Hi friends! It’s been a tense time here in the U.S., to say the least. Let’s all take a break and think about our stories!
If you’re new to WIP Wednesday, here’s how it works. I post a little bit of work in progress, and if you want to, you can post an excerpt of your own work in the comments section. I do have a few extra guidelines:
– Keep it 500 words or less (otherwise, I’ll take the liberty of trimming.)
– Don’t share anything graphic or R-rated, though some salty language is fine.
– Don’t critique others’ work or make suggestions—we’re usually sharing excerpts that aren’t ready for beta readers yet. However, encouraging feedback is appreciated!
I am determined to finish a complete draft of book 3 in my Manus Sancti series for NaNoWriMo. I say “book 3” and not The Requiem Moon because someone else is using the title Requiem Moon, so I’ll probably change my title! It’s been forever since I’ve really focused on my fiction writing, and I am loving the experience of getting into it again. The beginning of the book needs rewriting for more tension and plausibility, and I don’t expect that to take long.
Here’s some context for the excerpt: Sophie ran away from Manus Sancti, the secret society, years ago after Nic accidentally killed her cousin. Now, Nic is tasked with bringing Sophie back in for her own safety.
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“Sorry,” he said gruffly to Sophie when he hung up.
She blinked. “Who was that? Your niece?”
“Yeah. My sister Didi’s—she was pregnant when we were in London.”
Why was he making a reference to those early days, that short sweet time when they’d been part of a circle of people in their twenties, getting to know one another, coming up with excuses for parties and meetups at pubs? Anything had seemed possible then. And none of it meant anything now, and they both knew it.
“I remember,” Sophie said.
Nic cleared his throat to say something and then couldn’t think of anything. Her presence next to him, in the soft sweater he’d picked out for her, was more of a distraction then he’d planned for. Would he get any sleep under the circumstances?
She asked softly, “Why did you say that?”
“What?”
“You said, I’d rather die than hurt you. Why?”
Shit. What could he say? He was in charge of this mission. He just needed to get the job done. “Nothing good is going to come from talking about that.”
“About what?”
He would’ve rather walked through broken glass barefoot than talk about Simon, but he owed it to her. “You know. I’ve done enough to you already.” He stared up at the ceiling. “I know you can never forgive me. Just let me get you to where you’re safe.”
She gave a soft, incredulous huff. “How could I forgive you? You never even said you were sorry.”
Sorry? Was she serious? His guilt, never far from his consciousness, pressed in on all sides, ready to suffocate him. “You think I should have apologized?”
“Yes.” It hurt to meet her eyes, so filled with recrimination. “I know you didn’t kill him on purpose, but God! You went to the funeral, and you didn’t even speak to me!”
“How could I apologize for that?” He forced himself to speak quietly, and his voice came out strained. “You apologize for normal things. Being late. Losing your temper. How could I even imply that you could forgive me for this?”
She blinked and a faint crease appeared between her brows. “At least I would’ve known you were sorry.”
“Sorry,” he repeated. “What good would that do?” Sorry didn’t bring Simon back. Sorry changed nothing.
“Tell me what happened.” Her quiet words cut into his soul.
He should’ve known he wouldn’t be spared this. He deserved it, and much worse. Still, he tried to avoid it. “You know what happened.”
“I don’t know your version.”
Shit. His heart ached in his chest, but he couldn’t deny her.
“Simon and I—” He swallowed. “First of all, I liked Simon. A lot.”
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Share something of your own below…or just let us know how your projects or creative plans are going. Thanks so much for reading, and happy writing!
“How could I apologize for that?” He forced himself to speak quietly, and his voice came out strained. “You apologize for normal things. Being late. Losing your temper. How could I even imply that you could forgive me for this?”
First of all… I absolutely love this.
Here’s a writing prompt I am working into my current project…
The door loomed before her. Elodie blinked several times. Her senses were on high alert, but so far… nothing. The cry of a night owl echoed through the cavernous room, but she tuned it out.
She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and concentrated on the fire resting in her soul. She must open the door before the shadows overtook the room, and she was lost forever.
Her scalp tingled. Something drew close.
Laughter whispered through the air, curling around her. I am coming for you, girl. You cannot run forever.
Where had she heard that voice before? Distinctly feminine now, where before it was as androgynous as her friend Pat, who lived down the lane. The voice, slithered down her spine, and grasped at her brain.
You cannot win. You will not win. I am come.
The shadows leapt from the cobblestones, weaving together until the vague outline of a woman appeared before her. Masked in darkness, her face was indistinguishable, but Elodie searched for even the smallest of clues to her identity.
“I will win, Shadow. I have to win.”
You cannot. The prophecy has already spoken.
“Prophecy can be changed. Everything can be changed. Take this door, for example.” She motioned to the door. Standing closer to ten foot tall than seven, it was made of dark, heavy oak.
The Shadow paused in her advance. What of the door? ‘Tis a simple door. One even a shadow can move through.”
“Ahh, but it’s not just a simple door.” She pulled the golden talisman from its place, tucked near her heart, drew in a deep breath, and spoke the words needed. “Dife!”
The door burst into flames, the stained oak turning blood red. The Shadow leapt backward, hissing as the flames curled toward her.
“Prophecy can be manipulated, changed. You will not win, Shadow.” Elodie flung the taunt over her shoulder as she jumped through the fire portal.
She falls, gasping for breath, to the floor in Lady Cainham’s house.
