Holed up in my writing cave

I'd planned on a continuation of the rescue of Ms. Wildstar for my midweek post, but instead, I've been writing. Oh man, does it feel good. It's been a long time since I've actually been writing rather than soley editing. Since last November, actually. Too long.

After a much needed refilling of my creative well, I dived into writing a few new middle chapters for Trust. Thankfully, I left a clearly outlined plan for this section during my last round of cuts or I'd be banging my head against the wall, wondering what the heck I intended to do in the space where I deleted 13,000 words. I have to admit, outlining isn't totally evil after all.

Why delete 13,000 words? My plot needed focus in that area. Total refocus, to be exact.

It's so good to be working with these characters again. I've missed them while playing with short stories and Sahmara's Sunset.

I found that listening to the CD's I had been obsessed with at the time when I was doing one of my major rewrites that inspired this current version, has been a wonderful way to get back into the character's motives. Not that I can listen to music when I actively write, but I do do a good deal of mental writing in the car or while I'm working and that often happens when I'm drifting off into la la land with background music. Perhaps that's not such a good thing when I'm driving. Hmm.

Six Sentence Sunday: Sahmara's Sunset 2

Last week I gave you the first lines of my first fantasy novel, Sahmara's Sunset. This week, we get a hint as to how Sahmara ended up in hands of the enemy.

The hall was tainted by the metallic tang of her father’s men being put to death by Altherian swords. True to his Ma’hasi training, Zane stood in front of her, his sword at the ready. At the other end of the hall, her mother screamed as soldiers pinned her to the ground. Her Father bellowed threats while two men held him back. A third held a knife to his throat.

They kept asking her father questions, but Sahmara couldn’t understand them.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts here.

Weasel attack: Eight Months early

Yeah, I know, NaNo is eight months away but I got this email last night and it reminded me of some of the raffle items I wanted to do for next year's regional events. Which then thwacked me on the head and urged me to create next year's regional logo. Since Rippy McWeasel was so popular last year, (even the newspaper reporter wanted to know more about him!), he gets a special place in this year's logo.

Working a ten and some hour day should have ended at that point, but the logo project called to me and the next thing I knew, two hours had passed, my husband had gone to bed and it was just me and Rippy hanging out on my computer like old times (last November). What do you think?

Six Sentence Sunday: Sahmara's Sunset

I've been meaning to join in the Six Sentence Sunday fun for well over a month. Every time Sunday evening rolls around I smack myself in the forehead and pledge to remember to get a post ready for the next week. What can I say, I've been a smidge scatterbrained thanks to an overwhelming workload lately. But I finally remembered!

Sahmara's Sunset was my first NaNoWriMo novel. My first fantasy novel. The novel that made me realize there was life after finishing a novel I'd been writing for years. Writing it was a very liberating and inspiring experience. I recently revisited Sahamara's Sunset as part of this year's NaNo 50k, rewriting the first half from scratch and finally creating some words I'm willing to let others see.

The first lines...

Tall grass ripped at Sahmara’s bare legs as she ran headlong across the moonlit field. She glanced over her shoulder. The shadows of her recent captors had grown distant, their voices no more than whispers on the cool wind. Sahmara slowed, not of her own volition, but because her body threatened to collapse if she didn’t. Bent low, she hid in the thick blades. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath.

Victims of the Knife: The search for Ms. Wildstar

Xander peers at the slowing stream of brain jello seeping down the side desk. "Quick! Our writer must be falling asleep. We need to get to her computer to search for that Indian's story."

"Thanks for the recap." Nekar rolls his eyes.

"Sorry, I though we might need one since it's been several days since our last entry. I tried to keep it subtle and quick."

"You call that subtle?" The older man shakes his head. "Whatever. We have work to do. Gather up all pins and thumbtacks you can find. We're going to need some footholds."

Xander nods and dashes off. Nekar sits on the paper-lined path, pondering the few glimpses he's had of the computer high above them. A scrap of paper catches his attention. His heart beats faster.

Xander rushes back up the path, his arms full of colorful tacks and a few bent straight pins. "What are you smiling about?"

Nekar points to the paper. "She loved me once. Ms. MC and I, we really had something."

"Yeah, and as I recall, you ended up wanting to kill each other, and at one point, you plucked out her eyes."

"She got new ones. Better ones."

"I know, they're around here somewhere. Locked away in a box, I hope." Xander shudders.

Nekar scowls and yanks a handful of tacks from Xander's arms. He slams the first one into the side of the wooden desk at waist height. "I can't believe our writer cut me so effectively from my novel. Every single scrap of me." He rests a booted foot on the first tack and reaches up to plant another. "I added conflict, tension and some excellent fight scenes, if I do say so myself."

"You're uhh, going to run out of tacks before you get much farther. Not to mention, how are you climbing upward and inserting tacks one handed? You would have taken them all, maybe put them in a bag of some sort, or even a pocket, so you had both hands free. Ever consider that this lack of planning issue you have might be part of the reason you got cut?"

"It wasn't my lack of planning." Nekar jumps to the ground. Paper flutters away from the immediate vicinity. "It was hers. It's all her fault. If she'd used any sort of outline, she would have seen-"

"That you were unnecessary from the start?"

Nekar's face turns red and his eyes narrow. He grabs Xander and throws the lanky youth to the ground, pinning him there with his much larger form. "Ever consider that you making random insults to instigate conflict was the reason you got cut?"

"It was an innocent observation!" Xander squirms.

"That's weak. You're a weak character. That's why your here."

"Yeah, well, we're both here. And it sucks. So unless you plan on plucking my eyes out too, we should concentrate on getting up that desk and saving Ms. Wildstar."

Nekar gives him one last long glare and lets Xander up. "Fine. Get me a bag for these damned thumbtacks, Plan-ahead-boy, and let's go."

to be continued