Hi, everyone! WIP Wednesday is the first Wednesday of every month, when I share an excerpt of a work in progress and anyone else who’s writing something is invited to do the same in the comments.
It’s fine if what you’re sharing is rough! My excerpts often are. There are a few guidelines: about 500 words maximum (otherwise I’ll trim your excerpt). No graphic scenes. We don’t suggest improvements on others’ writing, because it’s usually not ready for critique yet, but encouraging words are good writer karma.
This week, I’m going to start out by sharing the cover design to The Equinox Stone. It’s the sequel to The Phoenix Codex and it’s coming out this November. It’s a supernatural romance and the male main character has lost his memories. Check it out!
I wrote this scene yesterday on my lunch break, and it probably requires some explaining. Val is undercover as a high school student to track down her enemies. She’s an empath and she has the ability to “Read” people, or go into their psyches and question them. Every person’s psyche is a different internal landscape or setting. Okay? Great!
[AdSense-B]
“Mia, wait up.”
One of the teachers approached Val in the hallway. Lori Hammons—Val recalled her name from the list. One of the teachers she hadn’t Read yet. She was a tall woman with pale skin, light brown hair, and hunched shoulders. Val guessed her to be about sixty.
“Hi, Mrs. Hammons.”
The teacher gave her a conspiratorial smile and said in a low voice, “I heard you had a little trouble yesterday.”
Her emotions didn’t match her understanding tone. At all. She was filled with contempt. And caution. She even cast a quick glance up and down the hall.
Tribunal! Or very likely. Val needed to Read her, now—
Mrs. Hammons’s hand closed on her bare forearm, and a force pushed up against Val’s psyche.
Val’s psychic barriers slammed up. Mrs. Hammons was trying to Read her.
Val’s shielding powers were strong. She could keep almost anyone out, according to her mentors. But if she defended herself and Mrs. Hammons couldn’t get in, she’d guess Val was Manus Sancti.
And if Mrs. Hammons was in her psyche, Val wouldn’t be able to lie to her. She’d find out, anyway.
Only if she asked the right questions.
Val’s heart beat wildly. She felt it in her throat. I’m going to die. Mrs. Hammons pushed harder. Val withdrew her shields and let her in.
They stood in a huge cavern, the roof above them as high as that of an enclosed stadium, all made of crystals. Goddess. Did her very psyche give her identity away? That was why her mother gave her crystals sometimes, including the equinox stone, even though Val wasn’t an Earth Elemental—because her soulscape looked like this. Walls of faceted amethyst, golden citrine, and yes, tourmaline, like the equinox stone, though here it came in green and rose. Stalactites of clear quartz dripped into nacreous, shimmering pools, pulsating with tiny purple fish.
Tears jumped into her eyes. She’s going to find out.
“Wh-where are we?” she asked, because people always asked that, and she didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice.
Mrs. Hammons fixed Val in her gaze. “Are you a virgin?”
“Yes.” What in the world? That was what she was asking? “I’ve been with someone, but we didn’t, uh, have intercourse.” It was impossible not to tell the whole truth. Every instinct told her to get out.
But Mrs. Hammons wasn’t compressing the time. Almost no one could do that, and Val would’ve been able to feel it if she were. They’d been standing in a public place. The woman didn’t have much time—not if she didn’t want one of her co-workers to come across the strange scene of her grasping onto a student, both of them standing stock still. Val just needed to stall.
“What is this place? I don’t remember coming here. But it’s really pretty.”
Mrs. Hammons shook her head, her lips pressed in annoyance.
And then she was out. They both stood in a high school hallway.
Have you got something to share? Just want to make a comment? Go ahead and do it below! Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
Love the cover Bryn, and with the excerpt, I am ready to read the rest of your story.
Here is a portion of a short story I have been writing. Matt is Matilda, our MC’s older sister. They have some issues.
The sweet aroma of tilled soil hit me as we ducked under the green awning. They had laid matching carpeting on the ground and set folding chairs to face the gaping black hole. The shiny silver steelwork shifted as the pallbearers slid Mom’s casket into the stand.
I knew the priest was speaking, but his words fell on deaf ears. The wind caressed my hair, gently smoothing it into place the way she always did. I closed my eyes and felt her standing next to me. My heart pounded, my throat constricted, and I fought the urge to let the darkness engulf me.
“Don’t listen to her. You’re strong enough.” It was mom’s voice whispering in my ear.
Startled, I searched for her in the crowd. But she wasn’t there. She was in the box they were lowering into the ground. My purse bumped against my side and I heard the crunch of tissue paper. Remembering, I let my fingers find the teal silk and I dragged it free. I clutched it to my chest, the sweet scent of lilies, mom’s favorite perfume, brought the tears I had not yet cried.
The coffin thudded as it reached the bottom of the tomb. Father Shoemaker was praying again when Matt’s hissed in my ear.
“Great, you got it. I bet I get twelve hundred for it.”
Father sprinkled soil as he prayed and then motioned to Matt.
“Matilda Jean?” he prompted. She grabbed a handful of dirt and dropped into the grave.
Tears blurred my vision. It was my turn. I stepped forward and without thinking I released the scarf, watching as it floated and fluttered six feet down. It draped itself across the casket, one last hug for Mom. Behind me, Matt gasp, but I didn’t move. I stayed, a witness to each clump of soil which took her further from me. The headstone was visible through the green tarp and I could see Daddy’s name.
“Take care of her Daddy,” I said as I blew kisses to them.
Matt stood just beyond the canopy and grabbed my arm as I exited.
“What was that?” she hissed.
I raised my eyebrow and pretended I didn’t know what she meant.
“The scarf. You owe me twelve hundred dollars. And you’ll reimburse the money I spent on the funeral.”
“I owe you nothing,” I said as I twisted free and faced her. “Don’t worry, I’m not like you.
