I’ll get all the details worked out and add it to the agenda.”
Madeline met his gaze and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry now that she’d done what she’d set out to do and was unsure of what to do next. As she adjusted her bag and opened her mouth to say she’d see him Saturday before bolting from his office, a man rapped on the doorframe and poked his head into Colin’s office
GO, ERICA, GO!
And this is really nice. I know what it’s like to worry if something you’ve said has been taken wrong…I do it all the time!
Wow, poor Paige! It’s a TERRIBLE feeling to have your house sold out from under you (I quite literally know how this feels). I hope a ray of sunshine cuts through the grey and gives her a boost. Thanks for hosting the weekly NaNo edition of WIP Wednesday this month, Bryn. It’s been wonderful fun. Congrats to everyone for all the terrific posts!!
———-
Alaerinne closed her eyes and held her hands against the sides of Aeoulys’s face. She focused her breathing and pressed her consciousness into him, but it felt like the young male was entombed in stone. She pulled her hands away, her eyes blazing. “I cannot enter his body.”
Dr Tamun Nesahba’ir filled a syringe with yellowish fluid and hurried to her side.
“Inject him!”
The leonine doctor jabbed the needle into a prominent vein in Aeoulys’s arm. He dropped the empty syringe and donned his stethoscope, listening for a heartbeat. “Nothing yet.”
Alaerinne put her hand to her head and glared at her patient. He’d been fine a moment earlier – a specimen of health. She held her breath, confused. Her gaze darted to Aria, who lay like an iridescent marble near Aeoulys’s feet. The miniscule dragon’s energy didn’t feel right, either.
Nesahba’ir threw down the instrument and started chest compressions. “Still nothing,” he stopped just long enough to feel for a pulse. “We’re losing him.”
The blue dragon clenched her jaw; her brow furrowed. She tore open Aeoulys’s shirt, placing her hands on his chest. “I have not lost a patient in seven hundred years. Step back.” She drew upon her own life-energy and forced a charge through the Imperator General. His body convulsed. Alaerinne stepped back, gasping for air. “Check.”
Her colleague grabbed his stethoscope and listened. “No.” He continued compressions.
Alaerinne’s face caved. She closed her turquoise eyes and began amassing enough power for another jolt. The intense effort of generating a second charge made her nauseous and weak in the limbs.
“If you do that again, you won’t have the strength to enter him.”
Alaerinne shook her head and opened her eyes. Tamun had been working with her for over thirty years, and he knew her well. She appreciated his candour and friendship. “It does not matter; he is blocking me. I still cannot fathom how that is possible. Stand clear.” She placed her hands on Aeoulys’s chest and punched another jolt into his body.
The lion male checked again. “No.”
His single syllable gutted Alaerinne like a knife. As if in a trance, she watched Nesahba’ir pushing Aeoulys’s breastbone with deep, rhythmic thrusts. Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut and brought her mouth next to the young male’s ear while brushing her fingers across his forehead. “Aeoulys…Yenndelle needs you.”
Like a feather shifting in the breeze, something changed. Alaerinne’s dim eyes popped open. She pressed her fingers to Aeoulys’s throat… “Check him!”
The doctor stopped. He pushed one bud of the stethoscope into his ear; he placed the other end over Aeoulys’s heart. A grin tumbled across his face and his body slumped. “It’s weak, but it’s beating.”
“Put a blanket over him, and keep monitoring.” Aeoulys’s breathing was weak, but he WAS breathing. She pressed the tender part of her nose against his head and put her hands to his cheeks in a makeshift embrace. “Never do that again.” She lowered her trembling hindquarters to the ground. A weary smile brightened her features, and a little of the glow returned to her eyes. “My daughter would never forgive me if you slipped away, and neither would I.”
“I have not lost a patient in seven hundred years. Step back.” — great line. That’s a hell of a record! I love scenes like this, where everyone’s worried that someone’s going to die. I’m not sure what that says about me. Nothing good.
Aww, poor Paige! I hope everything works out for her in the end.
I have an excerpt from later on in The Oracle’s Guide to High School Romance. Claire is covering rehearsals of Antigone for the school paper but has one of her oracle episodes smack in the middle of it.
Curtis Rowe struts on the stage. I have to imagine his crown, and a himation in place of his worn t-shirt, but he makes me believe. Harsh Creon, King of Thebes, who utters in his destructive rage: “Know ye not that songs and wailings before death would never cease, if it profited to utter them? Away with her-away! And when ye have enclosed her, according to my word, in her vaulted grave, leave her alone, forlorn-whether she wishes to die, or to live a buried life in such a home. Our hands are clean as touching this maiden. But this is certain-she shall be deprived of her sojourn in the light.”