I love the determination she shows, keep going it’s really good
Laura! Thanks for the kind words. So this started as a writing prompt and it’s becoming part of the story? I love that. Great physical details here to convey the fear. I really enjoyed this. I hope we see more!
I really like this excerpt! It very much caught my attention and seemed like something I would want to read!
Hi Bryn,
I want to tell you how motivating you are to me. Your Youtube videos and books have really impacted how I write. You are an inspiration. Thank you.
Here is an excerpt from the first chapter of my book.
The Crustacean Killer had done these countless times: surveillance, tracking, meeting, killing – but nothing like he was paid to do for this assignment. The information brought to him was odd but not to the point where he wouldn’t do it. He gets paid to obey and not question the job; nothing more, nothing less. Stay until finished; move on to the next. He stuffed what he needed into his black Coach backpack, placed it on the seat next to him and reviewed the evening’s plans.
He set his palms down flat on the black Audi’s steering wheel and recited his motto: “Nothing is more valuable than planning and patience.”
The meeting ended at the usual time. At ten pm, scores of people rushed out; but not her. He watched, waited, and glimpsed at the strangers getting into taxis, carpooling, walking away.
Seven minutes later, Dawn finally exited, talking to some people; smiling – sometimes a burst of laughter. She hugged, kissed and said her goodbyes before leaving on her own. A bad idea this dark, late hour. You never know who might be out tonight. He managed a slight grin.
Her long, dark hair swirled into the gentlefolks breeze this spring night as she walked across the street down the block towards the subway. A blue, V-neck sweater with a black skirt just above the knees accentuated her beauty. The killer matched her stride for stride. She stopped, craned her neck in both directions and cracked a smile, before stepping into a small mom and pop grocery store. “How ironic your name is Dawn, as you won’t be seeing the morning light.” He carefully watched as she paced up and down each aisle before moving happily to the cashier with a twenty. She grabbed her change and exited.
CK had been watching Dawn on his terms; waiting for the right moment. No rush. He followed and stayed far enough behind. Dawn never turned around. Only had her demons to deal with.
Soon she will know her next demon.
He caught up and gave a slight peck on her cheek. She welcomed it and grabbed his body close to hers. They kissed hard. CK placed the grocery bag in his right hand and held Dawn closer. She couldn’t stop staring. All her problems faded into the night.
CK invited Dawn back to his place for a nightcap. He watched her speak tonight at the podium and knew instantly she was the one.
She nodded out of breath, too infatuated to say no or anything else except wanting to know where he lived.
He hugged her gently and whispered “the Upper East Side,” as he pointed towards his car.
Dawn hadn’t felt this trust in some time; which was about to be her mistake.
I was working on a similar story and you gave some insight on what to make my killer ,thank you. Keep up the work it’s really planes out and makes me want to read more
Adam, thank you so much…I’m so glad it’s helpful and motivating! You made my day. 🙂 This passage is so creepy and sinister! His watching her, his internal monologue…really effective. Thanks for posting!
Hey Bryn!
Again, thank you for all you do for us as you motivate, mentor, and cheer us on to create the stories that are within all of us.
Here is an excerpt from my WIP, A Redhead in Tottenham:
Gareth looked into the night sky, the memories of that night flowed easily into his face so he could enjoy them once again. He looked at Chris and gave him a grin. “Mel was this statuesque, stunning redhead who was not only captivating but enchanted me for something other than her physical beauty.”
“What’s that?”
“She had this inner beauty that went far and beyond her looks. I remember,” he said, then stopped, and sniffled. He turned and wiped his eye, then looked back at Chris. “She smiled and said, ‘I have always loved you, Gareth. Everything else was just waiting for this night.’ She smiled, then we kissed for the first time. That night, I gave Mel my heart, and never got it back. But I knew she would take good care of it, so it was all right.”
Gareth looked at the ground, shook his head, and told him, “I think the toughest part about hoping you’ll fall in love one day, and if your wish comes true, and you find a love that will last a lifetime, but eventually, you’ll have to say goodbye.”
Chris’ smile vanished and he sat in stunned silence.
There was a pause, then Gareth wiped his eyes again. “Yeah, I gave her my heart, and she took it with her wherever she went. Even,” he paused and as the words choked, he said, “Even to the next place.” He shook his head and told him, “I’m not spinning a melodrama here. That’s reality, mate. And one day, you will part with your soulmate, but that’s life. But what you can do is make sure that what happens in between the hello and goodbye is something that will last forever. As you can see, what happened with Mel lasts to this day, and I can bring back the memory and make it come to life any time I wish. One day, Mr. Sutton, you’ll understand what I am talking about. Until then, I can’t explain it to you. But when it arrives, you’ll know it.”
Hi Ivan! I hope everything’s going well with you. And you are too kind, as always! Aw man…that final talk really got me! The line about her taking his heart with her…and the line about making sure what happens in between the hello and the goodbye lasts forever. That’s going to stick with me. Thanks so much for sharing!
I’m sorry you have to change your title. That is disappointing to say the least. Thank you for the offer to promote our work with an excerpt. I may get back to you on that. I am also writing for #nanowrimo so ttyl.
Hi, Naomi! Aww, thanks. I did like that title, but I’ll figure out something! I hope NaNo is going well for you. We’d love to see what you’re working on next month, or whenever!
I love all your entry’s and Bryn I love that we get inside Nicks head and see what really happened. This entry is a countined from last WIPs,The Rageful Ones…..
