Hi friends! How’s everyone doing? Good, I hope!
WIP Wednesday is when we share excerpts of work in process. If you don’t have an excerpt you want to share right now, we’d still love to hear from you about how things are going (or not going) with your writing! We usually do this on first Wednesday of the month, but it got interrupted by travel this month, so we’re doing it now.
The WIP Wednesday rules are as follows: about 500 words maximum (otherwise I’ll trim your excerpt). No linking to work for sale, but you can link to more of the story on your blog or another site! No graphic sex, because I have many young readers. We don’t suggest improvements on others’ writing, because it’s usually not ready for critique yet, but encouraging words are good writer karma.
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My excerpt this month may go in The Requiem Moon, book three of my Manus Sancti series. We’ll see! Nic has been charged with getting Sophie from Chicago back to their (literal) underground headquarters in New Mexico because their enemies want to abduct her.
Nic and Sophie have an ugly history, and they’re different from any other characters I’ve written before because they’re both so damaged. I’m working on the second book, but sometimes I skip ahead and write about these two.
I’ll put a MILD CONTENT WARNING for CSA-related PTSD. It’s fairly vague.
“You need to shower, too. Your face and hands are dirty,” Nic said. “If anyone sees you, it’s going to look weird.”
“I’ll do it later.”
“We need to go soon.”
Sophie opened her eyes again to look at him. He wore a gray tee shirt, damp at the collar from his wet hair.
“I need to sleep for an hour.” She probably wouldn’t be able to, with her nerves so tangled and fried, but she hadn’t rested since the night before last.
His mouth thinned as he considered it. “Okay. But we’ve got to get you cleaned up.”
She ignored him and crawled under the comforter. He couldn’t force her into the shower. Well, he absolutely could, without effort, but he wouldn’t. He went into the bathroom himself and she heard the water running. Maybe he still needed to shave. Thankful he’d let the matter drop, she withdrew into her thoughts.
The mattress sagged as he sat down on the edge of her bed.
No! Sophie sucked in a breath and her heart kicked into overtime as her eyes flew open.
It was just Nic. Given where she was and how old she was, the reaction made no sense. But that was how it was. She was almost always fine. And then some small, ordinary thing—a story in the news, a man reeking of alcohol—would pluck that terrible string deep within her, forever taut.
“I know you’re exhausted,” he said. Maybe he thought he’d simply startled her from sleep. “I’m just going to clean your face and hands.” He held a washcloth in his hand and a towel was draped over his knee. A second wet washcloth sat on the hotel nightstand.
No. This was ridiculous. He was right: she couldn’t walk around dirty and not raise suspicion. But she could get up and wash her own face.
Before she could move, he was running the warm, wet washcloth across her cheek. She froze. He was going to wash her face while she lay there, like she was a child? It was completely undignified.
But he was taking care of her. Almost no one had ever taken care of her. She looked away, focusing on a shadow on the wall. He’s only doing it to fulfill a mission. She knew this. Still, as he finished and patted her face dry with a towel, she could scarcely breathe. Something was melting inside of her.
“Here, give me your hands.” He took one of them in his warm, strong one. God, he looked handsome, his eyes downcast, fixed on his task. She wished he’d make a deadpan joke, or even insult her. Anything to break the tension, to curb her urge to…what? Wrap her other hand around his? Tell him why she’d jumped? Not all filth could be washed away.
He cleaned her hand and got it completely dry before moving to the other. Sophie closed her eyes again as if she were nodding off.
“Better,” he said, his voice gruff. “One hour, and then we’ll go.”
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Please share an excerpt in the comments, or just say hi! And even if you don’t feel like saying hi, it’s nice to have you here. Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
My WIP excerpt is from book 2 “Lights, Camera, Homicide” in the Holly Wood Mystery series:
Okay, now I’m really nervous yet ever so excited. After clearing the table, putting away leftovers and loading the dishwasher, Al and I left for our outing. First stop, the local beachfront ice cream shop which serves old-fashioned soft ice cream that comes in 30 flavors. I stuck with my predictable but favorite vanilla sprinkled with toasted almond crunches while Al chose pistachio. We spent at least 5 minutes devoted to people watching before Al finally spoke up.
“Holly, I have been attracted to you ever since I first met you,” Al confessed.
“You thought I killed my husband,” I laughed.
“Not for a moment. I was just doing my job. You thought I thought you killed your husband. Anyway, over time we’ve gotten to know each other thanks to your allowing us to use the Paul Crawley Center for our policeman’s charity dinners, you being the guest speaker at the Voices Against Crime conference, so and so forth. You were always around.”
“Hey.” I punched him on the arm. “You make it seem like I was I was stalking you.”
“Weren’t you?”
Al furrowed his brow and I furrowed mine. “Kidding. I’m kidding.” He reassured me.
That’s good because if Al was serious, he was about to receive an ice cream cone to the eye.
“I have feelings for you, Holly. Feeling stronger than one has for just a friend. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of us if I didn’t express that or gave you a chance to respond.”
“I feel the same way, Al,” I replied even though my mind was shocked by my words.
Al brushed aside a crumb from the corner of my mouth and leaned in for a kiss. That settles it. It’s official. We are a couple and have moved beyond pecks on the cheek and forehead only stage. We held hands during our walk to our destination for a carriage ride, with me leaning my head on Al’s chest as we stopped before crossing the street. I was content.
Being the gentleman that he is, Al helped me up the step leading to the seat of our horse drawn carriage. We barely spoke as we were led through downtown, past historical buildings and beneath hundred-year-old trees loaded with hanging Spanish moss.
“Are you happy?” Al asked.
“Immensely.”
Tonight’s events had been perfect so far. The romantic mood stayed intact from the beginning right up until Al’s cell phone rang.
I was having too good of a time to be paying attention to his short responses to the caller, but I did hear Al’s very last and worrying statement.
“I’m on my way.” Al fumbled around in his left pant pockets and pulled out his car keys.
“What’s going on?” I asked, disappointed that my enchanted evening was clearly about to end.
“A dead body had been found on the parking lot of the Paul Crawley Center.”
Great descriptions
You put me right there in the scene. Good job.
Can’t go wrong with romance AND a dead body. Boom. Well done.
Nice! Ice cream and first kiss followed up with murder. I like it.
“You thought I thought you killed your husband”—hahaha. Fun excerpt. Thanks for posting!
From “The Space Between”. The setting is a multi-generation space ship with two counter-rotating rings (habitat and horticulture) to simulate gravity. Kendal has just been called to repair an agricultural robot, and performed a reckless spacewalk between the two rings to save on commute time…
—
A scruffy-looking aggie loitered on a nearby walkway. Se spotted Kendal’s repair tech jumpsuit and waved ser over.
“You got here quick,” the aggie – Peyton Fontana according to name tag on ser overalls – said as Kendal approached.
Se hooked a thumb back toward the airlock. “I took a shortcut.”
Peyton looked at ser in disbelief. “You jumped between rings?”
Kendal nodded. “Beats going the long way around.” Se looked around. “Where’s the robot?”
“Over this way,” Peyton replied leading ser down a row of tomato plants. “It was doing fine, then just froze. I tried restarting it but it’s not responding at all.”
Kendal knelt down beside the little robot, not much more than small wagon with a couple mechanical arms attached. “OK, let’s see what we can do for you.”
As se worked, Peyton hovered. Kendal hated when people watched ser work. On the other hand, se was kind of cute, in a scruffy, dirt-under-the-fingernails, could-use-a-shower kind of way. Hazards of working on the farm all day, se supposed.
“You really jumped over here?” Peyton asked. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors that some people did that, but I thought it was all just that: rumors. I never thought anyone actually did it.”
Kendal pulled a charred motor cortex out of the brain box. “I don’t know about ‘some people’, but I definitely do. It’s a pretty wild ride. You oughta try it sometime.”
Peyton laughed. “No, I don’t think that’s the sort of thing I’d like to do. I mean, what if you missed?”
“I never miss,” Kendal replied, digging a refurbished motor cortex out of ser repair kit.
Se locked down the motor cortex, and had a look at the access panel. Cracked gasket. That explained the dirt and moisture buildup. Se stripped the gasket off the panel, and replaced it, making sure it fit snuggly.
“But what if you did?” Peyton insisted. Ugh, seriously, se sounded like the voice inside Kendal’s head every time se prepped for a jump.
