Hi friends! Welcome to WIP Wednesday, where I share a little bit of work in progress and invite you to share an excerpt of your own work in the comments section. If you’re new, here are the rules! If you do this all the time, you can skip them.
– 500 words or less! (So blog visitors have time to read more of them.)
– Don’t worry if it’s rough! That’s the “in progress” part.
– No R-rated material! Kids read this blog. A little coarse language is fine. They’ve probably heard it before.
– No linking to finished work for sale, because that’s not really a WIP…but feel free to link to a blog or website where more of your work in progress is available.
– We don’t critique or make suggestions on other people’s work, since this is just for sharing, but encouraging words are much appreciated. It’s good luck for writers to support other writers!
This month I am working on making my book Sunrise Cabin into a made-for-TV movie script. As you may know, I’ve never written a script before. Did you know that made-for-TV movie scripts have nine acts instead of three? I think it’s to accommodate the commercial breaks.
At the suggestion of one of the producers at work, I’m starting with just making a beat sheet. I barely know what a beat sheet is, to be honest, but I think it’s a summary of every scene…like a detailed outline. When I’m done with this, I’m going to give it to the producer for feedback. It’s more efficient than writing a full draft of a script, only to find you need major changes.
Here’s what it looks so far. But please note that I’m not even to the end of the beat sheet yet, and I don’t know how many scenes will wind up being in an act.
[AdSense-B]
AUTUMN AT THE CABIN
LOGLINE
A budding romance between two opposites is hindered when they learn they’re both determined to buy the same mountain cabin.
MAIN CHARACTERS
PAIGE REYNOLDS – 30, a pretty, quirky first-grade teacher with high spirits and high hopes of becoming a children’s book author.
DYLAN CAIN – 30s, a decent but driven investment banker who works long hours in pursuit of his next promotion.
ACT I
- PAIGE puts a batch of cupcakes for her first-grade students in her oven. Her dog MAX barks, and Paige agrees: it’s time to count their blessings.
- From her back porch, Paige watches the sun rise over the mountains. She says aloud all the things she’s thankful for‑including the cabin she’s renting.
- Paige’s landlord and next-door neighbor, HARRY BURKE, 70s, comes over to tell her that he’s selling the cabin. She’s crushed. Her cupcakes burn.
- DYLAN wakes up in his posh and soulless downtown loft, listens to a voicemail from his boss pointing out he should’ve been in the office on Sunday, and discovers he has no coffee. Yay, Mondays.
- At a downtown café, Paige sits at the counter next to Dylan, who’s working on his laptop. In a casual conversation, Paige shares her opinion about why Mondays are the best days of the week.
- Dylan gets a call from his brother-in-law PAUL and realizes he forget to order a cake for his sister’s 40th birthday surprise party. Dylan gets in line to buy the café’s cupcakes, but Paige is about to beat him to it. Dylan tries to convince her he needs the cupcakes more, but relents when he learns that she’s bringing cupcakes for the birthday of a child who’s neglected at home. When Paige is taken aback by the price of the cupcakes, Dylan pays for them.
- Paige arrives at the grade school where she works, and co-worker LINDA, 50s, asks if her agent has sold Paige’s children’s stories yet. Paige hasn’t.
- Paige reads a children’s story she’s writing to her students, about a fairy princess and a magical cabin. Now that she’s losing the place, the story is bittersweet.
- Paige talks with her fellow teacher and best friend JESSICA, 30, in her classroom. They discuss Jessica’s wedding plans and her new volunteer work at the animal shelter. Paige tells Jessica about her encounter with Dylan at the café and about the cabin sale. Paige doesn’t think she could buy it, with her savings…but maybe.
Who knows how this project is going to go? I won’t share any more of it here on the blog, but it’a always interesting to try something new.
Please share your excerpt below, if you want to. And either way, thanks for reading, and happy writing!
Awesome start, Bryn! Good luck with the adaptation! I’m working on a new Mass Effect 3 story, “Alan Arndt: Biotic.” Alan and his team are stockpiling civilian medical supplies when the Reapers hit Earth (498 words):
Alan Arndt was puttering around on a cargo ship, playing poker with his squad when the call came in.
“Full house.” Alan grinned and lay his cards down on the table.
“Man, I thought you were bluffing.” Jacob Barnes, Alan’s least cautious—and most altruistic—vanguard, tossed his cards back to the dealer.
“Still think I cheat?” Engineer Francine Anderson asked, shuffling all the cards back together with a perfect bridge finish. She was as precise with the deck as she was with her turret calibrations.
“You can count cards,” Barnes insisted. “You’re more than smart enough. That has to be why you’ve taken the last three pots.”
She shook her head. “Are you in or out? Penny to play.”
Alan yawned and stretched his arms overhead, wishing he’d gone to bed an hour earlier. “Not I. I’m going to quit while I’m five credits ahead.”
He exchanged his chips and considered waking Boom.
Jimmy Boom had fallen asleep with his head on the table. The kid could sleep anywhere, sleep through anything—if he wanted to. He could go from dead asleep to biotic charge at the smallest squeak of a boot, which had come in handy when he’d saved General Corinthus’ life on some mission he wouldn’t talk about . . .
Alan didn’t even need to raise his voice. “Hey, Boom Man.”
“Yes, sir?” Boom opened one eye to look at him.
“I think it’s time you hit your bunk.”
“Yeah.” He sat up and rubbed his face. “What’s your take?”
“I made five credits. Barnes owes Anderson twenty.”
“Ouch. Glad I slept through that.”
“I’ll get it back tomorrow,” Barnes said. “Think I need to fold for the—”
The comm specialist’s voice came through the overhead speakers, his tone tense. “Major, there’s activity on the secondary QEC. Emergency message from Admiral Hackett.”
The room went dead silent. Anderson sat with the cards half-way back into the box. No one looked tired anymore.
Heart pounding, Alan hit the receive button on the nearest console and a garbled vid feed popped up. It was the old man himself, pink scar and white stubble stark against his pale face. He was pure steel, stern business.
“Major Arndt.”
Alan saluted. “Admiral.”
“The Reapers have launched a full assault on Earth. The Sol system is cut off. Under no circumstances are you to approach the Sol relay until I give the word.”
Tension grew along Alan’s spine, enough power for a singularity, but he had no enemy to hit with it. Earth was at war, humanity on the brink of annihilation, and his orders were to stay away. He knew it was pointless to go now. Knew it would be futile to sacrifice his team there now, but that didn’t make the injustice any easier to swallow.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“They’re hitting Alliance training facilities first. Your mission is to go to Grissom, escort the underclassmen to the Citadel . . .
“You see those kids transferred safely.”
Hey there! Wow, GREAT scene! I love how all their personalities come through as they play poker, and how the mood dramatically changes.
Thank you, Bryn! I wrote some more yesterday and shared a longer excerpt from the next scene, where Major Arndt is shocked to find out what the students have been training for (Tumblr link): https://dafan7711.tumblr.com/post/182618103551/wip-wednesday-alan-arndt-biotic
Wow is right. I’m not a gamer but my husband has played this game, and I love the abrupt change to a leisurely game in their down time to the literal end of the world! The dialogue flows naturally and you can even feel the difference between talking amongst friends vs military personnel. Great job!