The door opens and someone stands in the doorway, “You ok” she asked. I don’t answer and pick up my bag and push past her and down the hall. Confusion and fear plunge down on my chest, something is happening and I don’t know what. The gym door is open and the outside light shines into the room. I go into the locker room and get dressed, feeling dull. I walk outside a game of basketball starting , I join in. Laughing when I steal the ball from one of my classmates and make a basket. In the middle of the second game the ball stops. It didn’t drop to the ground or roll around, but it just stopped in mid-air. I look around fear leaking into my bones, this can’t be happening. Birds , leaves anything that was in the air, just froze.
I looked up and wished I was anywhere but here. The sky darkens, and a sinister feeling swept over us. I swallowed a scream and watched as the sky turned darker, darker than black it’s self. A small glow shimmered in the sky, it brightened until it was blinding me. I take a step back and raise up my hand blocking the light and I look up squinting. The light was an eerily yellowish ,white light. A hand finds mine and I look over, startled, but I make out the figure. I squeeze Charlotte’s hand, I suck in air and try not to shake. The fear quickly consumes me , but I try to push it away. But it keeps climbing back, I watch in horror as the light gives way to a gigantic ship. Disbelief and reason pokes my mind. This is something you see in Star Wars, or movies and books. Not in real life.
The ship loomed high in the sky ,the shape becoming sharp and clear. We stand there staring at the details of this ship,but I have a strange urge of wanting to touch it that somehow that ship was connected to me.I watch as the aircraft becomes bigger covering most of the sky, little dots spread outward from the ship.I squint and they come closer, there ships! The doors slam open and I shrek along with some other people. I expected martians and Star Trek overlords, but it was just frantic teachers hurrying us inside. I hurry toward the door but I take one last look at the sky. Fires,and smoke rise all around, ships race along the sky. I watch as a ship flies downwards to the ground. Not sure if that’s ours or there’s. I turn into the school my insides melting with fear.
Hi, Adriana! Aw, thank you for the feedback! Your excerpt is so dreamlike and surreal. The ships in the sky…that’s so cinematic! I love the last sentence, too. Thanks for posting!
Happy WIP Wednesday, Bryn!
Great excerpt! Such strong characterization and dialogue. I LOVED where you stopped it. All around great job!
***
Some helpful context for my excerpt:
Raven is a vampire who used to be a butler. Even though he’s no longer a butler, he is still very proper and old-fashioned. He is currently engaged to Tessa.
Jeff is Tessa’s dad. He used to be a vampire hunter until he had to stake his former master. That messed him up and shattered his self-confidence. So, he had to retire. He gave Raven permission to marry Tessa, but Jeff still has a lot of stuff to work through.
Tessa is currently recovering from a coma in the hospital. Raven has stayed by her side pretty much the whole time. He’s only left her side when he’s had to go hunt and for Ambrose’s wedding.
*********************
Raven woke to find himself back in his seat. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “What…”
“You almost fell asleep on top of Tessa.” Jeff said from the back of the room. “So, I returned you to your seat.”
Raven stood and turned to face him. “Thank you, sir.”
Jeff looked out the darkened windows. “I suppose you’ll be going hunting now.”
Jeff’s words were like a door being slammed shut and locked. Raven felt like he was standing on the wrong side of the door, trying to figure out how to open it.
Silence fell between them.
The only sounds were the muffled voices of people walking past Tessa’s door and the beeps of distant monitors.
“And if I were still a hunter, I’d be going out there now with Tsunachu in my hands.” Jeff continued. “Maybe our paths would cross. Maybe they wouldn’t. Who knows?”
“Perhaps, sir. Perhaps you would kill me.”
Jeff turned his head to the side.
“Perhaps I would kill you. Perhaps I would change you. It is difficult to say.”
“Yeah.” He faced Raven. “Look. I am trying my best to push myself past all of that for Tessa’s sake. But it’s hard. I’m pushing past a whole lifetime of training and fighting and protecting my city from vampires. That isn’t something I can just forget.”
Raven managed a slight smile. “I do understand that, sir. It is not easy to forget what one has been trained to do, especially if it is something one takes a deep pride in.”
“Yeah.” Jeff sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “I talked to Tessa earlier about me becoming a hunter again.”
Raven clenched and unclenched his hands. “I see. And what, might I ask, did she say?”
She would not agree to it. She knows the risk to Jeff….and to me. She would never agree to it. Yet, what if she did? What if she insisted on it? What if—
“She talked me out of it.”
Raven exhaled a subtle sigh of relief. “Ah. I see. I suppose—-” His pupils involuntarily widened as his hunger panged. “I beg your pardon, sir. I must leave.”
A conflicted expression came over Jeff’s face, but he didn’t say anything more than, “Go.”
Hey friend! Ohh, thanks for reading and the nice words. 🙂 And okay…you had me at “Raven is a vampire who used to be a butler.” I love the whole idea of a proper vamp who used to be in service! This is so much for Jeff to work through…it’s a great conflict. I have to see more!
That was a great excerpt, Bryn! I could feel how torn he was, I feel understand why she kept pushing. Wonderful job! I hope you find the time to do NaNo. I can see from the outside that you are a very busy woman, but we need to continue hearing your voice!
For my excerpt, Abella is “girding her loins” so to speak for the first day of the poker game.
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Abella fidgeted while Fiona zipped up the structured, Leila Khashagulgova dress. The cream material started at a high neck. It continued with a fitted bodice covered with gold, military-style Hussar braiding across the chest, lace under-sleeves with nearly floor-length, solid over-sleeves, a skirt only slightly flared with an added heavy, aged-gold belt, and ornate, gold embroidery throughout. The dress was heavy and covered Abella from neck to toe.
