Flirty Arguments and Physical Training

Think you can handle some more rough draft? I'm trying not to pay too close attention to these as I post them, but...It seems my characters can't stay mad at each other. They just fall into natural joking and teasing. I'll have to work on that because I know arguments don't pass this easily in my house. Granted I'm not a newlywed anymore either.

The only other thing you need to know is that space travel taught Talia and Landry something about their magic early on. Turns out magic is tied to the suns, not necessarily their planet, and when they left their solar system the magic disappeared.

Excerpt

“Talia?” Landry stood in the doorway to their room where she had been hiding for the last hour.

“Are we finally going to talk this out?” She patted the bed beside her.

“We probably should.” Landry stepped in and the door slid closed behind him, “You’re getting paler and thinner every day.”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“Your health is deteriorating fast. We need to do something about it.”

Talia slid her legs out from under the sheet and to the floor. They were skinnier than ever before, her knees like swollen knot holes on saplings. She shook her head and walked to the food replicator they had installed in their room. As she ordered a protein drink she sent a thought wave in her husband’s direction. That’s not what I thought we were going to discuss.

When he didn’t answer she turned back to him. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Landry sighed, “I know, but let’s tackle one thing at a time. Your health is the most important right now.”

“Okay then, what do you propose we do?”

“We start training your body the old fashioned way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. The loss of magic hasn’t affected me physically in the same way it did you.”

“It's just more noticeable in me because I siphoned energy constantly. I'm not even sure if I did it consciously most of the time.”

“Exactly. I trained my body to work without the aid of magical energy flowing through me. That’s what we need to do for you.” He reached for her hand. "All you need is to challenge yourself physically. Lucky for you, troop training is one of my many talents."

“Let’s get started then. I’m tired of feeling so drained.” Talia squeezed his hand for a moment and then took her agonizingly slow steps to the door.

Gibbs nodded at them from a weight machine in the fitness room. He stood on a metal plate, knees slightly bent and arms raised above his head. His palms rested lightly on another plate.

“I’ve got another set and I’ll be out of your way.” He took a deep breath and then pushed through his legs and arms. The plates reacted to his strength and pushed back with matching force, providing a balanced isometric exercise for his upper and lower body.

Talia watched for a moment and dreaded whatever Landry had planned for her. "This is going to fix me?"

"I'll whip you into shape before we reach Orek."

"I thought you liked my shape." She whispered in his direction.

Landry chuckled but didn't answer.

Gibbs relaxed, grabbed his towel and headed for the door. “Don’t be too hard on her, Sutton.”

Landry waited for the door to slide closed before stepping closer to Talia, "Seduction attempts will only earn you an extra mile, Mrs. Sutton. At least until seventeen hundred hours. After that, it'll get you anything you want."

"Yes Sir, Colonel, Sir." She spit out in perfect private speak.

“I’ve missed this you know.”

“Getting to torture trainees?” Talia followed him to a terrain simulator.

“No, joking with you. Feeling relaxed around you.”

Talia reached up and touched his face. “Me too. Do you think it’s just because we don’t know how to talk to each other without telepathy?”

“Maybe. Let’s promise to try and talk about things.”

“That I can do. Why don’t we start now?” Talia smiled up at him.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting off that easy.” He turned and started the machine.

A smooth surface appeared beneath Talia’s feet. The simulation was a city street, and Landry set a slow speed for her. She smirked when her body settled into the easy rhythm.

"Is this all you've got Colonel, because I can think of a more strenuous work out."

Landry punched in a new sequence and the ground changed to a sandy beach. Talia reached out to grip the safety bar as her gait altered to accommodate the new situation. Her legs flexed with each push against the surface and sweat broke out on her forehead.

"Not till you've finished today's training session." Landry leaned against the bulkhead and settled in to enjoy the view.

Stefan and Landry Say Goodbye

As promised, here is a first draft excerpt from Search for Knowledge. The concept for this novel is centered around Talia and Landry leaving Sendek to visit Jaron's home world of Orek. And yes, their names are similar for a reason. Anyway, this quest to gather information on magic, technology and most importantly--how Jaron's world managed to combine a scientific world with a magical one so successfully, has consequences.

Einstein's theory of Special Relativity

Space and time are interwoven into a single continuum known as space-time. Events that occur at the same time for one observer could occur at different times for another. What does that mean? Lots of things, but the part I'm using for SFK deals with the fact that time passes slower the faster one goes. So our heroes are going away in a speeding spaceship to some distant planet and then comes back (in book 3), they will be younger than everyone who stayed on Sendek.

Yeah, this is cool stuff that I'll dedicate an entire science post too sometime in the future, but if you want a great site that explains it in simple terms, look HERE.

Excerpt

Stefan stared at the ground as they walked out into the sunslight. "I still think this is a huge risk. How can you be sure you'll get there and back safely?"

"Jaron's ship is fully equipped with everything we need, and with Gibbs and Cooley all our bases are covered. We’ll be fine." Landry left the real issue unsaid.

"Can't you learn what you need from Jaron's records?"

"We’ve been searching them for two months. His computer doesn't have the historical records we would like, and we need records that will help us train the mage."

Stefan paced along the edge of a low stone wall. "What am I supposed to do with these mages while you're gone?"

Landry nodded to the hanger. "They’ll follow her. Even if she's not here. For a while, anyway. Right now they have something to look forward to and they’ll follow our journey and wait for news of our return."

"That won't keep them under control for long." Stefan shook his head. "And there's the general population to watch as well."

"Use the Mage Council. They can enforce the guidelines within the mage group. You just have to keep the Council on your side."

Stefan harrumphed, but turned to Landry. "I can see many benefits from both the technological and the magical side of this journey, but I feel like everything is happening too fast. You’re the only family I have left, you know."

"Stefan, you're going to be fine. The people are going to follow you as well as they did your father. Maybe it's time you started looking for a queen?" Landry teased.

"You always said you would be the last one to tie yourself down to a woman. Now that you've slipped up, you want to tie me down too?” Stefan smiled and Landry knew he was working his way to goodbye. “Just wish you had picked a woman that didn’t want to take you halfway across the universe.”

“I know. If we’re lucky—” Landry looked over the mountain views, anywhere but at his cousin.

“I’ll still be alive when you return.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll just be old as dirt and you’ll only be a year or two older. Doesn’t seem fair somehow.”

“Look at the bright side. You’ll have kids and grandkids and a full life of memories to brag about.”

“Ha! And you’ll just have a new world to talk about.”

“But you’ll still be a part of this one.”

ABNA Rolls Around and I'm Not Ready

And that's just fine.

I had hoped to finish Fade Into Me in time to enter it into the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest this year. It looked like I was going to do it too, until I wrote myself in a completely new direction. My characters took over and led me down this path I hadn't planned on going.

Now, you may be saying, why don't you just pick them up and put them back where they belong? My only answer is to have you to read this...

One moment Ryanne stared at me in terror, and then she collapsed in agony. I tuned in on her energies and watched as they frantically rearranged themselves. The speed of the transformation sent spasms through her body.
“By the hearth, what have I done?” I scooped her into my arms and bullied my way to the door. Dancers bumped into me oblivious to to my urgency. The music pounded with the rhythm of my heart. Somewhere along the way, I passed Heather and Scott and they fought their way to me by the time I stepped into the cool night.
“What’s going on?” Heather shrieked as she saw her sister writhing in my arms.
“I don’t know! She just collapsed.” I struggled to hold onto Ryanne. Where was the damn car?
Ryanne went limp in my arms and the silence assaulted me. I hadn’t realized how loud her moans and gasps for air had been. Heather froze.
“Is she—” She choked and reached for her sister.
“No,” I knelt down and set Ryanne on the sidewalk. “She’s still breathing.”
Heather reached out to hold her sister’s hand and I looked at Ryanne’s aura. Everything had calmed down. Whatever started in the club had run its course and settled into a new pattern.
This was my fault. What if coming through the barrier had made her cells unstable? She could die in one of these pain racked episodes all because I was too stupid to keep her in the Fae.