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed this Mass Effect excerpt.
Awesome
Thanks!
Hi Bryn! I sure do wish you luck on adapting Sunrise Cabin into a movie script. It must be challenging but also fun, learning this new storytelling format.
I am querying my oracle story and participating in Write On Con this weekend. It’s a 3 day online writing convention for KidLit authors and I have been working hard to get ready for the live pitching sessions. If nothing else, it’s a good experience for me, since every agent seems to want a different kind of pitch, from a full query letter down to a Twitter pitch.
Here’s the next bit of my fairy tale:
Come walk in the garden with me,” said the king to his new bride. The sky was filled with songbirds, a breeze tossed back his dark curls, and the flowers were in bloom.
His bride lifted her storm-colored eyes to him and put her hand upon his arm. “As you command, Sire.” Her fingers around his wrist were no warmer than a bauble he might wear.
“No, not like that.” The king shook his head and gently released himself from her grip. “It’s a request, not an order. You needn’t come if you don’t want.”
Her hand hovered in the air, as if she didn’t know whether to take his arm again or drop it to her side.
The king held his own hand out, for her to take or not as she saw fit. “You are my queen. We are equals, you and I. There is nothing I would force you to do.” What their circumstance might command was another story.
He didn’t yet know how to read her face—they’d not been together so long. One brow raised, just slightly, one side of her lips curled up.
And she took his hand.
Relief filled his heart as he led her beneath the rose-studded arbor, between clusters of lilac, and to a fountain where a comely maid poured water from an ancient jug. There was a maze deeper into the garden, but we wouldn’t take her there.
He never wanted to lead her anywhere she couldn’t easily leave.
They came to a marble bench, and he doffed his cloak in a manner that would make his fencing instructor proud and draped it elegantly across the bench. “Have a seat”— he began, then changed it as she began mechanically to do so. “That is, I will be sitting down, and it would be ever so nice if you chose to do so, too.”
She inclined her head and sat, neither too far from him nor too close. Her hands dropped into her lap and she did not meet his eyes.
She did not meet his eyes. A butterfly alit on the rose bush beside them, and distant strains of music came from far inside the maze. A pair of squirrels chattered on a branch nearby, then dashed madly up the trunk of the tree. But the queen did not meet his eyes. That was all the king saw. It squeezed his heart and turned the world around him pale and dim.
I really enjoyed this. I would gladly read more. 🙂
Thank you so much!
You’re welcome! 😀
Oh man. This scene has me curious how the two of them were brought together. It seems as though this was a betrothal? And maybe she hasn’t warmed up to him yet? Nice work!
It intrigues me too. I hope Kimberly posts another part next WIP Wednesday. 😀
Hi, Kimberly! That online con sounds great. I never heard of an online writing convention before, and it makes so much sense. I really enjoyed this scene! This poor king. He’s trying so hard.
Great work, Bryn!
Here’s what I’m working on these days…
“The Archive tells that this world was first populated by people rescued by the Titan Prometheus from Zeus, who was determined to kill as much of mankind as he could. Prometheus scattered the people he saved among as many worlds as would support life, and that Hephaestus and Athena taught the people of New Olympus what they needed to live and thrive.”
“And what did the Gods get out of this arrangement?” Amelia asked.
“The Archive doesn’t say. Or if it does, I’ve not read that far yet. It does say that the three Gods visited New Olympus a handful of times after that, teaching the brightest among the people the foundations of blacksmithing, engineering and helping them lay the foundations of their society. But on their last visit, they told the people they were in danger of being discovered by Zeus, and that they would not visit again. They were further told that one day, humanity’s descendants would need to find this world, and they, the New Olympians, would need to provide a home for the newcomers.”
“But, why?” Devi asked.
Roan shrugged. “If an answer to that question exists, I haven’t found it yet. I’ve asked Apollo the same question and he doesn’t know either. There is one entry in the Archives that he seems to think is an ancient version of a journal, and it tells of the writer overhearing a conversation between Hephaestus and Athena. They were apparently discussing the creation of four devices that would allow a man of particular intelligence and curiosity the means to travel to twin worlds.”
Roan watched a look pass between Coriander and Devi.
“Their historical document goes back to the beginning of their time here, and Apollo has repeatedly assured me that nothing is changed when it is hand copied,” Roan continued. “Important events are added, but what was written before remains as it was. So, if we take Apollo’s word, their history, as they have written it, is accurate.”
“What happens now?” Amelia asked. “Do we thank them for their hospitality, fire up the gizmo and go home?”
“We’ve been unable to reproduce the device that got us here. That’s why my team and I were overdue in our return.” Roan shook her head.
Amelia, Villpe and Coriander all looked at Devi, who sighed and raised her left sleeve. “Amelia means this gizmo.” She popped one the uppermost face and showed Roan the layer beneath. “I inherited this multiverse device. It allows me to travel to other worlds, if I have an astronomical reference point. I’m not sure if it is one of those four devices you mentioned, but that would explain its creation.”
Roan studied the device carefully without touching it. “Do you know how it works?”
“All I know is that it works, or did. I’ve not tested it since the river tried to drown us. It might now be nothing more than a pretty piece of junk.”
“So we’re stuck here?” Amelia paled.
“Unless we can find a way to reproduce the conditions that brought us here, I’m afraid so.”
Hi, Carolyn! Thanks for posting! I’ve been fascinated by Greek mythology ever since I was a little kid, and I love how you’re using it in a fresh way in your story. I never thought I’d read about the Greek gods and multiverses in the same piece!
Just a scene from my WIP
Mel found the office of Dr. Edwin Bennett located in a strip mall along busy McKnight Road. The waiting room area only had perhaps a dozen chairs and only one was occupied by a frail looking old woman. Walking up to the receptionist she was asked, “can I help you?”
“Yes,” Mel replied.
“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked.
“No, I would just like a few minutes of his time.”
“The Doctor does not accept walk-ins and appointments are by referral only.”
Mel explained, “My father, Gary Bolton, was one of his patients and I would like to talk to the Doctor about his condition and care.”
“You know that information about patients are confidential.”
“Can you tell me if my father was even a patient here?”
The receptionist appeared to type her father’s name into the computer and after a few seconds said, “we have no record of a Gary Bolton having ever visited this practice.”
That’s strange, Mel thought, the transportation service logs clearly show that they dropped Gary off at this location and picked him up.
It was near closing time so Mel waited in her car hoping to catch the doctor when he left for the day.
Shortly after the posted closing time the receptionist and another woman, probably a nurse, came out, got into their cars and left. It was about an hour later when a man, Mel assumed to be the doctor, came out, locked the door to the office and walked toward a Cadillac. This had to be the doctor, she thought.
Getting out of her car she walked across the parking lot and intercepted the man at his car.
“Doctor Bennett?” Mel called out to get the man’s attention.
“Yes.”
“Hi, my name is Melinda Bolton. My father was Gary Bolton and I would like to know if he was a patient of yours. Your receptionist said that you had no record of him which is strange since the Municipal Access Service logs show that he was dropped off and picked up here.”
