Writing

Beautiful People: Marianne McCarron

Beautiful people is a monthly character link-up hosted by Sky at Further Up and Further In and Kait at Paper Fury. They post ten questions aimed at understanding your characters better, and I am in desperate need of this with Marianne. I’ve decided to just up and start a new novel for Camp NaNo… sort of. It’s got the same title of a novel I’ve started twice before, but the progress I’ve made on that is going to go toward something else, and this concept is going to start over with all new characters and a mostly new plot. So, here’s Marianne, a sophomore in college I know very little about right now. (more…)

Welcome to Hell #1

a study in character development

“Welcome to hell,” the devil said, his long white beard scraggling down from his acne-ridden, pockmarked chin the hair couldn’t quite hide. He holds one arm out, the other too familiar on my back, his sweat-stained suit hanging limply, as though with no feasible options for homicide, it had resorted to suicide instead. (more…)

Beautiful People: Emily Catherine Harlowe

Beautiful People is a link-up hosted by Sky at Further Up and Further In and Kait at Paper Fury, and it’s a wonderful thing. I did one before (though it was almost a year after the questions had been posted), and with any luck, I will manage to keep it up every month, or somewhere thereabouts. With my track record, that’s not likely. But anything is possible!

This month’s is parental-themed, so I tried to think through any of my characters who actually currently have a relationship with their parents. Or even have parents that were mentioned in the story. So of course, I remembered the novel I’m trying to forget for long enough that I can eventually return to edit it: Hawke. I’m breaking my rule for this post, because parental influences are, like, the main theme in this book after terrible decisions. Without further ado, here goes. (more…)

Beautiful People: Delilah Jane Houston

I love writing. It’s frustrating, impossible, irritating, and often painful, and the end product is never actually completed. It’s great. I’ve been working on a few stories (with plots that form as they go), but for some reason today my brain refuses to get into the writing mode. Enter beautiful people:

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Thieves of Bakkaj

So, I’ve been quiet on here as of late, ruining last year’s New Years resolution to write every day or once a week or whatever it was that I resolved to do in 2016. It wasn’t for lack of ideas–so get ready for a lot of rants inspired by the things I find around the internet–but I do have a good excuse. Or, an excuse, anyway.

A few friends and I have started writing a serial story: Thieves of Bakkaj. It’s a fantasy story, and a chapter is published each week, alternating between me and the other three writers. It’s got well-developed characters and the potential to become something really awesome. I’d love it if you’d check it out and give us a read!

thieves-graphic-thinnerr

We also have a Facebook page, and we’re trying to get the word out best we can.

So here’s to 2017 being the year I manage to keep up my blog for more than four months while working on the other things I’m writing, and here’s to 2017 being the year I become internet famous, because it certainly wasn’t 2016. But we’re getting there.

Cheers!

Maid of Honor

She sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands.  The strung lights cast long shadows as she curled her perfectly manicured toes against the rough wood.  It was the first time in a long time her toenails had all been the same color.  She covered her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the stupid white painted flower.  Instead images from earlier flashed through her mind.  His smile, his bare feet, the way his skin looked against the white button-down.  His frown, the hurt in his eyes… She fell backwards with a groan.  This is not how this night is supposed to end.  Her fingers traced patterns in the white bedspread as she stared at the wooden ceiling and the impractical mosquito net.  This night was supposed to be perfect—for both of us.  A single tear dropped from her eye.  This is stupid, she thought.  Screw them.  Screw him.  He’s worthless, anyway.  She didn’t mean to say it out loud.  She hadn’t heard the door open; but she heard it close.