WIP Wednesday

It’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

 Its hard to share what I’ve been working on this week when all the stories have been sent out pending publication. To either be accepted or rejected.

So, instead, I’m sharing a snippet from the same universe as the one I shared last week. This takes place during Dragonsblood. Just prior to Queen Mab being killed.

*The asylum is modelled off Kew Asylum in Melbourne, Australia.

Ash put the key into the lock and turned the key. The locking mechanism turned with an audible click and the door was opened. Twisting the doorknob Ash throws open the main doors.

I step over the threshold and shove my emotions aside. Being back at Wellesmere wasn’t my idea of fun and if there had been any other alternative I would have gladly taken it, but Wellesmere was the only place with enough rooms and living space to house everyone.

“Ever think in a million years we’d see the inside of this place again Scarlett?” Ava asked.

I shook my head. “Nope.”

Walking inside, I can’t help but notice the fine layer of dust which coats the wooden floor boards, my shoe prints can be seen making a trail behind me. “Welcome to Wellesmere. Originally home to the mentally insane, it once moonlighted as a juvenile detention centre in lieu of a mystical holding cell for yours truly. I’d give you the history of the building as Sister Bernadette told it to me but frankly, I tuned her out within the first five minutes.”

“You lived here?” Ella asked stepping across the threshold.

I shrugged. “Three years off and on.”

“And you’re sure they won’t think to look for us here?” Mordecai asked.

“I can’t say for certain what they’ll do,” I said. “But, this place is a far better alternative than Cornwall.”

“Is it?” Emrys asked. “Because Tintagel seems really good right about now. The place is legendary.”

“And old, really old,” Robin put in. “No offence Sorcha.”

Sorcha Donovan snorted, clearly displeased. Tintagel, according to Zooey, was her grandmother’s ancestral home.

So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

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WIP Wednesday

Dandelions CoverIt’s time to SHARE what you’re working on!

Alright, so in the interest of doing something different and keep my blog from getting stale, I thought it couldn’t hurt to throw a 500 word excerpt from my latest Work-in-Progress or WIP.

The rules are pretty simple, if you want to play along.

Just share up to 500 words in the comments from something you’ve been working on.

This particular scene came about while I was writing a short story for submission to an anthology. I actually mentioned it on my Facebook page. I hate killing off characters, I really do. So much so, I either put it off, or wind up being upset for days afterwards. I don’t think there’s ever been a time where I haven’t cried when killing of a character. Funeral’s suck, by the way. In almost thirty six years on this earth, I’ve been to far too many of them. I can count thirteen off the top of my head.

In this scene which will probably feature somewhere in my Eldritch, Scarlett has just found out that her older brother, Atticus has died in a car accident and she’s chosen, to everybody’s shock, to carry on with the trip to Cornwall. Instead of staying behind and dealing with her grief. (Zooey is fey and telepathic)

Scarlett sat outside on the stairs of the deck, listening to the same song over and over on her phone. It was off, what would now become, her brother’s last ever album.

As she listened, tears glistened, but she refused to let them fall.

“You’d think she would have broken by now,” Zooey said.

“And why’s that?” Ash mused. “Red’s stronger than she looks.”

“Strong on the outside maybe,” Zooey agreed. “But I don’t know about on the inside. She’s sitting out there listening to the same song on repeat.”

“And you know that how?” Ash asked before it dawned on him. “Never mind. I forgot who I was speaking too.”

And with that he stood up and headed outside to join Scarlett. When he sat down next to her on the steps, she turned and looked at him, taking one of the earbuds out.

“Are you okay?”

Scarlett lent her head on his shoulder and Ash wrapped and arm around her.

“I am now,” she said. “You can tell Zooey; she doesn’t have to worry. I’m fine… really.”

“She said that you were listening to the same song on repeat,” he said. “Scarlett, that’s not… fine.”

“It’s a bonus track,” Scarlett said. “Acoustic. I just wanted to hear his voice without all the backing vocals distorting it.”

A lone tear zig zagged down her cheek to her chin. “I’m not going to break, Ash.” She shook her head. “I can’t afford to.”