“As you know, Ms. Bolton, patient information is confidential. If my receptionist said that we have no record of your father then that should be the end of it. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m in a hurry.”
Getting into his car Bennett posted a quick text to Alex. FYI the Bolton woman has been nosing around.
Hi Bob! Wow, this sounds so frustrating for Mel. The ending made me wonder what was going on. Thanks for sharing!
Hi, everyone! Here’s an excerpt from my speculative, character-driven WIP that’s set in the near future. I haven’t shared any of my work before.
Bryn, I can already picture your beats as movie scenes! I think Blake Snyder’s beat sheet is a great one. I’ve used it to pin down the main plot points of my story before writing the first draft. It sounds like an exciting project to be working on. Good luck!
_____________________________
The Brandenburg residence was an ultramodern villa at the outer periphery of the city. With its geometrical shapes and its structures made from panacene [fictional material], steel, and glass, it blended into its suburban surroundings, yet stood out from other buildings regarding its size and grandeur. It was the home of Sophie’s mother and grandfather, her only living relatives.
Sophie, grandpa Bram, and Saskia sat around the dining table, which was set with a silk tablecloth, antique china, and crystal wine glasses.
A humanoid butler entered the dining room carrying an opened bottle of white wine. “May I suggest this Renascean [fictional place] imitation of a classic French Pouilly-Fumé?” he asked the company in a natural male voice. “It will pair nicely with the fish.”
Sophie sized up the bot and struggled to keep her disapproval from surfacing on her face. The Synth wore an ascot scarf with a Paisley pattern, burnt umber corduroy trousers, brown loafers, and a white button-up under a blazer.
“Superb choice!” Saskia said. As the butler filled Sophie’s glass, Saskia inclined her head to her new household addition. “It’s the latest butler model from the ninety-seven home servant series,” she said with pride. “Our very first line of fully synthetic employees. I named him Quincy. So much better than his holographic predecessors. Quincy can carry things!”
Sophie took a bite from her aqua-cultured fish and washed it down with a sip of the wine.
“What do you think?” her mother asked her.
Sophie swallowed. “The wine is delicious.”
Her mother raised her chin and looked down her sharp and narrow nose. “I meant of Quincy.”
“You know what I think of your butler,” Sophie said. “I think it’s morally dubious at best. If you need a butler, then hire an actual person and give them a salary. Not everyone in this city is suited for a job at Mercurion.”
Saskia’s pinched her mouth in a hard line. It cracked the candy-apple red lipstick that matched the color of her nail polish. “I should remember never to ask for your political views. It dampens my mood.” Undisturbed, Quincy poured wine into her empty glass. “Thank you, Quincy.”
“You are most welcome, milady Brandenburg,” Quincy replied.
Saskia bared her bleached teeth in a grin. “I had him programmed to call me that. Isn’t it hilarious?”
Sophie exchanged a look with her grandfather. She detected a gleam of amusement in his eyes, but she knew her opa preferred not to get mixed up in their arguments.
Hi JvE! Thanks for the kind words! I hadn’t looked at Save the Cat again for this project, since this is 9-act structure and not 3-act structure, but now that you mention it, I bet it would still help a lot. I love his outline. Great scene! Sophie’s right about a human butler. At the same time, I can see the appeal of a robot butler, hahaha. Thanks for sharing!
“OK, OK,” Wanda said, leaning forward, narrowing her eyes at Marc. “If it were you, how would you do it? Given the evidence we know, how would you pull off one of these murders?”
Marc pondered that for a while. “Let’s see… You’d need a fast-acting drug. Have they actually said it was a sedative? I’m thinking some sort of neurotoxin would be more effective.”
“You’re terribly good at this, Marc,” Julienne noted, she swirled her glass of ethanol-spiked ox blood and took a sip. “Almost incriminatingly good.”
“Oh, please,” Marc protested. “I don’t look anything like a serial killer.”
Julienne shook her head. “They never do, Marc. They never do.” She grinned wickedly at him.
Wanda snickered. “OK, sure, we all know Marc’s the Slasher and all, but he does make a good point. You’d want a drug that’d take effect almost immediately. But you’d also want your victim to be reasonably mobile, so you could steer them into a dark corner without having to drag them.”
“Unless you’re a vampire,” Julienne pointed out, tapping the table. “I could easily have carried any of those victims, no trouble.”
“So now you’re not ruling out a vampire suspect?” Marc asked.
Julienne shrugged. “Assuming the Slasher has some way to counteract the drug, I guess it’s possible. But it seems like a lot of extra work: drug the victim, drain the blood, take the blood home, clean it up. I mean, if I wanted to, I could just yank someone off the street and snap their neck before they had a chance to yell. Drink their blood right then and there. No muss, no fuss.”
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s a comforting thought.”
“Ooh! But… but…” Marc began. “What if you were a vampire who couldn’t just yank someone off the street like that? What if you had some sort of… I don’t know… disability. Do vampires get that sort of thing?”
Julienne considered that for a bit. “OK, sure. That’s a possibility. I mean, we don’t live forever, despite what the legends say. So, let’s suppose there’s were a vampire who’s extremely old. In that case, they might need to do something like this. Say he wasn’t much stronger than the average human, and his teeth had worn down. Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.”
“Why does everyone assume the Slasher’s a man?” Marc protested. “It’s always ‘he’. Seems a bit sexist, don’t you think?”
“That’s because it’s always a ‘he’, Marc,” Julienne replied. “Like I said, human or vampire, it’s almost certainly a dude.”
“Think we should tell somebody?” Wanda suggested. “About the geriatric vampire thing, not the dude thing.”
Marc gave her a derisive look. “Tell them what? That we, a trio of experts in sitting around shooting the shit, after twenty whole minutes of analysis based on nothing but wild speculation, had come to the conclusion that the Stonegate Slasher might be a geriatric vampire with bad teeth?”
“It was just a suggestion,” Wanda grumbled.
A bit of background: Short story called “Slasher”. Wanda and Marc are human; Julienne is a vampire. The three are sitting in their favorite restaurant, Something Offal, speculating on a string of murders in their neighborhood. The victims have all had their throats cut but, in each case, (almost) no blood has been found at the scene.
This is so enjoyable, especially those last three paragraphs. So much fun to read. Great job! 😀
Thanks! I love writing scenes involving people sitting around a table, gabbing. For me, the best example of that is in “Bridget Jones’s Diary”, with Bridget, Jude, Shaz and Tom discussing the dastardly Daniel Cleaver. If I could come close to that, I could die happy. 😀
I love writing those kind of scenes too. Especially when I can feel the rhythm of the conversation and I’m just typing it as fast as I can to get it all down.
I know, right? Sometimes it’s like they just keep talking, and it’s all I can do to keep up.
Ehtanol-spiked ox blood! That is quite a cocktail! Nice scene, Steven. I really like how their personalities come through. Thanks for posting!
Hey, vampires have to have something fun to drink too. 😀
How exciting that you’re writing the screenplay! As a fan of the Save the Cat books, I’ll be interested to continue seeing the beat sheets! Great start!
