Should be spoiler free, cause it’s about characters practically no one knows. Julie and Mandy are Ruth’s two oldest daughters, Ruth being a witch I’ve mentioned here briefly before. Anywho, it’s a fun stand alone short, enjoy!
So, on the one hand, it seems my writing vacation has fallen through, because working retail during the holidays is pretty much the worst thing and there’s no such thing as time off. On the other hand, I’m still determined to work on something, damnit, for the sake of my soul and sanity if nothing else. So I opened up ye olde word document that I’d put aside to work on my NaNo. Asylum, my sweet baby, I have missed you.
Naj is still a hot mess, but he’s an action hero hot mess now, instead of just this sweet little lump that I didn’t know what to do with until about halfway through the novel. He’s still easily confused and just wants to help, but now he actually gets to do things. This scene is a great indicator of the pace and flavor that I was hoping for when I started the streamlining process. Enjoy!
Sometimes, we find inspiration in the simplest places. Sometimes, that inspiration leads to some truly creepy things.
I took the dog out this morning and heard a steady knocking, someone clearly not having much luck being let inside. I thought at first, “Wow, 8 at night is really late to be beating on someone’s door–” then remembered day light savings and that it was only about 6:30. Still, after dark is after dark, and in times where we lived with the sun…
And then this happened.
I read somewhere during October to have a secondary project to turn to, when your NaNo inspiration dries up. Somewhere along the way, my secondary seems to have taken over. 😛 I’m still getting good work done on my original, but that stuff is more worldbuildy, telling myself stories to figure things out, casual kind of stuff. Lahna and Ma’khan, at least, seem to be a proper novel. And they’re cute, so I’m always delighted to work with them, so it keeps me motivated and happy. And a happy writer is less likely to kill people off, so it’s win win win, right? Hopefully, this will yield a NaNo win, too. *crosses fingers* Continue reading
The nice thing about #NaNoWriMo is that it pushes me to write things I might not otherwise. With the big focus on WORD COUNT OMG WORD COUNT, it means that if a scene is niggling around in the back of my mind, I’ll write it. No matter how useless or irrelevant it might seem. Or if its at all related to the project I’m “supposed” to be working on. (Side note: COUNT IT ALL. Words written are words written are words written. You never know what is and isn’t going to be useful, and most of what you write in your first draft gets scrapped or changed anyways, so count everything. I do.)
I had meant to use this year’s #NaNo energy to finish Book 1 of Love That Broke the War, then start on Book 2. Unfortunately, Book 3 keeps nagging at my brain. So, have a scene. 😛
It’s no small secret that I am deeply inspired by the Keisha’ra by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes. One of the things that I find myself coming back to again and again is the style of opening with a journal entry. I almost never keep them, but I enjoy writing them, and they help me find my character and my tone. I sat down tonight to work on some death lore, to put to words some ideas Cait and I talked out on the way into work. I found this instead. 😛
It is said that the first fires came from Li’Daea’s hair, and that all fire returns us to her embrace.
So it is said.
I have seen plenty of fires, on the hearth, in the fields, in the hearts of bitter men. On the bodies of the fallen.
I have never seen any signs of any Goddess.
But it warms our bones as we huddle in the dark, a circle of light and warm to chase away the night. We do not fear its betrayal tonight. If there anyone left to see our fire, they are surely as cold and desperate as we. As defeated.
No one actually wins any battles. Sides may fare better or worse than other sides–but so long as there are “other sides”, no one will ever win. Our only hope is to become to beaten and downtrodden by mutual destruction that we come together out of desperation. Cooperation our only hope of survival.
Even then, I don’t hold out much hope for our chances.
Scaled devils. Heartless bastards. The thing that killed my father, brother, mother. They don’t look out and see people. They see targets.
But sometimes, sometimes I wonder. Do they really so those things, in the fallen bodies lying right next to our own? Or do they tell themselves those things so they can bear to raise their bows one more time, gut one more thing they know to be a person?
I don’t tell myself anything.
I simply do as I’m told.
Adrielle Shevell, First Captain
Second Division of Pikemen