Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Rough Draft Progress – Empress Game

I hit a big milestone for my rough draft over the weekend. Based on my intended word count, I am 1/3 of the way through EG's first draft!

34,000 / 100,000 words

Monday, October 24, 2011

The First Taste – Writing Prompt #35

I recently had my first adventure in windsurfing. Okay, it was technically my second, but since the first included only a number of attempts to stand up on the board in the seven position, followed by a whole lot of wiping out and no actual windsurfing, I’m counting this as my first.


I wasn’t too sure what I thought of windsurfing before that. Sure, it looked cool, but, eh. How much fun could just going back and forth on the water be?

Wow! What a zing I got. Once actual windsurfing occurred it was a whole new game. I only took a few passes back and forth on flat water at minimal speed, but…what a first taste. Definitely whetted my appetite for more.

Write about your character experiencing their first taste, literally or figuratively, of something. Anything.


Here’s mine:

“You’re not Imperial, are you.”

Kayla shook her head, unable to deny the obvious. The reawakening of her psi powers had been too catastrophic for him to miss, Vayne’s even more so. Their connection was live electricity, arcing back and forth, splitting through the crowd that separated them. They’d overloaded the brains of dozens of unshielded Imperials and their unconscious bodies laid a path between her and Vayne.

Only Malkor had known how to shield himself and now he stood beside her, careful not to come between her and Vayne. Malkor glanced back at her twin before his gaze locked on her.


The word was whispered, and she couldn’t be certain if those backing away from the scene had heard him, but that mattered was that she had.

He knew.

She let out a breath, her chest emptying of air. The release felt like a hundred years washing away from her. When she expelled the last of the breath she’d been holding for 5 years, she drew in.


Fresh air.

Free air.

She was free.

The truth was so sweet tears came to her eyes.

She was herself again. She gasped, coughing the air out and breathing again, deeply, greedily. She was living, drinking in air as a free Wyrd citizen.

Lady Evelyn and Shadow Panthe died.

“Who are you?”

“Kayla.” The words, murmured, had more power than a shout. “Kayla Reinumon; ro’haar to Vayne and Corinth Reinumon.” She burst free of the crust of exile. “I am Wyrd.”

Her first tastes of freedom in five years would be her last as she entered another kind of imprisonment, but it couldn’t matter. She was free. She was herself.

And she was known.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

More Excitement in Crit Partner Land!

One of my two fabulous crit partners, Jen Brooks, received yet another request for the full manuscript of her novel, Wishstone! This makes three requests in the space of 9 days! No surprise to me, since I am in love with her writing, but it is so great to see the agent response to what is a killer novel.

Wish her luck with this latest request. Soon she’ll have her pick of agents to choose from, sitting in the catbird seat.

Congrats, Jen!

Friday, October 14, 2011

Love, Scrambled – Writing Prompt #34

Time for some writing reps, build those writing muscles. See how many times you can rock the same metaphor/simile:

Love is/is like an egg.

Remember to rest between sets!


Here’s Mine:
(these are all “in character” and completely unrelated to my own thoughts about love)

1) After the affair, their love was a painted Easter egg. Ornately decorated on the outside with the hope of life blown out through one end.

2) He liked the guy, he really did. They were bros. Tailgating buddies, fishing partners and amateur mechanics together. He respected him, but jesus. What was all this talk of feelings? The guy was weirding him out with the tears and the midnight confessions. They’d been through a lot together, but…love? Love was like eggs, in his mind. They came from a woman.

3) And there it was, their love. Whole and shining. A little asymmetrical, true. And when life spun them ‘round fast enough, they wobbled. But it was there.

4) Their love, grown in the sheltered microcosm of a college campus, turned into the egg in a 7th grade science project when they hit real life: swathed in the false protection of suffocating Styrofoam, jammed into a peanut butter jar and thrown out the third story window. No one wanted to see the results when they hit the bottom.