It’s Time for WIP Wednesday! Let’s Share Some Writing!

Posted on by Bryn Donovan
laptop, sweater, orange slices, journal

Hey writers! Let’s share what we’re working on!

I’m still working on my sequel to Her Knight at the Museum, and I’m really enjoying it!

I’ll share another one from this WIP next month, but that’ll be it. I’m writing it on contract and I don’t want to share spoilers…plus, it may change quite a bit in edits. 

I’d love to see what you’re working on in the comments section! I recommend copying and pasting from a document. I’m sorry that sometimes comments are slow to load. If you accidentally double-post, I’ll delete one. 🙂 

If you’re new here: WIP Wednesday is usually the first Wednesday of every month. Please read through the rules before posting!

laptop, leaves, journal, glasses, straw hat

journal, mums, tea

 

Here are the rules!

•Keep your excerpt to 200 words or fewer. If you post a longer piece, I may trim it.

•Feel free to share work that’s still rough. I usually do!

•Curse words are fine, but please don’t include graphic sex or violence. 

•Avoid making criticisms or suggestions, because we’re usually sharing work that’s not even ready to be critiqued. However, leaving someone an encouraging word is good writer karma.

Here’s an excerpt from my novel in progress. The official title is Her Time Traveling Duke. Henry is from the year 1818, and he’s in present-day Chicago. 

Since Charlotte’s death, no woman had attracted his interest. What was more, he’d never been aroused by a lady with whom he was not well acquainted, and especially not one from the lower classes. He’d always supposed that he was too intelligent and high-minded to leer at pretty housemaids or buxom beauties on the stage or on the street, the way other men did, like dogs slavering over pork chops on their master’s plate.

So how was he to account for the way this fey creature roused his body and his senses? Or for his own alarm when she’d been pale and overcome with nerves?

Her manners were coarse, she swore like a fishwife, she had no fortune or family of consequence, and by her own merry admission, the flower of her maidenhood had been plucked long before. True, almost any man would’ve been roused by her immodest manner of dress, her voluptuous charms, the peal of her laughter, her fine blue eyes, and her disarming honesty…but all of that was not the point. He was not almost any man.

There must be something very special about Rose.

Either that, or traveling through time had scrambled his faculties…which seemed altogether likely.

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If you want to, share something of your own below…

Or tell us about what’s going on with you and your writing! Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great rest of your week! 

laptop, journal, leaves, pen

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55 thoughts on “It’s Time for WIP Wednesday! Let’s Share Some Writing!”

  1. Carolyn says:

    This is from my book 2 in the series Unveiling Desires.

    Winter rears its ugly head, with winds howling and ice pellets sticking to everything in its path. The storm brought down tree limbs and power lines across the city. Power outages hit many neighbourhoods, including mine. While looking out my window across the lake, I see flashes of lightning illuminating the night sky and hear booming claps of thunder that follow. I love thunderstorms; they intrigue me, and the sound of the storm calm me.
    It’s hard getting back into the swing of things after being away in the hot Caribbean for a couple of months. When I look outside, I sometimes wish I was back in the heat. My phone bussed with a text message.
    AMADEUS GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL, I MISS YOU.
    DEVON GOOD MORNING TO YOU! THE WEATHER IS DREADFUL TODAY. I AM IN A HURRY, I WILL MESSAGE YOU LATER.
    There is another reason I miss being in the Dominican, Amadeus. Never in a million years, did I think I would ever feel this way about a man, I’d only met a short time ago.
    Today is the day for the big meeting with the family of my deceased client, Mrs. Richardson, the reason I came back from vacation early. The son, James, has demanded this meeting. I am not looking forward to seeing him again. He is arrogant. Yes, indeed he is handsome, but his manners leave little to be desired.

  2. stephaniegillett says:

    I’m not in love with this yet…

    If the dinosaur and the Titanic weren’t going to move out of her way, she was going to park her car and walk around them.
    Until this point, all the most spectacular views of Crawford’s Quarry had been lost on Libby Chance. The closer she got to her new hometown, the more dread and apprehension built up in her chest. So, she hadn’t noticed the miles-long view of Lake Huron when she crested the hill driving into town, or even the pine-lined roads that had led her this far. If there were freighters peppering the bay just beyond the city’s shoreline, you couldn’t have proven it by her. But it was impossible to miss two grown men standing on parade floats, shaking their fists at each other, trying to look as foreboding as possible while dressed as Captain Edward Smith and a Tyrannosaurus rex.

