Hi, everyone! I’m getting this WIP Wednesday up a bit late, so feel free to make it WIP Thursday as well! And for the new followers, WIP Wednesday is when I share an excerpt of what I’m working on and invite you to do the same. The rules are:
•500 words or less
•it’s okay if it’s rough!
•no explicit or graphic content, but a little salty language is fine
•no critiquing, because this is just for sharing…but leaving encouraging words to other writers is good luck!
I’m a bit delayed because I looked all over for the notebook where I’d jotted down this scene. Does that ever happen to you? It’s from the new project, Paris In Time. Rose is a 21st-century Chicago native who’s wound up in Paris, 1888. Here it is!
He sighed. “It always seems a little melancholy to me when the trees lose their blossoms.”
“Melancholy?” she asked. “It’s celebratory! It’s like nature’s confetti.”
She ran a couple of steps ahead of him and raised her arms—just as a gust of wind blew a rain of cherry blossom petals down on her. Laughing at the magic of the timing, she twirled.
His breath caught. He’d never seen anyone lovelier. No, it wasn’t only that, though she was certainly lovely…he’d never seen anyone more natural, more alive. It made him feel more alive, too: as if all the youthful dreams and impulses that had been beaten out of him, by his lost faith in himself and by the necessities of life, came rushing back to him, more vital and vivid than ever.
In a few strides, he reached her and grabbed her around her waist. She gave a little gasp of surprise, and when she looked up at him, joy was shining in her eyes. Her lips, as pink and soft as the petals, so close to his now, parted. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he brought his mouth down on hers in an exultant kiss.
Please go ahead and share yours below—I can’t want to read! Or just tell us how your writing is going—we’d love to hear. Thanks so much for stopping by!
I love your celebration, Bryn! Confetti and all! I never thought of falling leaves that way.
My excerpt for this month is from Challenge of the Crown a science fiction novel. I am in the final stages of having it self-published, so before I send it to be formatted for e-book and print book, I get to share one of my favorite scenes.
A few notes about this passage: Ana is crownless at this point. Elu is a visualizer who sees things with her mind as well as with her eyes. The suns of this universe are not burning plasma spheres, but generate light by other means. Makala is a dimensional portal into a dangerous universe.
~*~
Ana arrived aboard Polu’s star craft in the sun Ziora. Elu turned to face her. Tears streamed down the elderly woman’s face. “It will soon be over. Bora has destroyed everything.”
“Not if I can help it.” Ana sprang off the Disc and began to manipulate controls.
The voice of the former Disc rider sounded distant and hollow. “Everything is different in the Funnels. I have been trying all this time to move this craft out of danger. As you see, I accomplished nothing.”
“We must.” Ana insisted as she beamed a ray from her upper crystal upon the spherical director.
“Use your lower crystal, Ana.” Elu warned. “Black ray should never…” She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened with astonishment. “We are moving. How did you know?”
Ana shrugged. “It felt right. You will have to help me, Elu. What I want to do is deflect the repulsion ray. They have been trying to knock the stranded star carrier out of orbit with short blasts of energy. If that vessel is hit again, the volatile restraint bands will explode. You can see exactly where the beam will be focused. Tell me the instant you know anything.”
“If only you had a Crown, then I could show you.”
“Elu.” Ana’s voice was firm. “We have exactly what we have. Don’t waste time wishing.”
The elderly woman gasped. “They are moving. The whole armada is moving. They are directly in front of us now and the disabled vessel is on the far side of the formation in a straight line with Makala.”
“Very well, Visualizer.” Ana smiled her approval.
“All of the visualizers are intent upon the task. We should be able to approach without detection.”
“Brace yourself. We will go in from below.”
Elu held up her fisted hand. “This represents the disabled craft. The repulsion ray should strike here.” She pointed to the space between the knuckles of the mid and ring fingers.
With Ana at the controls, Polu’s star craft broke the surface of Ziora and sliced through the halo.
Ana intensified the light shining upon the director. The craft began to whine as it streaked toward the stricken vessel. Elu’s eyes widened. Her breath came in short gasps. “I have never traveled at such a velocity!”
They rushed toward the back of the dome-shaped star carriers.
The elderly woman brought her hands to her face. “Light just touched collectors on the amplifiers! A hundred thousand crystals!”
Ana increased their speed again. They skimmed the underside of the vessels. Just as the ray initiated, Ana jerked the star craft upward – between the armada and the stranded vessel. The repulsion ray lashed out, but instead of hitting the volatile vessel, it blasted Polu’s star craft sending it careening wildly through the heavens toward the gaping jaws of Makala.
Great job. I loved the dialog, it was easy to track who was speaking. Best of luck with the publishing aspect.
Thanks Cheryl.