Kendal looked up at Peyton and grinned. “I guess you’d need to call for another repair tech, then.”
Peyton shook ser head. “You are seriously weird, you know that?”
“It’s been pointed out to me on several occasions,” Kendal acknowledged. “Is that a bad thing?”
Peyton made a show of considering that. “No. I’m pretty sure I’d be OK with that. I might even be OK with that, say, over dinner?”
Kendal smiled, ser back turned to Peyton as se powered up the robot. Se patted it as it rolled away. “There you go. All better now. Good robot.”
Se stood and faced Peyton. “That seemed like a very circumspect way of asking me out.”
“Did it work?” Peyton asked.
Kendal looked ser up and down. “Lunch,” se said finally. “Tomorrow. Noon. Malcolm’s.”
“It’s a date,” Peyton agreed.
“It’s lunch,” Kendal countered. Se picked up the repair kit and headed toward the airlock.
Bonnie & Bryan: Yeah, the excerpts tend to be a bit confusing, since there’s so much backstory from the previous stories in this universe, and there’s no obvious explanation for the pronouns. That’s going to be a difficult thing to work out, as I write this. How much should I tell up front vs how much should I let the reader pick up as they go. I really don’t want to do is fill the first chapter or two with plodding exposition. That’s never a fun read. Much better to introduce some characters, then reveal the backstory bit by bit. What I might end up doing is just plowing ahead with the story, making references to the previous ones in passing, then tack on a glossary at the end of the book.
I’ve kinda painted myself into a corner. But, hey, some of my favorite shorts stories are the ones where I’ve done that, then had to paint myself back out again. 😀
I like it. You have a smooth voice! And I had no problem with the pronouns after a few lines. 🙂
Thanks!
I like this, Steve. It brings to mind fond memories of Serenity. <3
Hi Steve! Great worldbuilding and fun tone—reminds me of Andy Weir just a little. I’m already used to the pronouns. 🙂 Thanks for posting!
….nice blog, tnx, greating for You.
This piece reminds me of The Martian
The se and ser is a bit confusings, but I remember you explained this in precious comments.
I need a new brain box too. Great job. I get more and more of your world building each time. Boom.
Hi there.
I’m working on this piece. Any thoughts or comments are welcome.
On The Beach
My name is George Dolan. I’m forted up out on Catalina island, a fair sized chunk of real estate just a few miles off the coast of Los Angeles, California. I ended up here after the fall, after the whole zombie thing went from movies and tv to grim reality. I lived in Malibu before it all went south, rented a small cottage on top of a mountain. I was working on Big Wave, the surfing tv show that starred Weldon Camu and Laurie Turner when the shit hit the fan. We were on location at Leo Carillo beach the day things just spun into chaos. It was a sweet gig for me; I was the prop master, and I’d surfed these waves for years, so I had great contacts in the community for boards, and safety gear, not to mention this show was the number 2 rated thing on EdgeWorld network, so there was a lot of money involved, and money made the tv world go round.
Eighty percent of this show was shot outside so we were dependent on weather and temperature to be able to shoot on time. There was a big storm supposed to hit by the weekend, but it was only Monday.
Camu was a SOCAL kid and he knew how to surf – he was no ten hanger, but he was pretty decent and didn’t have any fear of big waves. Laurie Turner on the other hand was a beautiful girl from Chicago, who didn’t know dick about the beach, had an ego like a politician, and was so demanding she was universally hated by the other cast and crew. We’d had an early call that morning, 5 A.M., and I’d been up since three doing some last minute prop work, and was the third one at the beach. Fortunately for me I had a shorter drive than most, and the weather was perfect. High of eighty at the beach, which meant a hundred and eight inland, but clear and azure sky meant we’d be on schedule. Camu was early too. He was a great looking young guy, a photoshopped type physique, blond hair =q“ that wasn’t that touched up, and a strong open face. He was a sweetheart to work with–nice, humble even, and always good to the crew. One day when we got rained out he took everybody, I mean from PA’s to Director to CaliPho the “in” Vietnamese restaurant in Santa Monica, rented out the whole place, and must have paid ten grand for all the food and booze and legal pharma we all snarfed. Great kid.
Of course he was one of the first to contract whatever the hell this was. He’d brought this Thai woman to the set with him. She was a fucking doll-just gorgeous. Her name was Nongaturana (I won’t waste space on her last name-even longer) she went by Nong and she was Miss Thailand. A great person. I talked to her for a few minutes before the whole crew had arrived. She’d been touring through Saudi Arabia and had just flown in that morning. Her and Camu had met at some party and he’d clicked with her. I know he had no idea how short a click it would be.
The weird thing about this plague was she had no symptoms. Not until she went off. It was around six thirty by the time everyone but Laurie Turner, who was always fucking late, were on set and ready to shoot. Turner was late every fucking day. At least thirty minutes, sometimes an hour. Why? Probably because like most actors in Hollywierd, she’d been shit on when she was nobody, used and abused, and when she hit big, and she’d had two number one series and a hit film in the last four years, she was going to extract revenge. Of course, she took it on the people who were the most vulnerable, not the slimy producers, not the money guys, she took it out on the everyday crew people. I’d watched her reduce a makeup woman, a good friend of mine, Holly Nears, to hysteria, not once but half a dozen times. Me and Holly came up together out of UCLA, and she was a great person and a top makeup artist. Finally, one afternoon, I cornered Turner and got my face about an inch from hers, her bodyguard was taking a leak in the porta-potty on the other side of the parking lot, and told her real quiet that if she didn’t knock that shit off I would make her life very unpleasant. She barfed out some shit about getting me fired, blah blah, but I guess the look in my eye scared her. Her three hundred pound Samoan gorilla didn’t try to tear me in half, and her attitude towards Holly suddenly warmed. Small victories. Oh, she tried to get me fired, but my dad’s best friend was the producer on the show, so that didn’t happen either. Like I said, small victories.
I’m not a zombie or vampire fan, but this excerpt left me wanting to know what happens next. Good job.
Love zombies and how this narrative moves. If i can’t be the hero, can i be the Alpha zombie?
I need the zombie onset details!
Hey there! Sounds like this is going to be a very voice-driven piece, and I’m really curious about how the main character will change and grow as the story goes on. Thanks for sharing!
My favorite line: “pluck that terrible string deep within her”. I got tired of editing book 1 and book 2 so started the first draft of book 3.
_______________________________
She was freezing, but tightened her muscles to restrain the urge to shiver. She cracked open her eyes and peeked through her frosty eyelashes, fearful the monster would realize she was awake. It was dark, but there was enough light from the streetlamp for her to take in her surroundings.
Outside, she realized. Relief she was no longer confined in the dark prison swept over her. Her ears strained, carefully listening for the monster’s presence but only hearing the sounds of light traffic passing somewhere over her head. She shifted slightly, feeling the hard dirt and sharp rocks scrape across her face.
As she sat up and pulled her knees into her chest for warmth, she took inventory of her surroundings, ever watchful for the monster’s return. Her hand reached up to touch her pounding head, encountering a wetness in the dirty, matted hair covering a goose egg bump. Blood.
“Thought maybe you were dead,” came a gravely male voice from the darkness.
She startled at the sound and scrambled back on all fours until a concrete pillar at her back stopped her retreat. A wave of nausea rolled through her at the sudden movement, dizziness forcing her to look away from the man as she lost the meager contents of her stomach.
She swiped a filthy hand across her mouth as her eyes bounced back to him. He shuffled into the lamplight, stood still as a statue, and allowed her to look him over as she regained her bearings.
Not the monster.
His clothes were tattered and stained. Wiry grey hair stuck out from under his stocking cap. A straggly, unkempt and spittle flecked beard covered his cheeks and chin. His face was tanned from exposure to the elements but his eyes were unexpectedly clear and a shockingly bright blue.
“Ain’t gonna hurt ya, girl,” the man assured her as he slowly made his way across the litter filled stream of runoff and sewage that trickled its way through the shallow valley between the bridge’s footings.
The girl tucked her feet in tighter as he approached, instinctively trying to make herself smaller. Invisible. He stopped just outside her reach, rummaged through his cart, and pulled out a thin, blue plaid blanket. His gnarled and knobbly hands shook slightly as he offered her the musty blanket. She just looked at him, unmoving. “Don’t got much,” he said as he tossed it at her feet, “but you’re welcome to it.”