  3. Teresa Traver/Anne Rollins says:

    This snippet is from a just-for-fun project, informally referred to as “Edwardian vampire detectives” or “vampire marriage-of-convenience,” because of some Threads conversations. These are the first two paragraphs of the prologue:

    “London, 1906

    ‘You can see what we’re dealing with here.’ Detective Inspector Thorpe stubbed his cigarette against the sooty bricks of Kennet’s Emporium. ‘Not a trace of magic. Not a single clue left behind!’

    Not quite true, Baxter Elliston thought. He could still smell the victim’s fear and panic. A smear of blood along the wall showed there’d been a struggle. He’d have to get a closer look at that, to see if he recognized the scent.”

  4. Jessie E Turner says:

    Hi Bryn, I love the inner conflict in your piece and the realization that there must be something special about Rose.
    My excerpt comes from the Weaver’s Mistake, the book to follow Moon in the Day Sky: Valley of Thunder. Reviews for Thunder are starting to come in. Two so far have said they wanted to know more about my llamacorns (animals something like llamas.) Here is a piece about the first encounter Zidon, the hunter, has with a Red llamacorn.

    A startled cry yanked Zidon’s attention back to his snare. A llamacorn buck, front legs caught in his snare and raised higher than a man, lashed about in a furious struggle. Struck with awe, he stared at the creature. “They ARE red as blood!” he gasped.
    Flashes of lightning shot from the single horn on the creature’s head and ricocheted off rocks and trees. Cowering down to avoid the flashes Zidon waited. He will tire soon. He can’t keep this up for long. But Zidon was wrong. The clouds turned to deep purple and the sky faded to a washed-out blue, and still, the Red buck fought. The plight of the magnificent llamacorn began to eat at him. No creature should be allowed to suffer like that. He made plans to kill the llamacorn quickly to release him from his torture, but the energy flashing from that magic horn forbade approach.
    “I have to do something,” Zidon decided. He fumbled in his pack for his wolf-bone knife, hoping the tales of wolf power were true, when he touched his flute. Drawing out the musical instrument rather than the instrument of death, he began to play.

  5. Wendy Cassens says:

    Everyone’s selections are engaging and distinct. I want to read more of your work!

    This is from the opening of a novel in progress in need of editing and much more. This is the 3rd time Sammy and James see one another. After Samantha’s earlier doubts about being friends with James, she is inclined to let him in.

    My shift at The Amber on Division is basically Sunday regulars and tourists talking and watching the Cubs. I’m cleaning glasses and listening to Kevin’s 70s playlist when a group of 10 or 12 beach attired hotties barge in the back room.

    And, look who it is, James and Matt. Fairly sure they haven’t seen me so I check on my regulars and see what the tourists need as these fellas look like they are going to occupy a bit of time to get settled. They are loudly taking over the back high tops and figuring out which television screens they want in their view.

    Approaching the bar with some other guy, Matt recognizes me. Motioning for me to keep quiet, he yells “Hey, James, get your ass over here to help us.”

    James quickly turns, looking like he is going to curse Matt out when he stops and smiles. Holding his arms out, he shouts, “See, we are supposed to be friends, what are the odds?”

  6. Jan Fosbinder says:

    Jake and Jenna Honesty and Truth

    “You want the truth? Here it is. I like you a lot. You make me feel things I haven’t felt. Ever. You make me laugh. You’re smart. You’re a little crazy which is one of my favorite part of you.

    Your smile alone can make my day. You take a simple day and turn it into, I don’t know, some kind of magic with your wildness, untamed spirit, and enthusiasm for life. You helped me
    forget the past. For some reason, you made me feel that maybe, just maybe I could be good with you. I used to dread tomorrow. Now. I can hardly wait for tomorrow because I look
    forward to you.”
    He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. She wanted his honesty. She was going to get it.
    “You hold my heart in the palm of your hand. I feel free and safe. That has never happened to me. I haven’t thought about my feelings or heart for a long time. You want the truth?
    Honestly, the truth is that I could easily fall in love with you. Completely in love with you and I haven’t even touched you yet. Hell, I probably already have fallen in love with you.
    That’s my truth.”

