W.I.P. Well.... Ideas count, right?

 As we're all well aware, this year hasn't been great for much of anything.

This blog has certainly suffered due to ... everything.

While updating it has been *coughmissed* a few times this month, writing little bits per week has been something.

I have begun to outline various stories that I want to work on (some of them I actually have begun).

There have been little things going around stating "Use Your Initials and Find Out Your Y/A Novel Title!" I've done two of those and these were the results:

Assassins, French Kissing, and Other Bad Ideas

The Daughter of Nightmares and Smoke

Now, one of these actually has a little steam behind it, while the other one is currently being outlined. Here is a little blurb of something in the middle.

The idea was to write a novel.

"So - how long is this going to last. A month, a week...?"

"Not funny."

"It's true, isn't it?"

She rolled her eyes. This was a conversation that abounded each time a new interest caught her attention. While it was true nothing lasted long and her attention was dim in some regards, surely there was one thing she could see through.

"Come on, let's get some lunch."

"You sure dessert won't distract me from eating?"

The chuckle confirmed the teasing nature. While they would always be in a slight disagreement about her attention span, they would always be together.

"Hey Nicholas! How's the wedding planning coming?"

Well ... at least until he married and left.

"You know, Annabeth has everything covered. I'm just here to say the vows."

"Well, that's good to know. How's the latest venture Catalyn?"

She took a seat across from Nicholas.

"It's slow, but coming along."

"What is this new venture, I always forget what you're up to."

Catalyn managed not to make her smile too tight.

"Opening a bed and breakfast at the old Sanderson place."

"Oh," Stephanie stepped back, "good luck."

Catalyn rolled her eyes.

"Geeze, doesn't anyone mind their own business?"

Nicholas laughed.

"What?"

"Come on Lynnie, you know I believe in you. I really do," he raised the menu to hide his face, "but you've got a track of not finishing big projects."

She wanted to argue, to say it was crazy, but she couldn't. She knew the truth was a hard pill to swallow. She knew the town thought this one would fall through too. But she knew something they didn't. Each time she came close to finishing, something overcame her. A sense of dread that the ending was about to hit, followed by a sense of panic.

"Lynnie, don't let them get you down."

She picked her menu up, "Yeah, sure."

She had to finish this project. No matter what - she would finish this one.

This would be the first project to be completed by her.

That was her final decision.

What have you been working on this month? Are you ready for NaNoWriMo next month?

W.I.P. Back at it Again...

 With the start of classes on campus three weeks ago (just the one really, 1/4 but we're all thinking it'll go online soon too due to the virus running amock), I began what I do best while taking notes in class. Which is to say - I began writing little bits in the margins/extra spaces of my notes!

Here are some little bits of what I've been having run around through my head while studying up on Tennyson and Rossetti.

What else can I say to this?

Poetry is no longer

underrated. It never has been

unless, to a philistine mine they seem

unrevelant. Don't they realize

these predated the

novels we so richly

love? Bring back

the Poetry! Or

else, hide it with-

in the novel you create.

Surprise the reader with a

little rhyming in reason.

****

Back Again

Back again, in a seat

Taking notes, precise, and neat

Finding Rhymes

While listening for a long time

Learning anew,

Reading lessons in a queue.

Time to finish finally,

Back Again.

****

There you are.

Poetry.

Feel free to leave a comment if you so choose. (At this point I'd be surprised if anyone was actually reading this blog anymore.)

W.I.P. Lots of Little Things

In these times I've taken up art.

I have a lot of paint (which increases those few times I leave the house), and I've gotten a ton of projects from Five Below. At this point, I think I'm personally financing the store.

Also - Dollar Tree is a great place to find stuff too.

I don't really have a whole lot of pictures of those projects, but I have been doing some extra writing too.

Here's a little tidbit.

The shot went past her head. She could hear the soft whistle, feel the slight shift of the air as it streamed beyond her. One moment she was facing down the fiend who’d nearly trapped her in another world. Who had succeeded in trapping others.

She watched the look in the man’s eyes as they widened. His fall to the ground had her confused.

Turning slowly she came fact to face with someone she hadn’t been expecting.

“I finally caught up with you.”

Her vocal chords forgot how to work. She barely managed to gape like a fish,. She didn’t think her eyes could grow any larger, nor her lids open further.

“Do you know how long it took me? After that last conversation?”