“A little on the nose, don’t you think?” Fiona mused. “What’s next? A saber to skewer the other players?”
“I’ll skewer them with my card play.” Abella adjusted the belt and extended her arms to get a feel for the range of movement. “I want there to be no doubt that I’m ready for battle.”
“You usually ease into your slap-you-in-the-face intentions.”
Abella slipped into her embellished, Christian Louboutin Contella, red-sole booties raising her height to six foot, four inches. She’d tower over every man in the room; just as she liked it.
“It’s a five-day game. I haven’t the time to ease into anything.”
Abella swept her hand toward the long, rolling clothes rack, groaning under the weight of the couture dresses she had bought in a single day. “I have to marshal and deploy my weapons immediately. Those,” she said, nodding at the wardrobe. “This,” she added, running her hands down her sides, smoothing the material. “And one other.” Abella pressed the intercom button. “Is Jerrold working at the moment?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Ask him to bring the Aston Martin Volante around. I’m ready to leave.”
“Right away.”
“And do you have a reason for that particular car?” Fiona asked.
“Two, actually. It used to belong to our host Gentry, and it matches my dress. That ought to anger him from the start.”
Fiona’s grin changed to laughter until she had to wrap her arms around her waist. “Oh, god, that misogynistic asshole deserves to have every last nerve shredded.”
“The car may not undo him entirely, but it’s a start.” Abella swept a hand toward the door. “Shall we?”
Fiona led the way down the stairs and to the elevator, her face flushed with what Abella assumed was anticipation.
God knows that’s what I’m feeling.
Fiona turned to her when the elevator doors closed and they started descending. “Oh man, I just got it. You have a dress the same color of every car in your stable.”
“For every car I’ve won off the players at the table, and then some.”
Fiona shook her head. “Wow.”
“Exactly.”
Heyyyy friend! Thanks so much for reading. Your comments mean a lot. I will win NaNo if I can drag myself away from election obsession!
Oooh, that dress…I could just see it! And I love Fiona’s comment about it! And the Aston Martin matching her dress. 😀 She is so formidable. What a pleasure to read.
Hi Bryn, Thanks once again for the opportunity to share. Sophie’s need to know stabs so hard into Nic. Great conflict.
My excerpt is from my third Dragon Taught book, Silent Sword. (DuShain’s reason for going into enemy territory was to save a dragon named Izaya. He got Raydor clothing from his friend, Pedar, but no money. That was no problem until his horse lost a shoe.)
*********
DuShain chose the nails he needed and then handed the ironmonger his razor. After rolling up his sleeves, he went to work. In the middle of the job of re-shoeing his horse, a group of men entered. DuShain kept his head down and his back to the customers.
“You get our horses done?” They barked.
DuShain stole a quick glance. His breath caught. Russet Clan. He returned to pounding the nails. Six men, he thought. I could take them all. Bad idea. He was in enemy territory and alone. He decided to wait to see what he could learn.
“Slave run?” asked the forger.
“Not this time.” The Russet man said in a heavy clan accent. “Dragon hunt.”
DuShain gritted his teeth.
“Izaya.” One of the Russet men said.
Adrenalin flooded DuShain. It was all he could do to keep his breathing under control and his hands and arms pounding on the horse shoe nails.
The forger laughed. “You and how many others? You’ll never get that one. The mountain’s too rugged.”
“Argadon’s dead.” Then they switched to Clan speech. “He left slaves with plenty of power.”
DuShain gripped the hammer harder.
“We’ll get there, old man. Arrow dipped in human blood. The end of that menace.”
The forger hooted. “You gona mount his head for your council hall?”
“If there’s enough left after we get through with him.”
“Labe,” called the forger. “Bring out the ponies.”
“Right away, Roan.” A younger Raydor led the saddled horses to the customers.
DuShain could take no more. He stood, his back to the Russet men. Blood pounded in his ears. He laid his hand on his hilt.
The ironmonger shot DuShain a warning glance and then spoke to his customers. “No charge today, men. Good journey, my friends.”
The Russet men mounted and rode away.
No matter how DuShain wanted to lash out, he had to keep his temper in check.
Roan cocked his head. He looked at DuShain with an expression that said, I caught you. He raised his work blackened fingers and started ticking off his observations. “No Raydor money. A Clan razor. Strange for a man with a beard. Demon horse with a Clan bridle. Fancy clothes for a forger.” He closed his hands around the handles of his bellows and began pumping as he continued. “Either you killed Pedar, or you stole his clothes. In any case, you’re someone to be reckoned with. You want the razor back?”
DuShain stowed his tools. “Keep it. It’s worth the information you weaseled out of those Russet Clan men. You probably lost a day’s pay when you let them go.”
The Raydor nodded. “Your reaction to the slave thieving’s a dead giveaway. Same as your yellow hair. Hope you’re not planning to be on this side of the mountains long. You won’t last.”
DuShain mounted. “No longer than I have to be.” He tossed his used nails. They fell with a scattering of clanks into the bucket.
“Good journey, my friend.” They both said.
Goody! A Fantasy-adventure from a blacksmith’s perspective. It wasn’t the mention of the dragon that fired DuShain up, but the Clan rough-necks. So what happens when he talks to the dragon?
Jessie, hi! Thanks for reading and for the kind comments. My gosh, it seems like you are so prolific…you’re an inspiration! Great description of DuShain just barely keeping it together. And Roan doesn’t miss a trick. This seems really polished already. I love getting to keep up with what you’re working on!