  7. Skye says:

    Hey Bryn! Been a while, I’m so glad to see WIP Wednesday back! 😁 and I love the excerpt! The confusion when the one Henry likes should not be his type 😂

    This section of my wip my MC and his siblings are catching up.

    “Oh, I mostly picked it up from all the pilots coming in and out of the mechanic shop Dad worked at.” I answered.
    My sister frowned in confusion, “You’d spend all day at his job? What about academics?”
    “Oh we took home studies,” Joel scrubbed the edge of another plate. “And obviously Dad couldn’t leave us alone, so we’d do our work there. Usually in the waiting room or sometimes the break room if we were getting too distracted.”
    I nodded as I took that plate from my brother and rubbed it dry.
    I couldn’t help but feel warm at the memory of that little break room. When Joel wasn’t looking I’d whisper to Seven under the table for help on my science work. Of course, then he would answer at a normal volume and I’d get caught.
    Honestly those days in the shop were some of the happier ones. When I was just “Josh’s kid” instead of salvage trash. When I could hear tales spun from pilots across the galaxy; learn their languages, their cultures in just a couple hours. When I could chalk up the awkward silence from Dad to just being busy. And he would actually smile.

    • Bryn Donovan says:

      Skye, nice to see you! Aww, this brought back memories for me of studying in the break room at my dad’s job. 🥰 I really loved: “When I was just “Josh’s kid” instead of salvage trash.” Thanks for posting!

  8. Debby Wallace says:

    This is the opening to Book 9 of my Rawlins paranormal romance, “Gabe’s Atonement.” There were only supposed to be 7 books, but you know how our characters like to have their own way. In fact, one of the characters, this time around, is hinting that she should be in charge of Book 10.

    Moving to Rawlins, Massachusetts was the best idea Suzie Meachum had in months. Maybe years. Only, she should probably tell her friend she was doing it—at the reception. Tammy already had too many things on her mind with marrying the man who’d do anything for her.

    Suzie stood beside Tammy in the small church, holding her own bouquet as well as Tammy’s. The handsome groom’s eyes were filled with love for his bride. Three-and-a-half years ago, Suzie’s groom had the same expression.

    Too bad it hadn’t lasted. Before she could confront Judd with divorce papers, he’d died on a Colorado ski trip with his brother—a trip he’d planned and arranged before telling Suzie. She never expected to be a widow at twenty-eight.

    “You may kiss your bride,” the minister said.

    Suzie blinked, bringing herself back to her friend’s happy day. Keith’s hand covered the back of Tammy’s head, and he kissed her until Tammy’s father cleared his throat. He pulled back and smiled. “I love you, darlin’. You’re beautiful.”

    Suzie sighed, hoping the couple would always be as happy as they were now. Tammy wouldn’t have to worry about interference from in-laws since Keith didn’t have any.

  9. vberger47 says:

    I love this. I want to know more about Baxter and his ability to smell and identify a possible perpetrator by the scent of his/her blood. I am a sucker (no pun intended) for vampire stories and combined with mystery and romance and you have me! Dialogue is succinct and flows well and does Baxter’s inner thoughts.

  10. Fred Gracely says:

    I’m just starting to get my head back into writing the next Misfit’s Magic book, Twisting in Time, and I really appreciate the chance to share a little “hot off the presses” writing. This is where the story begins, although it’s not the first chapter. There are scenes of characters disappearing mysteriously from modern life and then…

    “SPLASH!”
    Goffren pressed his eye fixers—a set of ground glass disks held on his face with thick brass wires—against his face to keep them from falling off, which they did far too easily, as he leaned out of a street-level window of the castle to pour a pale of dirty dishwater out onto the cobblestones. The sky spreading far and wide above Castle Charmont of Slaathwick was twinkling with fading stars on one side and ever so faintly hinting of morning on the other. This was Goffren’s favorite time of day. He was alone.
    But not yet lonely.
    A pair of Blue Bellied Bugbats, black wings fluttering and blue breasts flashing as they spun and turned, soared through the air above, catching and early, invisible breakfast. Bugbats were common in Slaathwick, and unlike most other bats, they traveled in pairs. Bonded for life. If one died, the other would perish soon after from loneliness. Goffren sighed. Bonded for life. Never alone.
    Lucky creatures.
    Goffren would always be alone. He had to be, for he was a Verlockken—a person with a peculiar connection to natural elements—and as the lyrics of the song the minstrels love to sing say,
    “If a Verlokken knocks on your door someday,
    Smile and let them in, but don’t let them stay.
    For if their vine should twist its way up your tree,
    Forever will your life knobby and thorny be.”

