Archive for 'snippet'
Wednesday, November 27th, 2013
I forgot to mention that I finished Trace of Magic a couple days ago. Go me! I talk about ending it over at Magical Words today. Specifically about ending creep. I’m pretty happy with the book so far, but only because it’s done and I haven’t reread it to find out what needs to be revised. I’m in that lovely state of denial.
My friend Christy Keyes has suffered some significant brain injuries this last year and she and her husband are struggling. If you can donate to her cause or spread the word or both, please do. I set up a gofundme site for her today. It’s here.
Have you ever noticed that family can drive you to a level of anger that no one else seems to be able to do? My son is a teenager and he’s behaving as such. Perfectly normal, but apparently I need to adjust better. And maybe go sit in the jacuzzi tub for awhile.
I did go to the chiropractor today. I feel better, but I’ll have to probably go back again. As long as I get better soon, I’ll be happy.
I’m tired of Black Friday commercials. I won’t be shopping on Black Friday, either. Unless I run out chocolate, which is highly unlikely. I just made a batch of rolls with mashed potatoes in them. I didn’t mash the potatoes very well. Hope they turn out. Also didn’t use unsalted butter, and didn’t adjust the salt levels in the bread. It’s my first go round with this recipe. The dough was nice an elastic when I set it to rise the first time. Here’s hoping it all turns out. I plan to make cinnamon rolls later. I ground the wheat myself, so it makes for tastiness.
On Small Business Saturday, Devon Monk and I will be signing and possibly reading at Reader’s Guide Books in Salem, Oregon, from 11-1. So if anybody can make it, please do!
And a little snippet, with names redacted:
“I hurt you,” he said tonelessly.
“You didn’t mean to,” I said carefully. I couldn’t get a read on how he was feeling or what he was thinking.
“I could have killed you. I wanted to kill you.”
“You didn’t know it was me.”
He shook his head and looked down, anger and fear rippling across his tight expression. “I did.”
I could only stare. My stomach turned inside out. [redacted] made a growling noise and started forward. I thrust out my hand to stop him. “Why?” I could barely push the word out. I felt strangled.
“I wanted to be dead.”
“You thought I’d kill you?” I squeaked, incredulous.
“You should have killed me. I asked you to.”
Wednesday, November 20th, 2013
Corgis are the cutest dogs ever. Here are mine, being spoiled and cute.
And then there’s this picture of Mount Shasta, near Weed, featured in Crimson Wind. If you don’t know about that, why not?
The man smashed his hand and finger today. I had to watch while he drilled two holes in the nail to release pressure. He wouldn’t let me do it. He didn’t trust me. Thought I might drill to the bone. He’s right.
I’ve been making progress on the end of Trace of Magic. Here’s a snippet (it’s rough and hasn’t even been proofed, so be kind):
We loaded up into a one ton SUV near the entrance. Price and Touray took the front and Josh and I got into the back. None of us spoke. Price was seething and Touray was icy. Josh had lapsed into total silence. I pushed him into his seat, bending his arms and legs like a stiff doll and buckled his seatbelt, more to keep him from freaking out and attacking the rest of us than anything else.
I hobbled around to my side and slid into my seat. I shut the door with a long sigh.
“I’m taking you to Maya,” Touray said to his brother as he keyed the engine over.
“We need a dreamer for Josh,” Price said. “The sooner the better. He’s in worse shape than I am.”
“He can wait. I want you looked after.”
“Go to Cass first. You can travel to fetch Maya.”
“Can I? My magic doesn’t seem to be working at the moment.”
Touray glanced over his shoulder at me. I shivered at the greed and speculation in the look. Like he was shopping and had just found a Picasso in a thrift store. Not that he’d be caught dead in a thrift store. But you get the point.
Sometime in the fight I’d swallowed the quarter. It was fast reaching its limits. Between sucking up the null field and the magic in the mountain, it was nearly overloaded. I shrugged at Touray because I had no idea when it would run out and when he’d get his powers back. I could deactivate it, but that would take a lot of energy and at the moment, I was fried. They could sort out what they wanted to do. I was just along for the ride at this point.