****

My new guilty pleasure. Beauty & the Beast 

Even in rough draft form, this is a lot more interesting than the scene I had planned. Liam (I'm trying out a new name for my male MC this week) was going to try and seduce Ry into marrying him, but her memory started coming back instead--way sooner than I had intended. Now things are going to be completely different when she wakes.

I'm not 100% sure where we are headed with this, but it has more conflict than my previous plan. Yummy delicious conflict. Because you see, Liam MUST marry Ryanne and soon, but now she's going to remember why he wants to marry her, that she doesn't get a long with him at all, and there's the added deception he used on her while her memory was gone. Which she will definitely remember.

And the poor boy is too proud to just admit he's fallen in love with her in spite of his prejudice against humans. When he does admit it he's going to have his work cut out for him if he hopes to convince Ry he's telling the truth...for once.

See, much better than one steamy little flirting scene.

When your characters take over do you roll with it, or show them who's the boss?

The First Look Challenge--The Magic Wakes

The awesome Jen McConnel tagged me in The Look Challenge last week, and I'm excited to participate. This is how it works: I searched my WIP for the word “look”, and now I'll post the scene that surrounds the first occurrence of “look”.

Because I'm once more eating, sleeping, breathing The Magic Wakes, that's what I'm going to share. This is my debut novel which will be published by March 2013. I'm extra excited to share this snippet because it's from the Prologue. Yep, and I've been told a lot of people skip those. Well, shame on them! They'll miss something very important about my story if they do. Lucky for you it followed the word "look".

Before you get to read the sample, I’ve tagged a few authors for the challenge:

Huntress
Marcy
L. Blankenship
Liz
Alicia

You probably noticed these are the ladies from Unicorn Bell minus Sharon (because she recently had a baby and she's busy). These are some of the most amazing women I've met. They work hard to help other writers while living their busy lives and trying to write themselves. I think they're all brilliant!

And now for the teaser.

The stench in the air intensified when a breeze sighed its way out of the dark hole. It looked like an insubstantial swirl of black smoke writhing in the air, but Jaron new better. He took a step forward, opened his arms, and invited the demon in.

With the final words uttered, the demon coalesced and rushed toward him. It pushed its way down his throat, up his nostrils, and seeped into his ears and eye sockets as he fell to the ground. Jaron gasped for air, sucking in more of the evil substance that burned nose, throat, and lungs.

He was drowning. Drowning in evil. The demon screamed through his veins and mind as it forced its way inside. Anger and fear battled for control of his emotions. Jaron didn't know if he wanted to torture someone or throw himself into the pit for a welcomed death.

Hold on a little longer. He continued to suck in the demon. The last of the darkness rushed in when fireworks burst behind his eyelids.

His lungs filled with oxygen. Jaron's hand gripped the edge of the pit and he pushed himself away until his back rested against the cool wall.

A crawling sensation started inside his skull. His hands scratched at his scalp, but the crawling tendrils of motion were under the skin, under the bone, and deep inside his brain.

Story Problem #2: No Sense of Movement

#2 on Angela Ackerman's Top 5 Issues I Find When Critiquing is:

No Sense Of Movement
In dialogue heavy scenes, another problem I see are characters who interact verbally, but not physically. To add a sense of movement, characters should interact with the setting and each other as they speak. Dialogue should flow quickly, but not so fast that there are no indicators of what’s happening to or around the speakers. Setting is not just a backdrop for the dialogue to take place in--it should be chosen deliberately and have specific meaning to the characters. Balancing dialogue with body language and movement will show emotion, reveal character and remind the reader that the conversation is not taking place in a vacuum.

The best suggestion I can make for this problem is to watch a conversation. Go to a restaurant or some other public place, sit down, and watch people interact with each other. You don't sit without moving.

• People wave their hands for emphasis
• They look around at what's going on around them
• Girl's push their hair out of their face when the wind blows it
• Or play with it in some other way
• People reach out to touch hands, arms, shoulders, face
• They get bumped by other people
• They cough, sneeze, drum their fingers on the table, jiggle their leg in nervousness, etc.

The list goes on and on. Watch people and make a list of the common motions as well as search for some unique movements. Using them in your own writing will add another layer of depth to immerse your readers in your world. Remember, we don't want them to remember they're reading at all.

Here's an example from a short story I started for a blogfest. I stripped all the motion out of the section and then put it back so you can see the difference.

TENSATI: “Come on, what’s wrong?”
LYRIA: “I can’t go to Earth 4.”
TENSATI: “Sure you can. We’re all paid up.”
LYRIA: “No, there’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Well, tell me now and then we can go look at our new home.”
LYRIA: “Ten, they’ll never let me set foot on that planet. I should have told you years ago, but I was so afraid.”
TENSATI: “Afraid of what? This isn’t another of your theatrics is it?”
LYRIA: “Do you remember when I was sick?”
TENSATI: “Sick? You haven’t been sick since,”  “your lung implants?”

And now with the movement and tags.

“Come on, what’s wrong?” He rubbed her shoulder.
“I can’t go to Earth 4.” She sucked in a ragged breath.
“Sure you can. We’re all paid up.”
“No, there’s something I haven’t told you.” She sat up and pulled her knees into her chest. Even at ninety-four she moved like a dancer.
“Well, tell me now and then we can go look at our new home.”
“Ten, they’ll never let me set foot on that planet. I should have told you years ago, but I was so afraid.” Lyria stared at the hand he had placed on her arm.
“Afraid of what? This isn’t another of your theatrics is it?”
She scowled at him, “Do you remember when I was sick?”
“Sick? You haven’t been sick since,” he ran through the years in his head, surprised at how far back he had to go, “your lung implants?”

I don't know if that's a good example or not, but it's still a rough draft. Anyway, the idea is that movement tags help ground the reader and provide subtle clues so they can imagine the scene. Otherwise it's like looking at a still picture with sound playing. Okay, but lacking on several layers.

Once again, you want to find the right balance. If you add an action, dialogue tag, or sensory description to every piece of conversation you will bog down the reader and lose your flow.

What's your favorite motion to add to your dialogue?

When I first started writing, mine was smiling. Yeah, we've all been there. Now it's a reaching to touch arm or shoulder or the one I used here--pulling knees into the chest. I've got to start branching out more. ;)

"Lightning Flashed" Blogfest--Instinct

Cherie Reich is hosting this blogfest. Follow the link to see the other participants.
Here are the rules:
1. Entries must begin with the two words: Lightning flashed.
2. Entries must be 300 words or less and be in prose.
3. Entries must be posted on your blog between May 21 - 23.
4. You must sign up in the linky to have your entry be counted.

Here is my entry at 300 words exactly if you include the title. It's a rough draft of a dream I had, so I'm sure there are lots of things to improve upon. I know the imagery isn't quite there yet. Feel free to offer any comments so I can clean it up.

Instinct

Lightning flashed.

I tried not to flinch at the creatures roaming over the ground. Thousands of insect-like aliens cleaned the area of anything living. Any movement from me and it would be over in minutes like the poor man in front of me.

I wished I could close my eyes, but I feared sleep.