She snatched the blanket up and mumbled a weak “thank you” as she wrapped it around her head and shoulders. A subway train rumbled nearby and the noise of the city waking up filtered down.
“Name’s Pops,” he said, still respecting the distance she obviously wanted. “Don’t know how you came to be here, but looks like you could use a little help.” She continued to watch him warily. “You hungry?”
Her stomach answered with a loud growl and the man guffawed. “Well come on then. I know a place where you can get warm and we can go from there.”
Love the visual descriptions in this. Definitely paints a picture. That’s something I tend to be weak on, so I’m always a teensy bit envious when I see someone get it right. 😀
Diana: I love this scene. Your descriptions put me right there with your character. I felt her fear, her discomfort, the cold. Great excerpt! I think I would love this book.
Immediately immersed me in the world. Want to know what happens. Conveyed a lot of emotion in so few words. Greatness.
This is really good! I want to know how she got there from a prison, and what will happen next.
I really enjoyed reading this. Well-described scene. It certainly felt so real that now I’m worried about her. 🙂 I hope to read more on this one.
Excellent use of descriptions!!
Sooooo good, Diana. More please …
Hi Diana! Great visceral details here. I always enjoy these. Thanks for sharing!
So good, Bryn! Yes! Trauma can totally resurface like that: “She was almost always fine. And then some small, ordinary thing—a story in the news, a man reeking of alcohol—would pluck that terrible string deep within her, forever taut.”
In my latest Mass Effect fic, Soldier’s Heart, Lieutenant Vega runs the security team guarding Commander Shepard’s door after she’s been relieved of duty and put under house arrest for saving the galaxy. I know you like seeing really rough drafts, so the first bit is polished and the latter part is my notes on where we’re headed (393 words total):
Chapter 7: [Poison]
James Vega looked just as good as Jane remembered. Today’s tee shirt was cut larger, but it was still clear that he was big, built, and graceful as hell. He carried Anderson’s box of data pads.
“Come on in.” Heart pounding, she closed and bolted the door.
“Commander,” he said, and set the box on the dinky kitchen table. How could the back of someone’s neck be so sexy?
“You’re not supposed to call me that anymore.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He stared at the box for a moment before turning to her. “These are Anderson’s reports for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Mmhmm.” He hesitated, like he wanted to say more and wasn’t sure if it’d be welcome.
“So, how’s life on the outside?” she asked.
“Good.” He nodded emphatically. “Good. Life is good.”
She smirked. She’d reduced him to monosyllabic communication. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. Yes, Shepard, I’ll be here tomorrow.”
[So, I want to show Jane and EDI talking here, but I also want to get James interacting with the guards.]
James visits Steve on the Normandy.
Adams, Donnelley, Daniels.
[Her voice was even better than he’d remembered. The second day was easier. The third, even easier.]
Admiral Hannah Shepard visits.
“Is that a strawberry milkshake?
“What, no hug?”
“I can hug you and start in on my slurpy at the same time.”
The rich blend of their laughter reminded him of home. Aubelua and her women chattering. Happy warmth bloomed in his chest. He should vidcall Uncle Emilio after his shift.
Kaidan coming down the hall.
“Sorry, Major. Diplomatic meeting in progress.”
James has coffee with Jane and her coffee maker, tells her he’ll bring her a real brew tomorrow. Is that fresh-ground?! She drinks first, slaps his drink away. Can’t decide if paralytic or another poison. Only survives because of Cerberus’ cybernetics. Similar or same to batarian poison at Afterlife? Cerberus framing the batarians?
James had seen salarians and other aliens around coffee stall at that time. Possible EDI already has connection to Jane’s omni-tool, talks James through [antidote] that’s with her cruelty-free shampoo or other bottles.
Medical needs to come anyway, of course. Not sure about vomiting blood, though. They put a hospital bed in her room or a wedge on her bed. Still locked up. James at her side when she wakes, holding her hand in his fist, kisses hand.
Interesting…hmm…where is this going?
Thanks, Bryan. I wrote more this afternoon, including a chat with an A.I. about free will, and scene with James visiting a friend on the Normandy, which is in dry dock for retro-fits. The assassination attempt will move to another chapter.
Steve squeezed his shoulder. “I get it. Hard turn your back on a war hero.”
It was more than that. James didn’t want to disappoint Jane Shepard, and the realization tied his stomach up in a tangle of knots.
Hey friend! Oh yeah, I really do love seeing the writing process on the page—so cool. This is going to be great! (Hey, and congrats on the Hugo nomination 🙂 It’s great writers like you that made that happen!)
Thank you, Bryn! We in the AO3 community are so honored by our Hugo Award nomination, and I’m on a real roll this week: I wrote two and a half chapters yesterday! “Poison” has become chapter 10, while 7, 8, and 9 are Outside Connections, Visitors of a Certain Type, and Monsters. Wishing you a wonderful weekend!
“And then some small, ordinary thing—a story in the news, a man reeking of alcohol—would pluck that terrible string deep within her, forever taut.” That is awesome. A very good description.
I’m currently learning how to work with theme. The theme of my story is that it’s better to be ‘selfish’ and practice self-care than to be ‘selfless’ and work yourself into the ground. My main character has a traumatic past and she’s purposefully not dealing with it because she thinks that dealing with it will make her look weak and incapable. Here she’s having a fight with her husband, who’s ambushed her in the shower. Also, they’re vampire hunters.
* * *
And the sad part was that her husband Diego wouldn’t mind [helping her]. He’d take care of her. He’d be good at it. And he wouldn’t think poorly of her for needing help. Neither would Miguel. But afterward? Would they trust her to hold her own again? Would she become the least of them, always cared for, never allowed to take the same risks? Poor broken Joana, cried because she saw a man in chains. She couldn’t be that. Not now, not ever.
The toilet seat creaked again. Hastily she grabbed her washcloth, pulled her foot onto her lap, and scrubbed at her sole just as he pulled the shower curtain open. “What are you doing down there?”
Her pain flashed into anger. “Washing my feet. What’s it look like?”
He moved the shower head so that it hit the side of the shower instead of the top of her head, then knelt by the side of the tub. “Joana, look at me.”
She started on her other foot. Here comes the guilt trip.
His fingers gently touched her chin, tugged it his way. She restrained herself from biting him and let her head be turned. “Yes?”
“Joana. You could have died down there. What if Bryan had been one of them? Or bitten? He could have killed you.”
“I know.” She finished her foot by feel.
“It would kill me to lose you. If you died, I would die.”
Melodrama. She barely avoided rolling her eyes. “Do you want to wrap me up in a cocoon? Maybe strap me to the bed so I can’t hurt myself? Do you want a plaything, Diego, or a partner? And don’t tell me Miguel is your partner. You know what I mean.”
He let go of her chin, his eyes pinched, his lips parted. “You don’t believe me? Do you doubt my love for you?”
“No!” she slapped the washcloth against the side of the tub in frustration. “Of course you love me. You’ll never stop loving me. I love you too. But you have to let me be an adult, Diego. I have to be able to take the same risks you do.”
He interrupted her. “You never will. I’m tough. You’re not. Shit that would bruise me could kill you.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“I know.” Now his lips thinned, and his eyebrows dropped into one angry line that marched across his forehead. “Going after Benita was extremely risky, far more than the risk I took. It’s like you’re in love with cheating death. That’s a sick attitude, Joana, and it’s going to get you and a bunch of other people killed. Including me. I’ll die trying to save your life. Hell, Miguel would too.”
There’s the guilt trip.
In the first decade of their marriage, that guilt trip had worked. Now all it did was make her angry. Angrier.
She rose to her feet, unclamped the shower head, and rinsed herself off, heedless of where the water splashed. She’d care later when she had to clean it up, but now she just wanted out of here. “That’s a low trick, trapping me in here.”
He retreated to the bathroom door to stay away from the water. She debated “accidentally” soaking him, but decided it would be too much to clean up.
“If you actually talked to me when I asked you to, I wouldn’t have to resort to trapping you in the shower. You don’t like it?
Try being reasonable for a change.”
Screw it. She soaked him head to foot.
You had me at vampires…and I like the hunters too. Great.
Vampire hunters, yaaaasss. And great theme, one that seems more important these days than ever.