I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Mistake. I instantly became all too aware of my injuries. My entire body throbbed like Yosemite Sam’s thumb after Bugs Bunny wacks it with a hammer. Fifty times the size it ought to be and pulsing like a pufferfish on crack.
Touray made a frustrated sound. “Fine. We’ll go to Cass. Where is she?”
“In a house on the top level.”
“Maya’s closer. I’ll travel for Cass. As soon as I can.”
I felt his eyes on me again.
“She won’t like that,” Price said.
His voice was a little louder. He’d turned his head to look at me, too. My fingers twitched and I clenched them together.
“Too damned bad,” Touray said. “I’m not wasting time driving in this mess if I don’t have to.”
They started talking about the attack the building and what they needed to do to head off their enemies and pretty quick I drifted off to sleep. No dreams, thank goodness. Apparently my mind needed to rest as much as my body.
I woke up awhile later. We were still driving—if you could call it that. We inched along. Snow whirled around us. The headlights showed nothing but a wall of white. I wondered how Touray was even staying on the road.
Maybe he’d drive over the edge of the caldera and solve all my problems in one quick fall.
“Finally,” Touray muttered. He started to glow around the edges and the rest of him thinned so I could see through him. He began to speed up, following some sort of path his magic opened up to him.
Thursday, October 17th, 2013
I don’t have much to share today, except that my shelves are finally in and we’ll get them this weekend, and hopefully install them too! (there’s more work to them than just setting them in the house and loading them up, sadly)
So in celebration of shelves, a snippet for you:
“I’ll take care of her,” Touray said after a slight hesitation. “I promise.”
My heart stopped beating as Price considered. Then he nodded. He grabbed his jacket off the table, glass sprinkling to the floor, then jogged down to the white doors and left. He never once looked at me.
Touray faced me. He scanned me up and down like I was defective. I wanted to squirm, but the bottom of the cage was too full of glass. I’d already cut my feet. I didn’t dare make them worse, not that I was going to need them. I doubted I’d get a chance to go anywhere before I died. He had told Price he would take care of me, but I’d watched enough movies to know that probably meant he was going to kill me.
I heard pops! and canisters thudded down through the empty windows. I was blinded by strobe flashes. An acrid smell washed through the space. Almost instantly my nose began to itch and my eyes began to water.
“Cover your nose and mouth,” Touray ordered, pulling off his shirt and tying it over the lower half of his face. I did the same, the turleneck fighting me all the way. I was now in a cage, shirtless and wearing only a bra, with blood trickling down my neck and back and smearing the floor under my feet.
Thursday, October 3rd, 2013
For the first time I have hit a spot in this novel where the scene isn’t working. I know what the problem is. One of the characters isn’t coming through fully here, so it’s feeling very flat and plastic. On the other hand, part of the scene rocks. I’ve introduced a new character that just makes me giggle. She’s really obnoxious.
This part, however, does work so far. So I’m sharing because all the interesting things I thought of telling you today went out of my head. Except you should look at this. It’s about Lake Natron in Tanzania where the water turns the animals into statues on account of chemicals from a volcanic eruption. Really surreal and cool.
and here’s the snippet:
Price stopped and turned me face him. “Screw Josh. He got himself into this mess without any help, and he’s a selfish bastard for dragging you into it with him. He’s not worth your life, Riley. No one is.”
I blinked at him, trying to figure out which of his eyes were real and which were the double vision pair. “Isn’t that your job? I mean the cop one, not the one where you kill people for the Tyet.”
Saaahmackdown! Cass said in my head. The word vibrated through my skull, sending aching ripples down my spine. Oops, sorry. But there’s more to you than I thought.
“My job is to hunt down bad guys. Not die.”
“What do you do when you’re the bad guy?” I waved the question away. “Nevermind. It’s none of my business. But I get the picture. You aren’t planning on dying for me. Message received.”
Wednesday, September 25th, 2013
It’s coming along quite nicely thus far. Though I’m heading for the potential middle slump. I hope not.