I generally don’t read much contemporary SF, except for Heinlein’s books, but I found myself quite interested and enjoyed it so much I read through your excerpt twice. Ziora must have a strange light source! I loved the “gaping jaws of Makala.” Great final line leaving the reader wanting more.
Thanks Michael. Twice read is a great compliment.
Nicely done. Now I’m left to wonder what the heck are the “jaws of Makala” lol.
Well, NSTARLEIGH, it won’t be long until you can find out! Thanks for reading and responding.
Hi Jessie! I hope you’re doing well. I love the science in this one—it’s really original. Fun excerpt!
Love this!!
Let’s Not and Say We Did
A divorced couple is reunited when a will manipulates them to figure it out or get nothing. She gets the land and rhe cattle, he gets the house and barn.
Mason North swung open the bright blue door to Murphy, Murphy and Donovan Law Offices and dropped his hat onto the coatrack. He peeked around the reception window to announce his arrival but found it empty. He shrugged. Deena must be on break or running another errand for Uncle Bob.
Drawing his hand over his stubbled jaw, he considered if he should walk right in or wait for Deena to return. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes late. Birthing season brought about the unexpected, and a mama delivering twin calves was up there on the list. Three calves needed a skill set requiring Mason to make an emergency call to Doc Day. And it didn’t sit well with Mason leaving the vet by himself just so he could attend the reading of a will where he’d be the only one in attendance, but Uncle Bob insisted he be here.
The old coot had gone with his boots on. That’s how every cowboy prays he’ll go. How every cowboy should go.
Mason scuffed his boots over the blue indoor/outdoor carpet and rapped on Uncle Bob’s door. He turned the knobbed and stepped in. “Sorry, I’m late—”
“Mason,” his uncle greeted him and then waved toward the brunette beauty sitting as stiff as roadkill on the pavement a while. Her red lipstick dress clung to her thighs, exposing a good two inches above shapely knees. She tucked her long slender legs beneath the chair, but not before he noticed her six-inch red heels. The corner of his mouth twitched at the woman’s attempt to power trip him. He trailed his gaze back up her small frame, the black tailored blazer and straight into her narrowed green eyes. His fingers knee-jerked into tight fists and all his insides vied for an immediate escape.
“You remember Tig McGee.”
The statement bore a hole in his chest. How could he forget her? Only, the last time he’d seen her she was tearing out of Miner’s drive in her old rusted pickup truck. He’d never seen her look like this, not even on their hasty marriage, and quicker annulment.
He swung his gaze to Uncle Bob. “What is she doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Tigie said. Mason crossed his arms and turned on her ready to give her all the what fors, but she arched a dark brow, and said, “After all, Miner wasn’t your family.”
His teeth clamped down so hard he could feel his molars transforming to calcium dust. What did she mean Miner wasn’t his family? Family was more than blood. Especially when blood ran out.
“Mason,” Uncle Bob said with a bite of warning in his tone. “I suggest you sit a spell, and let’s get this over with. Once the will is read, you two can go Ok Corral it out on Main Street, but you’re not having it out in here.”
Nice! Very interesting concept. I’d love to find out how they work it all out.
I like Uncle Bob. I wonder if the two exes will get back together again. ? Maybe that was Miner’s hope, the old coot. Love that phrase.
Great characters. Great descriptions. Great conflict. OK Corral it out elsewhere. Wonder what will happen next.
“Stiff as roadkill”—oh my goodness, haha. And “calcium dust”! Great writing. Like I already said, I love this title!
I love the “stiff as roadkill” description—nice combination of present action mixed in with backstory.
Hi Bryn, Glad we get to do this today. I love your excerpt! So bright and fresh. The scene is perfect. I wanted to keep reading more. I love the idea of a time-travel to Paris and look forward to the complete story. This isn’t from the new novel I’m working on in NaNoWriMo, which is time travel also, but it is a similar topic and setting, this being part of a short story I’m working on also. Thanks for the opportunity to share.
Mariana sent me out alone today to gather. Her only instructions were to find what we need for Mrs. Abernathy’s “tonic.” She stressed the word tonic and specifically told me to use that word if anyone ever asks me what we do in her home. Things have been getting odd around here lately. I say odd because she used to talk freely with me about potions and spells and that sort of thing and we don’t do that anymore. Twice Mr. Potter stopped by unexpectedly and at unusual hours. He’s an elder in the church and claimed he was there to promote fellowship, all the while strolling about the room looking into pots and sniffing bottles. After his last visit, Mariana told me that she has been hearing stories. Stories about women in nearby villages being thrown into jails, accused of witchcraft. She said the air is rife with tension and whispers. I’m not sure what she meant by that. I wanted to ask her what the word rife means but she seemed very nervous and shooed me out the door saying she felt it would be better if she stayed behind to keep watch over her everything. To make sure things were in order, nothing incriminating left in plain sight. Incriminating – another word I don’t understand. She said it was case Mr. Potter stops by for some more “fellowship”. She stressed the word fellowship. I think she didn’t believe him.