She continued to stare, uncertain if this was another vivid dream or someone was pulling her leg.

“After that last conversation I realized that I needed to do something to change. Certainly all the movements going around also helped spur me off the main drag. I retired, you know.”

She watched him, wondering if gaping would be acceptable.

Another shot rang past her. She jumped.

“What?”

The word escaped her lips on a confused brush of air.

“He was twitching.”

Confusion was her best option here.

“I went to your home town, looking for you.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I saw what had happened, then began asking around.” He chuckled, “I suppose I would have made a great detective.”

She was an intelligent, resourseful woman, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember how to use actual words.

Another shot rang in her ears.

“What the heck was that for?”

She spun around to find the fiend had crawled up behind her.

“What?”

Don't forget to share what you've been working on! Let's get some things done!

W.I.P. What a Load of -

 - WORDS!

 Or Mermaids - either way it's gonna be a great month.

I do have a few mermaids I've been sketching per day - I have yet to post any of them though. We'll see how this post goes.

Here is a little insert of what I've kinda been up to.

With a new amount of energy that I didn’t know I had reserved, I pushed myself to the top. The door opened at my touch.

From the roof, which it clearly was, considering the view. I could see the entire city. It was spread before me like a giant canvas. A painting from which I had not seen the likes before, nor ever possibly see again. There was no comparison to what I now saw to any of the old Masters’ works.

I halted in my flight to gaze for a moment. The view was spectacular!

But what a second turned out to be was the last moments for the pursuit to catch up with me.

“There she is!”

Oh crap.

Without a backward glance I pulled out a coil of rope from my side, ran to the edge and flung myself off the roof.

There were panicked shouts from those above me and some below.

What are you up to this week?

W.I.P. April Showers -

This time around it's not writing I've been working on. (Well I have been writing, just not as much.)

This week is a little peek at a project I've been working on for a while.

I drew the original piece back in 2014-15ish.

This is a little update using the software PaintToolSai.

What have you been working on this Quarantine time? Leave a comment below and let's be artistic together this week!

W.I.P. National Novel Writing Month 2019

Well.

Back to the month of something in the air that drive us all to write over 50,000 words.

Here's a snippet of what I'm working on, how about you?

“Take those two away.”

The voice of the Erlkonig startled her. She turned. Watched as the Guard escorted the two offenders of magic away. She couldn’t call them parents at all – they hadn’t raised her. They hadn’t been there her entire life until they wanted something from her. Of her.

They tried to put up a fight. Without magic, they were nothing.

That could have been me.

The thought haunted her.

If she had been raised by these two, she would have wound up on the other side of the coin. Between light and dark she was already walking along the grey line. She knew going to the dark side wasn’t an option. Yet, there were also repercussions for going too far into the light.

Her parents had gone to both extremes.

When the sounds of protest from them faded, she was left among a crowd. While they were all friends, it was still too much.

The power the book had blasted had drawn out everyone within the town boundaries.

“Miss Smok?”

Her name cleared some of the daze in her eyes. Her mind was still foggy. There was a haze that was trying to clear.

Shaking away the cobwebs she saw the forest.

Across the field she watched someone emerge from the shadows of the trees. They stumbled slightly, as though the legs were unfamiliar on land or with the land. They stumbled a while before straightening and looking up. At her.

What are you up to this month? Leave a comment below.



EDIT: I posted this on Monday.....do I get points for being early?

W.I.P. When do I No?

This week I realized I have so many Works in Progress that I should never actually be without an entry for WIP week.

Starting new stories is a theraputic thing for me. I've begun so many new adventures on so many occasions, it's fun keeping track of them all. Sometimes old stories manage to intermingle with the new ones. Old characters become a side character in the new adventure.

This week I've been revisiting an old idea, with a new twist or three.

I haven't officially written anything down - being busy with work and no paper and pen on me can do that.

For today, here's an old little bit from an idea that is still alive and in the works.

“Don’t toss me!”

The bean bag came down and I was left facing a bewildered Erik and Inspector.

“What were you doing there?”

I was half way awake, a bit wider now that I’d almost been launched into a couch and in no mood for stupid.

“I was sleeping. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Wait…are those your pajamas?”

I paused, glancing briefly down at my long pajama pants and baggy tee shirt. Looking back up I raised half an eye brow, “Yeah. You got a problem with my comfort?”