You’ll get your fair share of the inheritance, but not a penny more. You may have gotten your way today, but she left me in charge, and I intend to honor her wishes.”
I confronted Matt and didn’t flinch. We stood there, toe to toe. Not moving. Neither of us said a word. It was Matt who cracked.
“Well look at you,” she smirked as she turned toward her car.
My hands were shaking when finally, I breathed again. Mom had been right. Everything would be fine.
Very well done! I could feel the emotions in the scene.
I smiled when she let the scarf slip out of her hand. I totally expected Matt to jump in after it. 😆 I really liked this line: “Well look at you,” she smirked as she turned toward her car.” It was a wonderfully snarky acknowledgment of your MC’s strength.
Oh, thank you for your kind words, ambroseandelsie. You have made my day. ?
You’re totally welcome! 😀
I like the part about her looking in the crowd for her mum – it reminds me of the denial I have experienced after losing someone close.
Naomi, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing that the scene resonated with you. It means a lot to me. ❤
Yes, there was a lot I could relate to in that scene regarding grief. Not just the MCs feelings, but the conflict between those left behind that unfortunately often follows.
?❤?
Very descriptive and emotional. Nice work!
Thank you, Diana.
Thanks for the kind words, Jo! Holy smokes, I think this is my favorite scene by you yet. Great description, great conflict! Thanks for sharing!
I am glad you liked it Bryn. ? Thank you for providing a safe place to share. Putting work out there is never easy.
This is a strong scene and begging for more insight. Great job, Jo!
Thank you Barbee ?
I’m wrapping up a short story based on a photo prompt for submission to a contest. I’ve given it the title of Beach Therapy.
Here’s an excerpt, Enjoy.
Ashley sat huddled on the sand hugging her knees to her chest watching the setting sun while she wondered what she was doing here. The rhythmic sounds from a drum circle further up the beach seemed to compete with the rumbles of a distant thunderstorm off to the West. A beautiful scene, to be sure, she thought, were it not for the traumatic memory of a violent police chase and gunfight which caused her to wince at each pop of the beat. After a few minutes, the rhythm became soothing. She imagined it feeling like her mother’s heartbeat from inside the womb.
She was about to nod off when she heard a voice from behind her ask, “Mind if I join you?”
Looking up she saw her landlord standing next to her holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Mr. White, you startled me.”
“Please call me Randall or Randy if you prefer. We don’t stand on any formalities around here.”
“Okay, please pull up a bit of sand,” Ashley replied.
Randy eased himself slowly onto the sand and asked, “Care for some Chardonnay?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
Randy poured the wine and set the bottle in the sand then they clinked glasses as he toasted, “To a great evening and the beach life.”
After a few minutes Randy said, “Please forgive me, I don’t mean to pry but to paraphrase an old song, you seem to be out of aces.”
Ashley didn’t get the song reference but she got his meaning.
“You might say that,” she said.
Sitting on the beach Ashley recounted her story for Randy, a story she had refined and repeated perhaps a thousand times, one that was just as painful now as the first time it was told. “I had gone into a convenience store to buy a bottle of water. There was a man standing at the checkout counter and I made my way to the coolers at the back of the store. It was then that I heard a gunshot. Running to the front of the store I saw that the clerk had been shot and the man who had been at the counter was running out the door. I chased him down the street while I radioed in for backup and an ambulance. After a couple of blocks, the suspect ducked into an alley and at the same time, a kid of about 14 came out of the darkness and fired a shot at me. I thought it was the perp and returned fire hitting the boy in the chest killing him.”
“So why did the boy take a shot at you?”
“As it turned out it was some sort of insane gang initiation stunt and there I was right on cue.”
“Please forgive me, I don’t mean to pry but to paraphrase an old song, you seem to be out of aces.” I can’t explain why, but I really like this line. 🙂 Also, great last line!
So sad that she’s in a beautiful setting but can’t enjoy it because of her past. It goes to show how the past is always with us.
Thanks for sharing, Bob. Good luck on the contest!
What a horrifying event to experience. My heart goes out to your character. Wishing you the best of luck in the contest.
I like the idea of everyone’s psyche having a different landscape. That is a really cool detail. I love Val’s mental landscape. Sounds so awesome and pretty. 😀
And here is another Hank and Dave moment….
********
Hank closed the door behind him. He removed his mask and set it on the floor. “Why do you always have to do that?”
“What?” Dave removed his mask and put it next to Hank’s mask.
“Flirt with other guys like that.”
“I don’t know. It just comes naturally to me.” He hunched his shoulders and bowed his head. “I’m sorry if it hurts you.”
Hank’s posture softened. “Hey. Don’t get all down, babe. I’m not mad at you. Just frustrated.” He ran his hands through his lover’s mouse-brown hair. “If you’re gonna flirt with someone, let it be me and only me.”
Dave gently guided Hank’s left hand down to his mouth and kissed his open palm.
It was a simple, innocent gesture, but it nearly sent Hank tumbling down to his knees. “I love you, babe. I wanna scoop you up football-style and run away with you.”
Dave quickly raised his head. “Ah!”
“Who knows? I might just do that after we get off of work tonight.”
“You’re so romantic!” Dave threw his arms around Hank’s neck. “I love you soooo much!”
Hank laughed and hugged him. “Love you too, babe. But we really should be getting back to work.”
“I know, but I don’t wanna.”
“Neither do I, but what can you do?”
Dave licked Hank’s earlobe. “Can we fire Mark Caten and get a new boss?”
“Mmm. Sorry, babe, but I don’t think it works that way.”
“It was worth the asking.”
Thanks! I do a lot with those inner worlds in this book. I loved the jealousy and sweetness in this! I love Hank and Dave. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you so much!
I love writing them. Their scenes make me happy. 😀
What a sweet moment. Nicely done.