So, today I gather on my own. Mariana checked to make sure I had my amulet before I left – the obsidian I carry as a guard stone. She reminded me for the five hundredth time to keep it on me at all times. I always do. I keep it in my pocket. She told me to be back by midday as Mrs. Abernathy would be returning then.
This is what I love the most about helping Mariana – the gathering. The path at the end of her yard, the one leading into the woods, opens up wider, like it is welcoming me as I enter. Then it closes behind and everything shimmers all around. Mariana says that’s called the “glimmer” – the portal to the place between two worlds. Where the faeries and elementals life. I can’t see them yet, but I believe they are all around me because if I say out loud what I’m looking for, the forest seems to guide me along, creating pathways that lead me right to it. I’m practicing my stillness. So, maybe someday I’ll see them.
Oooo, nice and disquieting. You did a good job of creating mood.
Nice piece, Cheryl. Love the mood. Love the mystery. Love the voice. A child’s innocence in a grown up world!
I really liked this. Sounds like a witch-in-the-making kind of story.
Hi Cheryl! Belated thanks for the kind words 🙂 I love the first person voice! And “the glimmer.” I really enjoyed this. Thanks for posting!
Swoonworthy! More please. That’s just my kinda read.
Here’s from my NaNoWriNo, a contemporary romance, “The Hot Quixote.” It’s still rough. MC Ava is chatting with her best friends, Kiki and Izzy, on the night before Kiki gets married:
“Remember that time—” Kiki loudly sucked on another Tootsie Pop lollipop, staring at the ceiling. We had all kicked our shoes off, and she and Izzy sprawled on the king-size bed while my legs dangled over the side of the two-person snuggle chair.
Izzy turned her head into the pillow. “If you say the time you explained to me how to give a proper blow job—”
“As opposed to an improper blow job,” I interjected.
“Ha-ha. That’s not what I’m talking about. Remember that first night in the townhouse. When we stayed up all night, talking about school and dreams. Izzy said she wanted to be a brain surgeon and work with Doctors Without Borders. And you”—Kiki looked at me—“said you wanted somehow to combine your love of art with public relations. And I said I wanted to be a teacher and raise a family.”
“Of course, that was also the night that you showed us how you could tie a cherry stem in a knot. Has Ben seen you do that trick?”
Kiki threw the lollipop stick at me. “Shut up, Ava. I’m serious.”
“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead. You were saying.”
“It’s just I don’t think I want to teach anymore. I just want to be married to Ben and have babies and support him in his career. Just be his wife. What do think if I don’t work? Is that okay?”
The room was silent for a few beats before I said, “Have you told Ben this?” as Izzy said, “I don’t think you could be ‘just” anything. You’ll be great at whatever you do.”
“Yeah, Ben knows. He says he kinda likes the idea I’ll keep the house going.”
“But won’t you be bored?” I asked, and Izzy shot me a look warning me to shut it. But I didn’t. I thought Kiki couldn’t possibly have gone to college to simply collect her MRS degree and be one of those ‘ladies who lunch.’ “I mean, I can see when you have kids, but what will you do in the meantime?”
“Well, that’s the thing… You know how I’ve been feeling woozy, and—”
“Holy crap! You’re pregnant? You’re pregnant!” Izzy sat up straight.
I immediately hopped onto the bed. This was big. And I was an ass for questioning Kiki about giving up her teaching career. “Oh my god. I can’t believe it! You’re going to be a wonderful mother!”
Through tears, Kiki hugged us tightly. “I knew you guys would understand. But it’s still a secret. We’ll tell our parents after the honeymoon.”
“This is the sweetest news. You have nothing to worry about.” As I embraced my friends, I had to check myself. Was there a little bit of envy stirring in my heart? Izzy was off to begin her life’s dream at medical school. Kiki already had a head start on hers. But me… What was I doing?
I like it. The closeness and friendship comes across well. I like the characters and wonder where Ava’s story will lead.
If that’s a rough draft I can’t wait to see the final. good job.
Thank you. It’s been a tough couple days and your words cheered me.
Aw! I liked the emotion you put into this.
Hi, Christina! I love this. Great discussion and authentic friendship. Thanks for sharing!
I like the interaction and am curious about Kiki’s decision. It hints at something more.
It’s my first share, though I’ve been reading your excepts for a year now. Here it goes (from my current Nanowrimo project):
I lift my hand, fingertips brushing against the short hair follicles above his ear.
“You had long hair,” I whisper, not sure what that’s supposed to signify.
The bristles scratch my fingers as he nods.
“Very long. You had a ponytail.”