At least the screaming had stopped. And the pile of sludge that used to be the Colonel had been reduced to clean white bones. His last words echoed in my head, “Avalon is perfectly safe, I promise. Sunset is almost here, so let’s get you settled in one of the biodomes.”

Avalon Three was supposed to be my salvation. They warned me about the night monsters, but in my mind nothing could be worse than my husband.

This had been the Colonel's first trip away from Base Camp. I guess he didn’t realize sunset came early on the edge of the giant forest where Camp Two was located. The colonists watched his death from the safety of their windows.

Lightning hit the generator and all the lights in the courtyard went out. It was a relief for half a second.

Without my eyes to keep me informed, my ears picked up every click of mandible. Every hiss and whistle.

I wished it would rain. But no, only lightning split the sky to show me the nightmare around me.

Every muscle ached. I couldn’t even look at my watch to see how long until dawn. If I could last until then I might live.

Lightning flashed and I heard soft laughter in the night.

I wished I was safe behind windows.

Is It Getting Hot in Here? Blogfest

If you are looking for my entry to a different blogfest from this week:
Critique Partner Blogfest
That's YAmore Blogfest
Hook Line and Sinker Blogfest

I may not post again until Friday to give me time to read and comment on other blogs from the many blogfests of the past week. See you then!

Now for today! Today is the day to post a steamy kiss in honor of Valentines Day. Cassie Mae is hosting a "Is it getting hot in here?" blogfest. Click on the link to find the rules and other participants.

Since I used Faerie Wings and Eleena's Tale for the other two blogfests, I'm returning to Sendek for this one.

I highlighted phrases I don't like. Any suggestions?

Genre: Adult Science Fantasy
Setting: Talia and Landry are walking through the forest on their way to find an ancient tree that might be able to answer some questions for them. Remember this book is more fantasy than science fiction. It's one of the first down times they've had alone since the Draguman invaded.


“How is it you never married?”

Talia stumbled over her own feet before they rooted themselves to the ground.

“Let me ask you a question. If you had dreamed of death all your life, would you marry?”

Landry took her hand and pulled her closer. “Of course not. Was there anyone you would have considered marrying?”

“No.” Her cheeks burned.

She examined his face. He was perfect. Strong jaw line, a smile that hinted he knew things about you, and eyes that pulled you in and held you prisoner. A strange ache filled her as she remembered expressions on other faces in her past.

“Guys usually,” The muscle in her jaw clenched. “Well, they kept their distance. I guess I’m not the dating type.”

“They were wrong.” He pulled her into a hug, his heart beating beneath her ear. It quickened as his arms tightened around her. 

“Can I be honest with you?” She whispered.

“I prefer it that way.” His voice rumbled above.

Backing out of his arms, she turned away and walked a step farther down the path.   

“You scare me. Maybe it’s habit to pull away. Maybe it’s because I’m not sure if these feelings are real, or not. Everything is happening so fast.” She turned back to Landry. “I’ve never cared whether someone thought well of me or not, but I care how you feel about me.”

“Talia, I’ve been through this discussion a hundred times in my mind. I can’t deny I was attracted to you the first time I saw you. The way you stood confident and defiant fascinated me.”

“Oh.” Her face warmed again.

“But, I’m wary of how lost I get in your emotions. I don’t have the answers you want, but I promise you this, I’m going to hang around until we find out what this is.”

They stood for a moment in silence. The light filtering through the leaves danced around him, and Talia couldn’t help but notice the strength in his arms, the span of his shoulders. Was he strong enough to fight the Draguman?

Landry crossed the distance between them. “I try not to notice what you’re feeling, but your signal is very strong. Sometimes it’s hard to tune out. For instance, right now you’re worried about too many things. You don’t have to carry the weight of this war by yourself.” 

He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran his fingers down her arms, sending shock waves of energy through her. He leaned down until his lips were close to hers. “But now you feel something else entirely.”

He kissed her nose, the corner of her mouth and then brushed his lips across hers to kiss the other corner. “There's something irresistible about knowing someone wants you to kiss them.”

Talia breathed him in. He smelled like dust, moss and sweat. She rested her hands on his chest. He felt like home.

Landry’s lips hovered over hers. Warm. Soft. A direct contrast to the rest of his body. Talia shivered in anticipation, but instead of a kiss, he whispered against her skin, “I can wait until our world is safe again. Then neither of us will have any excuses.”

Hook Line & Sinker Blogfest

If you are looking for some of the other blogfests from this week:
Critique Partner Blogfest
That's YAmore Blogfest

Today is the Hook Line & Sinker Blogfest hosted by Justin Parente. Click the link for rules and to find the other participants. I'm supposed to post the first 500-1000 words and see if it hooks you. Here are some questions you can answer for me at the end.

• Does the character have a personality you can fall into easily? Or at least one that you would like to learn more about?
• Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they're introduced?
• Too much setting or not enough?
• Lastly, would you read more?

And now I give you the first 700 words of Eleena's Tale.

Imagine the grass taller. Image found Here.

I hid from Mother’s gaze inside the tall blue-green grass in the park bubble behind our home, but not from her voice. It called for me from opposite sides of the field. She must have sent the message bots to call me. I rose up on one elbow and peaked over the grass. Sure enough, three message bots glided around playing the memo, but Mother stood by the house just outside the bubble wall.

“Eleena Talrano, come to the house immediately.” Mother’s voice echoed around me.

I sunk to the ground and continued counting the clouds. She sounded scared. It was wrong to run away, but five minutes of dreaming couldn’t hurt anything. Studying all the time was boring, and the evacuation traffic made it almost impossible to concentrate insided the house. With the war getting closer, most of my friends had left. Nothing was fun anymore.

“Eleena, come to the house now!” Father’s voice joined Mother’s. 

Father never came home before dark. I jumped up and looked toward the house. Mother was gone, but Father stood with his hands on his hips. My heart pounded uncomfortably. He had been so moody lately, always yelling, or worse, silent. 

“Coming.” I grabbed my shoes and ran to the edge of the park. The traffic noise filled the air as soon as I stepped out of the bubble. “Why are you home so early?” 

“Come inside quickly.” He stepped into the darkness of the house.

I chewed on my fingernail and followed. Mother clung to a tall redheaded man. Although I hadn’t seen him for two years, I recognized my favorite uncle back from the stars.

“Uncle Murph!” I moved to hug him but stopped when Mother turned toward me. Her tear streaked face contorted into a mass of wrinkles I never noticed before.

“You have to go with your Uncle. He’ll explain everything on the way.” Mother spoke over the rattling of the dishes as another shuttle flew overhead.

I glanced from her to Father and back to Uncle Murphy. They all stared at the ceiling. Mother’s fingers twisted and tugged at each other, Father’s eyes looked watery, and Uncle’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was getting hard to breathe, then Mother pulled me to her, squeezing too tightly.

 “Where am I going?” My words came out muffled against mother’s chest. She smelled like pasta sauce.

“You’re going to stay with Murphy for a while.” Father spoke as he peeled me away from Mother and hugged me. “My little star, you’re going to travel.”

“Why?” My voice cracked. Were they sending me away like all my friends? Was the war really coming to Artemese?

“There’s no time. Listen to Uncle and you'll be fine.” Father pulled away from me.

“We must hurry to catch the shuttle. Is there no way to convince you to come with us?” Uncle Murphy held Mother’s hand but his eyes watched Father.

I looked at Father in time to see him shake his head. Uncle Murphy reached for the bag on the table. Mother hung a pack of food over my shoulder and kissed my head before turning back to Uncle.

“Peace on your path, Brother.” Tears slipped down Mother’s cheeks as she stepped to Father’s side.

I waited for the standard reply, but Uncle paused. He caught me watching him.