So this excerpt is from Gemini Deadringer again. Here the Zodiacs that were helped by the Pestilence Fairies have learned there was an ulterior motive. They’re locked together in a large cell and have paired up to check each others clothes for the deadly pestilence. Unfortunately for Gemma, the female half of Gemini, she’s paired with the human male, Davis Treadway.
———————-
If she hadn’t known it was scientifically impossible to actually feel someone’s eyes roving over her body, Gemma would swear that was the tingling sensation she was feeling. Damned uncomfortable, almost as bad as being touched. She looked around to take her mind off the pesky bastard feeling her up with his eyes.
Gem was glaring at Tread, but Cancer had him in an arm lock. The other human, the female, was being pawed by Taurus, of course, and not happy about it.
“And by the way, my name is Treadway, not human. But you can call me Tread. All my friends do.”
Gemma grunted, unimpressed.
He glanced up and winked.
Her temper flared again. What was it about this male that made her lose her hard-won calm?
“We’re not friends, human.”
“Uh-oh,” he said with a cluck, “your dress needs to come off. There’s goo all over the back.”
“What?”
Tread twisted the back of the skirt around to show her before leaning closer and sniffing. “Yep, this goes all the way up your back.”
“Did you just sniff me?”
He ignored her question. “Jeez, are you hurt? There’s blood on your clothes.”
Gemma leaned closer to the material; sure enough she had picked up blood from the dead fairy. “Gah. It’s not my blood.” She couldn’t stay in the clothes. But before she could consider any alternatives to stripping in front of everyone, Tread turned her around and started releasing the long line of buttons running from her neck to her navel.
Gemma stood still, too stunned by his familiarity with her person, until he reached the peak of her breasts and crested them to descend to her belly. “Hey!” She hit his forearms with her fists, forcing him to drop the dress. “What gives you the right?”
“Is there a problem over here?” Lyon said from behind her.
She whirled on the hulking male. “Nothing a good thrashing wouldn’t cure.”
“Are you asking me to thrash this human? Because I’m in just the mood.”
She shook her head hard. “I can handle this puny male. If he’s going to receive a thrashing, it will be from me.”
“He is right about one thing, you are covered in pestilence and blood.” Without warning, or even an ‘I beg you pardon’, Lyon grasped the two sides of the gaping dress and ripped them apart all the way through the bottom hem. He tossed the soiled, shredded garment through the bars of the cell.
The group came to an abrupt stop, silence descending as fast as Gemma’s plummeting dignity.
She covered the bits in the front she could reach, ignoring the fact that her ass was bare for all to see. She’d gone commando all her life; who knew that everyone would discover that fact so abruptly.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Someone give me a shirt!”
Thanks, Artemis! Gemma is such an interesting character. I liked the line about being watched, and how it was almost as uncomfortable as being touched…and then things got way more uncomfortable. And I laughed at “I can handle this puny male. If he’s going to receive a thrashing, it will be from me.” Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for the beat sheet idea. My current WIP is Amanda in Malta – The Sleeping Lady
Here is an excerpt
She entered a dimly lit room with three cabinets. Figures of round bellied women called fertility symbols filled two of them.
The third display case had a sign in front, “The Sleeping Lady”. On the wall beside the case was a picture of a ceramic figurine. It was a woman lying on her side on top of a couch.
But when she looked in the case, there was nothing in it.
Amanda stood gaping at the empty space when a security guard entered the room. “Where is the figurine?” she asked.
“The Sleeping Lady has been stolen. It is a terrible thing.” The man shook his head.
A chill passed through Amanda. “When did it go missing?” She gulped.
“This morning when we opened, it was gone.” The man frowned. “Whoever did this will be in terrible trouble.” His phone rang and he left the room.
A minute later Leah entered out of breath. She glanced at the empty display case and paled. “So, it’s true. The figurine is gone.” She looked right, then left and then at Amanda. Grabbing her arm she whispered through her teeth, “We need to get out of here, fast.”
They sprinted past pottery vessels and around a slab of stone with fish carved around it. Leah kept looking behind her. They ran up a set of stairs to the next level. “I think we’ll be safe in here,” she said as they entered The Phoenician room.
“Safe from what or who?” Amanda stopped short. “Did you and your aunt take the figurine?”
Leah took a step back. “How could you think that?”
Footsteps sounded on the marble floor. “This way.” Leah pointed to a sarcophagus. They ducked down behind it as a man poked his head in the room and glanced around.
Leah slowly lifted her head above the coffin. “All clear.”
Amanda looked down and gasped. “There’s a dead body under us.”
Leah squinted at a dark hole beneath them exposing bones in the dirt. “It’s just a skeleton they found in a grave a long time ago. It’s all right. There’s Plexiglas between us, silly.”
“I don’t care. It’s creepy. I’m getting out of here.”
The girls hadn’t seen Mrs. Sorensen come in the room. The older woman peered at both girls with a questioning look. “I wondered where you had gone.”
“I’m, I’m sorry,” Amanda stammered. “This is my friend, Leah and this is Caleb’s mom, Kathryn Sorensen.”
“How very nice to meet you.” Leah held out her hand.
Mrs. Sorensen shook her hand and smiled. “So, you two finally found each other. How nice. Would you like to join us for lunch, Leah?”
http://www.darlenefoster.ca
Hi, Darlene! What an interesting mystery—I wonder who took it and why? I hope you post more!
My WIP is from book 3 of a series. In book 2, Mac (a Navy SEAL) saves Claire (a reporter) from evildoers. They clash with each other but there is an undeniable attraction. They don’t see each other again until book 3 when Claire shows up at Mac’s door with an apology pizza and an invite to her Grandfather’s formal party. Here is an excerpt from the party:
_____
Claire moved on to the next group of people and Mac obediently followed, feeling like he was here for no more than her arm candy. “Hi Granddad,” she greeted as she reached up and kissed the distinguished old man’s cheek. “I’d like you to meet Master Chief Sean MacFarland. Mac, this is my grandfather Senator O’Brien.”
Mac extended his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”
The senator squeezed Claire in a side hug with his left arm as he shook hands with Mac. “Ahhh. It is nice to finally meet the man who rescued my Claire Bear. Thank you, Master Chief, for your quick response.”
Claire could swear she saw the big SEAL blush.
“All in a day’s work, Sir. And please call me Mac.”
“I never know what kind of trouble she is going to get into these days. She needs to settle down and get married if you ask me.” The Senator winked at Mac and took a sip of his drink.
“Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean it is my destiny to get married. I happen to be a very good investigative reporter. I get in trouble one time – one time! – any suddenly I need to settle down.”
“Oh here we go,” Mac lamented as she continued her tirade. He rubbed his temples.
“Is she always this obnoxious?” the Senator asked with smile as Claire went on about the glass ceilings, gender roles in society, and biological clocks.
“Oh, she’s just warming up.”
Mac heard a pop, felt a whiz, and watched Claire’s champagne flute shatter in her hand. “Get down!” he shouted. He pushed the Senator to the ground then yanked Claire behind a nearby table. The tablecloth offered no protection other than keeping them out of sight. He cursed under his breath as he looked for an exit.
It took a few seconds before the guests began to understand what was happening. Once they did, screams of panic filled the room as too many bodies ran for cover, trying to escape through the same exit.