He nods again. My eyes no longer focus on the area above his ear. Three inches to the left and an inch down is where his lips are located. And that is exactly where my mouth is headed. As soon as we touch, a flash explodes in my mind.
I have seconds before the next reset, maybe less. I try my darndest to will time to slow down as I dig deeper, my arm looping around his neck, back arching as if I were hanging from a branch over a ravine. Once I fall, it may take forever to climb back up. And I want to stay here, up in the tree, under the mantle of leaves hiding us from the piercing sun.
Except… We’re in Nigel’s living room and no glitch seems to be coming. Seconds pass before I realize I’m mauling Nigel’s face like there’s no tomorrow, and apparently for no good reason. My lips unglue from his as I try to hide the awkward smooching sound under a scratchy harrumph. No use, it only accentuates the silence following the kiss.
Oh, this must be the first time ever I wish for a brain reset. And of course, it ain’t comin.
Oh, there’s much more to this scene than I first thought … glitches and resets … hmmm. Intriguing.
I’m intrigued. lol I hope you post again next month so I can read more.
Hey, thank you for joining us! Brain reset—interesting! I’m really curious how this works. I hope we get to read more!
Hello Bryn and Happy WIP Wednesday! I enjoyed your short read, since I love romance novels set in Europe (especially France)
My newest excerpt is from the second novel in my False Rumours Novella Series, Buried Secrets:
Chapter One – Natasha’s Description of The Black Dog
If I had one word to describe Tracy, it would be as an eccedentesiast.
I have a photo of her, where she is smiling warmly. There is something disturbing about this picture; the sadness in her eyes is clear cut. Evident that she has been attempting to outrun The Black Dog that stalks her wherever she goes.
In another photo, she appears to have also been struggling to hide the physical side effects. It couldn’t have been her prescribed medications that had brought it on, so I’d put it down to narcotic drugs. After all, she had admitted to being dependent on them. And something else; there was this eating disorder which caused her to be sick.
None of us were aware of the fact that she had been hurting for some time. For this, I could have kicked myself for not seeing the signs a lot sooner.
I have a glass of water on my bedside table, but can’t bring myself to drink any of it. Here I am still trying to wrap my head around recent events following Michael’s mental breakdown, still shaken up. My other friends are just as unable to get that trauma out of their heads. The thought of seeing Michael in that state, dishevelled and barefoot, having lost complete touch with reality, unnerves me to this day. Especially what happened right before he planned to jump off the Lake Natron bridge and reunite with Tracy.
As I continue staring at the haunting image of my late confidante, I remember her hazel eyes staring… completely empty; any vitality, any vigour she once possessed entirely drained from her.
I recalled the last time I saw her, followed by the memory of seeing Anna’s face blemished by her floods of tears outside of our bookstore, which had been permanently closed out of respect. That was enough to rip my heart into two. I wanted it all to be a nightmare – one I and my other friends would all be able to wake up from. But sadly it wasn’t.
The only thing my friends and I knew was that Tracy had killed herself because of guilt over what she had done to this other young woman and to her family. Which is something I don’t wish to go into any detail about.
What I plan on going into detail about, however, is her Facebook page and the nefarious comments from left, right and centre. Cruelly bashing her even in death. Not allowing her to rest in peace.
I always wondered what Tracy’s final thoughts had been.
My family and relatives have always installed it into me that suicide is a sin; if you take your own life, you wind up in hell for eternity. Well, I’m not certain hell exists, for starters, because I’ve never believed in any type of afterlife.
As it came closer to bedtime, I came to a decision. To make an impact, I had to make a difference at how society looks at suicide and how this taboo subject is seen from religious viewpoints.
Or maybe it is the way in which religious folks look at suicide that is sinful.
This sounds personal, sad, and real. Is the Black Dog a metaphor? Whether it is or not, the possibilities of what it might be have done the trick. The reader wants to know more.
I am also curious about the Black Dog. It has an eerie feeling to it.
So sad. Such an impact. You are already changing the world.
Hey there! I had never heard the word ‘eccedentesiast’ before and I am so glad to learn it. I love the focus on how how times, sadness can be hidden with a smile…and how it touches on how cruel people can be on social media. Intriguing excerpt! Thanks for posting.
YES that was a really cute scene!! I told a friend who’s venturing in the wonderful world of writing about your site and about WIP Wednesdays haha. Thank goodness for NaNo this year bc I’m so tired of house hunting and so ready for my husband and boys to move out here with me. It’s okay. It will happen in its own time, and it will be the right time, and then I can stop stressing about getting them here and spend more time Writing (the whole reason I took this job out here to begin with lol).
I’m breaking traditional NaNo rules this year and going back to an old story I “completed” three times over (ish) but was never satisfied with. Maybe this time I’ll (feel that) I get it right. Here goes:
She looks up when Runa places a mug of tea down in front of her.