“No! No, no, it’s just…”

“Ann we need you to come with us to the Basement. It’s not safe for you.”

I stared down again…. “Yeah. You do realize you just barged into a room full of women who were having a slumber party (sleep over?)?”

They had the decency to blush.

I ushered them out.

“Right, well I’ll be out when all of us are decent and dressed. Bye!”

Shutting the door in their face I glanced around the previously full room.

“Traitors,” I murmured. Scrounging my clothes from the piles on the floor I slipped into the bathroom and got ready.

What have you been up to this week? Leave a comment and let's brainstorm together!

W.I.Petered Out

My creative side has been on the back burner for the past month. We've had family move back in and life's been....hectic.


I'm going to start advertising a Give-Away. Next month I begin a brand new college internship down in Florida. Each month I will set up a give away. Most likely a random generator (unless you're the only one who follows or responds in which case, you win by default). Stay tuned for more Give-Away News!


For this month I will leave a little of what I had before from an older piece I was working on. Enjoy some poetry this July. And, if you feel inspired to, leave a comment below with what you're working on.

The morning after the concert and double homicide I woke up to someone trying to toss me on the floor. I’d fallen asleep in a rather large beanbag chair that felt more like a cushion than anything. After the other gals had drunk their fill of rum (Lizzy prevented me from getting any, at least remembering through her alcohol-induced haze that I didn’t drink), I had crashed from mental exhaustion. The bean bag was perfect – I melted into it and bundled down.

“Where’s Ann?”

I’d covered my face with another blanket, not wanting to deal with people in general. The choice to hide was gone the moment I was lifted into the air.

“Don’t toss me!”

The bean bag came down and I was left facing a bewildered Erik and Inspector.

“What were you doing there?”

I was half way awake, a bit wider now that I’d almost been launched into a couch and in no mood for stupid.

“I was sleeping. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Wait…are those your pajamas?”

I paused, glancing briefly down at my long pajama pants and baggy tee shirt. Looking back up I raised half an eye brow, “Yeah. You got a problem with my comfort?”

“No! No, no, it’s just…”

“Ann we need you to come with us to the Basement. It’s not safe for you.”

I stared down again…. “Yeah. You do realize you just barged into a room full of women who were having a slumber party (sleep over?)?”

What are you up to this month writing wise?

W.I.P. Umm.....

Here is a little excerpt from something I've been working on. At one point I added two potential ways of phrasing things. Let me know which one you think fits bet.

The morning after the concert and double homicide I woke up to someone trying to toss me on the floor. I’d fallen asleep in a rather large beanbag chair that felt more like a cushion than anything. After the other gals had drunk their fill of rum (Lizzy prevented me from getting any, at least remembering through her alcohol-induced haze that I didn’t drink), I had crashed from mental exhaustion. The bean bag was perfect – I melted into it and bundled down.

“Where’s Ann?”

I’d covered my face with another blanket, not wanting to deal with people in general. The choice to hide was gone the moment I was lifted into the air.

“Don’t toss me!”

The bean bag came down and I was left facing a bewildered Erik and Inspector.

“What were you doing there?”

I was half way awake, a bit wider now that I’d almost been launched into a couch and in no mood for stupid.

“I was sleeping. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Wait…are those your pajamas?”

I paused, glancing briefly down at my long pajama pants and baggy tee shirt. Looking back up I raised half an eye brow, “Yeah. You got a problem with my comfort?”

“No! No, no, it’s just…”

“Ann we need you to come with us to the Basement. It’s not safe for you.”

I stared down again…. “Yeah. You do realize you just barged into a room full of women who were having a slumber party (sleep over?)?”

They had the decency to blush.

I ushered them out.

“Right, well I’ll be out when all of us are decent and dressed. Bye!”

Shutting the door in their face I glanced around the previously full room.

“Traitors,” I murmured. Scrounging my clothes from the piles on the floor I slipped into the bathroom and got ready.

What are you working on this week? Need any help - I'd be glad to!

WIP: What am I working, exactly?

I began a new project.

Again.

But here I will leave you with a little something old that's still being worked on.

Leave a comment below with what you're looking on, and as always - keep writing my friends.

She didn’t know what to expect, walking into this hunter’s home. She knew who he was based on the things she’d seen him do. It was rather exceptional watching him at work. 