It was a psychotic mass shooter’s dream come true. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Only there were no more shots. Mac expected to hear the sound of more rounds firing into the crowd, but much to his surprise none came.
He peeked his head over the table and saw security guards running to where the single shot had originated. Mac realized this was warning to Claire. The sharp shooter didn’t want her dead, but he wanted her to know they knew how to find her.
He turned to look at Claire and saw blood dripping from her hand. He grabbed one of the white linen napkins from the table and wrapped her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Hi, Diana! Thanks for posting this! I liked Mac feeling like arm candy, and almost blushing. I wasn’t expecting the attack, and it was described so well.
I was going to go with another Hank and Dave moment, but I wanted to introduce you all to Jay and Isellta. Jay is a bodyguard for my main villain, Mark Caten. Isellta is a fey who ran away from my main group of characters and was captured by Mark Caten. He isn’t tied down, but Mark Caten has made it impossible for him to escape. Isellta’s sweet innocence charmed Jay right from the start and Jay’s kindness won Isellta’s trust. Their relationship has become that of a loving older brother/younger brother.
So, without further ado, here is my excerpt:
*****
Jay led Isellta into the kitchen. “So! What should I make you?”
Isellta thought about it. “Buttered noodles.”
Jay smiled. “So, you have a thing about pasta, huh?”
“If you don’t want to make it—”
“No, it’s fine.” He shrugged. “I just think it’s funny for a fey to like such heavy soul food. Most fey I know eat essence of carrots or something unreal like that.”
Jay went into the pantry and pulled out a package of noodles.
Isellta opened the fridge and poked around in there. “Noodles are good. Especially with…Ah!” He pulled out a package of butter. “Here we are.” He put the butter near the stove. “Do you know how to make lasagna?”
“Mm. Learned it from my Italian grandmother. She made some wicked lasagna.”
“Could you make it for me some day?”
“Some day?” Jay turned around. “Sounds like you’re planning to stay here long term.”
“Where else can I go? There’s no one out there who wants me.” Isellta got out of Jay’s way. “How did you learn to do all this?”
Jay filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. “My women relatives. They always told me ‘If you want to eat, you need to cook’.” He looked back at Isellta and smiled. “Only they said it in Italian.” He turned the stove on. “Do you want chopped garlic mixed in with your noodles?”
Isellta nodded.
“Another surprise.” He pulled out a garlic bulb from the fridge and removed five cloves.
“Garlic tastes good.”
Jay chopped up the cloves and dumped them into the pot.
“Jay? Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s Maelin?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. She’s been gone all day. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her, but—”
The water started to boil.
He dumped the noodles into the pot.
“—I think she’s getting ready to leave me again.”
Isellta came over to him and gently stroked Jay’s arm. “Why would she leave you?”
“Because she’s part dragon and she needs to move.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, kid. It’s just…how it is.” He turned to face the fey. “But I’m not gonna mope about it. I still have her. She’s still with me. She will let me know when she’s ready to leave. It’s her way. She always tells me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, kid. I’m some pretty tough stuff.”
Isellta hugged Jay’s arm and leaned his head against it.
Yeah, some tough stuff I am. Reduced to sentimental mush by this one young fey. “One of these days, she’ll want to settle down and she will. And she’ll never leave me again.”
Isellta peeked up at him. “Hm. Could you put chopped up pickles in the noodles?”
Jay laughed. “For you? Absolutely.”
Hey there! Jay seems way too nice to be a villain’s bodyguard! That’s intriguing. Essence of carrot, hahaha. Great scene. Thanks for posting!
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it!
Jay is such a good and decent person. I’m not even sure how he wound up working for someone as awful as Mark Caten. All I can figure is Mark must have made him a very convincing offer and Jay just couldn’t resist. He would love to find another job, but that would involve leaving Isellta behind. And Jay just can’t do that to Isellta.
I’m almost tempted to post a snippet of Mark Caten’s awfulness next WIP Wednesday. But we’ll see. 😉
Ooh, I would love to see your villain! But then, I always like seeing more of Hank and Dave, too. 🙂
Aww, thank you!
Mark Caten is just an awesomely horrible person. If I had to summarize everything that’s wrong with him, I’d say he’s a egomaniac/narcissist with a God complex. He will gleefully exploit any weaknesses he notices in the people around him. He is obsessed with having the best of the best. He is physically abusive to his significant other. He will say and do the most horrible things because he believes that he has the right to do so. His only soft spot is his daughter, who turned out to be as bad as Mark.
So, I am tempted to show him off next WIP Wednesday. But it’s been a while since I’ve done a Hank and Dave snippet. So, hmm. I’ll have to think about it. 😀
Here’s another short story I’m working on (I tend to multitask a bit). Backstory: Post-apocalyptic America, largely agrarian. The Library is considered the seat of power by most, with the Head Librarian ruling over the surrounding villages.
—
“Bring us the witch!” Carwyn shouted from the ground below. Several others repeated his demand.
They stood outside the library, outside the moat, carrying torches and pitchforks. How cliché.
Thena stood at the parapet above the Library’s front gates. Two members of the Watch flanked her, crossbows raised. “Did you have any particular witch in mind?” she asked, her voice amplified by the bullhorn. “We have several.”
“For all you know, I might be one now.” She raised her free hand and chanted. “Ipso facto! Quid pro quo!”
Several villagers stepped back, bumping into the ones behind them. Several others covered their heads with their arms to protect themselves. Both reactions proved to be bad maneuvers, given that nearly everyone was carrying either pointy or flaming items. Thena heard several yelps from the crowd below.
She managed to stifle a laugh. Abert and Aulf were not so successful.
“They really need to read more books,” Aulf commented between snickers.
Thena held up the megaphone again. “Go home, Carwyn. All of you, go home. Tomorrow morning, send one negotiator to the Reception Hall, and I will hear your grievance.”
“I will be there!” Carwyn shouted back.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Carwyn of Annan,” Thena chided. “I said ‘negotiator’, and that’s what I meant.”
Carwyn raised his torch. “I am their leader!”
“Is that why you stand at the back of the crowd?” Thena asked.
Several villagers turned to look at him. Aulf was laughing so hard, she could barely aim her weapon. Thena shushed her.
Not waiting for Carwyn’s reply, she added, “Send Elder Livya. Word has it she is a sensible person. I see she had the sense to stay home tonight, for example.”
The crowd below began to shuffle uncomfortably, looking into the surrounding woods.
“We’ve got company,” Abert noted, pointing at the trees.
Villagers from Myer, Brent and Ross, Thena guessed. They looked to be armed with more than pitchforks. And it was clear to everyone involved that they were not here to provide support for the villagers from Annan.
“We’re leaving now,” Carwyn announced, as if he had a choice in the matter. “Tomorrow, I will send Livya as my representative.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Thena called back. “I’m glad we could come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
She switched off the megaphone. “Idiot.”
I cracked up at “Ipso facto! Quid pro quo!”
I might’ve accidentally borrowed that from “Yellow Submarine”. Sounds like something Jeremy would’ve said.
Blake Snyder Save the Cat, 15 beats.