“Drink every last drop of this.”
The aroma is pungent and Norah backs away. “What is it?”
“Glamour spell,” Runa says. “It’ll give you 8–10 hours until you need to drink another cup.”
“It stinks.”
“Drink it anyway. It’s a half day at school, right?”
Norah’s nod is delayed. “Yeah.”
Runa bends closer and pulls her readers back up to her face. She takes Norah’s arm in her hand and turns it this way, then that, then back and forth to study the pearlescent sheen. She taps a finger on one of the bigger scales and listens to the sound. It sounds like a fingernail would, if you tapped on it like this, but harder. She slides her nail beneath the edge of the scale and lifts.
“OW!” Norah yanks her arm back and tucks it under her right. “Don’t do that!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was going to hurt.”
“When you try to rip it off, it does.” The stinging subsides, but she still doesn’t trust her mom not to press. “Are there going to be more?”
“I don’t know. I imagine not yet. But… There’s so much I just don’t know.” Runa stands up with her hands on her hips. “Maybe you don’t go.”
“No, Mom. I can’t do that. You said yourself, it’s a much more believable story that I go away to college and just never come back.”
“Right, but that was when we thought we still had time.”
“I turned 18 last month. You said if it was going to happen, it would be once I turned 18.”
“I know what I said.”
Norah senses the nerve she pressed and blows on the steaming cup before tipping it to her lips. It’s still too hot to drink more than a sip at a time. After letting the tea sit in her mouth for a moment, she swallows and sets the mug back down. “We can still stop it, right?”
Runa looks at the scales and bites her bottom lip in thought.
“Mom?”
Cautiously, Runa shakes her head. “I just don’t know.” She paces, twirling the one long strand of curly hair on her head – the rest of it is wavy at best – slipping into thought. Runa doesn’t like to not have answers for things, or to not at least know where to look. Since they’ve been in hiding on this side of things, she hasn’t had the support of her family, her coven. She hasn’t stepped foot back home, a place that Norah’s never been. Not out of the womb, at least.
In public, and with anyone outside of the two of them, Runa goes by Charlene Langosy. Charlene and Norah have been model neighbors in the Five Oaks neighborhood of Riverglenn. They pay their HOA dues on time each month and show up to all the neighborhood community yard sales. Charlene places in the chili cook-off… ((and this is the cut-off lol))
Poor Norah, what’s she becoming? Witches usually aren’t scaly, are they? Runa seems to know this was a possibility, but I get the impression it’s an anomaly. Got to know the answers to my many questions. You all are so good (all y’all that are posting excerpts today). It makes me wish I hadn’t posted mine. Well done.
So much mystery. Scales – maybe a mermaid – maybe that’s too easy an answer.
I love this! I can’t wait to find out more about your characters – they are so intriguing! More next WIP Wednesday please?? 🙂
More, please. Clearly, Norah is changing into something… unnatural for mortals, and for witches too. Oh, I like the mystery so much.
Hey friend! Belated thanks for the kind words! House hunting and that whole situation does sound exhausting. Good for you for making NaNo work for you!
I’m thinking mermaid, right?! You’re such a good prose writer. I love the glamour spell, the secret identity, everything. 🙂
Yay! I’m excited we’re going to start seeing excerpts from Paris! Nice, vivid scene, she reminded me of someone I know. 😉
My excerpt is from Blackbird Haunted. Awhile back, I posted a bit of the scene where Mina and Jason locate her aunt’s old car that she hadn’t seen since childhood.
This is the next scene. Mina is getting ready to drive the car back to her home, but a sharp memory is triggered. What she doesn’t know yet is this is the first time her powers are really manifesting. Jason witnesses it, and it doesn’t make him very happy.
***
Mina gripped the giant red steering wheel of Alice’s Starfire. The last time she remembered sitting in this car was a summer day when her aunt had taken her and her sisters to Atomic Rocket for burgers, fries, and sundaes.
The memory blossomed crystal-clear in her mind’s eye. The roof had been down, the sun bright and hot on her skin. The scent of Alice’s signature perfume mingled with the honeysuckle blooming along the fence they were passing. Neil Diamond had been singing Cherry, Cherry on the car’s radio.
Mina raised her eyes to the rearview mirror, and saw Alice’s gazing back at her. Heart thundering, Mina (alice?) turned her head to look at Morgan, riding shotgun, and then over her shoulder at Misty and (me?) in the backseat.
What is happening?
She looked forward again, seeing her hands on the steering wheel. Except they were Alice’s hands, the sapphire ring she always wore sparkling a deep blue on her left ring finger.
“Mina?”
They were driving down State Street, toward Atomic Rocket. As they passed by Darren Simms’s car dealership, she saw Ronnie, washing the windshield of one of the Cadillacs on the lot.