WIP Wednesday – November 2020!
Hi Bryn, great excerpt. I need to learn how to blend and balance description and dialogue like you experienced writers do. Right now I’m in the process of rewriting my screenplay and beginning NaNoWriMo. There’s a lot of structural and plot stuff that needs an overhaul. Below is one of my later scenes. I hope it meets standards, but I’ll leave it to you to decide. Best luck with NaNoWriMo and wish me the same!
===
With no windows on the floor of the plant and no outside sunlight, the days seemed to run together. Zoe woke up, splashed her face with cold water, and looked at herself in the mirror.
She was about to do what she was hired to do long ago and had sworn never to go back to. Her hopes of a new life, an ordinary life where she could savor the little things were shelved while she lived out this nightmare.
After drying her still very youthful-looking face, for a thirty-three-year-old, she pulled out a pair of scissors from the cabinet beneath the sink and went to work cutting her black shoulder-length hair extremely short.
Now it was time to dress the part. From a Rubbermaid bin, she pulled a set of shrink-wrapped clothes out and changed from the comfort of her PJs into track pants, a US Soccer t-shirt, and a ball cap.
From the closet, she pulled out her Eastern Mountain backpack, and carefully took out what appeared to be an aluminum water bottle with a Nike logo on it. Gathering things up, she looked at her watch…3:30 AM, right on time.
A little more than 50 miles to the north, Hugo Santana was also departing to being his workday To him it was a normal morning, one where he got the opportunity to talk to his son after reestablishing good terms with him, or so he thought.
It was a normal morning for Hugo. Meetings with his underworld clients at the law office in South Boston. He expected nothing eventful today.
Hugo Santana left his home in the early morning hours, headed for the commuter rail lot.
By the time his train came into South Station, Santana looked up from his canary legal pad as the sun was now piercing the darkness.
At South Station, he exited the train and scanned the tables at the food court for his son Lev, quickly finding him and receiving a pleasant wave. The two of them set off down summer street.
Zoey had arrived in on the Red Line, setting out ahead of them by mere hundred feet on the same route.
Lev and his dad chat and walk, pleasantly.
Zoe continued walking ahead confidently and calmly. On the inside, she was a disaster. She was reliving a life she had intended to depart from permanently and forget. Her only comfort a vicious and brutal criminal that was hell-bent on killing Lev just weeks earlier.
At last, it was time to do her duty. As she closed on the corner of Melcher and Summer street, she took the cap off her water bottle, revealing a spray nozzle. At Melcher, she turned into a vestibule and waited for Santana to pass.
Lev, reaching his turn off point suddenly turned back the way he came as his father walked on chattering, not knowing he was just talking to himself.
The streets were sparsely populated, with many people now working from home. Santana passes the vestibule of a store on Melcher Street where Zoe stood waiting, with hidden anxiety.
Exiting calmly, from 15 feet away she depressed the nozzle of the canister, which sprayed a flame of ignited white phosphorus onto Santana.
The few people on the street and in cars are horrified as the man burns to death in a shower of flames.
As the horror distracts people, Zoe re-caps her bottle and walking away calmly. At the A Street overpass, she disappeared down the stairs.
Hi Chris! I hope everything’s going okay for you. This might be my fave excerpt of yours yet! I really felt the oppressive circumstances and loss of hope. The contrast between her actions and her mental state is compelling. Thanks for sharing! Good luck on the screenplay and NaNo!
Hey Bryn! First off, this excerpt is awesome…absolutely LOVED this: “You apologize for normal things. Being late. Losing your temper. How could I even imply that you could forgive me for this?” Am definitely looking forward to reading this when it’s published. 🙂
The homefront’s been keeping me busy, so I haven’t joined the WIP Wednesday party for a while, but life in general is cruising along and pretty good. Our Covid situation in Tasmania is so drastically different from yours in the US; I worry about everyone there. Hope you’re all staying safe!
Still polishing my manuscript; we gave it to a professional beta reader at AJC Publishing, who provided some terrific insights into its strengths and weaknesses. I was proud that she gave me points for creativity, saying “the world [is] something I haven’t seen in the genre before” and “I thought the premise was great”. So now I’m back to the drawing board, polishing up the things that fell a bit short…and maybe a professional editor will be the next step once I’m happy with my manuscript. Here’s a short excerpt from where I’ve tidied things up:
—-
A scraping at her door drew Phaelan’s attention from the pajamas she was jamming into her suitcase. She answered the summons. “At your leisure, King Xerxes,” she made a sweeping gesture, beckoning the elderly German Shepherd into her room. The black-and-tan dog sauntered in, hopped on her bed, and groaned as he settled into his usual sleeping space. Phaelan sat down next to him, giving him a good rub under the chin. “Yeah, Mom’s concerned…I get it. But those dates in Dad’s journal…they mean something. He wrote them down for a reason, and he left the journal in my desk. He wanted me to find it. He wasn’t just my Dad; he was the only friend I ever had.” When Xerxes licked her hand, she laughed. “Ok, besides you.”
She picked up her phone from the nightstand and flicked through her list of contacts. Acquaintances—every, single one…and no other family besides her mom and grandma.
Thinking about it now, she’d only ever had acquaintances. She’d always felt like an alien on a hostile planet, and with her mom constantly on her case, pushing her to go out…to date…
Phaelan closed her eyes. She liked guys, but she had little in common with anyone her age. She’d gone out a few times since high school, but nobody ever came close to being HIM: her missing piece…her other half…the one she’d sensed was out there, even from the time she was a little girl. She’d kept this secret from everyone—especially her father, though she had no idea why. It’d simply seemed…prudent.