There were people who could make using weapons look artful, then there was him. She was only here because – because she couldn’t deal with what’s out on the street. She was being hunted by something, or someone, no it was a thing…

“You’ll be safe here for the night.”

He didn’t have to say that her place would be too dangerous. That it might not ever be safe again. He didn’t have to.

Stepping across the threshold she felt something surge around her. An energy that created a barrier between this small safe haven and the rest of the outside world. It wasn’t palpable, nor tangible. It was something that she could feel in her spirit.

“Whoa,” she stared at the walls, the ceiling even. It was bizarre.  “You know, normal people don’t have a basement full of weapons.”

He barely glanced at her as he locked up.

“I’ll have you know that every single one of these knives saves my life at least once.”

She looked around again, confused, “What about that gun over there?”

It was a long range rifle. The barrels were precise, the hammer intricate. There were gold and silver designs etched into the wood. She couldn’t make them out, but it was beautiful. 

For a gun.

“Oh that? That’s just for decoration.”

WIP: A Little Bit

Can I just say - I'm not all that inspired to write anything today?

It's rainy out, gloomy, cold and I have been hiding inside watching videos online while resolutely avoiding work of any kind/form.


As it is work in progress week I will add a few poems, and a little snippet of the latest workings on. Leave a comment with anything you're working at this week.

“Erik, this is stupid, why do I even have to be here?”

“You’re the owner – the whole benefit is for you.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath.

He opened the door to the ballroom and I had to stop for a moment. The whole place looked like a swanked night club. I went in and was soon swallowed by the higher end of society. 

Rich socialites and bachelors were breathing down my neck, offering me their word of support.  A few offered me drinks. I looked over at the bartender and was relieved to find Tom there. Each glass that came my way would be perfectly 100% alcohol proof.

Thank you, Tom!

The night went on. I danced with a few billionaires, forcing myself to be nice and participate in their almost drunken behavior.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

I looked up at the stage. The DJ cut the music and there was an MC there, looking about as steady as a sailor on dry-land. I watched with mingled curiosity as the assembled crowd grew quiet. Erik sidled up to me. I gave him an equally curious look, and then felt worried when I saw him grin.

This, can’t be anything good.

“As you all know, this benefit is to help support the Destler theatre. So far, through your generous donations, we’ve managed to raise that bar a little higher.”

There was polite applause.

“Erik,” I whispered, “what the heck –”

“And now, for the highlight of the night,” I turned back to the MC. “Gentlemen, open your wallets and bid generously. It’s time for the auction!”

There were hearty cheers around the room.

Auction?

“Our first lady is one the move affluent models in the city –”

I tuned the MC out and fully focused on the musician.

“Erik, you never said a word about an auction for women!”

My voice was low, whispered, hardly heard above the din of bids ringing above my head. I was furious and was almost positive he knew it.

“It’s just an auction for a date, nothing illegal about it.”

I glared back; I opened my mouth to protest when the MC shouted.

What are you working on lately?

Fifth Tuesday - Now what?

Every month there's a fifth Tuesday I always get confused by what I should write about.

Well, I think I may have found something to chat on for a little while.

While taking classes yesterday we had to do a writing assignment. Take the same character, same setting, and same general scenario but write it in three different genres: horror, romance, and comedy. Sadly I didn't make it to the comedic aspect - ran out of time - but I did get the first two down. It was a great little writing experiment.

While I don't have the two little blurps with me right now I will try and post them on this journal entry later on.



Have a fantastic last two days of January!


(.....holy crap we're almost done with one month this year!)



Query: What is your favorite genre to write in?

WIP: The Alley

A little something I've been working on. Accents are not my forte in writing yet - I'm still working at them.

‘We have to find him – quickly.’

Confused, I looked around, ‘Find who?’

I turned around, but I couldn’t see who I was with, if I was with anyone at all. Whoever was there didn’t respond again. I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone took my hand. I was led through a wooded area and into a small village. The set distracted me enough from my escort. It wasn’t large enough for an actual town, and calling it a village almost seemed almost too kind. There were a bunch of little cottages built really close together, a few larger houses in the middle of the square. He pulled me forward again and all I could see was the back of a black cloak. He led me through the back streets, avoiding all the main roads that passed through. Each time he heard someone coming down the street he became ancy, almost nervous. When another person turned down our alley, he quickly pulled me close, bringing his large cloak up to surround us – making us blend in with the shadows around us. I continued to follow him, keeping one hand on my large skirt to keep myself from tripping on the hem.