Thank you so much! 😀
I read a longer except of this chapter at a writers group yesterday
************
Aurora found it hard to believe that this tall blonde was Ryder Templeton. Mind you she hadn’t seen him since they were about 5 years old. She was sure he wouldn’t remember her though. A glamorous life of travelling the world, attending gala events and brushing shoulders with the rich and famous would have changed him, she was certain. Things calmed down more into a routine after the bell went. While people were naturally still curious about their classmate, they gave him some space to settle in, except for Cressida Blake. Somehow they seemed to have already known each other and she was sticking to him like glue, which looked to have been makeing Ryder more than a little uncomfortable. Cressida was the daughter of arguably the richest man in the country and she had the conceit to go with it. Aurora watched their interactions and she could tell that while Ryder was being polite and far more tolerant to Cressida then she herself would have been, he didn’t seem to appreciate her attentions all that much.
By afternoon, the days high humidity had brought a storm in. The rain never cools anything though, it just makes it more wet and sticky. Aurora was keen to get home before another downpour came. Looking down to avoid the puddles she didn’t see who crashed into her and sent herself and her books hurling into the nearest puddle. Aurora’s ears were then infected with the sound of Cressida’s laughter. “Look where you’re going weather girl. Did your daddy get this prediction right, or is he still waiting for it to snow?” Cressia flicked her flowing auburn hair back and sashayed off with her minions scurrying behind her.
“Are you ok?”
Aurora looked up to find a hand held out to her and up into a set of crystal blue eyes beneath that wild blonde hair. Ryder helped her to stand and gave her the books she’d dropped. “ Is that little Aurora O’Connor? I barely recognised you?” She was stunned he’d recognised her at all. For a moment time stood still as Ryder looked deep into a forest of emerald peeking out under strands of wet raven hair. Aurora became aware the she was still looking up as Ryder would have been a good head and shoulders taller than her.
“Your not so little yourself Ryder.” They both giggled shyly and she realised he was still holding her hand. She could feel her cheeks getting red and quickly looked down at her books hoping he hadn’t noticed.
The same Aston Martin pulled up that had dropped Ryder off that morning and a robust man in a driving hat stepped out and opened the door. “Can I drop you home?” Ryder asked motioning to the car.
“Oh, no, that’s ok.” Aurora became flustered and stumbled over her words. “I-I don’t, I mean, I only live here as in down the road.” She smiled and then looked away embarrassed.
“Ok, well if you’re sure I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and flashed a dazzling smile. Aurora’s eyes widened and she could feel her heart beat faster as thunder again began to roll overhead. They waved to each other as the car drove off and Vespa came up behind her. She’d been watching the whole incident but decided to observe rather then make her presence known.
“Girl is it hot around here or what?” She announced fanning herself with her hand. Aurora could feel her face going bright red again.
Thanks for sharing, Jackie. Very atmospheric! How great that you have a writer’s group you can share with, too—those can be so hard to find!
Thanks Bryn ?
Just a random chunk of dialog…
***
“Kendal’s running late,” Darien observed.
Mel nodded. “I expect Rowan factors into that.”
Darien snorted. “How is our budding little megalomaniac these days?”
“Se’s not that bad,” Mel said. “Se’s just working through some issues.”
“Not that bad?!” Darien rolled ser eyes. “Se thinks se’s some sort of ‘chosen one’. That’s pretty bad.”
“Se’s brilliant, driven, and has a deep distrust for authority,” Mel noted. “Maybe se is the chosen one.”
Darien laughed. “There’s no such thing! This isn’t some fairy story. There’s no ‘hero’s quest’. We’re all just regular people, living our lives the best we can. ‘Chosen one’? It’s all just a fantasy.”
Mel shrugged. “We live on a space ship that’s currently approaching a rogue planet. There was a time when people would’ve considered that fantastical.”
“Sure, fine. Noted,” Darien conceded. “But that’s true of any era. And in every era, there are always people who think they’re the ‘chosen one’. And they’re always wrong. If se doesn’t snap out of it, Rowan’s going to end up horribly disappointed, horribly embarrassed, or horribly dead. Probably all three.”
“Let’s hope for just the first two,” Mel said. “I don’t think there’s much we could do to convince ser se’s not on some sort of hero’s quest. Best we can do is try and steer ser away from doing anything particularly foolish.”
“We already know se’s accessing restricted information from the Archives,” Darien said. “I think we’re already past the point of ‘particularly foolish’.”
Ser tablet bleeped. “They’re here.”
Mel glanced over at the crate containing the fertilization processor. “Speaking of ‘particularly foolish’…”
“This is perfectly healthy curiosity,” Darien argued.
Mel nodded. “And someone has gone out of their way to ensure that no one satisfies their curiosity about that thing.”
“All the more reason to take it apart and find out why,” Rowan said, entering the storage room. Se looked around. “No cameras in here?”
Darien pointed to a stack of boxes in the far corner. “There’s one over there. Someone should probably move that top box at some point. Seems to be blocking the view.”
Kendall knelt down beside the crate and unlatched the lid. “Rowan, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“Way ahead of you,” Rowan replied, pulling a small wand out of ser pocket. As Kendall lifted the lid, Rowan waved the wand near the gap.
“No electrical activity,” se said. “If it’s got an internal power source, it’s not using it at the moment.”
Mel moved in closer to examine the wand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before.”
“You know how we were talking about side hobbies?” Kendal said. “Rowan has a keen interest in electromagnetic activity. Likes to build little devices to detect and interpret it.”
“Does se, now?” Mel said. “Canterbury’s full of electromagnetic activity. Power systems, control systems, communications networks…”
Rowan rolled ser eyes. “Yes, yes. You’ve found me out. I snoop through the Archives using one of my ‘little devices’. I’m assuming none of you are going to turn me in to the authorities, given what we’re currently up to.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Darien chimed in. “I’m more interested in whether you’ve run across the designs for a fertilization processor. Would save us a lot of trouble.”