“The theme of my story is that it’s better to be ‘selfish’ and practice self-care than to be ‘selfless’ and work yourself into the ground.” Wow…that is something almost no one writes about and lots of us need to hear (me, for instance.) Thanks for the excerpt! I enjoyed it!
Sadly no contributions from my WIP this time but I did write a 300 word historical flash fiction assignment for my writing class where a group of friends meet for perhaps the last time in 1940 England. Also I posted another writing class flash fiction piece of about 1000 words. See story at https://robertiveystories.wordpress.com/2019/04/04/murder-in-port-isaac-a-patricia-ida-mystery/
Robert, a corpse and chocolate covered strawberries, oh my. Enjoyed your flash fiction.
Hi, Bob! The historical flash fiction sounds great. And thanks for sharing this one!
Oh, Bryn, that made me so sad and touched. Like choke on my tears touched. I vote for putting the scene in! My WIP is from Gemini Asunder (title change). This scene is from one of the subplots with Lilith who lives in Portam…in Hell.
Lilith tossed the cloth in the fire. “Tell the guard it’s time.”
“Time, my queen?”
“To release the dragons.”
The servant looked up at Lilith, her head craned back to see the queen’s face so far above her own. “Which ones and how many?”
“All of the grown black dragons, but none of the others, including the hatchery; the babies are too young to survive the rise.”
The servant ran off.
Lilith touched her lips and recalled her visit with the Zodiac Leona. The young woman reminded Lilith of herself at that age; so full of anger and hungry for a fight, with a mind wide open to exploration by anyone powerful enough, subtle enough.
And, oh, the information she had gleaned while traipsing about the girl’s mind: Leona’s past—so boring—the Zodiacs, their power…and the potential of that power that begged to be fulfilled and exploited.
By me.
Lilith eased into a chair on the balcony outside her suite. Mud continued to drop in great globs from the turrets, splatting on the buildings and people below, but her own balcony was pristine. That was the servant’s first priority: Portam rises from the mud, clean Lilith’s balcony. They may be denizens of Hell, but there was no need to live in a sty like a pig.
She waved a hand, calling the elderly servant over to brush her long hair.
“Will it be soon?” she asked the old woman who had served her for centuries.
“Any time now, mon petit.”
“My little one? After all these years, you still feel the need to call me that? With me towering over you.”
“You will always be mon petit to me.” The woman set the brush down. “Hair up or down today?”
“Why don’t you take the shears to it? I feel the need for no hair.” She swept her hair forward with one hand; the weight of it had already begun to pull on her scalp and neck. A migraine would follow sometime soon.
“We’ve tried that countless times and it always grows back within hours.”
Lilith heaved a sigh. “It is a punishment almost as tedious as being stuck here.”
“Then it’s good the tedium is about to be broken.”
Lilith dropped her hair and looked out across the city she’d been ruling for an eon. A deep rumble echoed through the air, blowing over Lilith and her servant, the force lifting strands of hair.
Lilith leaned forward. “Yes, it is.”
She saw wing tips first. Thick webs of black skin spanning between long bones ending in sharp claws.
Another flap.
The tips disappeared for a moment then reappeared along with more of the wings.
Flap.
A huge black-scaled head appeared: triangular, craggy, with long, razor-sharp teeth and red eyes.
Flap.
The dragon’s full body broke free of the heavy mud and jetted into the sky; a scream pierced the air.
“Brilliant,” Lilith said under her breath.
Yummy. Love dragons and the world building.
Release the dragons! Love it. Great imagery.
I’m intrigued. I love this look at Lilith.
Hey friend! Aww, thanks for the kind words. Love this passage—the hair that grows back! And the dragon appearance is masterful.
Brynn, that was so amazing!! Love it!!
This is an excerpt from the (near) beginning of my WIP. The working title is The Prince and His Lady Warrior, but that will likely change as I think it sounds too “historical romance-y” and it’s a modern day story. Just a note: Mattie is Major McIlroy. That’s explained just before this part.
Mattie shook her head to clear her thoughts. “Come on old man, let’s go,” she taunted her sparring partner and long-time friend, Pedro Martinez.
“Shouldn’t we get cleaned up for His Royal Highness?” Pedro asked between long drinks from his water bottle. He sat against the wall, his left knee cradled to his chest, right leg outstretched.
Mattie rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten the Party Boy Prince was coming for a photo op. Show the world how involved he was with the troops. Try to redeem the little piece of his reputation not tarnished by his partying and philandering ways.
“I don’t think His Royal Heinie’s coming here. He’ll take a few quick photos outside and be back in the pub in an hour.”
Pedro jumped to his feet, getting better at quick maneuvering in his prosthetic right leg. He raised a hand to his forehead saluting as he stared past Mattie.
“It takes at least an hour and a half to get to my favorite pub.”
Mattie squeezed her eyes shut before slowly turning, her face set in a steely grimace. Prince Drake. She’d seen him in person around the base before but never this close. He was taller than she had thought. His arms more muscular. His chest broad. Amusement played in his gray-blue eyes as he leaned against the door, sunlight bouncing from his inky black hair.
“Mattie. Salute?” Pedro said in a much too loud whisper.
Mattie replied without breaking her eye contact with Drake. “Last I checked, I outranked him.”
Stupid. What a stupid thing to say! But she couldn’t help it. He didn’t know a hard day’s work followed by even harder nights. He partied with models and took extravagant vacations. He’d been awarded the title of Captain by his father, King Leopold before he had died. The King’s firstborn son, the now King Fernando, had been the one to inherit the throne. And with three children, Drake would never find himself bearing the responsibility of ruling the island kingdom of Rizzonia. He seemed to take that to heart as he flitted across the world in an endless party.
“Then bow, because he’s royalty,” Pedro hissed through clenched teeth.
Mattie cast a sideways look at her friend whose face was pained, still red from their workout. With a dramatic sigh, Mattie grasped the hem of her sweaty tank top, pulling it out from her body and bobbing her head slightly in a mock curtsy. Prince Drake pushed off from the wall and saluted her.
“I am awfully parched, and the pub awaits, but please, don’t let me interrupt your training session. I’d like to watch. I’ve heard some great things about the work you do here with the wounded veterans, Major McIlroy.”
The entourage surrounding the prince seemed to relax around him. Prince Drake approached
“We were actually finishing up, your Highness,” Pedro offered. “We met to finish before you got here, but we lost track of the time.”
“He tends to lose track of the time when he thinks he’s going to beat me. Which, by the way, hasn’t happened yet,” Mattie winked at her friend.
‘Royal Heinie.’ Cracked me up. Awesomeness.
I *really* like Mattie. I want to read more!
Poppy, hi! Ah, this was so much fun. I like it that she didn’t lose her attitude even when she was face to face with him. 🙂 Thanks for sharing!
I’m not submitting an excerpt this time, but I do have something to share.
I belong to a Face Book group called 10 Minute Novelists, with a membership of 2,000. There is a group within that .group called 365 Writing Challenge 2019, with 422 members. The name is self-explanatory. There are contests from time to time. I was one of 50 plus entries in a first page contest. I submitted the first page of my first novel in a series. I won First Place! I was excited beyond words, and surprised. I entered for the critique, never imagining I would win anything. This honor was a wonderful birthday present.
Oh how nice for you Bonnie. A wonderful birthday present indeed.
What a great affirmation! Good job!
Positive feedback and winning is the best. Proof of your skillset. Well done.
Congrats!
Bonnie, that’s so awesome! Very nice. Congratulations!
Thank you, Bryn
Bryn: Your excerpt pulled me in. You made me feel sympathetic toward your MC. She is conflicted, and obviously damaged. I’m rooting for her and I want to know more about Nic.
Oh, thanks, Bonnie! I appreciate that. 🙂
Love your excerpt! You are so good with both description and dialog (that’s my weak point). I especially love that part others have mentioned, as well as her thought “Not all filth could be washed away.” I’d love to contribute, but sadly my piece is fanfic (even if there are few fans for this old classic anymore). But your suggestions and excerpts are always so helpful! Thanks for being so generous in helping other aspiring writers.
Karen, hi! Thanks for the nice words, I appreciate it! And just so you know, fanfic is absolutely welcome here, so feel free to share next time! Up to you. 🙂
EXCERPT WORK IN PROGRESS..Hope I’m not stepping over any kind of line here. Knocking on the door of typing THE END. I’m pumped….