‘Wait here.’

I paused. He left me standing in a darker alley, cut off from the rest of way. I watched him, curious, as he climbed up onto the roof of the house to my right. A moment later he disappeared over the other side. I shrank back into the shadows, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. I found small comfort there with the darkness closing in on me.

‘Miss, can ye ‘elp me?’

I nearly cried out in alarm, jumping. Spinning in a full circle I found a small boy standing in the doorway across from me. He shrank back, quivering. I could barely see him – his skin was dark; almost exactly like Brian’s.

‘Wh-what is it?’

I shook, wondering where on earth Erik was.

‘I – I’m lost – an’, scared.’

I bit my lower lip. I wasn’t sure what I should do. Erik had told me to wait there for him until he came back from wherever it was he went. Waiting intoned the notion of not moving from the position where one was left. I couldn’t risk going off, but I couldn’t just leave the child there. That was irresponsible.

‘Where are your parents?’

His eyes grew dark, he almost started crying, ‘I don’ ‘ave  any.’

I felt my heart wrench from the tone in his voice. He was all alone in this world – defenseless.

I bit my lip again, mulling it over before making a decision, 

‘Alright, come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.’

I moved out of the shadows and stepped close to him, reaching out. He was timid, shy. At first he moved away, then slowly reached out and took my offered hand. The instant we touched a chain leapt from the dark and wrapped itself around my wrist, snaking its way around the boy’s, linking us together. A splint of shock ran through me as I heard dark, almost maniacal laughter coming from out of the darkness to my right.

How about you? What are you working on this week?

WIP: NaNoWriMo

This year for National Novel Writing Month I've gone back to my roots. I've been fleshing out some of the scenes of a story that's been long in the making.

Here is a little excerpt for you. Always: comments and critiques are welcome.

“I feel a connection to this story Keef. This story intrigues me; I need to know how it will end.”

Keef sat back, disbelief and concern fighting for his attention.

“Ya think this story yer after is gonna end well?”

32 spread his fingers wide, “I can’t say a thing.”

They both leaned back in their wicker chairs. The soft hum of a fan overhead keeping time with their thoughts. The wind blew through the trees, bringing the smells of gardenia and coconut. From off the water the salt air stirred these together. It could have made a decent perfume. Birds called out to each other. A few critters ran amok among the foliage and branches of mangroves.

Keef sighed, then took a drink. He cleared his throat once, twice. A few more minutes slipped by.

“32,” Keef cleared his throat again, “what happens next?”

32 sighed, a soft release of breath that barely stirred the air. He’d been thinking the same thing since finding that first clue in the islands public library. A sort of note pressed into an old book of laws and regulations. A book no one thought to look at twice, or even once. His only reasoning for picking the book up was to prove a point to his neighbor. The note had been written almost a century before. The neat, precise hand could belong to anyone, there was no sign of a rushed hand.

What are you working on this month?

WIP: Plots and Plights

I hate writing plots.

I hate writing outlines. With a passion.

I hate the whole 'research and plan the entire thing out before writing' element of writing.

(Which is why I sorta ramble each week on my blog here. The most I've got planned is the theme/topic.)

Recently while writing another little novel I accidentally had my character doing a YouTube mini web-series. It worked well with the story-line and fit well with the mood.

Then I got thinking. . . .  Wouldn't it be cool to make that into a real web series?

Cue yesterday when I used a template taken from Pinterest (yup, everything's there) to write out a plot. There are only a few questions is asks you in order to make out an entire Plot In A Day.

Plot In A Day

What is Your Premise and Basic Plot?

Decide Who the Characters Will Be

Decide What Drives Each Character

What Aren't These Characters Giving Away Right Off the Bat?

What is Going to Change These Characters?

List out the Major Events of the Novel with Subplot in Chronological Order.

Decide Where to Start Writing

Once You've Gotten the Second List Done, You've Got A Plot

Now, I got stuck at the "List the Major Events...." one, because while I have the basics, I don't know if I want to plan the entire thing, or just go for one episode at a time. Which is where my little Block of Writers comes in.

There is a little tidbit with each of the Queries listed above, but I won't write them out.

The Project I'm working at is titled Tomes - and I'm fully ready to film . . . once I can get back my creativity and write an episode.