I think it’s so exciting that you’re writing a made for tv project! Can’t wait to see it finished. <3
Here's an excerpt from my WIP that I'm calling 'Cabin Secrets' 🙂 Thank you for having this blog post. How fun!
“I bet there’s a story there,” Becky said, tugging Lou’s cart further down to continue their shopping. “Please tell me I can snoop and find it for you,” she begged, grasping ahold of Lou’s arm and giving her a smile that would rival a toothpaste commercial actress.
I knew I liked her for a reason, Lou thought, unclenching Becky’s hands from her arm.
“Sure, why not? Let’s make my time here a little more interesting. What could dear Mother be hiding?”
Lou grabbed her purse from the front of the shopping cart and pulled out her business card.
“Here’s my number. If I happen to have cell service up there, then I’ll answer,” she said, handing her card to her new realtor. “Regardless, we’ll be contacting you for the listing in three weeks anyway.”
Hi, Sarah. Haha, I like Becky, too! I’m really curious about what they’re going to find out. Thanks for posting! (And thanks for the kind words. We’ll see!)
What an awesome project, Bryn! I couldn’t imagine trying to write a screenplay; writing a synopsis is bad enough! LOL All the best — it’ll make an excellent movie.
This is an excerpt from the near end of the story; it’s from Icalpi’s POV (wolf queen). Sessira is the empress of the female-dominant reptilian race, and she’s got a thing for Syrach (Icalpi’s brother). When she calls him ‘Parruku’, it means “heart thief”, a major term of endearment. The reptiles think Syrach is actually a demon-type creature called a “Blade Wraith”.
—-
Icalpi twirled the stem of her glass, trying to ignore the ‘mating ritual’ taking place between Sessira and her brother. The reptilian empress had always inquired after him in her letters, so Icalpi knew she fancied him; the way she’d greeted him yesterday confirmed her infatuation. What the k’Tira wasn’t prepared to see was Syrach’s reciprocation of Sessira’s affections: stroking her thighs at the table in a lewd manner while they waited for servants to bring food…kissing her neck like a long-time lover…whispering in her ear…
“I do have some good news to share with you, Icalpi,” Sessira snuggled with her back against Syrach’s bare chest, taking hold of his hand. “You and I will be sisters soon.”
Icalpi narrowed her green eyes, her gaze flicking from the reptile to her brother. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Parruku, why don’t you tell her?”
The dark male beamed, bringing Sessira’s hand to his lips. “Yesterday, the Enkishi asked me to marry her –”
“And he’s accepted!” Sessira squealed. She squirmed with pleasure when Syrach again kissed her neck. “Our empires will be closer ever.”
A disgusted laugh teetered on Icalpi’s palate. She swallowed it and, instead, forced a pained smile. “That’s…wonderful. When did this…joy…transpire?”
“Earlier today.” Sessira raised her glass, “To our impending union…”
Syrach lifted his glass. Icalpi joined the toast despite her contrary sentiments. Setting down her goblet, she arched her brows. “Does this mean you’ll be wearing a golden sheath next I see you, Brother?”
“Oh, no…Parruku won’t simply be a consort,” Sessira automatically spoke for him. “As a Blade Wraith, he deserves the honor of being my husband – an equal. Well, almost…” She moaned as he stroked her torso. “And, as a wedding present to my future husband, I’ve granted him the contract against your false daughter’s life.”
“What?” Icalpi felt as though the ground had dropped out from under her. She pulled back her lips and flashed fangs. “Gabrielle’s not dead?”
“For a fleshy ape, she’s difficult to kill. The prospect of losing another minister was so tedious that – when Parruku asked for this gift – I happily acquiesced.”
Icalpi balled her hands into fists. Numbness spread through her arms and legs. She could barely breathe from the shock of the news. ‘How did that little bitch survive? I’ll tear her apart myself –’
“As you know,” Sessira continued, “I’ve suffered enough losses lately. A whole crew…a ship… It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” She suddenly sat upright and slammed her hands on the low table, rattling glasses and trays. “What happened to the ‘Shenkazi Aknai’, k’Tira Szapiorus?”
Icalpi didn’t flinch. She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. “I don’t know any ship by that name.”
“Of course,” Sessira made a rattling hiss, leaning in closer to Icalpi. “She was once the ‘Brae Goron’…a vessel you’d gladly have sunk to save face.”
The chocolate-brown female glanced over Sessira’s shoulder to Syrach. “I see my traitor of a brother sold us out.”
“Not at all,” Sessira relaxed against her future husband, stroking his thigh. “If he had, I wouldn’t be marrying him.”
You are so imaginative, Lisa. “Heart thief”—I LOVE that. Great ending to the scene!
This is the first time I’ve posted any of my progress on WIP Wednesdays. I’ve been writing snippets the past couple of weeks. I’m hoping one of them will morph into a story. I just need to be patient in the meantime. So I’ll share something I wrote recently.
“Just so you know, Vicki, this isn’t a date.”
“Sure, but I don’t know why—“
Alex shushed her. He had a thing for her, but wouldn’t dare let it go beyond that.
“Look, we’re just friends. Nothing more. Got it?”
Vicki shook her head. There was a disappointed look in her eyes. They both took a deep breath and entered the theatre. The murmur of the audience was incredibly soothing to Alex. Being around a crowd of this caliber always did. He guided Vicki to the back row. She fluffed her satin cranberry dress before settling in the chair he picked out.
“If this isn’t a date,” Vicki said, “then what’s with the get-up?”
“It’s Theatre attire. You have to dress up, okay?”
Alex didn’t care for her folded arms or her street-smart attitude. He was flat out ignoring everything as he skimmed the hall, looking for someone. Someone more important than his non-date. He spotted her. Down in the front row.
“Look, there she is!” Alex whispered.
Vicki squinted, uncertain who he was talking about. He grabbed her head and guided it to the couple he spotted canoodling.
“I can’t believe it,” Alex said.
“Rhiannon and that…that guy.”
“So, what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that she told me she broke up with him. She’s been seeing him behind my back.”
Alex starred long and hard at his girlfriend as she violated, in his eyes, the pact they made five months ago.
“Maybe you didn’t take her out on dates,” Vicki replied with a sneering tone.
“How do you know?”
Vicki stood, pressing her face next to his. He shrugged her off and doubled down on the icy stare on the couple.
“I’m just saying there has to be some reason why your girl is messing around.”
Shock surged into his face when he saw his betrayer turning. He backed away, then sprinted out the hall. The clacking of his dress shoes drew the ire of the crowd as he struggled to find a spot where he couldn’t be recognized. Immediately, he shot to the restroom. He flew past the slew of men lining the wash stations and entered the small stall. He pressed his head against the wall, gasping, worried that he was too late when he saw Rhiannon turn his way. He was oblivious to the door creaking open and a loud voice bolstering everyone to leave.
“Alex?”
The sassy voice woke him from his trance.
“Alex, where are you?”
One by one, the stall doors flew open until he was exposed. He turned slowly and saw that Vicki was the one who spotted him.
“Seriously? This? What is this?”
“Wh–What are you doing here?”
“From the looks of things, saving you.”
“I don’t need saving!”