Adele snapped the bathroom door to lock, she turned and gasped. The size of Luke’s shower would damn near accommodate a football team. Why does anyone need a shower this big? It must be some kind of manly thing along with his gigantic oversize TV and king-sized bed. She stepped into the shower closing her eyes. The five shower heads engulfed her with the soothing warmth and gentle massaging tingle of the water. Adele enjoyed a long, leisurely shower, dried her hair, applied coconut scented cream to her body and put on the special nightgown she had purchased for the evening. With a giggle, she opened the bathroom door. Adele sprinted to the opposite of the bed from Luke, jumped into bed, pulled the sheet over her, clung to the edge of the bed and curled into the fetal position with her back to Luke. He busted out laughing.
“What the hell is that thing you have on?”
Luke couldn’t control his laughter nor the tears that rolled down his face.
“If you must know. It’s a nightgown.”
Luke could hardly speak due to his laughter.
“Well, that’s the ugliest damn thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The neckline comes up to your earlobes, it’s dragging on the floor and its paisley flowers are chartreuse. I want to know if it came with a chastity belt. It reminds me of something my grandma wore.”
Adele’s back still faced Luke.
“Get over it, Luke. I didn’t want to be too seductive. I told you we’re not doing anything up here with your mom downstairs. I don’t care if she’s in her little studio apartment off the kitchen consider this nightgown a favor to you.”
“That nightgown is no favor. Anyway, you’d be seductive to me in a gunny sack.”
“Go to sleep, Luke. You’ll be fine.”
“No, I won’t be fine. I’m not going to sleep without you in my arms. You’re a half football field away from me.”
“Your bed matches the size of your shower too massive. That’s your own fault. Not mine.”
Adele had a hard time containing her own laughter. She had made her point to Luke’s distress.
Luke shook his head looking at this little peanut of a woman curled in the fetal position hugging the edge of the bed in the ugliest nightgown ever made. This is exactly one of reasons he had fallen in love with her. She kept life an adventure. He’d never walk away from this woman.
“Get over here. Don’t make me come over there to get you.”
She rolled over busting out with her own laughter. They both scooted to the middle of the bed. Luke groaned as he took Adele into his arms.
“Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Will you please take off that ugly thing? Where in the hell did you find it anyway?”
Adele reached to the hem of the nightgown. She pulled it over her head tossing it to the floor.
“Walmart on the clearance rack. It only cost five bucks.”
“Five bucks is even too much money for that hideous thing.”
I think I own that same nightgown. I loved this!
Clever. Funny…I want the big bed. Nice job.
Like this a lot. Sounds like a fun read. Nanna nightgown. We all have ’em.
Funny excerpt. 🙂
Hi Jan! I loved the humor in this. (And hey…sometimes those nightgowns are comfy! Hahahaha.) Thanks for sharing!
Hi! I enjoyed reading your WIP. Thank you for sharing. My writing is going well, or I should say editing/revising. I hope your trip is going well and that you are seeing some amazing sites.
Aw thanks friend! We got back last night…we really did have an amazing time. Happy editing/revising (I’m weird, I know, but it’s my favorite part of writing!)
So happy to hear you had an amazing time! And thank you, editing can be fun for sure.
Oh, poor Sophie! I really enjoyed this excerpt, Bryn, especially the chemistry between Nic and Sophie. I can’t wait to see where it goes!
I hope to have something to announce about my oracle story soon. In the meantime, I have gone back to revising my mermaid story, and while it still needs work, I fell back in love with the characters again. So I’m sharing an excerpt.
He dismissed the dandies and instead took an interest in the townspeople in front of him. Farmers and fishermen, more of the former this time of year, with the fishing season just opening. The crowd was huge and noisy, but well behaved thanks to the presence of several large guards. Edmund smiled as he saw a small boy race out of place in pursuit of a wooden ball, and his mother rushing after.
But the smile turned to dismay as the guards sent them to the end of the line.
Edmund leapt to his feet. “No. Let her stay!”
The woman paused, expression stunned and her arms full of wriggling boy.
The two petitioners before his father fell silent, but the king himself did not turn around. “Edmund. These people have been lined up since dawn. Don’t keep them waiting any longer.” And he gestured for the men to continue.
“But she has been waiting as well,” Edmund said. “And the line is so long. She’ll be lucky to make it through again.”
His father ignored him.
“She probably won’t,” whispered the queen. “Certainly not if you persist in interrupting.”
Edmund narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t interrupting, I wanted to help.” He stepped forward and called out, “Father! I would be happy to hear her case–and any others you would like to send my way.”
“Quiet, boy,” said the king, and to the petitioners: “You were saying—about the foal and the cart?”
Dismissed. Edmund turned a pleading gaze to his mother. “I thought I could help them. Help him.” He stared at his father’s back, the sweat at his nape, his already reddening skin.
He looked for the young mother, and couldn’t find her at all.
“I know you were. “The queen reached out to squeeze his fingers. “And in your time, you will. But Edmund, you mustn’t rush it. For now, just listen and learn.”
She meant: “You’re nineteen. We don’t trust your judgment yet.” And perhaps: “Remember what you did to your boat.”
With a sigh, Edmund took his seat again and ignored the whispers of the clustering noblemen.
It was going to be a long day.
Love your writing style. Active, fast paced. Boom. Home run.
Poor Edmond. I feel his frustration. Well done.
Aww thanks Kimberly. And ooh…I hope to hear oracle news soon, too! Enjoyed the excerpt, as always! Love this: She meant: “You’re nineteen. We don’t trust your judgment yet.” And perhaps: “Remember what you did to your boat.”
I like the intimacy of the simple fact of him washing her face and hands. Powerful!
Oh, thanks so much. I appreciate that! Thanks for reading!
You always manage to show so much in your writing. I’m envious. If I had 1/10 of your talent I would be happy.
I’m going to go ahead and share some more from Batter Days. I swear I will be done with this thing someday. Rebuilding my parents house can’t last forever. LOL. This takes place shortly after Ally has put in an offer on a building. She has found herself caught in a bidding war, and has just put in the last offer she can possibly manage before having to give up on the location.
The single thought that kept running through my mind was that the only reason I hadn’t heard from Tyson yet was because they had rejected the offer, and he didn’t know how to tell me. Seconds ticked by like hours. I was wound so tight by the time Derek got home that I nearly jumped out of my skin when he called out his customary greeting.
“Hey, Als.”
“Ah!” I screamed, placing a hand over my rapidly beating heart.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologized as he took a seat next to me on the couch. “What’s going on?”
I told him about the phone call from Tyson and the subsequent offer I’d put in on the building. “This is my last chance, Derek,” I told him. “If they say no this time, then that’s it. I’m out of the running, and I have to find another location, and that means starting all over again, and…”
“Hey. Hey. Hey. Come here.” Derek held out his arms and gestured for me to move closer. I went willingly, throwing my arms around his waist and letting him pull me close as he whispered soft encouragements in my ear.
I closed my eyes and breathed in his familiar scent to calm my nerves. The feeling of his fingers running gently through my hair caused my muscles to relax. I practically melted into him when he started scratching my scalp.
“It’ll be okay, Als,” he whispered. “I promise.” I nodded, letting myself sink a little bit deeper into his embrace.
The shrill ringing of my phone garred me from the moment. Pulling away, I looked down at my ringing phone on the table to see Tyson’s name lighting up the screen.
This was it. This was the call I had been waiting for, but I couldn’t move. My entire future was riding on this one call, and I couldn’t muster up the courage to answer the phone. I’d about decided to let it go to voicemail when Derek leaned forward and answered the call.
“Tyson? Hey man it’s Derek. Ally’s right here. I’ve got you on speaker.”
I wanna know what’s going to happen. Wonderful.
Gah! Did she get it???
Haha! I’m not going to tell. I’ll save that for the book 😉
Love it, Erin, especially how you made it so exciting in so few words. Great pacing. It’s been a while since I’ve read 1st person. You did it so well. xx
Thank you! 1st person is not something I tend to write in, but when I finished the first draft and realized something was off with the tone, that was the only thing that fixed it. Oh the joys of writing. lol.