People are still people, even if they live on a spaceship. I really enjoy the easy rapport between the two characters.
Thanks! I’m planning on going back later and filling in some descriptive text. Not sure if this is normal or the correct way to do things, but I find it easier to write mostly dialog first, then go back and fill in the narrative stuff.
Yes, I’m the same. I do the dialog first without much else, then have to go back. My beta reader told me I needed to say more about how MC was feeling. I thought the dialog said it all – so much for show don’t tell.
Thanks for sharing, Steve! It’s fun to see this one come along! I do that a lot, too—dialogue first, filling in later!
Here’s a small snippet of my ongoing science fiction story. This story started off as a series of writing prompt one shots. Then, when I decided to do NaNoWriMo last year, I was like “Huh. Why don’t I see what I can do with this mess of short stories? Let’s see if I can makes something cohesive out of all this.” The story has grown so much since then, with new characters and situations.
So, without any further ado and introductions, here we go!
****
Deama stood on his parents’ balcony and watched the magic elements fall from the sky. He held out his hands to them.
“You know you shouldn’t do that.” Glorna stepped out on the balcony. “It’s selfish and wrong to call to the elements. We are supposed to let them fall to enrich our land.” He stopped next to him. “Even the fire and wind.”
Deama snorted. “But I have the power. Why not use it?”
“Because the elements don’t belong to us. They belong to the air and the ground and the sky. They keep the magic in our world alive. They keep our world alive.”
The two brothers lapsed into silence as they watched the magic storm.
“Is Eina coming out here too?” Deama asked.
“In a little. He’s cleaning his ears.”
Deama snorted again. “He’s always cleaning his ears.” He watched a long electric streamer zig-zag to the ground.
Glorna laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’re going to rule this fiefdom together, right? You and me?”
The streamer dissolved into bright sparks as it hit the ground.
“And Eina?”
“And Eina. The three of us together.”
Deama set his ears into a relaxed position. “Together.”
Deama and Glorma remind me of the old saying that you can’t put an old head on young shoulders.
Thank you!
That is a really good saying, especially since it is so true. 🙂
Hey there! You know, I almost never meet writers who are making short stories into a bigger work…I think that’s so cool. Thanks for posting! Would love to see more. 🙂
Thank you! 😀
It’s very satisfying to see these characters blossom and grow from their starting points in the short stories to where they are now. I will definitely share more with you. 🙂
Wow, Bryn, intense and good!
Later in Soldier’s Heart, a former subordinate drops in at Jane’s new apartment to harass her while James is out (464 words). Spanish words: Pendejo, stupid. Hijo de puta, son of a bitch. Cariño, sweetheart.
When James got back, the apartment door automatically whooshed open, but EDI didn’t offer her usual welcome.
The air had an electric aura to it, like right before an ambush.
James quietly set the beer down on the floor, strained his ears to listen.
Over the crackling of the fireplace and hum of the building noises, a man and woman argued. Jane and Alenko. He was talking over her, so James couldn’t catch exactly what they said, but it sounded like she was holding her own.
James leaned against the glass wall in front of the foyer rock garden, crossed his arms over his chest. He’d be here if she needed him.
“Would you just be quiet and listen!” Kaidan shouted, the first clear words James could make out. “I love you.”
“Kaidan, it’s not reciprocal. Go, heal. Find someone else.”
“Fine. You let Cerberus change you, Janie, but I know who you used to be: A good person.”
Kaidan stormed out of the kitchen, came up short when he saw James.
“You gonna to tell me to stay away from your girl?” he sneered.
James kept his cool. Barely. Pendejo. Messing with Jane.
“Shepard is her own woman.” James straightened up, ready to block any punches that came his way. “I’m her backup. Your fancy biotics can’t handle us both.”
Kaidan snorted. “I’d never hurt her.”
James remembered the flash of a white fist. He’d held his ground, ignored the sting and blood. But it was the words that followed the fist that had broken him. Then his uncle had sent his father away, and James had slowly learned to put himself back together again.
“You don’t have to hit someone to hurt them,” James said.
Shock flitted across Alenko’s face, swiftly followed by an angry scowl. He stormed out.
“Good day, Major Alenko,” EDI said through the house speaker, whooshing the door open and closed behind him.
The security lock flashed red.
“Welcome home, James,” the A.I. announced.
“Change the locks, EDI,” he said.
“Already done.”
“James?” Jane called out from the kitchen. “That you?”
“Yeah.” He went to her and set the cerveza on the counter.
She stepped into his arms, rested her cheek against his pounding heart with a relieved sigh.
She was trembling.
Hijo de puta. He’d scared her.
James squeezed her tight, kissed the top of her head. “You had company?”
“We did. I sent him away.” Arms still locked around him, Jane lifted her head. “EDI.”
“I am here.”
“Remove Major Alenko from the authorized visitors list.”
“Change confirmed, Commander. Can I be of further service?”
“Maybe later. Thanks, EDI.”
“You are welcome.”
Jane rested her head back on James’ chest. Her trembling turned to violent shakes.
He smoothed his hand down her hair. “Cariño, let’s sit.”
Hey, thank you, friend! Ohh, this scene was so fraught. “Shepard is her own woman…I’m her backup.” Be still my heart! Loved it.
Hi all, Here’s a small excerpt of my first novel in progress. The working title for now is The Storyteller.
Looking at her parents, Lizzy hated to admit, but she felt a tinge of jealousy.
Growing up, there was never a harsh word between them. Their love and fidelity never a questioned even when her dad was away all those months at sea. She still carried memories of seeing her parents in the kitchen, cooking, dancing and laughing together. They had everything she wanted and failed to achieve. A home filled with love, laughter and family. Happiness.