Vicki was stunned at his words, but for a moment. She twisted Alex around so that his eyes were locked into hers.
“Not from what I’m seeing.”
Hi, George! I always like hearing from you, and I’m so glad you’re sharing. “This isn’t a date”—sure, you keep telling yourself that, Alex, haha. I really enjoyed this. I hope we get to read more!
Hey Everyone. Bryn, Good start to your script! I want to see the sunrise view from this cabin (when you feel like posting).
Here’s first-draft material from “Warfare” from my ‘Woman at War’ series. This is my take on what conflict might look like in a few centuries, seen from the eyes of a sniper who must come to grips with her limited role and issues of powerlessness. In this scene, June Vereeth is a hostage on a planet she knows little about, held by native people called Napeequans and a Human (Cheney).
*
The younger Napeequan woman crossed the cave to my Giovanni 19, propped up against the wall. After a moment’s study—while I quietly tugged at my rope binds—she carefully lifted the heavy rifle with two hands. She brought it toward us and made a squeaking noise for her sister. Cheney said she was mute—a punishment inflicted by another tribe member. This noise was a query about my weapon.
Napeequans didn’t understand technology, by all accounts. It reasoned, however, they knew of the violence my rifle would bring. There were stories.
With the torchlight lending a golden hue to her yellow skin, the first woman stood deity-like over me, glaring. “Life-ender,” she said, gesturing first to the weapon and then to me.
Despite the cold air of the cave, a wave of heat crossed my face. Perhaps it was her sharp eyes and harsh words, or her innocent sister’s holding the tool of my profession.
How could I deny it? I’m June Vereeth, a Seventh Army sharpshooter. I had killed many. I would kill again. I had come—sent—to this planet with orders to kill. The target was a self-styled warlord—Cheney’s cousin—who stole medical supplies and stole the lives of those who guarded them. He wasn’t one of these ‘primitive’ native technophobes, people who probably weren’t even aware of the war raging beyond their bizarre world.
Still, who he was or what he did seemed to matter less, at the moment. The younger woman struggled to hold my 25-pound weapon. Despite the safety measures, I could imagine fumbling hands resulting in a blinding blue flash. One of us would die.
I watched the rifle’s muzzle swing in my direction, listening to the seconds of my life marked by a torch’s crackling flame.
Justin, I really enjoy this series, I’m into book 2 and finishing it this weekend! June is such a believable and well-rounded badass and I love the details of the world. Great ending sentence here, dang. Thanks for posting!
Hi Bryn,
Great start with the beat sheet! We weren’t taught about beat sheets in school (Screenwriting Major – go figure) or about the 9 acts for television movies. I only learned of that months ago when I was working on my “Hallmark movie type” script. Since I have to do the 3 at structure for school, I decided to work on a 9 act on the side. I’ve actually found it really helpful that it’s broken down in 9 acts, rather than 3. I downloaded, printed, and dissected a few Hallmark movie scripts and bought a few books to go with them and go back and forth. It’s a lot of work but I’m learning as I go.
Good luck to you!!
Hi, Angie! Ooh, good luck on your “Hallmark movie type” script! I’m finding they are trickier than they look, at least for me, haha. But it’s fun! Good luck to you, too!
And Here’s my WIP: (please forgive my logline, I’m SO bad at them! Haha). I’m also trying to get a grasp of proper formatting and using/not using italics. It’s not perfect but that’s what a WIP is, right?! 🙂
LOGLINE: A young woman’s quest to find her family heirlooms turns into a journey of uncovering secrets and finding love in the most unexpected place.
**At this point in the story, Lana is after realizing that her and her boyfriend, Scott will be apart for the entire summer and their relationship isn’t what is used to be. She’s known it for a while but ignored the facts because their relationship “made sense” – they worked together, they had been together for years – it was routine and she didn’t want to disrupt their lives and make things uncomfortable. Now she is in the company of a stranger, Paul.**
After being sidetracked, Lana had to get back to the conversation at hand – why was he on the same train as her?
“Where are you going? I mean I know you’re going to Vermont – clearly – but where in Vermont are you going? What will you be doing there?…If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Wow, you ask a lot of questions for someone I just met.” Paul said sarcastically.
It was true, Lana did ask a lot of questions but that was the investigator/researcher in her. She felt that she always had to know the answers and if she didn’t know them, she’d go to great lengths to try and find them – well, at least for the stuff that was important, or at the very least, interesting to her. Lana’s main concern was how long Paul was going to be in her presence – she didn’t want to be rude but she also didn’t have the time or desire for flirting.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business but I was just curious, that’s all.”
“Its fine and I’m totally kidding,” Paul said with a chuckle. “Smuggler’s Cove, I’ll be working, and I like spinach, and long walks on the beach.”
Ok, that was kind of funny. “Oh, so you’re a philosopher and a comedian? What other treasures are hidden under that extremely low hat of yours?”
Aside from those beautiful eyes, she thought. The funny thing was, Paul’s eyes kind of reminded her of Scott’s eyes – changing from a grey blue to a deeper blue depending on the lighting. She had spent so much time away from Scott lately that now she was getting attracted to strangers. Well, at least that was the excuse she told herself.
Angie, loglines are so hard, and I think that one’s pretty good! Lana’s motivations for staying in a “meh” relationship are so realistic. It sounds like a change is in her future, though…thanks for sharing!
Oh, I should mention that the above is a novel (in case that wasn’t clear). The screenplay for this story is still a WIP too.
I’m a little late to the WIP Wednesday party this month because I’ve traveled for work all week. I hope it’s still okay to join in.
Bryn, I love that you’re converting your book into a script–and I love what you’ve shared. I can completely visualize the scenes in my mind, and would definitely keep watching. I know positively diddly about writing a screenplay, but have recently become involved with a screenwriting group. I find the whole formatting thing quite intimidating, so kudos to you for tackling it! I’m hoping to go that direction with The Millicent Chronicles (after I finish the novel, of course)
Speaking of The Millicent Chronicles, this is a selection from Book 1, Chapter 3.
_____________
Millicent held the day’s mail in one hand and lightly tossed her keys in the other, searching for the one that would open the door to her high-rise apartment. When her fingers landed on the correct key, she thrust it into the lock.
The knob stuck briefly, causing Millicent to curse. “Lizard pox.” The knob turned, and the door swung open.
Meooow!
“Hello, Storme. Did you have a good day?”
Meoooooow! Storme answered.
“Yes, yes. I know you’re hungry.”
Meooooow!
“I know you don’t have opposable thumbs. Good thing, too. You wouldn’t need me if you could fix your own dinner. Give me a minute to put this stuff down. I’ll be right back with you.”
Meoow!
“No, you won’t starve. It will only take a minute.” She hurried to her bedroom with Storme on her heels.
Millicent pulled her purchases from their bag.
“What do you think?” She held up a multi-colored skirt to show the cat.
Storme squinted his single orange eye, harrumphed, and commenced licking his hindquarters.
“No, it does not look like Disco Barbie,” she said disdainfully. “Don’t be rude.”
Storme ignored her.
“How about this one?” She showed him a solid black outfit.