It comes back to me then, the dream I had in the abaton, before I went into the temple, when Metis shared with me her story:
It was the way of the people of Mantis not to kill us directly. Let the gods take her, they said when it came time, and they shut me in one of the very caves we had hid in during the invasion, the one they called the skull of the god. They gave me food and water and pretended that was enough to keep me alive, but it was only enough to keep their hands clean. Then they would seal me in.
No, I tell myself. It’s not Metis. You’re not Metis. That is not happening now. It is Antigone, I mean Danica, who struts her way on the stage and cries out: “Tomb, bridal-chamber, eternal prison in the caverned rock, whither go to find mine own, those many who have perished, and whom Persephone hath received among the dead!”
It’s only a play. It isn’t me. It’s only a play.
But Metis doesn’t believe me.
The scent of pneuma rises, as from the fissure in the back of a temple. I close my eyes and try to push the cave away but I still see her, I see Metis cornered by an armed soldier, and she raises the stone high over her head.
“No!” I cry out.
And everything stops.
The actors grow so still and silent that I wonder if time has frozen. If it has, maybe I can escape, maybe I don’t have to give voice to the words pushing their way out of my mouth. But no: I have to explain, I have to make them understand. “The wolf is coming. Like an eagle he flies. Beware!”
Crap, crap, crap.
Hi, Kimberly! Ahhh, this is so intense! And…how embarrassing for her, too. Thanks for posting! Great project.
I’m so close – 4500 words to go. Jess is visiting her co-worker Bruce who is in a coma. Reid overhears and misinterprets.
Jess stroked his bangs out of his eyes. “I always thought you had nice eyes, Bruce.” She sighed. “I really miss you. You’ve become my friend. I know this is a job for you, a mission. But it isn’t like that for me. You have always been kind to me. I care about you, Bruce.”
“I think… I think maybe…” Jess held his hand in both of hers and lifted it to her lips. She kissed the back of his hand then crumpled down on to his chest, his hand landing on her head. “Don’t you die on me. Please don’t die on me. You’re gonna be fine. Stay with me. I’m right here,” she sobbed.
Bruce felt like he was swimming in a fog-covered lake. There was a constant hum in his ears and he didn’t know where he was supposed to go. He swam and drifted in the warm water. He wasn’t afraid… he was lost.
He saw a small figure through the fog, standing on what must be the edge of the lake. He knew her, but he couldn’t recall how. He tried to swim toward her but kept drifting away as the small lake waves pulled at him.
She was speaking. He could barely hear her and didn’t understand her words. But they comforted him somehow. The wind blew her dark hair across her face. He reached out to her, longing touch it, knowing it would feel soft and silky under his hand.
He tried to call out to her but couldn’t force his mouth to form the words. He felt a heavy weight on his chest, sank deeper into the water, and fell into a heavy, peaceful sleep where he dreamed of the girl at the water’s edge
Woot! You are in the home stretch! Way to go, Diana. You must feel great about that — I would! Thanks for sharing today, too. Very dreamlike and evocative.
Ugh I feel for Paige. And cabin’s are so cozy! I’m thinking maybe she will buy the cabin from him… I mean, why not? She planted those tulips after all. She’s already invested! haha I love the way Harry feels awful having to tell her the news, and the inspection guy’s just like: “it is what it is, man”. So fun. I can see this turning into a cute made-for-TV movie.
I’m a little behind on NaNo right now but planning an all-nighter tonight after a volunteer shift. Remember those flowers Ellie spotted Wes buying at the grocery store? Well…
***
The afternoon bus brought the boys home before Wes got back. Ellie’s heart raced a mile a minute as she listened to his truck pull into the driveway, the door open and close again. She couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands and she felt so awkward. ‘Look busy…’ The dishwasher was empty, so putting dishes away was not an option. As the front door opened, she grabbed a stack of clean plates down from the cabinet and plopped them into the sink, turning on the faucet. She rinsed the plates and stacked them neatly into the dishwasher, counting as she breathed to appear calm. Nonchalant was not something Ellie did well on purpose.
“Hey, Ellie,” Wes said, entering the kitchen.
She hid her beaming smile as best she could before turning around. “Hey, Wes.”
His hands were empty.
Her face blanched as her fluttering heart dive-bombed to the pit of her stomach. ‘They weren’t for me.’ “You here for dinner with the boys?” Marlee… The flowers must have been for his agent.
“Yeah. Are they upstairs?”
“Mm-hm,” she managed, turning back to the sink, grateful there were a couple of plates still waiting under the running water. Ellie wondered what Marlee looked like. ‘I bet she’s drop dead gorgeous.’
“Awesome. What’s for dinner?”
“Um, chicken tacos,” she said, bent over the sink, scrubbing away.
“Nice!” And then she didn’t hear any more. He’d gone upstairs to see the boys.