“I don’t know, Xerks…something’s wrong with me.” She switched off her phone before opening her eyes. “It’s…like, I know there’s MORE out there; I just don’t know how to find it. Honestly, I don’t even know what IT is, but…something’s missing. I’m sure I’m not meant to be here…and going to Avebury feels right, y’know?” She tossed her phone on the bed.
Xerxes lifted his head to sniff it.
“Pretty pathetic that you’re the only one I can talk to, huh? I wish you could go with me,” she removed her glasses and buried her face in the German Shepherd’s soft fur. Slowly she pulled away, stroking his graying head. “Promise me you’ll take care of Mom. Especially if…”
Her inner critic piped up: ‘Don’t be stupid. Nothing’s going to happen because nothing EVER happens.’
She sighed, replacing her glasses as she stood. “Never mind. I’ll be back: back to boring…back to not fitting in…back to feeling like a useless human being.”
She zipped her suitcase and placed it on the floor, then walked to her desk and retrieved her passport. “Ugh,” she grimaced at the photo, noting her rounded cheeks and pale complexion. “Well, one thing’s for sure: I’m hitting the gym when I get back.” She shook her head and stuffed the passport in her handbag. She returned to the bed and flopped onto it, snuggling up to her dog. “When I get there, I’m saying goodbye to Dad…but I’m saying goodbye to myself, too. No matter what happens, things are gonna be different.”
I liked this! Phaelan seems very relatable, and I love that she has a dog named Xerxes! Good luck with your writing!
I like this. It’s deep. A quiet and attentive German Shepherd can be the best therapist. It’s a little depressing, but I think we get to see this, so we can see how Phaelan grows.
LISA!!! I’m so glad to see you! Thanks for reading and for the nice feedback. 🙂 Yeah, the COVID situation continues to be scary. My husband is high-risk, too, so we don’t take chances!
It sounds like you had a good experience with the professional beta reader; so glad to hear. This is really polished. I feel for her and how she feels so isolated…it’s so relatable! I know from experience that a good dog is a definite consolation, though. 🙂 Thanks for coming by! I hope you have a great month!
Hi Bryn! Hi all! What an enticing excerpt! My heart just melts for Nic, and I’m really curious about what happened with Simon. I wonder if he and Sophie will ever be able to get past this. Of course I’ll have to wait and see.
I am on draft 3 of my Tam Lin prequel, and at my agent’s suggestion have added a framing device I really like. Janet, the heroine of the ballad, has won Tam Lin but the Faery Queen is trying to convince her to give him up by narrating her own life story, particularly her past relationship with Tam’s father.
“You saved his life,” Janet says to me.
I do not argue.
Carterhaugh has grown quiet, but not eerily so. The forest feels empty, though the little night creatures of the mortal realm still scurry about. It seems devoid of Fey presence, and I think again to the visions Amadan showed me, of a Faery cut off from the realm of Man, desiccated, rotted, and dying. It is my job to prevent that. Yet I cannot help but feel a time is coming when even my efforts will not be enough. When Faery at last shall fade completely, and mortals shall doubt whether it ever was.
Janet frowns, oblivious to my melancholic reverie. “You saved Thomas de Lyne from the evil Fey.”
“I saved Thomas Shepherd,” I correct her. “Thomas de Lyne was not worthy to wipe my shoes on.” Or so I have been telling myself for the past twenty-three years. “And the Hunt is not evil. We make different distinctions among the Fey.”
Janet’s eyes narrow, and her cheeks grow red. “You claimed Thomas, and you saved him. How can you begrudge me doing the same for Tam Lin?”
I glance between this stubborn lass and her shuddering, silent swain. They make a handsome couple, with his sleek dark hair and her golden braids, his lanky form and her gentle curves, youth blazing so bright between them both. Certainly a better match than some I have known.
I cannot allow that to matter.
“I do not begrudge you,” I reply. “I simply hope I will change your mind.”
Her fists clench, and her lips part, as if she’s about to speak. Then something passes across her face, like a cloud crossing in front of the sun. Her expression softens, and she seems thoughtful when she asks, “Do you regret it, then? Saving his life?” She moves beside the young lord, stroking her fingers down her arm, but whether seeking reassurance or giving it, I cannot say.
What promise does she want from me? That this is true love, born when he seduced her in the forest, growing stronger when she chose to keep his child, and ultimately saved his life? That was not how it worked out for me.
And yet, I say nothing of my own regrets. To say I had them, or to say I didn’t–either one would be a lie. I saved my Shepherd King from the Wild Hunt, and soon entered one of the happiest periods of my life. If only it could have lasted. But it was half mortal, and nothing mortal can last.
Does the heart grow stronger, when it is broken and scarred? Mine has not been flesh in oh, so long.
“Let me continue my story,” is my only reply, “and you can decide for yourself.”
Hi, Kimberly, so good to see you! Aww, thanks for reading and for the kind words. I love this project of yours, and that’s a cool idea with the framing device. I know I’ve said this before, but this has such an elegant voice that’s perfect for fairies and fantasy. It’s so enjoyable to read. I hope you have great success with it!
So, I’m following the scene from where I left off last month, after the first 10 pages. And here I’m trying to use a little slapstick – a little of the back-and-forth an audience might see – but in the sense of a Fantasy-adventure with young women who are fulfilling a certain place in their world. As the ranking trainee, Fawnlum is responsible for what happens with her peers.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What did you do?” Fawnlum pressed, knowing full well who she was dealing with.