Erin, you are way too kind, but also wrong. You’re really talented! I really enjoyed this. Great depiction of someone whose nerves are worn thin.
Thank you. <3
Topaz toyed with the frayed manila envelope filled with the $50 bills. The clasp on the envelop had long broken and there were several layers of tape across the seal. Her mother had sent her $50 in cash twice a year for ten years, on her birthday and for Christmas.
The luxury hotel’s enviable beach front was filled with hopeful surfers and weekend kayakers competing for uncooperative waves. The lolling breakers only skimmed the shore teasing the participants with promises of more powerful waves.
She had been back in Walkerville for a week. Actually she was in San Pietro staying at the town’s only opulent hotel. On the deck of the hotel suite overlooking the glassy Pacific, she sat on a wicker lounge chair, the envelop on a matching table, right next to her cell phone.
She breathed in salt sea air and imagined that she felt a spray. The soft wind caressed her face, playing with her thick brown hair. Her body sought the sun, loving the warmth seeping into her bones. She felt starved of Vitamin D, the Pacific Ocean, and most of all Walkerville. She was homesick.
Topaz Aiko Miyoshi Leggett was a wealthy 28 year old widow. She looked good on paper; stocks and bonds, several savings accounts, three checking accounts, and deeds to a Nantucket cottage she’d never visited and the brownstone apartment she had lived in for the past five years. Both were up for sale, the last thing she did before leaving. None of that made a difference to her. None of this had made her happy.
She wished she smoked. She wished she drank. She picked at her nails instead. Her long straight dark brown hair was scooped up into an impatient bun atop a frowning forehead. Her hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles across her pert nose, and her high cheekbones hinted at her mixed heritage. At 5’8” she was the tallest one in her immediate family. Her mother had literally been looking up to her daughter since she was 13 years old.
With her hazel eyes, her olive skin, her graceful figure Paz had been turning heads for a long time and her mother tried to protect her from any evils that would befall her daughter, short of making a prisoner out of her. And as most prisoners, she escaped at the first opportunity, across the country.
She escaped and now I want to know what troubles she’s running into.
I sense trouble on the horizon. I hope she picks up a pack of smokes and has a couple dirty martinis to start her new adventure.
Wow. There is some serious back story hear that I would love to sink my teeth into. Well done!
Hey there! Wow, this is really nice. Love the way you opened with the detail about the envelope. I hope to read more!
Aaaaahhh, this excerpt! I hope the last two books in this series are released close together. And SOON!
I actually have my own excerpt to share this month, but I’ll have to do it tonight when I get home from work. 🙂
Aww thank you so much! You know how hard it is for me to squeeze in the writing time, and you’re motivating me!
My WIP is an MG fantasy…
“Can I borrow your phone?”
“What?” I said stumbling backward, the strange lady’s voice had caught me off-guard. Without meaning to be rude, I turned and stared open-eyed at the creepy old woman hunkering behind me. Her bloated body resembled an over-boiled pierogi (a boiled then fried dumpling with cheese inside.) Her pasty, sweaty face made me want to tear out my own eyes. And boy, did she smell. Not bad or dirty, but delicious in fact—like she was made out of chocolate mixed with caramel and coconut.
She grinned as I licked my lips. “I know,” she said, “I’m not pretty, but I smell good enough to eat, don’t I?”
The old lady wheezed every time she inhaled. And her voice sounded as if broken toys were rattling around in a metal box.
“Your phone, Dear. It’s an emergency,” she rattled out. Then grinned again, which scared me even more—because she had no teeth. None! Totally toothless. All gums.
“My what?” I asked, confused while staring at her angry red gums and stumbling back another step as my sister and our friends closed in around her.
“We don’t talk to strangers,” stated Tessa, staring down the toothless woman.
“Good policy,” agreed Gummy nodding, “if it works. But here you are talking to me, Tessa.” Then she actually cackled and said, “Aren’t you?”
Tessa didn’t step back at the sound of her name. Instead, she moved closer to the strange woman.
Shooting a quick a glance to the dock, I whipped my head left and right, but—the Rock Star had disappeared? How?
“How do you know my name?” Tessa crossed her arms.
“Oh, you think because I look scary, I’m a bad person?” Gummy, shooed us back and pulled a gigantic iPad out of her pink beach bag. “Nice isn’t it?” said the old lady patting the tablet’s cover. The 3-D cover showed a strange world filled with silver oceans and flying creatures soaring over a huge cathedral. Earth glowed in the lilac-colored sky. “Dearie, I was playing Annihilation against you and your friends. My handle’s War Goddess.” She grinned her toothless grin again. “And you, Tessa, you need to change your handle. Never use your real name. Your parents must have warned you not to do that, didn’t they?”
“They did!” Augie piped in, “Messa just didn’t listen.”
“Shut up, Wolfie.” Tessa stepped closer to the toothless lady. “I got this.”
“Messa is like our bodyguard,” added Hudson with a smirk.
“Messa.” Toothless snickered. “Tessa is a mess, huh? That’s funny. And a better online name. Anonymous is best. Must stay safe in your crazy world.”
Our crazy world? Listening carefully, I wasn’t wholly convinced this strange woman was telling us the truth. “How did you know, out of all us girls, she’s Tessa?”
“The same way I know you’re Mal … Mallory! And Messa is your sister. Blaze and Augie and Hudson are all part of your gang, and most kids don’t like any of you.
For some reason, I am anonymous. But, it’s my MG fantasy above 🙂
Whoa, this is really good! I’m both creeped out and curious, I wanna read more. And I *used* to love pierogis. 😉
Hi Bryan! I really enjoyed this…the main character made such harsh superficial judgements of this woman, and they’re turing out to be wrong. 🙂 “Oh, you think because I look scary, I’m a bad person?” Love it!
Thanks for posting! And thanks for commenting on other people’s work, too. It’s nice to have you here. 🙂
Bryn, your voice always rings clear and true. Heartfelt, touching, wonderfully painful. You weave words so well.
Hi Bryn! Current WIP is book 4 of a medium heat romance series about 4 American cowboys who fall in love with 4 Aussie gals and have to let go of their fractured pasts and hang-ups about love.
—————————————————————-
“Love someone senseless. Go crazy for one night,” Aimee goaded. Her wide eyes charged with fire, provoking him to react.
Spencer Bryant had never been dared before. Never spurred on by a beautiful woman to seek the company of a stranger and lose his mind for an evening.
“You think I’m uptight?”
“No. You think too much,” the blonde beauty observed. “You need to stop thinking, Spencer. Set fire to what you’re feeling. Make tonight the one that’s different.”
“No.”
“I’ll be your sidekick. Wing girl. Whatever you wanna call it,” she urged. “There’s plenty of pretty things at this wedding who’d cuddle up to a cowboy for a night.”
Aimee’s voice had a particular bounce to it. Spencer wasn’t sure if the wine was loosening her tongue or the girl really did feel outraged that he was sitting alone at their mutual friends’ wedding. One she was also alone at.
It was the second wedding they had attended this year as singletons with no dates. The curious part was Aimee was not propositioning him to promote her own case.
“I can’t,” Spencer answered in a low, calm voice.
He fixed on picking at his beer label. His own beer. Spencer Black. The Pacific Northwest’s newest ultra, on-trend hipster hangout in downtown Portland. Why did that not send a shower of feels through him like it ought to?
Aimee rolled her eyes. A frown began creasing her fresh, pretty face. “Because of The Cowboy Code, right?”
“Yeah.”
“This mysterious thing you cowboys live by, but can’t talk about and only selected people are allowed to be in on?”
Her words were simple enough and Aimee’s tone was mild, but Spencer knew he was under assault.
He was only one quarter authorship of the damn Cowboy Code rulebook. His younger self agreed to the contents at a very low point in their lives, when there were no other answers. No other way to stop the cycle of bad behavior they had slipped in to, other than creating a new set of morals to live by. A blueprint for life and love.
The Cowboy Code was a brotherhood formed on trust and respect. It was an attempt to plug the hole of self-control and stop the leaks.
Had Garrett, Tyler and Blake been writing The Code today, Spencer knew half the guidelines would not exist. As sure as he was that their friendship wouldn’t be as strong with fewer boundaries to define it. Having tidy fences around them and everything neatly labelled was part of the genius.
“I’m sorry, Aimee, but it’s just how it is,” he said succinctly.