“Burn a light to guide me home, dearest sister.” He sounded like he had swallowed his gum berries without chewing them.

It brought tears to my eyes. 

“Go quickly.” Father gently pushed me to the door as Uncle Murphy walked through it. “Be a good girl, and remember we love you.”

Uncle grabbed my hand and pulled me into the crowded street. People had abandoned their transports in the middle of the road. It seemed like the whole world was running to the space port. My feet beat a rhythm that matched time with my heart as we ran.

The pack Mother handed me slapped up and down on my thigh.

Good-bye.

              Good-bye.

                             Good-bye.

That's YAmore Blogfest

Click HERE for the Critique Partner Blogfest.

Today is another blogfest. This one is the "That's YAmore Blogfest" hosted by Oasis for YA. Follow the link to see the rules and find the other participants.

We are supposed to share a scene of true love. I chose the following snippet from Faerie Wings for two reasons:

1. It shows what a wise and kind person Carter is. All he wants is to make Ry happy, help her see the good things she already has in her life.
2. I love the idea that true love doesn't always have to be romantic. Often the truest love that is given to us is by the members of our family. The ones we take for granted far too often.

 Okay, set up? They are taking a hot air balloon ride over Napa Valley, and Carter asked Ry if she believes in true love.

“Carter, my life has taught me love doesn’t conquer all. I loved my parents. Begged them to stay with me, but it wasn’t enough. They only cared about themselves and they left me behind.”

The knot in my chest twisted tighter. Mom hovered in my mind's eye, waving good-bye to dad without a single tear. Her only words to me that night had been along the lines that sometimes leaving is best for everyone. She didn't bother warning us before she left a few months later.

"How do you walk away from your own daughters?" I wiped at the tears that spilled down my cheeks.

Carter eased me down to the floor of the basket and found a napkin for my nose. He let me cry, stroking my arm or back the whole time. When I calmed down he squeezed my hand.

“My sweet Ryanne. So much pain locked inside. Don’t forget that Heather stayed with you. That’s true love too.”

He was right. All these years I’d only held on to the hurt, forgetting that Heather could have left me too. Instead she fought to keep custody of me. She put off college and worked to pay the bills until I could get a job and help too. My parents might be selfish flakes, but Heather wasn’t like them. I squeezed his hand back.

“Why couldn’t I see that on my own? Thank you.”

“That’s why I’m here.” He touched my face with his thumb and wiped away a tear. “Now, how about some food?”

Favorite Character Blogfest

This is supposed to my Birth of a Novel day, but I've spent the last week perfecting what I could for the ABNA. I'll submit my pitch and so forth today. No other new writing to report.

Today Laura Josephsen is hosting her first ever blogfest. Click HEREfor rules and Mr. Linky to visit the other participants.

I'm supposed to pick my favorite character that I've written, tell you why they are my favorite, and then post a short snippet about them.

Good grief! It's so hard to pick a favorite. I decided it might be better to pick one I haven't talked about very much on the blog. I mean, you guys are probably sick of hearing about Talia and Landry (even though they are probably my favorites), and I still need to get to know Ry and Carter better.

However, there is this little project that keeps waiting patiently in the back of my mind. It would be a space opera and I'm not sure I'm ready to take on something of that scope yet. Anyway, its about a girl who learns she's strong enough to change, well, everything.

Eleena. She's young, 16 or 17. At age 9 she's sent away from her parents to escape a coming war. Hopping from planet to planet, living in refugee camps with her uncle, she tries to survive the war that is racing across her galaxy. Eventually they run out of places to retreat to. That's when she finds herself in the most unlikely place--presented to the warlord king as a possible bride.

I've only written about 2000 words total of her story, none of it chronological, but this snippet wraps up all of her potential. I wrote it two or three years ago, so it's got several flaws--POV switches, telling. But I like the idea even now.



Snippet:

“I apologize.” He watched her eyebrows shoot upward. “Do you wish to be Queen?”


“I didn't realize I had a choice in this matter.” Eleena looked at Durol boldly.


“Perhaps you don’t, but if you did?”


Eleena searched her heart for what she wanted and spoke carefully, “I did not choose to board the vessel that brought me here. What I know of you doesn't induce feelings of affection, so I wouldn't choose to marry you."

The guards moved closer, but she didn't flinch or acknowledge their presence. If her time had come, she wanted it to be because she had spoken her mind when given the chance.

She continued, "However, if I think of what I could do as Queen, I am tempted to reconsider. So many people suffer without a voice. Caught up in your imperialism. Children who have never raised a hand against you are homeless and starving. Do you see them or hear their cries? I wouldn't make a good war Queen, but I long to ease the suffering I've seen. I can't do that as I am now.”

First Chapter Joy

For the last few months I've been unhappy with the changes I made to Sendek. We all know how important that first chapter is. It's the make or break point for most readers.

Months of reading blogs and agent sites on what a first chapter should accomplish saw me rewriting and tweaking my first chapter over and over. Another thing that had me tied in knots were the comments from friends and family about how my religion plays into my writing. "How would you feel if (fill in the blank) read your book?"

So I calmed down my kissing scenes. Kissing scenes! Not even sex scenes. I tried to make it all the things everyone else said it should be, until it looked like this...

And to be honest with you, I didn't like it very much. I grew disheartened and put it away. That was the end of October. Part of me was ready to call it quits. I felt like a kid play acting the part of a writer. When I looked at all the things I wrote, all I saw were the flaws.

Taking most of November and December off was the best thing I could do. I kept up a positive face on the blog, but I considered stuffing everything in a drawer and walking away.

I did a lot of thinking.

A lot of questioning.

And you know what? I realized I don't give a flying fig what anyone else thinks of my story or how I tell it. It's my story. Life is not all clean and sterile. It's messy with emotions and bad decisions that we learn from, and it's okay if that's what I want to write about.

Yesterday I sat down and rewrote the first chapter of Sendek. I wrote it the way I see it in my head. I didn't think about the "rules" or anything else that I've ever read or been told.

And I like it.

I feel content again for the first time in months. It's a great feeling.

Want a peak?

Here's the first 500 words of my first chapter of Sendek: The Magic Wakes.

Damn. There was no way out of it. And no way to explain.

At moments like this, Talia wished she had opted for the smaller view screen. President Fielding's gray hair and wrinkle-lined eyes loomed over her on the wall-sized unit. She clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. He had given in to her before. She had to try one more time.

“Sir, I can work remotely from here in my living room. There’s no need for me to move to Joharadin.”

“Miss Shannon, you’ve put this off long enough.” Fielding clasped his hands in front of him and leaned toward her from his desk. “We need you face to face with the Royalists. They can make the moon colony happen, but we have to play by their rules to get it.”

“But if I—”

“If you choose not to come, you can consider your satellite funding at an end. Be on that tram tomorrow. Unless," His eyebrows lifted in hope, "I can convince you to take a transport?”

Talia sighed, “I’ll be on the tram. You know I prefer to stay close to the ground.”

“Very well. I’m meeting you myself, so there’s no backing out. If I have to come all the way to Gneledar to collect you I will not be happy.” He winked and let the ghost of a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. Then he waved his hand and the Space Exploration Foundation’s emblem replaced his image.

Talia collapsed on the couch and rested her head in her hands. Joharadin, capital of Algodova. She had plenty of reasons to stay as far away from there as possible, but there was no way to explain that to Fielding. Sometimes he exuded a grandfatherly attitude towards her, but he was still a man of science. Talk of prophetic dreams would not go over well, especially as an excuse.

“Raise blinds.” Talia spoke the command and the house computer obeyed.