Instead, Lizzy pursued everything she thought she was supposed to. Driven, she put her career and financial independence first. Love and family, second. Then like an idiot, she married too quickly the wrong man for the wrong reasons and in trying to make it work, she paid dearly for it in pain and humiliation.
Looking at her parents, she didn’t know why, but somehow she expected tears and rage as the cancer continued to ravage her now frail body. Instead, there was a shared sense of peace, acceptance and reconciliation. There they were still holding hands, staring at each other like with such love. Her mother, gaunt, her bald head wrapped in her mother’s scarf. She was beautiful.
Lizzy, unable to help herself, “Aren’t you afraid? I mean even just a little bit?”
“Of what? Dying?” Shaking her head, smiling sweetly at her husband as he helped her find a more comfortable position by adjusting the pillows. “Naw, Cherie. Dying’s apart of living. Besides without my death, you can’t inherit your gift and fully live your new life.”
This wasn’t fair, thought Lizzy. Why does one life have to be sacrificed so that another generation can fully live? Why can’t we share and build power together?
“It doesn’t work that way, baby,” said Evangeline, reading her daughter’s mind. “It’s been like this in my family for as long as anyone could remember. Only after the death of the mother, can the daughter inherit one of the nine gifts of the Spirit. For me, after your grandmother Marie died, the knowledge of working with herbs and healing washed over me. The plants spoke their healing secrets to me.”
Lizzy remembered that was true. Her mother’s gift of healing manifested in that she literally heard the plants called to her and told her exactly how much to use and in what form to use it in.
“Just know that you’ll always encounter opposition,” warned her mother. “Despite being told ours gift is from God, others will say otherwise.”
“It got to the point, we didn’t feel welcome in church,” added Joe. “But like water rolling off a duck’s back, her mother would simply say, “That’s alright, God’s not there anyway.”
“When I walk in nature, the winds greet me, Evangeline looking at her daughter. “You pretend not to notice, but they speak to you as well. Our power comes from nature.”
Sad and lovely story of life, loss and regret. Interesting concept of personal gifts rather than material ones being inherited.
Thank you! 🙂
Thank you for sharing, CAt. A nice, emotional piece. I hope you have great success with your first novel!
Thanks Bryn. Writing this piece has really been quite a journey for me. By the way, I love the cover illustration and excerpt! 🙂
Thanks, Bryn, for the information about how to get the attention of an agent or editor. I had fun playing with the subject line and the logline.
***
Subject: Challenge of the Promise,1MB,relationship-based sci/fi
Logline: A doomed planet. Two can save it IF they can unite.
***
Akonai looked up from his weaving and stood to face Leilani. “Nona will make fine a gown from this fabric.” He said with pride, gesturing to the piece on the loom.
Leilani thrust her bundle of homespun linen at him. “I’m sure she will.”
He cocked his head. Something was wrong. His brow wrinkled with concern for the pock marked woman. She bore the scars of a loathsome condition, hea, caused by exposure to radiation. He saw anguish in her red, swollen eyes. Her whole body, except for her crippled legs hanging limply over the disc, fought with a great burden.
Her appearance might have alarmed another, but the old man was quite accustomed to her. He looked beyond the scars that cankered her flesh and the few remaining patches of her straw-like hair, for he understood her strength. She was, after all, like a daughter to him. Though she would never replace his own beloved Heili, he often gave her fatherly advice.
He laid the cloth on a small table near his loom. “What troubles you, Leilani?”
She pursed her lips and then grumbled. “Kavika.”
Akonai gasped. “You have seen him, then? He’s on his way?”
“Yes.”
“Praise be to Alohi. How close?”
“He and Grandfather are traveling through the eastern mountains.”
“The east mountains? Why not the west coast?”
She flung her hands upward. “I wish I knew. I cannot go to him now because of the lakes and streams of fire, but soon I must meet Kavika face to face.”
The elderly man recovered his reasoning and wished to reassure her. “Your whole life has been to prepare you for his return. This is the time of rejoicing.”
“How can you say that? I have been banished. Kavika needs a queen who can lead the people. I cannot even enter the city.”
“When he comes, things will change.”
“How could it possibly change enough?” She forced out a breath. “I sent Kavika a portrait of light.”
“Good. Now he knows you are watching.”
She fisted her hands. “It is not good, Akonai. By sending that image, I’m deceiving him.”
“Deceiving him?”
“He will be expecting a person who is whole and . . . beautiful. I cannot stand on the disc, but my portrait of light does. What is he going to think when he sees,” She swept her hand the length of her body, “this?”
“Leilani, your portrait of light is part of you.”
“Look at me. When Queen Nakale chose me, she had no knowledge of the marred and crippled body I would have. She nor I would wish this body on her son. No, Akonai, I will dedicate my skills to his service, but I will not require him to honor my consecration.”
“Nakale would not have chosen you if you were not the best qualified and the most acceptable for the duties of sovereignty.”
“How can you speak to me of duty and qualifications? Kavika is a man now. He has eyes.”
Lovely relationship between Akonai and Leilani, the way he tries to reassure and encourage her on her true path is very touching.
Thank you so much, Naomi. That relationship takes some twists and turns, but he maintains his fatherly care for her even when his own daughter makes serious trouble for Leilani.
He’s a lovely mentor, she’s lucky to have him.
Jessie, you’re so welcome! This is so imaginative. A really good description of her physical condition, and I loved it that he could see her strength regardless.
Thank you Bryn. I start the book in Leilani’s point of view, but switching to Akonai’s pov in this scene allowed me to focus in on her conflict and her description. Thank you so much for providing a safe place to share and to build up courage to “put it out there.”
Thank you for telling me how to have my photo connected with my comments, Bryn. It worked!
Tense, creative scene, Bryn! I like how swiftly the teacher assaults Val’s conscience, putting Val on the defensive right away. I assume you will write a battle scene in this crystal room for us?