    I see a hundred things I want to tweak, but that’s where it is at now. Feels good to put it there. Thanks, Bryn!

  11. renaetaylorsworld says:

    Hi Bryn! Can you believe it’s time for another WIP Wednesday, already?? Time sure flies!

    Well, it looks like Henry is in for some BIG surprises! LOL – That would be so shocking for anyone to time travel from that period in time, here – LOL – The more I think about it, the more it makes me feel bad for him! Just the clothing alone! If you ever want to see what a seamstress from that era would have gone through, look up YouTube Videos from Bernadette Banner – She does Victorian era recreations, and different costuming, and I know your story’s time period is a little before then, but it’s still very close and relevant to your story if you’re interested. She is a lot of fun and has an amazing talent!

    Anyway –

    Here is an excerpt from my WIP – my heroine has just had an accidental run-in with the hero of my story, and their papers got mixed up, so she is attempting to return them to him.

    Hope you have a great day!

    A black, sheathed sword lay across the papers littering the table in front of the desk, and a menacing rattle vibrated from it. The weapon was humming, and she took it as a warning for her not to even try. Not daring to cross the threshold, she noted the stacks of books and papers everywhere, as if the desk had erupted sending notes everywhere. There were gold gyroscopes and intricate silver perpetual motion instruments reflected in the afternoon sunshine. They were all moving on their own power in a very mesmerizing play. Some quite delicate, seeming to be suspended by nothing but thin air as they rotated and spun in circles overhead. Her gaze drew up to see mile-long notations scribbled on the board taking up the length of an entire wall. The computer was on, glowing in sharp contrast to an old leather-bound book, open atop the mess on the desk. The vibrating sword rested just above the leather binding as if daring one to touch it. There was a clear reverence paid to the tome, an odd respect as it lay over the clutter. She felt an irresistible draw to it, the feel of that thin thread pulling again, a summoning.

  12. Donald Knowlton says:

    As chief, you shall be called Crooked Arm to remind you of the penalty you received for fighting a woman. You will be chief of the Braves when I leave. Seja will judge affairs not worthy of fighting. This is my judgment as Chief Sharp Blade.” There are murmurs of agreement, and I relax my aching back; I have stepped down peaceably.

    I spend the rest of the council on petty problems. I settle disputes, and people leave. I grow weary, and council ends. Crooked Arm sees that most issues are minor, but he will be Chief. I stand, ready to trudge back to my hut.

    The once-blazing fire has receded to glowing coals, and Crooked Arm glares at me in the dim light. The hatred in his eyes burns as intensely as the fire once did. Upatu stands beside me, his hand resting on the handle of his flint knife and a comforting arm around me.

    The new chief flexes his powerful shoulders, relaxes, and says, “Wachinga, you once gave me back my life. I will allow you to leave. We are even; I will spit on your rotting corpse when next we meet.”

    I shiver at the menace in his heart. He will try to kill me.

    • Bryn Donovan says:

      Donald, I know—it’s a challenge! I’ve cut the word count due to so-called AI companies stealing people’s writing online. I feel less shorter snippets are less useful for them. 🙂

  14. ambroseandelsie says:

    Greg cut in front of the next person in line.

    The person behind him aggressively tapped his back.

    He gave them a weary look. “Yes?”

    That person was a bossy-looking woman whose maroon hair matched her lipstick color. “I was next!! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? HOURS, bub. Get to the end of the line and wait like a civilized person.”

    He sighed and made a shooing gesture at her, which, amazingly enough, did not mollify her at all.

    “I’ve been waiting here all day. I need to find—”

    He tuned out her out and turned to the man at the desk. “Excuse me.”

    The man beamed at him. “Hello! How may I help you?”

    “Tell him to get in the back of the line!” the maroon woman said. “I was here first.”

    “I need help and I need it fast.” Greg said.

    “But I was here FIRST!”

    Greg held up his damaged hands. “Where can I go to get these fixed? If I can get them fixed.”

    “Don’t tell him. I was here first. I should go first. HE should go last, because he was here last.”