Here is the word count thus far
35995 / 90000 words. 40% done!
and a snippet, with errors, but I’m tired and I have to go pick up the girlie at school:
He gave me a sharp look and then finished removing the lid. Nestled inside was a long, thin piece of metal. It was covered in silver whiskers. They shifted and moved like they were underwater.
I brushed the fringe softly with my finger. The fine strands combed through my skin and blood welled and dripped. The metal piece convulsed and strands of silver shot out to capture my hand. I jerked back, barely in time. The box shook violently. Price grabbed the lid and pressed it down, holding it in place until the shaking stopped. Quickly he slid it back into the grooves and clicked it closed.
Blood was running pretty freely down my finger. I grabbed the washcloth he’d used to clean me up earlier and pressed it hard against my finger.
“That was unexpected,” I said. “Wonder what would have happened if it grabbed me?”
“I expect it would have torn you up like a wood chipper,” Price said. “I was wondering why you kept a blood null with you. Now I’m wondering why you don’t have more of them.” His eyes were hooded and grooves dug deep into the side of his nose and lips.
Thursday, September 19th, 2013
I had some great news this week, and that is The Hollow Crown finally reverted back to me. I have another publisher who wishes to reissue and finish the series. We’re working out details now, but hopefully I’ll have an announcement before too long.
Because of that, I begged out of my teaching job. I asked them to find another person to cover if they could–but promised I would not leave them high and dry if they couldn’t. I explained why–more books to write. They were fabulous and found another person quickly. Thank you Jeremy! That’s a lot of stress of my back.
The writing has been rocking this week. I’m working on Trace of Magic, the first of two books set in an alternative Colorado. It’s sensational fun.
Here’s a snippet:
He surveyed the room. “The FBI would have seized everything. I’m a little surprised they haven’t cleaned him out already.”
“Maybe the company was looking for evidence or sensitive documents. They had to know he was being investigated. If he was embezzling, presumably it was through work. Where else could he?”
“The question is, did they find what they were looking for?”
“Actually, the question is, what are we looking for?” I asked. “And don’t go all Velma on me and say clues. Cause duh. What constitutes a clue?”
“We’ll know it when we see it.”
“Gee, thanks, Velma,” I said. I sat down at the desk. I was looking for whatever hadn’t been found. Josh has always been a straight arrow and not particularly imaginative, but he apparently had another side, which mean I should be looking for good hiding places.
Thursday, September 5th, 2013
Today I got the kids to school on time. Both of them. I hope boy does well. He needs to make friends. He’s outgoing and sweet, but at the same time, he’s the new kid among kids who’ve known each other for awhile. I think girlie will have it easier and settle in quicker.
I also convinced my computer to talk to my scanner and my scanner to listen. This is progress.
I’ve been in a Jane Austen sort of mood. I wish my books were unpacked.
I suspect it has a little to do with the piece I’m writing, and since I have little else of worth to say today, I’ll leave you with a snippet:
To give Missy and Lord Stanworth a moment to talk, she engaged the Colonel in coversation.
“Tell me, Colonel. You are currently billeted here at The Tower, are you not?”
He bowed. “Indeed I am, Miss Isabeau.”
“How are you liking it? It must be quite a change from your previous duties in America.”
He smiled. “America has its beauties, but I am glad to be back home.”
“A return to coal smoke thick as fog and the wondrous noise and stench of the city—you must be positively delighted,” she said, then flushed. Her stupid tongue! One of these days she was going to have to put a nail in it to keep it from flopping around saying inappropriate things. She must remember to be demure and reserved, and not insult a man’s feelings or his home. She didn’t want to embarrass Lady Phillipa or Missy, nor did she want to be the reason her sister’s chances for a good marriage were ruined.
The colonel focused on her as if he’d not quite seen her before. He lifted a dark brow and smiled, his blue eyes sparking with humor. He was handsome, for a man of thirty. His face was tanned despite the early November weather, and he was quite fit, with broad shoulders, a determined jaw, and an aquiline nose. His smile softened his austere expression.
“Indeed, the air in London is most refreshing, compared to the quite bright beauty of America,” he said. “I cannot tell you how many times I have wished to find myself back in the fetid soup we like to call air. Truly refreshing.”