His gaze drifted to the dance floor where a golden glow of string lights draped low above the revelers, amplifying the romance of the barn. Magnifying the one thing he did not have. Love.
I really like this. I already want Spencer to get some! I can feel his loneliness.
Thank you, Pamela. Yep, the cowboy sure is lonely. Relieved that came through in only 500 words.
This is my kind of story. I’m intrigued by the Cowboy Code. Nice work!
Many thanks, Diana. The Cowboy Code series has been fun to write. 4 of 5 ready, so far …
Please tell me where I can find the rest of this. I’m am dying to hear about this code. How did you pull me in so fast? Great job!
ha ha, thanks, Erin. The Cowboy Code is a 5-book series (4 are written/2 submitted – been in slush for 5mths so far. It’s driving me crazy). About to begin book 5 and also plot out a prequel. Have a feeling this could be a limitless series, like Maisey Yates Copper Ridge/Gold Valley or Debbi Rawlins Made in Montana …
ps … have entered The Cowboy Code in to the CRW 2019 Stiletto Contest for unpublished authors. They promise feedback (A dream of mine from any editor/publisher).
That’s awesome! You’ll have to keep me posted. I hope you get great feedback on it. I know i’m excited for it.
Hi Kris! Cowboys and Aussie girls…that sounds brilliant! And we’re already rooting for Spencer to find love. 🙂
Hi Bryn. I enjoyed your excerpt. Definitely would like to read more about these two characters. This week I’m sharing a very brief beginning to a short story. This one was inspired by the very first prompt in your new 5,000 Writing Prompts (so, thanks for that). I plan to try to just keep moving on down the numbers.
The Letter
My heart raced with anticipation as I dashed up the porch steps and plunged my hand into our mailbox. There it was—my eighth letter!
I’d groaned along with all the others the last day of my junior year when the teacher assigned this summer-long project. After the immediate onslaught of whiney protests, he passed around an approved list of names with addresses. Pick one and pass it on he said. “Extra credit people!”
“Remember, no texting, no emails, simply hand-written letters. One letter a week for eight weeks. Do not give out phone numbers! Send and receive printed photos the last week. Class dismissed! Have a great summer.”
Austin Beckett pushed past knocking me into the locker. “Screw this, I don’t need extra-credit. Not when I have a football scholarship in my back pocket.”
Oooh, I immediately want to punch Austin in the throat. I love that this is from 5,000 Writing Prompts!
Hi Pamela, Yes, I agree. Austin isn’t very likable. I really enjoy looking through Bryn’s latest book, picking a new prompt and just flying with it.
Why do I get the feeling that Austin is not going to be keeping that scholarship? I love the pen pal idea, and I would love to read the rest of this when it is done.
Hmmm. I really hadn’t thought that far ahead but what a great idea. Thanks Erin. I never had a pen pal, but always thought it would be fun.
Ahh, pen pals take me back to that happy place in the 80’s. Love ‘coming of age’ stories. Would love to read more …
Thanks Kris. I agree about the coming of age stories. I sometimes worry about whether or not the stories would be relatable to today’s youth. Luckily I have grandchildren I can go to for input for a current-day reaction on what I write. Good proofreaders.
Love! I have the Writing Prompts book too 🙂 Why do I get the feeling the pictures in the last letter are of Austin? That he was her pen pal all summer? lol
What a clever idea. I hadn’t really thought about that as a possibility but it could work. I will certainly keep that in mind moving forward with the story. I have a couple ideas of the outcome and now I have one more. Thanks 🙂
Hi Cheryl, it’s always great to hear from you! And OH MY GOSH. I’m so excited to see a prompt in action. I never would’ve imagined that one would go in this direction! So creative. I love it. Thanks for posting!
Thanks Bryn. A friend and I often take turns (once a week) sending a picture as a prompt. I am always amazed at how different the results can be. I really like the new prompt book. I will be referring to it often.
I’m late, but I made it in under the wire! Here is a snip from my current WIP. I just realized that the joke at the end doesn’t make sense without having read the first chapter… Wyatt is a deputy who pulled over the heroine for speeding and gave her a citation. During the traffic stop, she made fun of his Smokey the Bear-style uniform hat. Anyway, they are in the deserted parking lot of the fairgrounds, watching the weird carnival that’s arrived in town get set up.
***
Wyatt parked and got out of the vehicle. If she recognized him, it didn’t show on her face.
She gave him a small, friendly smile and said, “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he replied, walking closer. He broke eye contact first to glance at the monster dog standing at her side. It was watching him steadily with gold eyes, but its tail was up, waving slowly, and its ears were pricked forward with interest rather than aggression. Still, it wasn’t leashed, and he didn’t care to take on a one-hundred-forty pound mass of fangs and muscle. “Your dog friendly?”
“Usually,” she replied. “Unless someone gives him a reason not to be.”
“Good to know. What’s his name?”
“Ragnar.”
Wyatt slowly extended his knuckles and let the beast sniff him. When he seemed to have passed muster, he scratched the dog’s ears.
She watched the dog with an amused expression, and then turned back to look at the amazing transformation the fairgrounds had gone through overnight. She was wearing the same perfume from the other night, the scent of it making his blood pump embarrassingly. With her hair in that high ponytail, her long, graceful neck and collarbones were exposed. Two of his weaknesses when it came to the feminine form.
“Checking out the new neighbors?” he asked, moving to stand beside her.
She squinted at him warily, as if she were going to ask how he knew where she lived, and then it dawned on her. “Oh, God. You’re the cop who ticketed me the other night.”
“Guilty,” he said.
“That was a dick move, man. You couldn’t have just given me a warning?”
He shrugged. “I could have. But if I meet my ticket quota, I get a free toaster oven at the end of the month.”
Her pretty lips twisted as she tried to keep a straight face.
“It’s a four-slicer,” he added.
She finally laughed, shaking her head, and turned to look back at the fairgrounds and the carnival that seemed to have magically appeared overnight. “I guess I’d better prepare for obscene amounts of traffic at the end of my driveway.”
Surprised, he asked, “Does that mean you’re staying in town for awhile?” He thought she’d be going back to Austin after the weekend.
“Unfortunately, yes.” She sighed. “A lot longer than I planned.”
“Good,” he said.
She glanced up at him again, a slight blush coming to her cheeks.
After an awkward moment, she cleared her throat. “Well, I’m going to finish my run. It was nice seeing you again, deputy. Have a nice day.”
“Same to you, Doc.”
She began to run back toward the road. Wyatt watched her go, admiring her trim figure and long legs. After about ten steps, she turned to jog backwards, catching him ogling her. She smirked at him.
“Keep up the good work preventing those forest fires,” she called out.
“You’re hilarious,” he said. She smiled brightly then turned back around and continued on her way home, her dog trotting at her side.
He let out a long breath. Mary Callaghan was dangerous in more ways than one.
Love the flow of this, Pamela. So easy to read, I want to read the whole thing. What genre is it? Romance? Romantic suspense?
Hi, Kris. Sorry, I should have included that in my post. It’s part of a paranormal romance. 🙂 In order to keep the excerpt at 500 words, I had to take out all the magic references.
Also…Thank you! 🙂
Wow. Well, that makes it even more interesting. Look forward to more. xx
Hi Pamela, I enjoyed your excerpt. I have read several paranormal romance novels and would love to read more of this story. Also hoping Ragnar will be playing a big part.
That was so much fun to read. I love the report between them.
Well I’m even later! Trying to catch up after getting back. 🙂 I’m so glad you posted this. Great, fun dialogue, and the description of his physical attraction is so good! Great job!
Aurora Walker and myself wait in the outer office for word to enter the Red Lions den. The shouting heard from inside is not encouraging, Wilhelmina Erickson, my grandmother, is small but she boasts a large voice, and I know she will not back down. I’m not so sure about the openness of my father the Lion, or Mr. Walker’s resolve.
The yelling stops and a few minutes of quiet talk continues before Wilhelmina opens the door and summons Aurora in. I continue standing outside as my friend Oliver, today’s squire of the watch, sits at his desk and glares at me.
“What have you done John?”
“Consider this, Oliver, when you Yanks defeated General Cornwallis at Yorktown, we played the tune, The World Turned Upside Down. Here is my payback; it is now your turn to play that same tune.”
“Damn Brits,” Oliver says, then we both snort in laughter.