She rose from the couch and leaned against the window. The trees blocked the view of the city, but she knew Gneledar was there. Her home town. The loneliest place on the planet. At least for her.

Generally, she welcomed traveling to other cities for the SEF. The weeks and months in the company of co-workers offered a semblance of a social life not available to her at home. But not Joharadin. Just the thought of the city of her nightmares caused her skin to crawl and her heart to race. A dull ache formed behind her eyes and she rubbed at her temple.

The light from Sendek’s double suns filtered through the trees and into her living room. Flecks of gold danced with the shimmery green across the floor. The movement imitated her nerves. It was already starting.

I’ll dream tonight. Talia sent her thoughts out into the trees and waited for their answer.

We will be here when you do.

I'd ask questions to guide your comments, but after boldly stating that I'm writing for myself now, it doesn't make sense. ;) Feel free to comment anyway. Especially if you've read earlier versions. 

I'm still interested in your thoughts but I'm not rewriting for anyone but me. 

Or an agent. :D 

I can be bought.

Deja Vu Blogfest: Show vs. Tell Example

Today I'm taking part in the Deja Vu blogfest hosted by DL Hammond. Click the link to see the other entrants. The idea is simple. Post a previous blog post that you think you might have been "missed" by the blogosphere. This was originally posted January 19th, 2011. As you will see, I missed a blogfest I wanted to participate in. So, what better post to repost for another blogfest?

I will say that the showing part has been revised. I'm trying to get it ready to submit somewhere, so please feel free to point out any areas that need work. (My updated notes in purple.)


January 19, 2011
I missed Misty's Show vs. Tell blogfest, but I really wanted to do it. So, I did it just for fun. She had several photos we could pick to use as inspiration. I placed the photo between the telling and the showing versions. Here you go.

Note 1: Um, sorry, I really got into the scene in my head and it came out a bit long. I'm not in the running for her awesome prizes, but would love to hear your comments. (There's also a tribute to one of my favorite authors, David Gerrold. Did you catch it?)

Note 2: I wrote this straight into blogger so it's a first draft, but I'm really excited about it. I'm thinking of expanding the idea to a three part short story. Kind of a past, present and future three segment thing. This would be the present. (You're not getting the first draft of showing section from January. I'm including the first 450 words of the most recent revision. The story is finished at 2,588 and needs to be fine tuned.)

Telling:

The alien ships landed Tuesday morning.

By the afternoon, the Allied forces were dumping everything we had on top of them. They sent me to the front line to make sure nothing walked out alive, because I'm the best. Conflicted, I prepared to do my job. Then the distress signal came in.

Someone on those ships knew my name. They called to me for help. And I went.

The angel waiting for me asked for my help, and I plead for her forgiveness as I scooped her into my arms. One look at my squad and I knew they had my back. Our lives became hers, and we would sacrifice everything to protect her.

But first we had to reach safety.

Showing:

Eight hours of freedom. That’s all I had left when the call came in.

“Briggs, turn on the T.V.” It was my weapons specialist, Dingilliad.

“What channel?” I picked up the remote.

“Doesn’t matter.”

The screen snapped on. An alien space ship had entered earth’s orbit three hours ago.

“Holy crap.”

A petite blond sat at the desk and read the report.
“The ship has been circling the globe, pausing at seemingly random places. Those who have observed the object report a low melancholy music emanating from within. These people have their own idea as to what the ship is doing here.”

The screen split to show a pastoral countryside in Scotland. An old man spoke in a heavy accent.

“The music was heartbreaking.” His shoulders slumped and his lip quivered. “It reminded me of when my Sarah passed away. They’ve lost something and now they’re looking for it.”

The newswoman frowned. “Similar stories are being reported all over the world. Could they be searching for something? Wait one moment,” She touched her ear and cocked her head to the side. Her brow furrowed and then she lowered a shaking hand. “The ship is now passing over the United States. It is currently moving down the coast from Maine. The Department of Defense is calling all off duty and inactive military staff to action. We encourage all civilians to remain in their homes until further notice.”

Dingilliad’s voice reminded me there was a phone in my hand.

“Chigger is here already. Come get us so we can get back to base. We don’t want to miss this one.”

“Yeah, on my way.”

****

I stood, binoculars in hand, at the edge of the desert in New Mexico. Dirt, yucca, and creosote bushes as far as the eye could see. The only difference today was the ship slowing to a stop five kilometers to the north of us. Ten miles from Roswell. The irony wasn’t lost on any of us.

The ship hovered over the desert. There was no shiny silver metal. No smooth surfaces or blinking lights. It looked like a floating hunk of scrap metal. Lumpy, brown, rusted, and pitted from micro-impacts it was a fifty foot oblong asteroid. No one would have thought it pretty, and yet it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I shook my head and turned to Chigger. “Can you believe this?”

“Every sci fi movie I’ve ever seen is running through my head.” He pointed back at the ship. “Look.”

A long dagger like antenna grew from the top of the ship. Then a shorter one from the bottom, and two fin like protuberances from the sides.

Q4U: What do you think? Is there enough to pull you in or am I taking too long to get to it?

Guess My Character's Age Blogfest Contest

Today, Brenda Drake is hosting a Blogfest Contest. Click on the link to find Mr. Linky to the other entrants. Here are the rules:

On December 8th post the first 250 words of your finished, or not quite finished, manuscript (any genre) to your blogs. This contest is about voice--whether or not your character's voice matches his or her's age. So if you mention the age or school grade in the first 250 words, please edit it out or block it out for this contest. Don't list the genre or title on your posts.

It is directly related to finishing Nanowrimo, but she states the story doesn't have to be finished. Now, my lovely followers already know my MCs age, but the other participating won't have my Birth of a Novel info, so hopefully I can still get some good feedback.

For those that do know the MCs age, please voice your opinion on if I'm close to the right voice. I really would like to know.

Here are the first 250 words:

“Ryanne Killian, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jessie’s shrill voice rose above the chatter in the hall.

I turned to meet her gaze. “What are you moaning about now?”

“I am not going to let you ruin my special day. You have to tell Kevin that you can’t be his best man.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “It’s ridiculous.”

Funny, those were the same words I used when he asked me. I told him a girl couldn’t be best man, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to tell that to miss high and mighty.

“That’s too bad Jessie, ‘cause I already rented a tux.” I turned to walk away, but she grabbed my arm.

“Look, wear whatever you wear to------. -------------------------------------------- . Just smile and don't embarrass us, okay?" Jessie turned and let her nose lead the way as she flounced off with her ----------posse trailing behind. She turned to one of them and said, “Don’t worry, this isn’t over.”

I rolled my eyes and headed the other way. Great, that’s all I needed. If not for Kevin, Jessie would never stoop to speak to someone like me. If not for Kevin, I would have been perfectly happy with that arrangement.

Ah, Kevin. Idiot, jerk, and my best friend since ----------.

Birth of a Novel Week 4

You might have noticed that the "Nano" is missing from my Birth of a Novel Pic. For the first time in the four years since learning about Nanowrimo, I'm not trying to "win".

It's kind of weird. I could still pull it off, but for once I don't care. It's not like cranking out 50,000 words in a month guarantees you a publishing contract. No, it's just the start of many months of hard work.

The last nine months were revision mode for Sendek, and last week I realized that I'm tired. I need some non-writing time to recharge my batteries. Dream some more. Live some life. Unpack some personal baggage that's been accumulating. (Ooo! I forgot to mention that as part of the "living", I lasted about 15 seconds on a mechanical bull Saturday night! Sadly, I tried it right as they were closing, so I only got one try. And my old body is sore today!)