“You were the last one with her at the pub last night,” Nepta ventured, adding to the inquisition.
“We had a contest. She lost.”
“And then?”
Grinning with an abundance of devilish delight, she practically burst out, “We had a drinking contest! I had a pinch of my sin-sin powder; so it didn’t souse me.” She let out a giggle. “Don’t worry. I got her to Halsteadder’s barn, so she could sleep it off.”
Fawnlum did not share in Honee’s amusement, as she watched their fourth comrade approach. Wearing a large saber on her back like Fawnlum, with surly and bloodshot eyes fixed unwaveringly with murderous intent, Sienna closed the distance with deliberate strides.
As soon as she got close enough, she opened up with a voice like two grating stones. “You little rat!” she growled at Honee.
“Who, me?” Honee asked, with fingertips pressed against her chest in feigned innocence.
“I never agreed to pull Lady Dasarens’ cart!”
“As soon as you showed up at the door, I’m sure Master Dasarens took their horse to rent out, and make a little extra money today. You did a good deed.”
“Then let the fates reward me, if I do a good deed now,” she said, as an engine of destruction waiting to be unleashed.
Unfazed, Honee replied, “Fawnlum, my mighty and wise leader, remind us how the people depend on law, and not vengeance to fix grievances.”
“Vengeance does not come before justice, Honee. But what goes around comes around, as is written in Nature. You’re on your own.”
“Hah!” Sienna laughed out.
Honee nimbly stepped back a couple of feet, balancing on her toes.
If Sienna made any move, the smaller girl would have room to evade.
Honee kept watching Sienna with her characteristic grin, and shameless enjoyment. Fawnlum knew she never tired of showing how her smaller, more nimble frame could outdo hers and Sienna’s bigger, stronger bodies. ‘Dancing among the trees’, as she liked to call it.
Slowly and smoothly, Sienna drew the saber from her back, and closed in on her. “Don’t worry. I’ll use the flat of the blade.”
“Sienna, stop it,” Fawnlum said, tiring of the game. “If you can’t see a trap from Honee by now, you never will.”
To Honee, she ordered, “Apologize.”
Sienna did not even look back. “Not yet. Not until I’ve brained the little snake.” She slowly closed in, but besides sidling backward, the little scout did not act intimidated.
“Honee, show at least a little remorse. Sienna, sit down and let Nepta heal your pain,” Fawnlum reiterated.
Still Sienna ignored her.
Honee never let her smile waver, despite Sienna’s power and reach.
Nepta looked up at Fawnlum, and shrugged.
Hey there! This is very fun. Fawnlum has her hands full! ‘Dancing in the trees’—love that. Thanks for posting!
No! You can’t leave it there. Ugh!
Here is a little snip it of what I am working on for NaNoWriMo. Let me set the scene. Ty is delivering a crate of homemade jams to a local store for his mother, and is about to run into somebody he has not seen in a long time.
Grabbing the crate from the passenger seat, Ty quickly crossed the street and headed into the shop. The bell over the door rang out it’s greeting followed shortly by the familiar voice of the woman that had been working the counter since he was a boy.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Miss Walker,” Ty called. “I’ve got a crate of preserves for you.”
The old woman waived her hands in excitement. “Oh I just love your mommas preserves. There doesn’t happen to be anymore blackberry in there is there?”
Ty smiled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t look.”
She waived him off. “Oh that’s alright. Follow me on to the back and we’ll get you sorted out.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Ty followed Cheryl to the back. He was surprised to see the office door closed. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen it like that. The old woman lifted her hand and knocked.
“Girls? We’re comin’ in.”
Ty’s head jerked back. Girls?
The door creaked open, and the sight that greeted him on the other side nearly knocked him off his feet. There, in the middle of the room, was the one person he never expected to see again. Paige Walker had left him in the dust as a teenager. Seeing her again after all these years was like a shot to the mouth.
The crate in his hands slipped. Ty scrambled to right the container before the jars shattered on the ground.
He looked back up to see Paige cocking at him,her hazel eyes taking him in like some foreign creature.
She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was longer than her remembered with bits of honey brown mixed into the mosey brown she’d sported in her youth. The glint of silver caught his eye, and he found himself searching the bracelet on her wrist for a specific charm.
“Hello Ty.”
He tore his eyes away from the angel in front of him. “Hi Georgia. Momma sent me with your order.”
She gave him a polite smile. “Thanks, Ty. You can sit them over there.” She gestured to the vacant couch. “I’ll sort them out later.”
Ty could feel Paige’s eyes following him as he moved. He wanted to look back at her, but he fought to keep his eyes on his task.
“Paige,” Miss Walker said, “you remember Ty Holstead don’t you?”
He closed his eyes. There goes pretending she doesn’t exist.
Erin! I just love this! I love it that Ty is doing something so wholesome when he sees Paige, and that he’s taken completely off guard. This is so sweet. Great project!
Thanks Bryn! I’m really excited for it. Nervous as all get out. Batter Days has been my whole writing world for the last few years. It feels good to start something new.
Tell us about Wart
Xilban the elder said, “Pell, tell us about Wart. We know he has the marks of a Kaniwa hunter and intends to live with us. You two want to marry, a good thing. You also want to become the shaman, which is a great honor. We must bless this marriage.”
“We have both been taught by Aurora, and other teachers, not always the same ones. Wart is a very thoughtful man, he does not act without reason.”
Xilban asked, “Have you shared a hammock?”