What are you working on this week?

(Also - if you want the extras involved with the list, send me a message, I'm happy to share!)

WIP: June - Ummmmm

Right, so I've been rather lack in my writing of late. Though I do have ideas flowing through my head, it's been getting rather difficult to get them to down on paper (or word document). So, here's a little bit of a story I've been trying to get down.

Once his laughter subsided she realized that this creature was no monster. The façade he wore may be frightening, but there was something deep inside of him that spoke of another. While he laughed at her remark various thoughts flashed through her mind: exactly what was he laughing at her was the foremost.

“Forgive me,” his voice was soft, gentle.

She smiled, “Of course.”

They stood facing one another, watching. She was certain he was studying her as she was him.

“I’m sorry,” a sudden realization overcame her, “but the previous time I was here you told me you were the sole occupant of this castle.”

He seemed puzzled, then looked around the empty foyer before replying, “I am.”

“And yet you have an entire cast of staff to make tea.”

She watched him consider that. There had to be a reason.

“Oh. I see what you mean.” He came down the stairs to stand next to her. “Perhaps I did mislead you as to the number of residents here.”

Standing close to him set something racing through her. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her, telling her to run. Rubbing her arms she took a few steps away to look out the windows that hadn’t been broken.

“I can see why you did,” she stared out at the grounds. There were others out there, tending to the dreary landscape. She didn’t see any sort of reason to keep the grounds up; unless there was a pressing need to walk through the snow. It looked peaceful out there. The white ground was almost as misleading as the – his –

“I’m sorry, but do you have a name?”

She spun around to face him, only to bump into him again. She hadn’t heard him walk close.

“Sorry,” he rapidly stepped back to put some distance between them.

Her heart hammered in her chest; though she was uncertain whether it was from fear or something else.

“No, it-it’s alright,” she trailed off.

They stood there, staring at anything else in the room except each other. She’d never felt this way around anyone else before. It was as though she was courting someone and had been caught unaware at a fancy party. It was ridiculous. They were both adults.

So why did she feel as though there was something else connecting them together?

* * * * ** * *

He watched her from across the hall.

He cursed himself again for his lack of manners. All the things he’d learned about conversation had seem to fly from his mind, leaving him standing like a fool. Following so close behind her had startled her more than she was letting on as well.

This was a bad idea, the thought crossed his mind again.

She cleared her throat, seeming to search for the right words to say.

Wait, didn’t she ask me a question? He frowned at the thought, turning away.

“I would tell you my name, but I’ve forgotten what it was.”

“How could you forget your name?”

There was no malice in her voice. Only curiosity.

Turning he shrugged, “After the first dozen years it didn’t seem necessary.”

She cocked her head to the side, “The first dozen years?”

He cursed himself again. Should he tell her everything? Let her know that this was a cursed castle? That every living thing in here had been doomed for the past century?

Looking at her he saw a gleam in her eye, one that spoke of adventure, knowledge, and understanding.

“Master, lunch is served.”

He shifted, not quite jumping (as she did).

“Thank you Leon.”

The butler left for the dining rooms. In the aftermath he let the silence linger while he collected his thoughts.

What have you been working on recently? Leave a comment below and share your progress!

Summer's Here Again

It's hot.

I'm trying to run a business (that's mostly online and by word of mouth and not doing so hot).

I'm trying to write this darn novel.

I'm trying to exercise every day (hasn't happened since last month when I got sick, though I do walk).

I'm trying to survive.


How about you?

WIP: MerMay

Eventually I was going to have to do a post about this.

It's been unofficially officialy for the past few years that the month of May would be one filled with mermaid pictures all over the web. Well, last year I tried to keep up with it (fell out because I'm not the best artist) - but this year I've managed to do some almost each day. I've been posting them on Instagram, copied to Facebook, and upon occasion on Deviantart.

Here are a few little mermaids I've drawn so far for this year. They were all referenced from photos, but done freestyle, so please: Critics are welcomed. (Though understand, I'm a writer, not an artist! ....well, techincally, they're both under the same heading and one could debate that a writer is an artist in regards to making up an entire world with characters and what not - while the artist is the one who brings them to life in a portrait to portray to others. Umm.....I lost my train of thought there. Good golly what a diatribe!)

MERMAY

What are you working on this week? Leave a comment below.

WIP Week - Outlining

Right, well let me tell you about my writing style.