I'm not quitting the novel, but I'm back to writing when I can. No pressure. Just enjoyment. 

Current word count: 27,412
That's only 1,857 words more than a week ago, and I'm good with that.

Yeah, I know, I know. I'm an ML, part of the job description is that I hit 50K. All year long I look forward to Nano and do a pretty good job cheer-leading the cause.

But, I'm tired.

And, I love my story idea.

That means I'm willing to not "win" Nano, take a break, and then continue writing something that will be worth reading.

Snippet: I do have another snippet to share with you. There is still a lot of telling, but it's a first draft so don't stone me yet. :) Granger is the guy that kidnapped her, arch enemy of the dreamy Carter Frey.

Granger summoned me before I got enough sleep. Breakfast was not offered, although I caught the lingering aroma of sausage and bacon as I walked through the halls of the castle. I no longer felt hungry. Just hollow. I wish that had been my only worry.

He waited for me outside in a garden plot surrounded by low stone walls. The earth was tilled and mist rose off the warm surface into the cooler air.

"Good morning Miss Killian. Let's begin." Granger held his hand out.

Not knowing what else to do, I held mine out, palm up. Several tiny somethings clattered into my open palm. Granger's hand pulled away revealing the brown seeds.

I looked at Granger. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Make them grow."

My test was to see how much I knew about gardening? Piece of cake. Growing things was one of my few natural talents. I didn't see any tools, but the soil looked loose enough to work with my hands. After sinking to my knees, I pressed a hole in the dirt with my finger and dropped a seed in. I repeated the process with all ten seeds before brushing the dirt into the holes.

"Do you have any water?" I looked up at Granger, shielding my eyes with my dirty hands.

"Tap into the magic of creation and make the flowers grow."

"You mean from seed to plant in a minute? That's impossible."

Granger raised his eyebrows, then bent and placed his hand over the first seed. A shoot of green popped out of the dirt. As Granger lifted his hand higher, the stem grew upward. Tiny leaves unfurled and wiggled as they grew larger. Stems and leaves multiplied and thickened until a delicate bouquet burst into being.


Each flower was the size of a quarter and made up of twenty or so tiny blossoms, orange on the outside with a circle of yellow blossoms surrounding tiny orange stamen. The lacy button smelled like sweaty citrus. My brain couldn't believe what my eyes were seeing. All it could latch onto was the curious fact that such a beautiful flower could smell so bad.

"Now, you do it." Granger pointed to the other seeds.

"I can't." Was he serious?

"Carter thinks you can. Do it."

"How? What do I do?"

"Focus on the seed and tell it to grow."

"This is crazy." I bent down and held my hand over the next seed, imitating Granger.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the seed under the dirt. All I could see was the back of my eyelids.

Grow stupid seed.

I peeked through one eye and wiggled my fingers in case that would help. Nothing.

"How disappointing. Perhaps we need to find the right motivation. Bring some tomato seeds."
He flicked his hand and a servant ran toward a shed at the back of the gardens.

I sighed and tried again, "You have the wrong girl. It's not going to matter what kind of seeds you bring me. I can't make them grow."

"You won't eat until you make something grow."

"You can't do that! I'm not who you think I am. I'll never be able to do what you want me to do."

"I wonder if Carter will miss you? Probably not." He walked around me in a slow circle. "He must know I have you by now, and he hasn’t even sent a messenger to discuss an exchange. Maybe I was wrong about you.”

My heart fluttered and sank. What if Carter didn’t care? I looked away from Granger and chewed on my lip. I chose to believe Carter was looking for me.

The servant rushed over the dark earth with a cup of seeds, which he held out to me.

Granger waved him toward me, "She has three hours to make them grow. Call me if she succeeds. If she fails, lock her back up."

Without waiting for an answer he strode back to the castle.

Birth of a Novel Blog Chain Week 3

Current word count:
25,556 as of Monday 4:30pm

Surprise of the week:
Kevin is a class A jerk. Can't say much more because it would be a spoiler, but let's just say he's an idiot too. For those of you who have not read the first chapter, Kevin is Ry's best childhood friend. He got married straight out of HS to his pregnant girlfriend in chapter one.

I thought that was it for his part, but he shows back up in Chapter 5 and acts as catalyst for the next chunk of the book. *mumble mumble* jerk *mumble mumble*. Who needs enemies with friends like that? And yes, I use that cliche in the chapter. Hey, that's what revisions are for, right?

Road Blocks for the week:
Yesterday I wanted to quit everything writing related. Why? I received a critique I had been waiting on. It was correct on all points, but it still made me want to cry. Why? Because I'm the one that messed everything up. I edited my novel (Sendek) to death. Yep. And some of you tried to warn me, but I didn't listen. (Michael)

Over the past year I've worked so hard to tweak the first chapter in a way to hook the reader. I changed everything that I started out with. And after getting the critique I realized something. I was editing for the wrong audience. I forgot who I wrote the book for and tried to change it to fit in with the "rules" to hook agents. But I lost my voice. I lost the flow and cohesion of the story. Nothing made sense to someone just picking up the book.

All that work just to ruin a perfectly good story. I realized something else. I'm still holding back. I can dig deeper, but I'm scared too. There's that secret heart of me that doesn't dare peak out at the world, even disguised as a character from a book.

How do I let her out?

I almost stopped writing Faerie Wings, but I know that isn't the answer. Instead, I did what any self respecting writer would do in a case like this. I went to the store and bought $5 worth of good chocolate and stuffed it all down my face on the five minute ride home. Well, I really only ate one square of each candy bar, but I felt like eating it all.

Procrastinator for the week:
I worked on a book cover before I got sick. If I had known I was going to get sick, I would have tried harder to write instead.

Snippet for the week:

The doorbell woke me at 2:52 AM. Heather must have forgotten her key again.

I tossed the covers aside and padded my way to the front door. The doorbell rang again and again.

“Stop already, I’m coming.” I removed the chain, turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

Strong arms grabbed me. They spun me around and pinned my arms to my side. Someone shoved a cloth bag over my head.

“Scream and we kill you.” A male voice rumbled by my ear.

My arms ached, but the guy didn't relax his hold. He dragged me out the door. I stumbled down the steps and then he pushed me into a car. My head hit the window on the far side of the car as soon as I got in. The guy jerked me up by one arm and shoved me over so he could get in beside me. He reached across and locked the door. My knees rested against the seat in front of me.

My heart pounded. I took shallow breaths as the air in the bag warmed. My hands were free. I reached for the bag.

“No you don’t.” He grabbed my hands and crushed me against the car door as he pulled my arms behind me. He wrapped a strong cord around my hands until my fingers went numb.

“I can’t breathe and you’ve cut off my circulation.” My voice sounded calmer than I felt. 

“You’ll pass out before you suffocate. I’ll worry about your air then.” Both men laughed.

Birth of a Novel Week 2

Here's my weekly report on my Nano progress.

I started well and had close to 6000 words by the end of the second day. And then things slowed. I puttered and did some research. I sat. I typed. I begged my kids to go away and for goodness sakes, please give me ten minutes of quiet.

I did that last one every five minutes of the last week.

There were a few days I didn't write anything and I started to worry. But the story is in my head. It's still buzzing around in that shiny, happy new idea kind of way. Which is funny since I first dreamed up this idea in June of 2010. Yep. I found the original notebook where I wrote down the dream. The book is only loosely based on that dream, but it's been really fun so far.

Still to be decided:
Am I writing this in first person POV or third person? I've tried both, but can't decide which one I like the best.

Confession:
I cut almost 300 words on day 3. I know! Don't stone me. Remember, my goal is to get a decent rough draft down this month. The 50K word count is just the Nano requirement.