Pell, taken aback by the question, managed to say, “I have never shared a hammock since I was a little girl and my mothers kept me. Aurora was very strict about that.”
Rhold waved his arm. “We must talk with Wart. How… What is that disturbance outside?”
To Pell’s horror, Wart was fighting Choto, a hunter of the Harp family, and a childhood friend. What’s happened to him? She wanted to stop the fight, but her father’s hand on her shoulder prevented her.
Oure whispered, “Big things happen.”
***
Wart threw Choto to the ground, then extended a hand to pull him to his feet. Choto’s friends encouraged him to keep fighting. Again Wart threw the big man and again helped him up. The third time, after Wart helped him up, Choto shook his head and asked, “Why do you help me up, you could crush me on the ground?”
Wart smiled. “I would rather help a friend up, then beat an enemy down.”
Choto looked at him for a minute then laughed, slapped his palms on Wart’s shoulders. “Friend, yes, friends. We must hunt a boar to celebrate with friends.”
Rhold said, “Wart, we must talk.”
Choto said, “Honored Elder, I started the fight. I…”
Rhold’s glare warned the young man back.
Inside the longhouse, Wart faced the four elders in silence.
Ocho asked, “Why do you want to marry Pell?”
“When I first met Pell I thought she loved Wolf. Wolf was in love with another, and in my homeland, two wives are not permitted. I talked to Pell often to explain our customs, and she taught me hers. She taught me to speak Kaniwa. I see she has fears for herself and the Kaniwa; I must be with her. When I close my eyes I see Pell. I will take on the marks of a Kaniwa hunter.”
Rhold accused, “You have been in several fights with the sons of our patriarchs.”
“You have seen me fight and it ended in friendship. I knew this fight would happen. I could have walked away and been laughed at. No peace would come. I could beat your best Warrior and make an enemy, but not peace. I took the chance of angering you, Honored Elders, to make a friend.” Wart paused then said, “I do not often have that choice. Every day I have more friends, and that is good.”
“You say you will not always be with us.”
“I took the same oath as Pell, the Lion gave Pell her freedom to defend the Kaniwa. I must serve the Lion, He promised, half my time I will live here with Pell and the Kaniwa. He is a hard man.”
“Can you be a hard man?”
Wart held out his hands, one a tight fist, the other cupped, “As a knight, I must be hard, and I must be gentle.”
“We must deliberate.”
Hi, Donald! I hope everything’s going well with you! I ove the culture you’ve built up here. Wart is a good guy. 🙂 Thanks for posting!
I married Dawn on Nov. 5th.
Hi, Bryn,
Aw! Why did you have to cut off your snippet so soon? Just as I was getting interested in the characters.
This is the first time I’ve posted here, and I’m not sure what to expect. My WIP is a 20 000 word Christmas romance for an anthology, set in South Africa. This is the first meeting between my protagonists.
“Taking a deep breath, she pressed the doorbell, and heard its chimes echoing inside the house. She stood on the step and waited. Glancing at her watch, she saw that she was five minutes early. Still she stood and waited, but the door remained closed. She pressed the bell again. And waited. Surely there must be some-one home – after all, she was expected. She backed away to look for signs of life in the house, raising her head to scan the windows.
“Watch out! “The shouted warning came too late. She collided with a man who had come up behind her, unheard.
Reeling, she almost lost her footing. A hand grabbed her arm and steadied her. Heart racing, she turned to face him – a large man. A large angry man. An attractive large angry man. Confused apologies tumbled from her lips.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t see – I’m so sorry – it was …”
He cut in, “What the devil were trying to do?” Hazel eyes glared at her from beneath lowered brows. He towered over her.
“I…I rang the bell twice, b…but nobody came. I was t…trying to see if there was anyone home.” Unnerved, she could only stammer.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” The expression on his chiseled face remained as hostile as his brusque words.
Juliet shrugged off his hand, and took a step back from him, frowning. His attitude started to irk her. She tried to remain calm.
“I have an appointment with Mrs. Warwick. The gate guard let me in.”
He turned his back to her, strode to the door, and opened it. “In that case, you can come in,” he flung over his shoulder. “I suggest you walk forwards this time.”
His sarcasm drew a flash of anger from her. Who did this guy think he was? Judging by his muddied jeans and T-shirt, he must work on the farm. He was carrying a transparent plastic bag containing sugar-cane cuttings. She took a better look at him as he paused on the doormat to take off his muddy gumboots and replace them with shoes which had been standing by the door. Tall and well-built, thirty-something, she guessed. Still stony-faced. His striking good looks were marred by his surly expression.
Boots in one hand, bag of sugarcane in the other, he turned to walk away, leaving her stranded. His manners were as disagreeable as his temper: what a mannerless oaf.”
Anne! I’m so sorry I almost missed this! A Christmas anthology…how fun! I love the first meeting. The details about this guy are so intriguing…the sugar cane cuttings, the muddy boots…and why do I get the feeling readers will see another side of him? Thanks for sharing. I hope we get to read more!
Thanks for the response, Bryn. May I share a tip, which some of your subscribers may not have thought of? I had got a bit stuck with this story: especially with the heroine. I couldn’t seem to get inside her skin. I searched for images on Google, and downloaded portraits of a woman and a man, who best illustrated my mental images of my protagonists. Then I went back to my character descriptions, and beefed them up (more details on backstories and motivations.) It worked. Now steaming ahead again. Lesson learned. Even for at 20 000 story, it’s important to prepare as thoroughly as it is for a novel three times that length.
I married Dawn on Nov 5th