More rough-draft material below from ‘Warfare.’ Heroine June Vereeth wakes as a captive in a cave on a strange planet. The Human leading the native-people captors, Cheney, is pretending to be a demigod among the Napeequan people. And, like the other books in the Woman at War series, large animals play a role.
*
During the interim of darkness—Night?—a horrible sound found my ears.
Not a scream, not a wail for help or a last-min plea. It’s impossible to say what roused me, exactly. Either the sounds of urgent, rushing movement, or clawing on the rock, or grunts of desperate effort, or a foul smell which seemed to be a punctuation of the foul smells everywhere in the cave. Perhaps it was the contest of wills, which one was certain to lose. Whichever the case, I believed I hadn’t dreamt the terrible struggle which occurred nearby, outside the cave.
It was brief. I caught the swinging of a weapon, alien noises of a creature I didn’t know, an angry grunt which was preceded by that sound of a knife going into meat.
If these were the noises of battle, then someone fought bravely. And someone lost.
For a while, I sat staring at the darkness, petrified to think the creature—A spider, what else?—might make its way in here. My hands wouldn’t stop twitching. Bound by rope, they were ready to imitate a feeble shield. Anything, if anything came. The worst part about pure blackness, about a black without stars or undulating waves or textured wall, is how it empowers the mind to see everything. I couldn’t not see a creature of nightmare reaching out its claws and fangs for me, as it would surely happen. I couldn’t not see eyes and dripping saliva, or my end.
In the dimness of morning, if one could call it that, Cheney stood over me with an air of satisfaction.
Opening my eyes to the sight of his boots summoned soreness back to my face. Now it competed with the razor arching through my back, payment for sleeping against a rock.
“We lost someone,” he said. “A sentry. He gave his life for your sorry existence…”
Contrary to his words, there was neither bitterness nor sorrow in his voice. The stage play rolled on.
After a moment to compose myself, I replied, “No, that’s not true. Not for me. Maybe not even for you, Demigod. This is Napeequah. Death happens often. This is life, here.”
“Very good, June,” he returned, stepping across the cave. “Obstacle successfully navigated.”
“I enjoy your games,” I lied.
Justin, hi! Thanks for the kind words. 🙂 Yay, I always like seeing more June! She’s so autonomous and self-possessed that it’s interesting to see her in this situation. Thanks for posting!
Justin, this is so vivid. It’s strange that a place so dark conjured up so many visual images. The sounds and smells. The way you describe action without really seeing the action was brilliant.
I love that cover. The scene is great. It’s got me on the edge of my seat. You are so good at writing suspense. All of the glimpses we get of this novel just make it even more exciting.
I am going to share something from near the end of the second act of what will hopefully be my first published novel, Batter Days. Ally and Brooke have been working to get the bakery ready to open. Ally’s ex, Kyle, has ordered a cake that she neglected to tell her current boyfriend and best friend Derek about.
The bell over the front door sounded. I looked over expecting to see Kyle and nearly tripped over myself when I saw Derek walking through the door.
A sliver of panic made its way up my spine. If he was here when Kyle arrived, I was hosed.
“Hey,” I greeted, my voice sounding about as sure as an eight year old giving their first violin recital. “I thought you were working today?”
If Derek noticed the quavering in my voice, he didn’t show it. He just smiled and made his way over to me, giving me a swift peck on the lips before answering.
“Yeah,” he looked down, “my boss gave me the rest of the day off.”
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something was wrong.
When he looked back up at me, his smile had gone from loving to hesitant. It set my nerves on edge.
“Think you can take a break from all of your hard work for a bit so we can talk?” he asked.
“Well,” Brooke declared a bit louder than was absolutely necessary, “I think I’ll go ahead and go to lunch. Want me to bring you anything?”
I shook my head in acknowledgment, but I didn’t look at her. My eyes were too busy focusing on Derek. I had a sinking suspicion that I knew why he’d suddenly shown up in the middle of the day to see me.
His boss had been pressuring him for a final answer on Las Vegas. I’d been able to avoid dealing with it so far by throwing myself into work, but if what my gut was telling me was true, I wasn’t going to be able to put off figuring out where Derek and I went from here for much longer.
Derek gave Brooke a little wave as she walked out the door before turning his attention to me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
No sense in beating around the bush. I wanted to get whatever pain this conversation was going to cause over with so Derek and I could go back to being happy. No more complications.
He took my hands in his and took the tiniest step forward. Looking down at me, he brought our joined hands up between us.
“We need to…”
The bell over the door cut him off mid sentence. I wanted to scream at Brooke to come back later for whatever it was she forgot. I looked over Derek’s shoulder and froze. Fuck.
“K-kyle?”
Hey friend! Thanks for the kind words!!
I know BATTER DAYS is going to get published, and I’m going to be thrilled when it does. Such a great voice. I love the eight-year-old at her first violin recital analogy…so memorable without being forced. Thanks for posting!
My first visit to this posting-glad to have found it. Even though I write traditional mysteries, I can pull in the techniques from these other entries. Bryn, your excerpt pushed all the proper emotion buttons in this reader!
Here is the logline and back cover blurb of my current WIP. I always start a project with these to get my big idea and conflicts floating around in my head. Any feedback would be appreciated.
ChainLinked! A Moccasin Cove Mystery, Book 1
Theme-Connections
Logline: What if you gained national recognition for flipping failing public schools, but you couldn’t fix the grief constricting your own heart? What if you had to do both while solving a murder?
Ana Callahan left her small town after her fiancé was killed while fighting in the Middle East twenty years ago. Now she’s back, ready to battle the myopic state inspectors trying to shut down her childhood elementary school. Ana is surprised to discover Moccasin Cove is not the sunny, middle-class industrial beach town she left behind. Everywhere she looks she sees economic devastation that rivals the failures at every campus she’s ever flipped, but Ana won’t turn tail and run this time. She has a school to save and the grit and vinegar to make it happen.