Surprise of the week?
Ryanne is often mad at Carter. But every time he says "Ma Cherie" she forgets why. Who knew? It doesn't sound all that smexy when I say it.

Current word count as of Monday night:
10,554 in 7 days! I need to hit 13,333 by tonight to stay "on track". Totally doable. Today they are going on a hot air balloon ride over Napa Valley.

Snippet (this is turning out to be much more of a YA romance than I had planned):

Carter reached for my hand and the warmth flowed into me. “Ryanne, I promised things were going to be better for you. I meant that.”

I gasped and returned my gaze to his face. He looked so intent. His mouth soft, his eyes such deep pools that they beckoned to me. Little gold flecks of light swam in the chocolate warmth. Something in me yearned to be closer to this man, but I didn’t know anything about him.

Swallowing hard, I whispered, “What are you talking about?”

Emotions flicked across his face and then his shoulders slumped. “You don’t remember do you?”

“No. Why can’t I remember the last two days?”

Carter looked up at the sky and sighed. “This isn’t a street conversation. Let’s go back in. Now I understand the look Heather gave me.”

He dropped my hand and stalked up the steps. He paused at the door and waited for me to enter first. I sat on the couch and he paced. I waited, but each time he passed, each moment that filled with silence, a knot inside clenched tighter.

“Sit down.” The command rushed out and we both jumped. “Sorry, you’re making me nervous.”

“No, I should apologize, Ma Cherie. Palen said you might block it out, but we had to take the chance.” He continued to pace.

“You’re not making any sense. And please sit down.” I twisted my hands in my lap.

He sat and stared at my hands a moment before taking them in his. “Where to begin?”

“How about when we left the apartment complex? Heather said I passed out, but I don’t even remember that.”

“It’s more complicated than that, but I guess it’s as good a place to start as any.” He paused to collect his thoughts, but his fingers absentmindedly drew patterns on my palm.

Circles, lots of circles. My body flushed with heat as the touch sent tingles up my arms. My brain told me to pull my hands free, but my hands wouldn’t obey. They had never been touched in such a way before, and they rebelled against my better judgment.

“No, we need to go back to when we met, at the wedding. Do you remember what you felt? What was it that compelled you to enter the garden?”

“I can’t think while you’re doing that.” I nodded toward our hands and tried to breathe normally. What in the world had come over me?

He blushed and dropped my hands. “Sorry, Ma Cherie.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s like I told you at the apartment. It was like being pulled somewhere.”

“Yes, but what did it feel like.” He leaned closer and his eyes held all of my attention.

“A restless need to wander. And then once I found the garden, it was,” I paused and looked away. “It was like a yearning. I needed to be somewhere and it was like my body knew I was close. The restlessness disappeared and it was replaced with need. Desire. Urgency.”

His hands were on my arms. Warm. Gentle. “And when did that feeling leave?”

When I found you.

I couldn’t look at him. Something blurred my vision and I realized I was crying. His hands swept up my arms and pulled me close. My face rested just below his chin, snuggled into his chest. That smell of reeds by the river washed over me. Calmed me.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Shhh. It’s just sensory overload. Palen said that when you returned,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “home, you might block out the last two days.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t believe they really happened. Ryanne, I promise you this much. It was real. Believe in it. Let the memories come back.”

My pulse surged at the soft huskiness in his voice, but my head throbbed. The hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end and I saw flashes of light and those unimaginably bright colors again. I pushed myself away from him and erased the thoughts with a shake of my head.

“Carter, you’re talking nonsense.” I pressed my fingertips to my temple.

“I’m sorry. You need more time.” That look of sadness flickered again, but he hid it quickly. “Let me take you to lunch tomorrow.”

My mind backpedaled as fast as my body tried to lean toward him. I was drawn to him, but I knew this relationship, whatever it was, could never work. “Carter, we grew up in two different worlds. There are some things that just can’t work out. Do you know what I mean?”

He laughed and stood up. “Ma Cherie, you are right. Two different worlds entirely. However, bridges connect differences all the time. Let’s build a bridge and see where it take us.” He kissed the top of my head and walked to the door. “I’ll pick you up at noon. Heather and Scott are invited too.”

He was gone before I realized he never told me where I had been for the last two days.

A sneak peak...

...into my Nano fun. I managed 5924 words yesterday. They just fell onto the page, and some of them even made sense! Nothing brilliant, but kinda fun, ya know.

So here's a sneak peak into the end of chapter one. Set up: Ry bumped into this guy earlier and then he almost runs over her with his motorcycle. Yeah, convenient but its Nano! Anyway, they've just spent about half an hour together and unbeknownst to both of them, Ry is having a weird side effect to being so near a magical creature. Carter is a faerie, but Ry doesn't know. She is however a unique human (no hidden faerie blood I promise) and a bit sensitive to a magic she never believed in. It brings about a strange physical reaction from her. Oh, and Heather is her older sister.
____________


"Thanks.” Ry tried to sound happier than she felt. “Sorry I messed up your plans. The good news is you just have to get me to the reception hall south of campus."

"Ma Cherie, Let me see you to your car. It's the least I can do."

Ry blushed. “No car. I was planning to take the bus home from there.”

“Then let me take you home. It’s the least I can do.”

Yes. Ry wanted him to stay with her. He felt like the home she never knew she was searching for. Heather shot her a frantic look. Ry grinned back.

"Thanks, Carter." She turned to Heather. "It’ll make me feel better, and I'll be fine. You've seen his face, so if he's a serial killer I'm safe." Ry loved playing on her sister’s fears.

Carter’s deep laughter rumbled in Ry’s ear and the vibrations tickled her toes through her shoes. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Heather.

"Just so you know where to send the police." He winked at Ry.

Heather and Scott didn't look amused, but a strange happiness filled Ry. She watched as Scott read the name on the card and couldn't decide what his expression meant. Shock or awe?

"The Carter Frey?" Scott asked.

"No, just his son." Carter sounded so ordinary. Not the way she imagined the heir to a financial empire to sound.

"The dress. Was that your sister?" Ry’s voice came out in a weak croak. The feel of money at the wedding now made sense.

"Yes."

"I'm so sorry! I really didn't know. I never would have." Her mouth snapped shut and her stomach rolled. The last hour was only his way of avoiding a lawsuit. Nothing more. Ry was a nobody. If she hadn’t stepped in front of his motorcycle, he would never have noticed her.

All the energy from the moment before drained away. Ry wanted to run away, but her feet remained rooted to the floor.

"Ma Cherie, it's not like you’re thinking." Carter reached for her hands.

The electricity was still there. Knowing he was unobtainable had not removed the pull she felt toward him. Ry freed one hand to press her fingertips into her temple. A dull humming filled her head and she couldn't think, but her mouth worked on autopilot.

"I wouldn't, you know. That's not who I am, but then again, I've not really been myself today. Maybe I should…" Ry swayed a bit.

"Let me take you home." He finished for her.

He dropped her hand to stroke her face. In her confusion, she leaned into the touch.

"Did you hit your head when you fell?" His concern filled her heart.

"I don't think so." She mumbled. What was wrong with her lips?

"Heather, we need to get her to a doctor. Just to make sure she's all right."

"Our doctor isn’t open on Saturday." Heather stared at Carter.

“I can take her to our private doctor, if that’s okay with you.”

"No, no, no. I'm fine." Ry swayed again as the hall tilted to the left. Strong arms wrapped around her.

"Ma Cherie, you need a doctor." Carter pleaded.