A dark and terrible feeling gripped her. He would pay for what he’d done to Mina. She would see to that.
“Mins!”
Jason? How? She turned her head toward his voice, but all she could see was the scenery of State Street rolling past as she drove.
“Jason?” she asked in Alice’s voice.
Someone was shaking her shoulder roughly. She startled, blinking, finally coming out of her reverie. Jason had reached in through the car’s open window and was now snapping his fingers in front of her face.
She looked up at him. Why was he so pale? He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
She was back in the Callaghans’ barnyard, a little dazed. The rain had started up again, just a light drizzle that tapped on the canvas roof of the convertible.
“Yes,” she said finally. She forced a smile. “Being in this car just brought up some old memories, and I guess I got lost in them.”
His jaw was tight, and with his hands on his hips, he paced away a few steps as if struggling with something, then turned and immediately came back.
“Maybe we should leave the car here, come back and get it another day,” he said.
She frowned. “What? Why!”
He shook his head, then pointed at her. “Are you sure you can drive?”
“Have you lost your damn mind?” she asked, her temper sparking.
“Goddammit, Mina,” he growled, making her draw her head back in shock. He rubbed a hand over his face, then looked away as if trying to make a difficult decision. When he finally looked back at her he said, “I’ll follow you. If you start getting lost in old memories again, please pull over to the side of the road, okay?”
He wasn’t angry…he was terrified. “Okay! I promise.”
He gave her a curt nod before turning to stride over to her Mustang as if he couldn’t wait to leave.
Intriguing, mysterious, what the heck? There’s a lot going on here. Trading bodies, some dude named Ronnie did something to Aunt Alice, Jason’s voice intruding itself. Descriptions of the perfume and honeysuckles, and Neil Diamond singing on the radio set the scene for a nice memory. And then … chaos. Cool beans.
Mysterious, indeed. Nicely done.
Oh my gosh, that drive, and the scents and the music, is such a VIBE. And then…ghost possession?! Great excerpt. Thank you for posting!!
Oh my gosh Bryn! I can’t wait to read it!!! 🙂 Your excerpt is magical! Mine is another bit from “Date With a Mannequin” which I am currently editing – a little dialogue from when Claire and Dave are having dinner at her parents’ home.
Claire’s mother was first to ask the proverbial question. “So, tell us darling – how did the two of you meet?” Lifting the cloth napkin from her lap she dabbed the corners of her mouth.
Her father was quick to contribute. “Yeh, Dave, our daughter has never mentioned you.”
Claire cringed. A man of unnecessary words.
But Dave jumped to the task. “Through a dating show actually!”
Claire swished the pasta with red sauce around on her plate. “I told you about that show I did, right?”
“Yes!” her mother exclaimed. “You did darling. The one that was a dare by your friends, and you wound up being picked to go on the date.”
Feeling Dave’s side eye on her, she managed a contrived smile. “Yes, that one.”
Her dad lit up. “And you were the date!”
A cynical reaction overtook Dave. “Actually, on the contrary sir, I am the brother of her date.”
Her mother looked confused. “I don’t get it. Darling -” she gave a look of unacceptable behavior to her daughter, “- surely you’re not dating this gentleman and his brother.”
Yes, of course I am, in fact I’m sleeping with all four of the Manequin brothers because that’s how I roll. “No mother.”
“Claire went on the dinner date with my brother Mark – I was at the next table over.”
Her mother’s eyes lit up. “Oh, isn’t that just the sweetest thing!”
Claire rolled her eyes inside having forgotten about the inevitable dissect that came with parental introduction and watched her mother separate the different foods on her plate.
“She and my brother dated only that one time.” He turned to Claire. “And we’ve dated twice – actually this evening’s dinner with you will make it our third.”
Claire shifted in her chair bracing for more. Let the grilling begin.
Her dad finished chewing his mouthful of pasta and went in for the kill. “Tell me Dave, what is it you do for a living.”
Right on cue. Shuddering inside Claire managed to maintain a proud demeanor. Slipping a forkful of corn into her mouth she turned to Dave offering confident chewing support.
” …chewing support …” Clever. Lots to like here. Her father was a “man of unnecessary words.” Her mother called her “darling” three times. It caused me to wonder when in time is this scene set. We don’t hear the term darling used much these days. Hope you share more of this story next time.
Oh my gosh, thank you so much Michael! As far as period of time, it’s actually intended to be set to modern date. Claire’s mother calls her darling, her father calls her honey, and she never refers to them as ‘mom and dad’. I chose the word darling to emphasize Claire’s mother’s personality, a woman who even dresses to the nine’s to go to the grocery store. And I will absolutely share more of it next time – looking forward to it!