“You don’t have to be here. It’s not as if we can’t handle the dragons without you.”

“No,” Scarlett said softly. “I’m not going home so that I can sit around and do nothing. I’ll go crazy.”

“Scarlett,” Ash chided as Scarlett stood up.

“I’m staying. End of story,” she said. “Tell Zooey she can keep her nose out of my business from now on. I don’t need a baby sitter, Ash. I’m fine. In the event that that changes, you’ll be the first to know, but until then…”

Ash sighed. “Until then, you’re just going to continue to do exactly what you’re doing and ignore your pain.”

“I’m not in pain.”

“No?” Ash asked standing up. “There’s a room full of people in there who say otherwise. They’re not stupid or blind. They see you. And he was your brother, for crying out loud. Regardless of your relationship with him, he was your brother and you loved him. You can’t just shut yourself off to everything you’re feeling and pretend it’s all okay, when it’s not.”

“Yeah, well…” Scarlett paused. “Atticus is dead. And if pretending that he’s not is going to get me through the next six days until the funeral, then so be it. I don’t want to break Ash, I really don’t.” She smiled through her tears. “But by all means, bring me back to reality, because God knows the real world hasn’t dumped on me enough already.”

 So, what are you waiting for? Bring out your WIP for WIP Wednesday!

 

It All Starts With Coffee

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Yes, it’s true! I’m a coffee addict. Like you didn’t know.

So, by now, it’s no secret… or at least I hope it’s no secret, that I write every day. Some days not as much as others, but I do write daily.

It’s not something I’ve always done. In fact, it took me two years to make the habit stick and it wasn’t easy.

Now, I’m not going to tell you what to write… that part is up to you. Blog, novel, short story… journal? Whatever. Nor am I going to give you story ideas… although, that might make for an interesting series of blog posts sometime in the future.

For now though, let’s get back to developing daily writing habits.

Decide what you want to work on. Is it a short story or a novel? Does it have a deadline? How many words is it?

Break it down. And keep your daily word count target small. There’s nothing more overwhelming then setting a daily goal of a 1000 words and falling short because you were so caught up in writing ALL THE WORDS. Trust me, small is better.

Take my goal for instance. In January I set a goal to write 275 words a day. Some days I write more, others I write less, but in six months I’ve never missed a day.

I know many writers who churn out upwards of 5,000 words one day and then don’t write for days afterwards. I don’t get it. I mean, each writer’s writing process is different but I’d much rather see the progress on the page, bit my bit, than multiple zeros on a spreadsheet. But then, I also like accountability. I like seeing proof of my progress.

Make time. I cannot stress this enough. Even ten minutes. My biggest time saver when stealing time for writing is my iPhone. I often find I’m more productive if I just use the notes app, but I have MS Word on there too and I save everything to OneDrive, so its all right there waiting for me to pick it up the next day on whichever device I choose to work with.

You’re probably sitting reading this and going but I don’t have time, right? Wrong. Back in April I felt the exact same way. I asked other writers how I could fix it. How I could up my productivity and stop procrastinating. I’m time poor. I have four kids and a husband, along with a house to take care off. Something had to give, and it couldn’t be any of those three big things. Family is important.

So, what did I do? Well I began tracking my time for a whole week. 7 days. It made me accountable to the house, the kids and my husband, and I soon saw a pattern forming and I was able to identify blocks of time where I could write.

Back in May, I posted this about finding time and while it’s not a concise picture of every day of the week, it is a rough idea of what a week day looks like for me. It’ll likely change when I get a part time job, becoming even crazier, I suspect, but I’ll deal.

So, I made time. Two hours at night. And not every night mind you. Some days I blow off writing at night in favour of TV and when I do I make up the words in other ways. By blogging, for instance. Yes, I multitask.

Pick one project. You don’t have to do everything at once. I have… three, no four novels on the go at the moment. I switch between all of them depending on the day and my mood. It helps me to keep the story fresh. And tricks my mind into thinking I’m working on something new, even though I’m clearly not.

And, I could go on, but I won’t. So… if you think there’s something I’ve missed or you have a question, pop it in a comment and I’ll be sure to reply.