"Ok, I give in. I feel really weird. Do you know that I'm in love with you?" Ry gasped at the same time Heather did. Then she burst out giggling as Carter Frey, multimillionaire, carried her out the door to a waiting limo. "Did I say that out loud? I'm not in love with you. How could I be? I’m in love with Kevin. No. I can't love you. Our world's never cross."

She rested her face against his neck and commenced sobbing.

Well, what do you think. Did I get the YA vibe going?

My Revision Process

I haven't quite recovered from my week of cooking at Girl's Camp, so I'm posting a blog post from January 2010. This is still how I revise my rough drafts.

January 2010
My signature on most forums is some form of the following: "If you are a mother and a writer then you have to make the time to write everyday. Because nobody is going to give it to you. I guarantee it. That means a lot of other things in your life have to go." Once again, thanks to Hoontah for those words of wisdom. (I bet you had no idea how powerfully they would strike me.) Well, I have taken that to heart. Here are some ways I make time.

I keep some pages printed off so I can work on them while cooking.

I also keep a notebook with me in the van and write while I sit in the carpool line. That is a good 15 to 20 minutes every day.

When I sit outside watching my kids play, I either have a notebook or laptop with me, for when inspiration strikes.
Wednesday is the day that my three year old gets to go to his special pre-school class--aka the free "Just For Me" class at the library. It is thirty minutes that I have free to write uninterrupted. Today was a good day. I took one sentence from my draft and turned it into another 400 words. Those words will get revised again at some point, but here ya go!

The draft sentence:

Later that evening, after eating his small dinner, he finally managed to get up to his room.

Became:

By the time he finished spreading the muck onto the field, his muscles ached and the first sun had sunk below the trees. Elvin washed his hands and face in the rain barrel, watching for Della to bring him his dinner. It was never much, but he knew that Della snuck more to him than his step-mother sent. The second sun was slipping below the trees, throwing the clearing into shadows, when the cottage door opened and Della stepped out. She hurried toward him, a breath of color in the grey dusk, hugging a small basket close to her body.

“Elvin? Where are you?” Her whisper was soft and gentle and Elvin realized he was hidden by the shadow of the stable. He stepped out slowly and walked toward the girl.

“Here I am Della.”

Turning in his direction she continued to the wood pile, where they always met for dinner. Della handed the basket to Elvin and then perched on a large tree stump. She was only a year younger than Elvin, who would be fifteen in a few months, and the only reason Elvin had not run away from home. As he took the basket from her, he wished the suns were still up so he could see her better. Her long brown hair blended in with the coming darkness, but in the daylight the coppery shine fascinated him. Her eyes were a soft brown, almost amber, reminding him of honey and sweetness.

“Della, I found something new today.” Elvin removed the cloth from the basket and found half a boiled potato, a small piece of venison, and a soft roll. He knew that Della had eaten his hard roll and replaced it with her soft one. A lump threatened to close his throat, but he ignored it.

“What? When can I see it?” She clasped her hands together and leaned toward him.

“It is a secret for now, but I will show it to you soon. First I have to find a way to bring it down the mountain.” The hunger gnawed at him, and as his stomach grumbled in anticipation, Elvin bit into the meat. His step-mother might be stingy, but the juicy meat was a testimony of her cooking skills.

“Is it so big?” Her eyes grew wide.

“No,” Elvin quickly swallowed the last bite of meat. “but it is in a crevice and I can not carry it and climb back out.” He started on the potato.

“Wait here!” Jumping up, Della ran back to the cottage and disappeared inside. While she was gone, Elvin ate his roll slowly, savoring each bite of Della’s kindness.

Why am I posting this? Even though it still needs work, I wanted to show my process. The first sentence is 100% telling, and not very informative telling at that. My current draft is almost more of an outline than writing. Now that the plot is all down, I need to flesh it out. Build some characters, setting and emotional depth. This scene is FAR from being complete or even close to where I want it, but I find that I do better when I work in small chunks. (I'll hopefully finish the scene tonight when the kids are in bed.)

I wish I had at least four hours a day to hide in an office with a closed door to write, but I don't. 

Why did I decid to elaborate on that first sentence? I want my readers to get to know Elvin, where he lives, what life is like for him, how he sees things, what he feels in his situation, etc. So, let's look at him in an every day situation--eating dinner. The scene is closer to showing you that he is not allowed inside the house than the original sentence (still needs work, I know, and the rest of the scene will make it clearer). Later, we will go to his room, the loft above the stable, and take a look at his meager belongings--giving yet more insight to his life.

The point is I am trying to show you what his life is like without telling you that his step mother hates him, his father ignores him, he is a hired hand not a son, he loves Della because she is the only one kind to him. I could tell you all those things and make a decent story out of it, but if I work a little harder to pull you into Elvin's world, make you feel what he feels, then you will begin to care what happens to him.

The other reason I shared today's work? One revision of your draft is not going to make your novel ready for the publisher. Plain and simple.

Unicorn Bell submissions are open

My It's All Fun and Games Blogfest entry is below.

I'm having a panic attack. Yeah, I know it's silly, but it's life too. This is my first week over at Unicorn Bell and there weren't a lot of comments on my post yesterday. Today opens the submission window for a 350 word clip of writing for critique. I'm scared no one will send anything!

Here's the info if you have something you can pull out of a hat for me to critique today...

The submissions window is now open. 

You can send up to 350 words of ANY scene that you know something isn't working, but you just can't figure out what. This can be from a finished or unfinished WIP. Submit to charity.bradford@gmail.com and include Fearful Critique in the subject line.

Please include:
Name (will be removed before posting)
Title
Genre/Word count

Brief intro or question you would like us to look at while reading.

Then your 350 word submission.

First 250 Words Agent Contest

This one is hosted by Shelley Watters. Post your first 250 words, visit, comment, accept critique, polish and then post your final version on her blog (May 31st) to be judged by Judith Engracia of Liza Dawson and Associates. Visit Shelley's blog to find Mr. Linky.

It doesn't qualify for the Agent part of the contest since it isn't finished, but here is the first 258 words of my summer novel (meaning I work on it in the summer, imagine that!) I hope to finish it this summer. 

Faerie Wings
YA Contemporary Fantasy (I'm not sure yet what to call it).

Jesse wore her cap and gown over the top of her wedding dress. Kevin gazed into her eyes and declared his love with such fervency that half the women sobbed into their hankies. I admit, I might have teared up for a moment myself. Lucky for me, no one else knew about my brief time with Kevin. It had been a test to see if our friendship could be more, but it only took a week for us to agree that we made better friends than lovers.

The next week I introduced him to Jesse, and the rest as they say in the story books is history. Truly happy for both, I performed my maid of honor duties with ease, but grew restless while they danced surrounded by the rest of our graduating class. The music drummed inside my head and all I could think of was getting out.

Jesse sat down beside me. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“I dunno. Usually you’d be out there dancing with us.” Jesse flicked her head toward the gyrating mass of bodies.

“Headache.” I tapped my temple.

“Why don’t you walk through the garden or something? I don’t want any wall flowers at my graduation party.”

“I thought this was your wedding reception.” I squinted at her.

“Of course it is, but Daddy wouldn’t pay for both, so I’m combining them. Just because I got married doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate the end of high school.” She laughed and started bobbing her shoulders in time with the music.

Well, what do you think? Is it too slow a start? That's my big concern, but I've been told I "rush" things, and I'm trying to slow it down a bit. This leads to the inciting incident, so I think its the right place to start. The bombshell falls in the next 88 words.

If you liked it, what was it you liked? Would you keep reading?

Oh, and what would you call a novel set in our day/age/world that also has magic and faeries?

Thanks in advance for any and all comments!