With the state standing by to shutter her school, she gets to work and chalks up a few small victories. Her momentum slows after a negative critique goes viral and the Board of Education inspector who wrote it is murdered, implicating an old friend. Opponents call for the immediate closure of the school. Instead of surrendering, she adds, solve a murder, to her lengthy to-do list.
Accustomed to working solo, Ana is unexpectedly paired with the school district’s opinionated new security consultant, a recently retired Air Force colonel. He is annoyingly handsome, tends to hover, and is secretly dealing with grief of his own. Then the victim’s odd connection to Ana’s deceased fiancé emerges, testing Ana’s resolve and twisting the grief tangling her reawakened heart. In the end, her suppressed guilt, and that determined colonel, force Ana to admit she has a lot to learn about murder.
Liz, welcome! It’s great to have you here. Thanks so much for the kind words! We don’t really critique much here, but the logline really made me like the main character immediately, which is such a great thing in a mystery! Her profession is so fresh, too. Some editors and readers may think twenty years is a long time for her to actively grieve? Just a thought. She’s got good motivation for solving the murder. It sounds like a really original story and it’s a well-written query!
No critiquing, understood. Thank you for the guidance and encouragement. I’ll post more actual text next week when I have more ready. I’ll have to make it clear she did not deal with her grief at all in her time away because she hid a secret and left because of that more than because of her grief.
Correction—next month LOL!
Really great, as always, Bryn, and CONGRATULATIONS on the fab cover (I’m a graphic designer by trade … the glisten/moonlight effect is really somethin’!)…
I found a note from my yr7 English teacher yesterday from (*ahem* undisclosed no# of decades ago) critiquing that some of my paragraphs “should mark a bigger change of pace.” (ie. passive voice an issue). In your writing, you really nail pace and action and keep the story moving – something I’m still striving to get right.
Finished last month’s WIP (salty seadog) intended as G-rated/sweet, except the characters hijacked their story and took it to sexy town instead. Today is pitch WIPs …
******************
“When Brooke, a NY food marketing exec inherits a cannery in Maine, she doesn’t expect a cute but challenging marine biologist is part of the catch or that her perfect life is worth overturning to win his heart.”
(OR, SHORTER) …
“When a NY marketing exec inherits half a cannery in Maine, her cute but challenging co-owner is a surprise catch of the day.”
******************
Ha ha ha … just playing around at this stage … I’m a gumby at pitches and synopses. I swear they take longer to write than the 85K!
I like the shorter pitch. It gets right to the point. 😀
Kris, thank you! I didn’t know you were a designer, too! So talented!
I love the wordplay with “catch!” I did like the shorter one, but maybe add the fact that he’s a marine biologist in there? I agree…pitches and synopsis are hard and time-consuming! Good luck with this one! It sounds like a lot of fun.
ha ha thanks … Hopefully, I’ll nail ‘catch’ not kitsch for the pitch/SYN on this one … Nautical metaphor obsession, right now. The tide will turn, eventually 🙂
I wasn’t going to do #Pitmad today, but after playing around with some alt. pitches last night, I decided what the heck, just for fun.Good practice …
I love the psychic showdown in the school corridor and how it happens without those around them being aware. It’s so refreshing to be transported into another world.
Aww, thanks, Naomi! I appreciate that!
I can’t wait to read this! I loved Phoenix Codex. No WIP from me this month. I’m editing and plotting instead. I enjoyed all the other WIPs you all added. I love being a part of this community of authors!
Oh, thank you so much, Diana. I really appreciate that! Yay for editing and plotting! And we’re lucky to have you as part of our group here. 🙂
What a beautiful cover, Bryn! I’m very much looking forward to “The Equinox Stone”…all the snippets sound fantastic.
This month is crazy for me. Going with Fate’s crazy flow, I’m attending a speculative fiction convention this weekend in Melbourne (Continuum 15: Other Worlds) because I’ve booked a workshop with an agent and an SFF editor there to have my query/synopsis/manuscript (first 25 pages) assessed. I’m excited and positively terrified!! (And on the plus side, I’ve finally realized my book actually fits better under speculative fiction than any other genre.
I’m also participating in #PitMad on Twitter tomorrow…joined a FB group to prep, and it’s been a fantastic (and frustrating…and uplifting) experience. Nervous about tomorrow now, too. lol But following is one of my Tweets for tomorrow’s event to hopefully catch an agent’s interest:
OUTLANDER x BEAUTY & THE BEAST
3000 years ago, she was a dragon.
This time around, Gabrielle’s an ordinary, 19yo woman.
But old memories are surfacing.
She remembers her mate…her fearless lover.
He’s also returned.
And he’s not the one she’s marrying.
Good Luck with the PitMad and the Pitch at the conference. Your story sounds intricate and interesting.
Thanks for the good thoughts, Liz! It’s been a journey just trying to condense the essence of this story into something that sounds good in 280 characters. lol
Ooo! Your pitch sounds intriguing, especially those last two lines. Best of luck with the PitMad and the workshop! 🙂
Thanks for the encouragement. Here’s to hoping I’ll get a “heart” from an agent tomorrow!
You’re totally welcome! 🙂
Lisa, I think that pitch is fire. Good luck with it! I hope you have a great time at the convention. I always find those so energizing. I’ll be sending good wishes for PitMad and the agent and editor appointments!!
Thanks, Bryn! I’m back on the wagon this month and chasing that publication dream as fervently as ever. 🙂
Lisa, this Pitch sounds intriguing!! Best of luck tomorrow!! If you want to share your Twitter handle with me, I can try to help you out by retweeting for you. 🙂 I’m @starlately on Twitter if you want to find me so I’ll know you lol
Thanks for the positive energy, starlately! And I’ll find you on Twitter (a platform which still continues to mystify me, but I *think* I’m slowly getting the hang of it). lol 🙂
EEEEEk! I could feel the tension in that one. I’m sad the excerpt was so short lol. And I like the cover. I always love your way with words, Bryn.