“You have to know it would eventually happen.” I say.
“Your crazy John, a girl will never last.”
“I’ll make it work, with your’s and the rest of the brotherhood’s help or without it. If she proves herself? Will that change your mind?”
Oliver remains quiet and gives me a steady look.
The door opens and Billie walks out leading Aurora into the hallway towards the Quartermaster’s office.
Sir John, the Lion, summons me in to stand in front of his desk while he sits and shuffles papers aimlessly. He stops leans back in his chair causing it to creak and groan. Interlocking his fingers he glares at me, but I don’t let his burning eyes shake my resolve. He is my father.
“Squire John, Page Aurora says that you have promised to support her. Exactly what does that mean?”
“Sir, I have supported, or mentored several pages who are now doing excellent, and I intend to do the same for Page Aurora. No less than that.”
A girl page puts a serious strain on the operation of the school. There must be no scandle. Do you understand what that means?”
I hold up my left hand to show the still raw cut on my finger. “Sir, I have pledged to be her blood brother, as she has pledged to be my blood sister. It may sound silly to an adult, but for hundreds of years teenagers have taken their blood vows, unbroken to the grave.”
“Squire John, what you say may be true, and I choose to believe it. But, not everyone is honest or moral. Page Aurora Walker must not be alone with any one man or boy. Especially you. Until a room is prepared for her, she will room with Lady Wilhelmina. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Ah, what about water closets?”
“You, Squire John, will figure that one out on your own.”
Okay. I seriously need more of this. You’ve got me hooked.
https://www.facebook.com/Wolfchronicles.1/
And/or fictionpress.com https://www.fictionpress.com/u/785758/Knowlton
(I make no money on this)
Try Wachinga, The New Order of the Hatchet first.
Sweet! Thank you!
Have you managed to follow up on this story?
Hi Donald! I love this guy for supporting a girl page and I love the realistic historical voice. Thanks for sharing!
Sorry, I hit reply before introducing the WIP. This is from a prequel to the modern Wolf Chronicles series. Squire John is the the new Lion in the later series, and Aurora Walker will become Lady Knight Aurora Whisperblade/Wolverine. The character Wilhelmina Erickson, (Billie,) Has turned out so well she will get her own story.
Bryn!! “Not all filth could be washed away” gave me goosebumps. I love that you’re addressing the life-after-trauma and based on the trigger here, I’m assuming it was sexual assault in this case. A lot of books focus on the traumatic event itself but not so much the afterward – which is everlasting in most cases. I’m exploring this in one of my fanfictions on wattpad called Haven. A testament to the true strength of a woman is not so much surviving the incident but surviving the every-day-after. </3
I'm not submitting any of "Haven" for WIP Wednesday (even though it's Thursday – I was caught up at work yesterday and then too drunk on margaritas to plug in my laptop when I got home lol) but from the rewrite of "This Side of Heartache":
If not for Ellie, he wouldn’t have shown.
The White Stripes rocked through the August evening. Someone brought out an old beat up CD player plugged into one of those orange extension cords everyone’s dad kept somewhere in the garage. Bamboo tiki torches dotted the backyard, their flames dancing across the choppy surface of the clear blue water. The in-ground pool was full of some of the roughhousing teenagers he’d grown up with. Wes wasn’t used to the biting scent of chlorine that clung to his skin; they didn’t have a pool on the farm. Swimming for him and his little sister meant a quick dip in the shallow creek that cut through the property – but only after the day’s chores were done.
The evening breeze was warm against his skin despite his damp swim trunks. On the folding lawn chair beside him, Ellie clung to the towel wrapped around her shoulders, still dripping wet from her dip. A shriek of laughter broke the otherwise chill mood; this would be the last time Wes and his classmates would party together. He usually avoided these things, not caring much for the rampant make-out sessions and underage drinking, but Ellie talked him into it. 'It’s a rite of passage,' she’d said. For one last chance to spend time with her, he’d do anything.
Voices picked up and more low-key laughter ensued, but Wes didn’t care about any of that. He smacked a mosquito on his calf and it left behind a tiny spatter of red.
“Ew,” Ellie teased when she saw it. “Gross!”
He flicked the dead bug into the grass and rubbed the blood away with his palm. “He shoulda quit while he was ahead.” Pretending to study the smudge on his hand, he smirked and reached toward her.
Her giggle was the only sound he cared about. Her voice. “Wes, don’t!” She wasn’t angry, but he knew better than to actually wipe that stuff on his best friend.
He chuckled and dragged his hand on the lush grass at his feet.
“Hey!” They were three: Wes, Ellie, and the third best friend, Willa. Wes joined their duo sophomore year and, for the rest of high school, they were an inseparable trio. Willa approached them now from the picnic table across the yard. She balanced three red cups in her hands. “Take one.”
Ellie sniffed hers. “What’s in it?”
Willa took a seat in the grass in front of both of them. “My dear sweet friend. Would I give you anything dangerous?”
“No, but you’d try to get me drunk.”
Willa scoffed. “Just drink it. Trust your girl.”
Ellie glanced at Wes and waited for his shrug to take a sip. The pinch between her eyebrows as she tried to swallow it told him all he needed to know. “Dang, how much did you put in it?”
Willa smiled and bobbled her head.
He was about to drink the cola (mixed with harsh white rum) when Willa extended her arms toward them. “Wait, wait, wait!” she said. With their attention, she continued. “First, a toast.” With a clear of her throat and a raise of her chin, all theatrical-like, she said, “To my very best friends, and your new adventures, and may you never forget us.” She looked directly at Wes for that last part.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and managed a tight smile.
That sounds like there is a bit more going on. I can just see Wes sitting there like a bump on a log, doing his best to have fun with the rest of them. I love it.
Hi friend! Haha, I’m late, too—I had a lot to catch up on at the office after being away. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m doing with Sophie’s story, and it’s personal for me (and not something I ever expected to deal with in a story, but sometimes personal issues get in a story even when I didn’t mean for them to.)
Gosh, love this excerpt. It evokes a party and that sense of awkwardness (so familiar to me) so well. Thank you for posting it!
I can’t help but think: SAME. I haven’t been able to openly acknowledge it and never in a million years thought it would go into a story, but there it is. It’s like… I need someone to know what happened but it can’t come from me. At any rate, I’m sorry that it happened to you and I hope that this will be salutary. <3
This is a small dream sequence from my story. Ambrose is my main character. He’s had his fair share of failed relationships. He is currently engaged to a young woman named Barbara.
This dream takes place the morning before their wedding. In it, he’s reflecting on all of the women who’ve come in and out of his life before Barbara.
*****
Ambrose stood in the middle of a spotlight’s glow. He was dressed in a comfortable pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black vest.
His feet were crossed. His right arm wrapped across his waist. His left hand pressed against his left hip.
He was waiting for the music to begin.
And, with a strong beat and steady percussion, Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark” played.
Ambrose danced a solo dance until Rebecca appeared. He took her into his arms and raised her into the air. She tossed her head back and laughed. He set her down and she danced away from him.
He resumed his solo dance.
Then, Maria appeared. They danced around each other, alternating between touching and avoiding. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to hold her close. She grabbed his hands and raised them in the air. She ducked under his arms and twirled. He ducked under her arms and twirled. And she was gone.
And Elsie was there.
He took her into his arms. She looked up at him with uncertainty and distrust. He led her into a complicated dance. She shook her head and pulled away. He held his hands out to her. She shook her head again. Hildreth appeared beside her and she danced away with him.
Ambrose stood alone in the spotlight, panting hard as the music ended. His panting was the only sound in the empty ballroom.
Then, Barbara appeared and the music began again. But it was not Bruce Springsteen. It was Ed Sheeran singing “Perfect”.
He held out his arms in hope and fear.
She ran to him and hugged him as close as she could.
He closed his eyes. He found joy and relief in her arms. They swayed together to the music and he quietly sang along.
Neat dream sequence. I can picture his starting pose perfectly and it doesn’t read forced or awkward 🙂
Thank you so much!
This was one of those scenes that made me feel proud and happy after I wrote it.
And I’ve been wanting to use Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” for Barbara and Ambrose ever since I first heard it. It’s so right for them. 😀
Hey there! Ah, this is nice. I love how we get a whole history in this sequence. Thanks for posting.
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. 😀