  15. Pamela says:

    Love your excerpt, my goodness it will be fun to read how she brings this guy down a notch or two! 🙂

    My excerpt is from Blackbird Haunted. Mina is at home alone in the huge old Victorian house that she’s inherited from her aunt. She’s looking through an old family heirloom recipe book that she found, when an unexpected sound from upstairs causes her to investigate…

    Ding-ding-ding

    It was faint, but clear. Her scalp prickled with recognition, even as she recalled that she was home all alone.

    Oh, God, it’s the bells up by the servant’s quarters.

    That little row of brass bells mounted at the top of the kitchen staircase. She swallowed thickly, her heart thundering in her chest.

    Whatever it is, it can’t hurt you. All that’s happened so far has been sounds and scents and glimpses.

    But another part of her mind was whispering, if it can slam doors and ring bells, it could hurt you if it decides to.

    Ignoring the strange occurrences in this haunted house had become a survival mechanism for her, but the ringing was insistent, and she knew it would not stop. It wanted her to go upstairs.

    She should call Jason. Instead, she decided to suck it up and go check it out herself. This was her house, now, and she was getting sick and tired of being scared all the time.

    The kitchen had been warm, but two risers up the narrow servant’s staircase, the air became frigid. The aged, wooden steps creaked beneath her feet as she climbed, the bell growing louder and louder as she neared it.

    Then, as she reached the second floor, it stopped.

    • Bryn Donovan says:

      Great, tense scene! Hey, I trimmed a little because of the word count. This right here: “This was her house, now, and she was getting sick and tired of being scared all the time” is exactly how I felt when we lived in the haunted apartment, haha! There’s something so creepy about one of those little servant’s bells ringing!

  16. islafinchauthor says:

    Happy September, Bryn! I loved your snippet. I really enjoy reading the narrative from the duke’s POV. It’s very believable that he’s telling the story at that point with all the words you’ve chosen for his vocabulary! It’s going to be such a fun read.

    [This is from my contemporary romance WIP and it’s one of the chapters in Wes’s POV. He’s been thinking about Ellie ever since he got back home to Texas:]

    But she did. She’s been on my mind every day since, which is why I finally just called Willa.

    “No,” she says.

    Pacing in my kitchen, my sister watching, I try again. “Please? She said she wanted to keep in touch.”

    Her heavy sigh reaches through the phone. “Look. I don’t know what to tell you. I made a promise and I’m not breaking it for you.”

    “What promise?”

    “Wes, I’m not giving you her phone number.”

    Obviously, this is not working out in my favor. “Well, when did you make that promise? Maybe she’s changed her mind.”

    The low, calculated laugh that comes through is, admittedly, a little scary. “When she tells me I have permission, sure. But until then, you’re out of luck.”

    I make a fist with my free hand. I don’t know why I thought this time it would be different, and Willa would actually bend a little. “But—”

    “I gotta go.”

    “Willa, wait—”

    The line goes dead. One glance at my phone and the words “Call Ended” remind me that Willa is, as she always has been, a steel trap when it comes to Ellie. I roll my head back and look at the ceiling.

  17. Amy C says:

    There’s always so many beautiful writers here!
    I’m not very comfortable sharing the stuff I write but in the interest of being brave, here’s an excerpt of the protagonists of my fantasy mystery stories first meeting (it’s not been going well for them) .

    Torvin looked at the man who had looked so menacing draconic really, now hunched over cradling his arm. He hadn’t tried to grab her again, he wasn’t yelling at her, he didn’t even really seem angry. She has never attacked someone before, not even in self-defense, she wasn’t sure if there was a particular etiquette people were expected to follow in situations like these but it seemed rather cold to just leave him there lost and injured.
    “ Are you alright?”she tried. The man looked at her confusion in his voice.
    “No…you just stabbed me” right, what was she thinking?
    “Sorry I thought you were trying to kill me.”
    “Ah, No I really wasn’t “
    Torvin shuffled what now? She was already as close as she cared to be but she needed to know how bad the wound was before she decided what to do next.
    “Can you, can you move your fingers?
    “What”
    “If there’s nerve damage to your arm you won’t be able to move your fingers”
    There was silence for a bit then the man held up his hand and grunting wriggled his fingers. Torvin sighed that was a start.
    “You need to get patched up.”

    (I’ve done my best to fix spelling but I have dyslexia and can’t actually tell if there’s any mistakes :^)

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