Six Sentence Sunday: Sahmara's Sunset 5

This this week's excerpt: In order to offer Sara protection from the rough band of men Sahmara travels with, she has claimed Sara as her own. Sara isn't exactly opposed to the arrangment.

Sara leaned forward and planted a wine flavored kiss on Sahmara’s lips.

With the haze of the quickly downed glass of wine and the rush of the swordfight, Sahmara was quite enjoying herself. Sara’s thin, delicate fingers intertwined with her own. The sound of Olando choking on his wine broke them apart at last.

“Are you all right?” Sahmara grabbed the cup from his hand and patted him on the back.

I hope you've enjoyed these glimpses into Sahmara's Sunset. I'll be moving to another project next Sunday.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.

You know you've been bit hard by the writing bug when...

It's saturday night and you're out with your husband at a packed brewery. It's filled with the sound of two hundred people talking at once. Your husband telling you how, when he comes here after work now and then, he sees crazy people taking up an entire table with their laptop and a beer while he and his friends can't find a spot to sit. And all the while you're thinking how much you'd like to be that crazy person because the chatter is a perfect white noise level and a draft beer while writing sounds wonderful. Hell, I'd even offer his friends my extra chairs as long as they'd sit somewhere else.

Six Sentence Sunday: Sahmara's Sunset 4

In this weeks excerpt: Sahamara has had pay her dues to her protector while she searches for Zane and a way home.

Half into the dream world, she tried to convince herself that it was Zane’s arm draped over her hip. The hands that had touched her in the woods had been his and his rough cheeks had been against hers. His unbound blond hair had fallen against her face as he traveled down her body, delivering kisses to every inch of her flushed skin. She could smell him, leather and oil, and breathed deep. Sahmara wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her. She moaned.

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts here.

Novels in the oven

For me novels are like that recipe you vaguely remember your dearly departed grandmother making in your childhood. You know what you want, but no one can tell you just how to put it all together. The exact taste is right there on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't quite name the ingredient you keep missing. And you need to give it time to cook. But now much time? Too much and it's overdone and dry, not enough and you've got a mushy mess of stark flavors on your hands (or fork).

I write a rough draft, add in some notes of intent for the really rough spots and toss that puppy in the subconsicious oven. (No real puppies were harmed during this post.) I turn the light on inside the oven and sit and stare. Nothing cooks when you watch it, I swear. So I walk away. I have no freaking idea when this meal is going to be done. Rushing the process just makes me bang my head on walls. So I go look for something to eat while I wait for the DING!

I eat my obligatory vegetables. I enjoy some broccoli while editing, some carrots while I read books and blogs on writing. Sometimes I munch on a salad go on critique sprees. I do enjoy my veggies, but I long for that main course. It smells so darn good. Why isn't it done yet?

I sneak a few pieces of chocolate cake while I read books for fun and catch up on the tv shows I otherise ignore. That cake is indulgently wonderful, but it's not filling.

Nothing quite hits the spot, so I sneak off with a sandwhich and write short stories. Filling yes, but still not what I'm craving.

And then it comes. A DING that fills my head and sends my fingers flying over the keyboard to find that draft I'd set aside so long ago. All that time waiting, smelling, drooling, and now I grab my fork and dive in. I can't stop eating. I must. Keep. Eating.

Once I wash the dishes and get over the stomach ache, I'll sit back and ponder if I got the recipe right this time. If I did, who knows, I might finally be ready to invite some friends to dinner.

Six Sentence Sunday: Sahmara's Sunset 3

In today's excerpt of Sahmara's Sunset, we learn that the goddess is not as benevolent and loving as the priests of Sahmara's childhood had taught.

Sahmara jerked her hand back, but the old woman held on with surprising strength.

She slid the tip of the knife against Sahmara’s finger.
Sahmara watched in horror as Reva thrust the bloody finger into her mouth and sucked at it ravenously. Her shock wore off a second later and she managed to yank her finger back from the wet, toothless maw.

Reva lapped a drop of blood from her chin with her long, red tongue. “Eager enough for my help, but so reluctant to pay?

Enjoy other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.

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.