Regarding the novellas…

I mentioned awhile back I was working on developing a couple of novellas potentially for FB. I’ve been working the most on the Valkyrie idea, but I’ve been beating my head into a brick wall on it the past week or so. I think … it needs more simmering time. There’s something “off” and I’m not quite sure what.

However, the main problem I had with the second one — a follow-up of sorts to Waking the Shadows — just clicked the other night. I wanted to write when Arielle and Jackson first met and continue later, but I wasn’t sure how to do it… but I figured out an external plot that I think will mesh nicely with it.

So, I talked to Faith about it. For some reason, I don’t think outlining is the best way to go with this. I’m going to write the novella — which I think should end up around 30kish — and then submit it.
I think it’ll also be easier to switch between this WIP and Stronger, as they’re both in the same setting. Anyway, I finished the first chapter at 2510. A short snippet:

Reynolds nodded curtly, then his face softened. “You’re the best we’ve got, Ari. We’re stuffed to the gills with psychics and hearthwitches, but you’re the only one with enough power to take down a vampire.”

Yeah. A vampire. One shouldn’t be a problem, even if it’s a sanguine. But if it’s a whole coven, I’m going to be screwed like a sorority girl doped up on Rophynol. With the entire football team. Yeah. So not looking forward to this.

Progress + Snippet

I didn’t finish the chapter, like I’d hoped I would, but I got a good 1622 words in it. Adding that to what I’d written earlier puts me at 3046 for the day. It’s been a bloody long time since I’ve written that much. I’m … very pleased. Exhilerated, in fact.

I’m quite proud of a specific bit of writing I did during the Word War with Amme and Morgan. Snippeting because I want to share:

Conflicting thoughts swirled in his mind as he prowled his ebon palace, his domain. Now, without the demon’s influences, he could see changes … slight changes in the atmospheric matrices. Part of him thought he should stop thinking about her–after all, it wouldn’t change anything–and return to his duties as Dragonlord. And yet … There is so little time. I can’t lose her. I can’t.

But he already had. Soon, she would be leaving, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. Over. The thought repeated in his mind, driving him into a downward maelstrom of inner torment. His heart felt like a fragile statuette on a wobbling pedastal–even the slightest nudge would send it shattering to the floor below. It had only been what, a matter of days since he first met her? And now he could not imagine life without her? Without her laugh, her smile, her witty and talented tongue? Veren smiled at the thought, but it was an expression marked with deep sadness.

I never had the chance to get to know her … to know who she is, deep down, at her core. And yet … their souls had touched, in that brilliant moment when she’d sacrificed her virginity, her sanctity by some definitions, to restore him unto the world. He knew her, in a way he had known no other woman alive. Even if he did not know the specifics of her life and origins, he’d touched the beauty, the strength and jubilation, the passion and pain, truth and honor and justice and all that was good but also the darkness, the wild bestial lust of her feline self. The second skin, the darker side of her soul.

He’d hunted with her. Brought down their prey, tasted its blood together, shared the joy and rapture of the kill, made love soaked in the remnants of its life force. Partners. Not master and servant, like the humans with their bonds, but equals.

That was the difference. She, in all her dark glory, was equal to him, like no other ever had been.

And he was about to lose it all.

I’ve been writing for several years, and I have never had description flow as quickly, smoothly, and overall well as these two chapters. Seriously. When I did description of this sort for Wings of Steel last fall, I had to struggle for it. This is just … flowing.

Not that I’m complaining. It’s just… a surprise. Especially since I hadn’t worked on this specific WIP in almost three years. By all rights, it shouldn’t flow like this … but it is.

Wow.

And … with that, I’m headed off to bed. I’ve been up near 24hrs this point, and I need to get some sleep. I’ll pick up the WIP in the morning, I think, finish off the chapter, and then work on Stronger.

Love to all!

Wordage

Wrote 563 words in At the End of the World, the story I’m doing for MuseMuggers. Feeling rather shitty at the moment (had a really bad hypoglycemic attack earlier), so I think I’m going to go off and take a bath. We’ll see how I feel afterwards; I may write more, or I may crawl off to bed. (Methinks it will be the latter, but who knows?)

Small snippet from the WIP:

“What is your business here?” Laesha, Archmage of Pyre Tower, shot an annoyed glance at the ruffian on her doorstep. He might’ve been handsome, were he not covered with dirt and grime, hair touseled with sea salt. His eyes caked near shut by the muck, she couldn’t even tell their color.

The man stared back at her, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his salt-stiffened, water-stained coat. It looked to be of better quality than someone such as him could possibly afford. Her lips quirked as suspicion rose. “Have ye been unaware of the storm, milady?”

“I have not.” Did he think her an imbecile? No one could possibly have ignored the waves crashing against the island’s high cliffs, nor the wind blasting against her tower’s walls, and certainly not the lightning striking down trees which had stood untouched for centuries. Realization dawned on her. “You were out in the middle of that and survived?”

“Aye.” He ducked his head in a nod. “I did. My crew did not.”

She tightened her lips, lowering her head in an expression of sympathy. “I am sorry to hear of your loss, sirrah.” Thunder rumbled across the sky and lightning crackled. Even though she did not trust this man, she couldn’t just leave him at the mercy of the elements. Laesha extended her hand, beckoning. “Come. You have my hospitality until the storm passes.”