I wish I had an excerpt to share this month, but sadly I don’t. I’ve got to choose a pen name to create a fake author website for class that might become real later if I like it enough (bc the one I already have can’t be used for the assignment). I may use a pen name so I can write in more than one genre.
Loving all these excerpts. It’s my favorite post on your blog and I come back every month to read them!! <3
I too, am mew to Bryn Donovan’s monthly posting…and this is my first time! Bryn, I have enjoyed your blogs for several months since discovering you and enjoy every email I receive. Your books are on my list to read! Exciting and wildly intriguing!
Here is my contribution to this months posts. I have a brother and sister who have won the largest lottery thus far. What do you do when that happens and you are Christian minded? Start a Foundation and include your close, trusted friends after the legal work is completed. I’m no good at short explanations, so if someone has an idea, I welcome it. Here is the job offer to the mc best friend as the director holding two master’s degrees and can’t find a decent job….until the secret is about to be revealed.
“I’m beginning to think the degrees don’t mean diddly-squat to anyone but the students who think they need them to get somewhere in life. Boy are we disillusioned. I would be better off as a gardener. Then I might have some experience in digging through dirt! Maybe I should start putting on my applications, ‘desperate’ in the education section instead of my degrees.”
She chuckled and said, “Raven, my car barely makes it to these belittling interviews. I’m riding on the rims and can’t get a job to get my car worked on. I even park as far away from the entrance doors as I can, so no one sees me.” Raven couldn’t bring herself to laugh. Tamara made jokes to hide her misery.
“My poor, little car has carried me through five years of college and work, four interviews and it’s holding on as if it knows I need it for just a few more. I feel like we are bonded, and it hears me pleading with it.”
“You sound like me with my car. I was going through the same thing. Then I went and quit my job and wondered why I chose to walk off of a cliff at that particular time.”
“Nowhere to go but up, right?” Tamara said.
“Bingo! That’s why we’re going to lunch tomorrow.”
“Raven, my boss would croak before she let me off for a long lunch.”
“Then quit!” Raven said.
“Are you crazy? What would I do then? I’m barely holding on in my finances —and my sanity.”
“You have no idea how much I would like to walk in and tell her I quit! Now, how does it feel to know you’re without your spare-tire to kick around? I have fantasized about doing that as you can tell.” She smirked.
“I can’t quit until I find a better job, then I will. You’re trying to make me be brave like you, but I’m not.”
Raven wasn’t giving up and she wasn’t going to tell Tamara the whole story just yet and especially over the phone.
“Tamara, I’m not joking. I want you to call in sick tomorrow, or quit, but you’re going to lunch with me. I have something explosive to tell you—and a job offer you will not be able to refuse.” Raven waited for a reply that didn’t come.
“Are you there?”
“I’m here, but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You sound straight out of the God Father movie. I can’t refuse it! What kind of a job did you get anyway?”
“A good one!”
“I knew it! When did you get it and what is it?”
“I’ll give you every detail tomorrow. Dress up and be ready for a shock.”
“I’m already in shock. Somehow, I don’t know if this is fair to me. Go to lunch, get fired, with no explanation upfront.”
“I can’t explain it without seeing you.” Raven explained.
“I’ve got it! Misery loves company and you want me to get fired so I can spend countless days with you as we search endlessly for those great elusive jobs we’re concepting, while we sip on iced teas in paper cups sitting side by side in our darling little clunker cars at a drive-in.” Tamara had such a dry and witty sense of humor. She could say sarcastic things about bad things, and still make you laugh.
“You know…you could do stand-up comedy and I could be your agent?”
“That doesn’t sound like my line of work either, unless it pay well, then I can adapt.”
“Oh girl. You are a one of a kind.”
“Raven, my adrenaline is getting a kick out of this conversation, but my better judgment is kicking me in the behind.” Tamara sighed heavily. “You’re my best friend and I’m trusting you. I’ll call in and say I’m taking a personal day off. Now, before I bite the bullet, did I really hear you say, you had a job offer waiting for me? I’m a bit slow here. I’m tired, hungry, and I just got home from work. Did I really hear you correctly? Or, are you serious about the stand-up comedy gig?”
“I didn’t mumble. You heard me correctly. It is not about a comedy gig either.”
“Will your car make it?” Tamara blurted out.
“Yes! It will!” They both erupted into laughter.
“Tamara, you’re going to wake up in the morning and realize this is not a joke. We’re really having this conversation. Your life is going to change tomorrow, because mine did today. God hears the prayers of his children.” We are the children of a king, am I correct in saying so?”
“Yes, we are! That just settled everything. I’m going to lunch with you tomorrow.” Tamara sounded confident.
“I’ll be ready and waiting tomorrow at 11:30, and this better be worth losing my job over.”
“It is, Tamara. it really is.” Raven promised.
Barbee, welcome! So glad you’re doing WIP Wednesday! You said you weren’t good at short explanations, but I disagree, haha. I thought you explained the premise very well and I love it! I enjoyed this excerpt so much. I really can’t wait to read more!
You’re as graceful and classy with your communications as you look! Thank you.
I don’t know how to attach my photo to this post. I used to have a WP website and dissolved it, but this obsolete avatar keeps popping up. Augh!
Oh, that’s really frustrating. I hate stuff like that! Can you create a new avatar on Gravatar? Here’s the link. https://en.gravatar.com/ I don’t know if that will work or not…it’s been so long since I’ve made an account!
I remember having a car like that. LOL. I can’t wait to hear what this job offer is.
Thank you, Erin. I too, had one of those! Augh. I was so happy to give it away.
Gah, I love your cover! And the excerpt!
I didn’t get here in time to post, but I will next month. 🙂
Aww, thank you! Yes, we need to see more!!