Hi Michael! Friendly reminder that I have a ban on critiquing for WIP Wednesday, because it’s for sharing work even if it’s rough and un-edited. That being said, I’m glad you’re here and thank you for being so positive in general 🙂
Haha! This feels like a light, comedy sort of romance, and I would absolutely enjoy it. I also enjoyed the “confident chewing support” bit. Nice work!
Wow! Thank you so much – and you are right! It’s a return to hometown, fake relationship, light yet warm contemporary romance – with a hint of comedy. Thank you again for your reply! 🙂
Confident chewing support…. love it ! so clever. I could easily visualize chewing as a non verbal gesture of support.
Debbie! I laughed out loud at “Claire cringed. A man of unnecessary words.” I love this snarky heroine!
Thank you soooo much!!! 🙂 I love Claire to pieces – and Dave is pretty hot too, lol. XO!
I loved the way Rose’s excitement made the unnamed fellow feel more alive. The line “…when she looked up at him, joy was shining in her eyes” made me want to know more about how he felt at seeing that joy. Maybe he was thrilled? I guess he must have been because he kissed her. Made me think of Casablanca: We’ll always have Paris!
I really liked how Rose made the unnamed man feel so alive. I can just see those two in a couple of weeks. If it doesn’t work out Rose might say, “Well, we’ll always have Paris.” I’ve never been to France, so when I think of Paris and love I’m reminded of the movie Casablanca.
This excerpt is from The Shopkeeper. It’s about a Vietnam vet named Macklin Murphy who now owns a small business (primarily a gun store) in a small town south of San Francisco in 1979.
Mac pulled into the parking lot at Ken’s Pancake House, parked at the far end of the front row, and exited his runner car. He’d been having his special breakfast there for over a year, and the ritual rarely varied. As soon as he entered the bar area, Lois poured a shot of Jack Daniels, filled a frosty mug with Bud, and by the time he sat on the barstool, she’d cracked a raw egg into the beer with a shot of Tabasco, a shake of pepper, and a celery stalk. The raw egg was his way of getting his daily protein. He got the idea from the movie Rocky. Plus, food and speed just don’t go together.
“It’s the breakfast of champions,” he said, upending the mug and eliciting a laugh from Lois.
Ken’s was a unique place. Originally it had been two separate businesses–a bar and a men’s clothing store–but when Gary Kerr bought the building he knocked a hole through the wall creating a walkthrough so customers could sit at the bar or in his new restaurant and have a mimosa or a Bloody Mary with their meal, as long as it was after nine, of course.
The food and booze were only part of the reason Mac frequented Ken’s. At least sixty percent was because of the daytime bartender, Lois, a stunning blonde California surfer girl, the type of girl that inspired at least half a dozen Beach Boys hits. She always had a smile on her face and always smelled great. He treated her like the little sister he’d never had. She liked that. She knew he found her attractive, but he was always a gentleman, unlike so many of the jerks she dealt with on a daily basis. And he wasn’t hard to look at either.
Murphy was the only customer on the bar side this early and he had all of Lois’s attention.
“So, how has your day been so far, Mac?”
She knew he was an early riser and had been up for hours.
“Better than I deserve,” he said. “You should see my lawn. A little more work and I’ll be ready to host the PGA Championship.”
“Well, you’ve been working on it long enough. Say, have you seen the previews for that new Coppola movie about Vietnam? It’s coming out in a couple of weeks. You planning on going to see it?”
“I saw the scene with Martin Sheen on a PBR. I spent thirteen months on one of those, so I think I’ll pass. Give me a good John Wayne western, but a movie about Nam holds no interest for me.”
“PBR? That’s what we call a Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer around here.”
“Yeah,” Mac laughed. “It’s also an acronym: Patrol Boat, Riverine, in Navy-speak.”
“Well, I didn’t know the movie was about a boat,” Lois said, sounding disappointed.
“I’m sure that’s not what the movie’s about, but there is a patrol boat, at least in the preview I saw.”
He checked his watch, noting he had just enough time to open his store on time. He bid Lois a fond farewell, left a generous tip, and headed out the door, squinting in the glare of another beautiful sunny California day.
“Damn, I forgot my sunglasses, again,” he murmured to himself.
I love Mac’s character! The fact that he’s a Vietnam vet and it’s set in 1979 has me compelled to read more. Thank you for sharing this excerpt – I can’t wait to read more! Actually, I can’t wait to read the entire book!
Mac seems cool. Great job setting the scene; I could picture the whole thing.
I just can’t resist an ex-military tortured soul. Everything about Mac screams: “there’s more than meets the eye.” And I sure want to know more. Excellent characterization, the breakfast of champions was a nice wink to Kurt Vonnegut’s fans and very clever foreshadowing.
That’s quite a breakfast he’s having there! This honestly took me back to my cocktail waitressing days. 🙂 I had no idea that PBR meant that! Thanks so much for posting, Michael!