“I suppose you also had a great many parties and balls to attend in America,” Isa said, unable to stop her perverse tongue.
“Ah yes. War time is such a fertile time for balls. Why, I believe I hardly had a moment to give a single order or run a battle campaign. All my time was spent on silks and laces and learning the latest dances.”
She covered her mouth to prevent a most unladylike burst of laughter. “It’s a wonder you didn’t come back fat and gouty.”
“A wonder,” he agreed. His head tilted as he considered her. “You are a most unexpected young woman, Miss Isabeau.”
“Yes, much to my stepmother’s everlasting despair. I am sadly very poor company.”
“Not at all. I find you quite refreshing.”
She couldn’t help her small snort. “Just like the fetid London soup air.”
Wednesday, August 7th, 2013
I always have psychological trouble with beginnings. Even though I KNOW it’s not set in stone and that I’ll go back and revise it and probably it will vanish forever and be replaced with something else, I always have trouble overcoming my subconscious sense that this is it, the only beginning and it must be good. Great. It must be spectacular!
Yeah, so anyhow, I’m working on a beginning. I actually have the beginning and I’m hoping it will be enough that I can continue on smoothly. We bought a ceiling fan for my office, which, once installed, should make it much easier to get work done.
And I’ll have news shortly for you (really happy news) and so I’ll leave you with this snippet.
He looked back at us. Something moved across his expression as the overhead light faded slowly. He slowly set his gun on the console. The threat was clear.
“One more thing. I want to know what you aren’t telling me. Right now.” But he looked at me, not at Taylor.
I didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t either. I mean, I was hiding everything I could from him. How was I supposed to know what exactly had set off his radar?
Saturday, July 27th, 2013
In honor of finishing a chapter and also getting my desk today (I can’t wait!) here is a snippet from the nameless WIP for you:
“I’d like to leave now,” she announced. “It was nice to meet you, Lisette.” She turned and stumbled down the trail, her head spinning. Her legs shook and she stumbled over a clump of grass. Her lungs were tight and she could barely breathe. Rounding a bend, she stopped and violently threw up.
She snapped straight and spun around to find Lisette’s father standing behind her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her stomach lurching again.
“I’m Lattimer Edwards,” he said, eyeing her warily. He’d been stung only a few times. “I want to thank you for helping my daughter. I owe you a debt.”
Her mouth tightened into a grimacing smile. Some thanks. Men holding her prisoner at gunpoint. Quite the Hallmark moment.
He seemed to read her mind. “We don’t cotton much to outsiders and we’re protective of our own. I— My kids are all I’ve got in the world. I have to protect them as I can. You understand.” There wasn’t a hint of apology in his tone; he was merely explaining a hard reality, one that wouldn’t bend for innocent women.
The truth was that she did understand. Or rather, she’d desperately wished for the same sentiment from her own father. He’d failed her abysmally. Understanding, however, didn’t excuse or justfy this man and his companions threatening her.
“Mr. Edwards, while I appreciate your inclination to thank me, I don’t particularly care for your variety of gratitude. So if you don’t mind, and even if you do, I’d just as soon go home and never see you again, especially not on the other end of a gun.”
Taryn swung around again and hadn’t gone but two steps before he spoke again.
“I’m afraid I can’t oblige you,” he said with an odd combination of pride and apology. “I’ve gotta pay my due when I owe it.”
Wednesday, July 24th, 2013
Here’s a snippet. Hope you enjoy. Also, I’ve got a post up on Magical Words on Cardboard Characters today. Do come and visit.
Taryn could only blink in disbelief. It was the stuff of children’s nightmares and old world witch burnings. Her gaze dropped to the book on the rock. She couldn’t argue that there wasn’t magic in Axton. And Granger had come notifying the Book List after Hattie’s attack. He wouldn’t have done that if there wasn’t real power in the books and in the women who claimed them.
Where there was power, there was danger.
Surreptitiously, she nudged the book off the rock into the pool. It sank without a splash.
“I wouldn’t ever hurt you,” she said.
“The question is, why would my Lisette think you would?”
Taryn spun around and fell hard on her butt, only to find herself looking up at the business end of yet another gun.