She made dinner in a daze, holding her façade as best she could. She felt even more stupid for wanting to cry. At least she could blame it on the onions she chopped if anyone did happen to catch her eyes tearing up. ‘Seriously, why am I crying about this? I didn’t even like him like that. This is why I don’t get my hopes up. If Willa had not put the stupid notion in my head to begin with…’ Ellie couldn’t finish the thought.
When she called them down for dinner, she told them she wasn’t feeling all that well and was going to go up to her room to lie down for a bit. “Just let me know when you’re about to leave,” she told Wes.
He looked concerned when he asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, breaking away before he could probe any further. It seemed like she had made it up the stairs in one breath, and before she knew it, she was leaning against the door inside her room. By then, the tears had stopped and instead of wanting to cry, she clenched her jaw and her fists, and a few not-very-nice things to say to Willa popped into her mind. “Ugh. I need a bath.”
The warm water came up to her neck in the deep tub. Her phone rang from her bedside table, but Ellie kept so still the water barely moved except for the tiniest vibrations of life causing almost-invisible ripples. She took a deep breath and sighed, sinking lower as Willa’s ringtone sang out over and over from the other room.
Hey Star! 🙂 Aww, poor Ellie! I loved how it ended, with her in the tub and the ringtone in the other room. Thanks so much for posting!
I’m taking a Publishing Ecosystem class for my MFA right now and last week we focused on the literary landscape and one thing led to another and I was curious as to how long I’ve been following your blog. 🙂 Anyway, I just found it amusing that two years ago I said, “I can see this turning into a cute made-for-tv movie” :’D <3 So excited for you, Bryn!!
Ahh, poor Paige! I could totally feel her dismay. The tulip that she will never get to enjoy really drove home the sense of loss. My childhood home was a log cabin, and I have to say, they are the BEST. 🙂
Here’s a little more of mine. It takes place the day after the spooky basement door scene I posted the first week of NaNoWriMo:
Jason stared at the basement door with a faint expression of distaste. Mina knew why she didn’t like it, but what was his problem?
“Have you been down there since moving back?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I checked it out the last time I was here. It’s empty except for the old furnace and the new one. There’s something I want to show you, though.”
Mina swallowed, her heart shuddering. No way could she go down there after last night’s events. “Right now?”
“Yeah.”
If she refused to go down there, he was going to pressure her to explain the real reason why. And then he’d think she was crazy.
“Okay,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the shake in her voice.
Together, they pushed the heavy kitchen table blocking the door back to where it belonged. When he reached for the knob, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from begging him to leave it shut.
Nothing crouched on the other side. He stepped onto the little landing and pulled the cord to the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. She followed him down the steps, the ancient wood creaking loudly under their weight. Halfway down, the fear won and she froze.
He reached the bottom and looked up at her. “You alright?”
“I…I hate basements.” *Understatement!*
“I promise this will only take a minute. Hang on.”
She held her breath as he stepped out of her view for a moment, and then white fluorescent light buzzed to life. Jason came back to the foot of the steps. “It’s okay. This basement freaks me out a little, too,” he said.
This basement. Not basements, but *this basement.* She wondered if he even realized he’d said it.
He held his hand out and waited. Knees weak with fear, she forced herself down the rest of the steps and took his hand. It was warm, and rough, and somehow seemed to siphon off some of her fear. He had always made her feel safe, from the day he’d rescued her from those bullies so many years ago.
“Come on, it’s back here,” he said, tugging her toward the furnace room. He gestured at a blank wall. “There. What happened there?”
She was going to kill him if he was playing some kind of joke on her. “It’s a wall?”
“What? No. There was a door here. See how the masonry doesn’t line up?” he released her hand to step over to the wall in question, and she immediately missed his touch. “The brick isn’t quite the same color, and the mortar is fresh.”
Now that he mentioned it, she did see the faint outline.
“Huh,” she said, stepping closer herself, her fears temporarily forgotten. “I have no idea what this is.”
Jason scowled at the wall as if the bricked doorway was some sort of personal insult.
“Maybe it was an old root cellar or something? Don’t these old houses have those?” She shrugged. She couldn’t recall her aunt ever mentioning one, though.
“Maybe,” he agreed. He looked at her sideways, quirking a brow. His head gave a quick tilt toward the wall. “Can I knock it down?”
“What?” she laughed.
He grinned and nodded, then nudged her with his elbow. “Come on. You want to know what’s behind there as bad as I do.”
She hesitated. Her initial thought was *absolutely not.* But…maybe whatever was behind the wall would help her unravel some of the mysteries surrounding her family history.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
The brick isn’t quite the same color, and the mortar is fresh. Don’t these old houses have those?” She shrugged. She couldn’t recall her aunt ever mentioning one, though. When he reached for the knob, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from begging him to leave it shut.retaining walls