Storme blinked his eye, then rolled over onto his back, stretching until his limbs shook from the effort and could stretch no more.
“Whatever. I don’t know why I bother asking you. It’s not as if you’re an expert on women’s fashions.”
She hung the pieces in her closet, and put the matching shoes away without showing them to the cat. She wasn’t taking chances.
She still recalled the time he’d urinated in her brand new Manolo Blahnik pony hair pumps before she’d had a chance to wear them. And while she’d appreciated his point—animal rights and all that—she could not support his methods.
“Come on then. Let’s go open a can of Mouse Flakes.”
Once she’d fed the cat, Millicent surveyed the day’s mail.
“Junk. Junk. Industry invite.”
Storme snorted derisively and continued lapping at the clump of what passed for cat food.
“Junk. Coven Counsel.”
Storme looked up at her widening his eye.
Millicent slid a polished fingernail under the envelope’s seal, slid the folded letter from within, and read aloud.
Dear Millicent:
It is my pleasure to inform you that you are under consideration for an Upper Echelon post for the coming decade. Please be advised no decisions will be finalized nor formally announced until the Decennial Banquet. You should continue conducting yourself in a manner befitting a Witch of your standing in our Coven.
Most Sincerely,
Midrington Calloway, Covenmaster
North American Witches Coven
Storme huffed.
“You can do better than that, Storme. This could mean an ambassadorship. Or a cabinet position. Or something better”
The cat eyed his mistress. He gave a snort normal cat owners would associate with the respiratory issues typical of flat-faced breeds. Millicent knew, however, that his snort was just what it sounded like: judgment.
Jenni, how cool that you’ve joined a screenwriting group! I should consider that—shouldn’t be too hard to find one here in L.A., right? And thanks for the kind words. I really enjoyed the tone of this scene! So clever, and a great mix of ordinary and magical.
Hey there, fellow blogger. You’ve been tagged! Wanna know what that’s all about? Check out https://mythcreant.wordpress.com/2019/02/12/tag-lines/
Hi Bryn,
Newly discovering a lot of writers lately. I love to read and am attempting to write my first book. I started writing when I was in school, and now that children are raised and have their own, I’m carrying on. Here is my WIP.
After making the arrangements with the travel agency, Elena called her best friend and Chief Operations of her publishing firm, Kathy.
“Hello?” she heard on the other end of the phone. “Hi Kathy, it’s me El”
“Hey El, what’s wrong?”
“You know me so well” sighing Elena continues, “I bought my ticket to go back home, not sure if I’m doing the right thing.”
“You know you don’t have to, but I along with your counselor, think it will help you heal.” She paused just a moment and continued, “You’ve spent too many years trying to be who everyone else thinks you should be and doing what they think you should do. El, go and do what you know you need to do.”
“You’re right, I know. I’m just scared I guess, of what I don’t know.”
“I know, take your time, I’ll keep things running here.”
“You are a dear friend, I’m so glad I have you Kathy.” They had been best friend since the third grade. When Elena moved to California after her divorce, she had called Kathy and offered her a job.
“I know.” She said with a laugh, then continued “You be safe, and call me if you need to talk and you know I’ll fly out there if you need me to.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Elena smoothed her skirt and went upstairs to pack for the trip.
Pulling into the drive-way, Elena puts the rental car into park. Looking out at the empty lot, wondering what her life would have been like if her mother had lived, she can see the big barn with the attached milking parlor, the grain bin, along with all the other buildings that were there when she was a little girl. They were all painted red, except for the barn, which was grey. The three-sided porch that wrapped around the house is now gone. Just a lonely house, that was full of life so long ago, stood here now. No one had lived here for years, it was used to farm and nothing else. Why no one demolished the house is a wonder.
She slowly opened the car door, glad she chose to wear her tennis shoe and jeans in place of her normal stilettos and business suit. Taking a deep breath, she steps out of the car. Walking to the door, she notices to her left a small area of sand. Putting her hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes, she whispers, “I can’t believe my sand pile is still here!” Knowing it is probably been refilled many times over the years. She remembers it so well, the memories flooding her, like a tidal wave.
Hey, I’m new here and thought I’d find your website after buying your book ‘Master Lists For Writers’ which has honestly helped me so much in tight, writing situations. After reading some of your work, especially ‘Sunrise Cabin’, I was amazed and inspired to continue to evolve my writing with the help of your resources and blog posts and I can already feel a shift in my description and writing style. It’s really meant something to me as I am still young and want to see my writing grow as I become older. So thank you so much and I hope you and all people here like this small excerpt from one of my (work in progress) books, We Hide From Reapers.
—————————————————————– ( 232 words)
“I hate them,” Mason whispered as Scarlett dragged her thumb lightly across the scars, peppering the young man’s chest like stains on parchment. She smiled – though she disagreed with him – as she gazed into those hazel eyes.
“Well, I think they’re beautiful.”
Mason didn’t reply, swallowing thickly as his eyes shifted across the room. He looked for nothing but he always believed that one day he would discover something in that silent, cupboard-sized dormitory. Just something that would make life worth experiencing again, make him go outside. No. Guilt still gnawed at his core. He couldn’t go back, not yet.
Scarlett’s lips caressed his brow, directly over the original scar that had begun Mason’s frivolous journey. No shirt could cover that chapter, so Mason despised it the most.
“It proves what you’ve lived through, how you remained strong enough to get through it. How there was always a light at the finish, even if you couldn’t find it at the time. Just provides hope for the future, doesn’t it?”
“I might not be so fortunate next time.”
Scarlett sighed, leaning her form against his breast, cradled between his limbs. Her cheek burned against his skin, a jaw resting against the crown of her head. “You shouldn’t think like that, Mason,” It came out as a whisper, meeting his hand which had wrapped her snug against him. “You should never think like that.”
Hi Bryn! It’s so cool that you’re learning how to work on beat sheets – we just covered that this term. (I’m in an MFA program right now.) If you’re interested, here are a couple of links we were given to read over for class:
https://timstout.wordpress.com/story-structure/blake-snyders-beat-sheet/
http://www.savethecat.com/beat-sheets/the-hunger-games-novel-beat-sheet
https://www.storymastery.com/story/screenplay-structure-five-key-turning-points-successful-scripts/
(Please delete if you don’t want these links up here) I found it really helpful for outlining and plotting – something I’ve never done. (I’ve always been a pantser. Consider me a convert after this term lol) Even though my MFA program is for Creative Writing – Fiction, I found that learning how screen plays / beat sheets are put together is helpful for planning novels, too.
Also, I have a digital copy of Sunrise Cabin and I am so excited to eventually watch it on TV! Will you be able to give input on casting? I’m curious to see who you would pick for Paige and Dylan!
Hey, I’m so sorry my blog didn’t let this comment get posted right away! It made me approve it because of the links, but of course, you’re my friend and you’re welcome to post as many links as you way, haha. And these are GREAT links! I really appreciate them! I need the help. 🙂
THANK YOU for getting Sunrise Cabin, and thanks for the kind words! You know…this weekend I was feeling a little daunted by the script project, and now you’ve got me all motivated. You’re the best.
Yay! I’m so happy 🙂 You’ve got this.