It’s flash fiction time again – yay! Veronica Forand wants us to write 100 words using Spring, coffee, and lizard. If you’ve joined me from A.S. Fenichel, what did you think of her take? Here’s my attempt: Careful not to disturb her sleeping husband, she slid open the patio doors and stepped onto the tiny tiled balcony. The Mexican morning sun held only a hint of the heat it would have by midday yet felt wonderful on her winter-pale skin. She lifted the thick white porcelain mug to her lips, savouring the rich, dark scent of the fresh-brewed coffee. A flicker of movement caught her attention and she smiled at the sight of a tiny lizard scurrying straight up the wall into an almost invisible crack near the ceiling. Back home, Spring was weeks, if not months away, with snow piled to the eaves and temperatures cold enough to freeze her bones. But for the next seven days she would relax in the sun, re-energize her soul and reconnect with the love of her life. I cheated a bit (it’s over the word count). Let me know what you think. And now I invite you to move on to PJ Fiala and see what she came up with.
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This week, Raine Balkera wants to know what everyone is working on. Oooh, this is going to be fun! She wants details & conundrums, plus we get five bonus points for including a wee bit of our favorite scene. Well, that won’t be hard at all – oh, wait – favourite? I never know how to choose! If you’ve wandered over from Katie O'Connor’s blog, what did you think of her work in progress? As for me, my writing time is limited, so I generally work on only one project at a time. Right now, that project is tidying up WHEN TIME FALLS STILL, my fourth manuscript. DETAILS: Professor Charlotte Girardet is focused on one thing – getting tenure at a large, prestigious university. Her career is firmly on track, but her life is complicated by her attraction to rough and rugged security guard Justice Cooper. Unable to resist his confident persistence, Charlotte proposes they enjoy a short-term affair. Struggling to balance her ambitions and her growing passion, life is further complicated by Justice’s ex-wife and several vicious attacks on female students. Her strict schedule and well-defined goals, Charlotte takes a leap of faith, and trusts Justice with her deepest secret - an operation she had as a teenager has left her infertile. This announcement forces Charlotte and Justice to redefine their relationship. As they attempt to do so, Charlotte is kidnapped by the assailant that has plagued the university all year. Trapped and tormented, Charlotte uses all her ingenuity and strength to resist her attacker, holding strong long enough to be rescued by Justice. Charlotte must now decide whether to follow her long held dreams or risk a new life with Justice. CONUNDRUMS: This didn’t start out as a romantic suspense. But I couldn’t help realizing that many of the scenes in the first few chapters simply screamed out for a thriller sub-plot. I find writing believable suspense very difficult, especially in regards motivation for my villain. So right now that’s what I’m working on – I’m editing to give him (or her, you never know!) a good reason for his/her actions. EXCERPT: (This isn’t the first time Charlotte and Justice meet – but I love how this scene turned out.) A high-pitched squeal echoed through the trees. "Damn it. Chaucer! Come!" Justice raced around the bend in the path in time to see his rock-brained dog bounding away from a dark figure supine on the ground. "I said Come! damn you." Grinning as only a dog can, Chaucer galumphed to Justice, who quickly snapped on his leash and anchored him to a sapling. His victim had struggled to a sitting position, dark curls tumbled about her face. Justice took a knee next to her. "Are you all right?" The woman tossed her hair out of her eyes and stared at him. He stared back in dismay. "Professor Girardet?" "It's you. Of course it's you." She closed her eyes briefly. "Is that your dog?" Her tone was not complimentary. "He didn't mean to frighten you." "He didn't frighten me. He knocked me down." She sounded breathless. Justice glared at Chaucer, who ignored him and lifted a leg to pee against a tree. "Did he hurt you, Professor?" "Only my pride. And since your dog just bowled me over I think you're allowed to call me Charlotte." She motioned him out of the way. "Let me help you." Justice rose and held out a hand. She stared suspiciously before accepting it and allowing him to haul her to her feet. She pulled free as soon as she was upright and stepped away. "Sorry again about Chaucer." "Your dog's name is Chaucer?" She arched an eyebrow. "As in the poet?" He dipped his head acknowledgement. Her dark brown eyes slid from him to Chaucer—now industriously licking his butt—and back. The tip of her nose twitched. "It was—interesting—meeting you and your dog." She edged around him. "I'd better get home." "You live around here?" He shouldn't be surprised. Residents used the greenbelt trail often, but few strangers found their way onto it. Although he hadn't seen her before, and he and Chaucer walked it most days. "Yes." She circled past Chaucer, who woofed as she neared. She jerked. Damn it, his fool dog had scared her, no matter what she said. "How about a drink?" She wasn't wearing her hat today, but a grey, bulky knit scarf puffed out under her chin. Sunlight gleamed on the dark strands of her hair. "A drink?" "In apology. For Chaucer knocking you over." He didn't like the thought of her being scared. Of anything. Maybe spending some time with the dumb pup would help. "I've got to get back to work." He frowned. "It's Saturday." "I'm doing research. Being a professor isn't only a Monday to Friday job." "It won't take long to have a drink. Hot chocolate?" A hint of humour creased the corners of her eyes. "With marshmallows? Mini ones?" She licked her lips. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, pink and unpainted. With an effort he dragged his thoughts away from how she would taste, how she would feel. "Or Baileys, if you want to be grown up." The rapid-fire rattle of a woodpecker cut through the forest. She looked over her shoulder, indecision on her face. Her coat was thigh-length, but he could see damp patches on the backs of her legs. "You're wet." His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat. "From falling in the snow. You can warm up at my house." "I really should go home." She took a step back. "My place is right there." He pointed through the trees. All that could be seen was the wooden fence bordering his back yard, the gate in the middle propped open as he had left it. "Oh." White teeth worried her bottom lip. The attraction he'd been denying flared. With a tug of one hand he released Chaucer's leash from the tree. The pup reared onto his hind legs in delight. He jerked the leash firmly. "Off." When the dog was under control he pointed to the snowy path leading to his gate. "I'll keep Chaucer away from you. Watch your step." He guided Charlotte toward it, his free hand on the small of her back. She resisted at first, but then with a faint sigh gave in. "One drink. A quick one. And then I have to go." Well, what do you think? Let me know in the comments. And now I invite you to move on to Collette Cameron and see what she’s working on right now. Betty Bolte has reminded us it's St. Patrick's Day, and wants to know if and how we celebrate, or how we’d like to. If you’ve joined me from Raine Balkera, welcome! There is some Irish green running through my veins, but it's a few generations back. Growing up, the schools I attended recruited a lot of teachers from the British Isles, many of which were proud to wear the shamrock. St. Paddy’s Day was always a big celebration for them, and we joined in the fun. I have a long list of countries I’d love to visit, and Ireland is very close to the top. How could it not be, with views like these? And then there’s the accent – the lilting words, the rolling R’s – sigh! And if I were to go there, why not go at the right time to celebrate with all the festivities? Keep the chain going – it’s time to visit Patti Fiala and see what her St. Patrick’s Day is like! Patti loves motorbikes and writes hot romance on wheels - how cool is that? Continuing on the theme of writing spaces, S. C. Mitchell has asked us to describe our perfect writing retreat. If you’ve joined me from A.S. Fenichel, welcome! Last week I showed you photos of where I actually write 90% of the time. But when the weather is good during our short Northern BC summer, I also love to take the laptop outside. I find a new writing view is often a great way to break through a block or come up with fresh ideas. This was my new favourite writing space last year. “offers more than just comfort and privacy. It lends inspiration, instills a sense of well-being and provides opportunity to learn and explore. It affords guidance, pleasant surroundings, good food, a variety of diversions. And a sense of fellowship. “ “Pleasant surrounds and good food” – sign me up! Especially if there’s wine involved… I’m so used to writing in the middle of the action, whether it’s at home or at work, that the idea of sitting in a room all by myself is actually a bit off-putting. But if the view were something like this, I think I could suffer through a few hours of isolation! Being a writer is a solitary occupation. This can be a real problem. After all, we are writing about people – and how can you write about people if you don’t spend time with them? So after a putting in time at the keyboard, my perfect retreat would also have a chance to mingle with others. When I attended the Surrey International Writers Conference, the best thing was the sensation of being surrounded by people with my own interests, goals and aspirations. It was a wonderfully fulfilling weekend, and a mix of that along with time to actually write would be the perfect blend. Next up on the hop is the man who assigned us this week’s post, S. C. Mitchell. Be sure to check out his very popular science fiction romance, The Blarmling Dilemma.
Writers are a snoopy bunch. We like to know what makes people tick, how they live, what they enjoy, what gives them pain. How else can we make our characters come to life? This week, Elizabeth Janette wants to snoop inside our own space. She’s asking for the details of where we write – with photos, of course! If you’ve joined me from Tessa Gray, welcome! How does my space compare to hers? I write in my living room. It's next to the kitchen and one short flight of stairs from the TV room, so I'm still in the middle of family life. I don't find that distracting - in fact, if I am home alone, I sometimes find it hard to focus, and have to put on music to combat the quiet. This is the view I have when I'm writing. Yes, that's still a Christmas table runner. :) You can't see out the window, but we live on a normal residential street. However, being in Northern BC, I have looked out and seen moose or deer wandering along. You may also have noticed the cat perched on the arm of the chair. That's Gilligan. She likes to lay on the back of the couch and snore loudly in my ear as I write. This is my storage area. Pink bag - swag, like postcards, pens and candy. Cardboard box - print copies of my books. Red and brown boxes - receipts, files, RWA magazines, research articles, etc. And, yes, that is a wine rack, strategically placed between everything. You never know when sustenance will be needed! Now it’s time to move on to visit Victoria Barbour's writing space. Everyone at Romance Writers Weekly is very proud of her - this week she became a USA Today bestselling author! Her wonderfully funny and touching novella, “Geek God”, is part of “Passionate Kisses 2” – a box set that hit the USA Today Top 150 books this week!
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