Michael, I’m glad I read this. I really appreciate the respect Mac shows to Lois. And the disapproval of those who don’t respect her.
What a lovely scene, Bryn! I can see it so clearly in my mind’s eye. Looking forward to reading more about thislovely couple.
(And I’ve definitely been in that situation where I’m scrambling to find the paper where I’ve jotted down a scene – because I seem to love using envelopes or napkins when inspiration whacks me in the head! ?)
Aww thanks, friend! (And hahaha—yes, I’ve searched for those, too!!)
“Let go, you’re hurting me!” I screamed as someone grabbed my arm and whipped me around. There it was. The worst possible scenario I could have imagined was happening. In real time.
My stepmother found out about my job interview. She was staring up at me with those frightfully black and soulless eyes and had ahold of my arm so tightly, I was sure it would leave a mark. A deviation from her regular form of pain, since the marks she usually left are the ones that couldn’t be seen.
“How dare you go behind my back, you ungrateful little hellion.” Christina snarled at me while she tried to drag me back down the street to her office.
Christina owns a small cleaning company, like Merry Maids, and I work for her. She has a half-dozen girls that she schedules for various cleaning needs around the DFW area. Most of my assignments are the weekly household cleanings. I don’t mind the cleaning aspect of my job, but Christina knows how to make my life a living hell. It’s never clean enough, and I can never do anything right by her. But I was done and finally brave enough to find another job.
Stand up for yourself! Be strong. Stop letting her control you. If you don’t follow through with this, you will never escape her!
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I need this job.” I confessed and attempted to pry her hands off my arm. Her sharp fingernails were starting to dig into my skin leaving half-moon indentations that would start drawing blood if I couldn’t get her to let me go.
She laughs coldly. “You have a job.” Her jet black eyes bore into me and threatened to set me ablaze where I stood. It didn’t matter that I’m two inches taller than she is and probably stronger, she had a way of looking at me and speaking to me that made me feel as small as my hamster. “In fact, you are LATE.”
She’s right I was late. Two hours late. Usually I was at _’s house by now. They must’ve called in my absense.
“I know I work for you,” I whispered.
People on the sidewalk were starting to stare and it was making me more uncomfortable and making it harder for me to continue fighting with her.
“But, I am an adult and would like to…”
“You’re nobody. No one cares about you. No one wants you, least of all me, but I’ve been nice to give you this job and allow you to work and this is how you show your thanks? By not showing up for work, and making me come hunt you down, like the rodent you are?”
Maybe she’s right, no one has ever wanted me. No one has really every cared about me. I’m not going to get this job. What am I doing? I start to relent when…
“Excuse me,” a man interrupted “is everything okay?”
“Her jet black eyes bore into me and threatened to set me ablaze where I stood.” Low key love the way you describe part of the tension of this scene with this line. The hatred from Christina is intense!
Oh my gosh. Yikes! This poor heroine! Intense scene. I really enjoyed it!
Thanks, Beata!
I don’t get your blog until Sundays, Bryn, so I hope it’s okay for me to add my little WIP snippet. My new story Amethyst Lights will probably go live tomorrow. It’s my first Romantic Suspense Fantasy involving faeries.
~Jillian almost jumped out of her skin as two faerymen appeared and gazed down where she’d fallen. Her heart raced as she tried to focus on their faces in the increasing darkness. Butterflies swarmed as if they were bees in her stomach. They weren’t Maricent’s men. She let go of the breath she’d held. Her voice abandoned her. Her heart continued to pound like a hammer against her ribs. She was so tired. Her feet ached. Why hadn’t she gone around the swampy part of the pond? She wouldn’t have lost her shoes.
A hand stretched forward and grasped her upper arm. The faeryman held out his other hand toward her. She took his hand, and he lifted her from the ground. “Are you okay?” His voice was as deep as the green of his emerald eyes. Comfortingly mellow. Like Athair’s.
“My name is Lylan. This is my brother, Jaden. Can we help you?” He swung his head to indicate the white-haired faeryman behind him. “You look as if you’ve been in a struggle. Are you hurt?”
Jillian shook her head. “Not really,” she squeaked. “Just very tired, and my feet are sore.”
The dark-haired faeryman glanced at the ground. “They’re bleeding. We need to attend to them right away. What happened to your shoes?” He scooped her into his arms and rushed into the woods with his brother on his heels.
“No. Please. I must get away.” The surrounding air closed in. She couldn’t breathe. Sparkles swam in her vision. “Please, help me. I’m La…”~
Sharon, I usually wait until Sunday now to read everyone’s so I don’t miss any, so this worked out fine! I love the title Amethyst Lights and I love fairy stories. You do such a great job of describing Jillian’s fear and exhaustion. I love the excerpt! I hope you share again! 🙂
I’m sorry, I guess I don’t know where the line between critiquing and commenting lies. ????