I get the story in my head. When I'm in the mood (or the zone) I write/type depending on what I prefer. I NEVER outline. Not even when I was supposed to do so in high school.

The last some odd years - basically since middle school - I've had this story idea in my head. I'm not ashamed to admit it began with a fanfiction for Lord of the Rings, spanning into Pirates of the Caribbean, Van Helsing, and The Phantom of the Opera.

Over the course of those many, many years it has evolved into something far more frustrating and life/mind consuming. (It may be a miracle I managed to stay sane for so long.)

Now, to this outline.

I realized that this massive fanfiction had an excellent plot, great locations, interesting tech, and a bunch of characters ripe for the picking. Only....they weren't their fictional characters anymore.

Through the course of years the characters left behind their rather copyrighted persona and became something more original. It was a miracle.

So I spent a few hours (yup, hours) going through the story. I made an outline for the first time in forever.

(.....yup....good luck getting that song outta your head.)

Right now it's at seven (7) pages, and I'm still not even close to being done with it.

The only issue I now face.

Writing.

I have 2 1/2 pages written out, but I'm taking my time in doing so. I did set a deadline to have chapter one done by the 15 of April. See how well that didn't turn out? Life happens, and we can't always keep up. (Well, I'd be more inclined to do so if I was getting paid for it. Or if I had an editor or a BETA reader.)

Huzzah for being a free writer!

Here's a little snippet of my outline for WIP week!

THE LIEBRARY

-Liebrary houses ancient books, of magic, obscure, rare finds

- A group of Magicians were in charge of keeping it

- They abused the power in the books

(Possible ghost of the past in charge of it now)

What's something that you are working on? Would you be interested in reading my novel, piece by piece?

WIP - A little writing

Right.

Christmas brain. That's why this is a day late.


In the past few weeks I've been working a few different things. Mostly an original little piece based around the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice.

I used a few characters of my own, and incorporated music into it. (Hmmm....I might post links to the actual songs as we go along.....or not.)

So - here you have it. It's a little Greek Mythology, a little Broadway, and a lot of me.

(Note: Not a self-insert.)


The Story Draft One:

10 Years.

That was a large number to think about. She'd been in the ghost realm that long - her body in a coma, more death like than sleeping. The Hat-Box Ghost had left her there, with a darkness deeper than him. Through the years they has successfully broken her memory - erasing all those she once knew and loved.

Erin moved out of the spotlight position of his company. Losing her had been unacceptable. He spent 10 years trying to find a way to bring her back. Some of the dwarves had made her a glass casket; holes near the bottom and sides to keep out the elements. Part of this curse was that she wouldn't age while asleep. For her time had all but  ceased moving. He would visit her every week. The place on the mountain offered a stunning view of the land still untouched by the hands of industry.

"Erin, this idea is mad." The voice behind him was one of reason, one of her older, well younger brothers. "Even if you succeed, what's to say she'll be the same?"

He had a plan now. He knew how to save her. The answer had been staring him in the face. It was as much of history as He, but it had worked. It would work again.

"Jack's right, Erin, don't think -"

"I have thought, I've been thinking of nothing else for the past ten years," his own voice, mangled. "It's the only thing I haven't tried yet. It has to work!"

Erin straightened. Placing the flowers on the top of the glass he watched her. If you paid close attention you could see her slight intake of breath every few minutes. If you weren't looking for it you'd miss the sign of life altogether.

"Think of the risks man."

"Jack, I appreciate the concern, but this is my fault. I'm going to do it."

He stepped around the two. After the years of research he'd done, all the planning, everything was set. If Orpheus could do it to save Eurydice, surely he could do it to save Mira.

"Do you know what you're going to sing to lure her back," provided this half-brained dream works, the third man thought, yet didn't say.

Erin glanced back at the century (well older) old musician. They were on the campus now.

"Yes, Erik. I have a playlist all set," he strode into the apartment complex. As per usual the elevator was on the rocks again. "I put it together last week."

On the eighth floor he went down to the last door on the left. He could have afforded a nice house in any part of the world: instead he'd contended himself to this old building. It was close to where she was. He could have stayed at her house out in the woods, but it felt hollow.

"Right, so we're doing this. What can I do to help?"

Erik shook his head, "I've got everything I need. Just keep an eye on the entrance while I'm down there."

A few weeks ago one of the archaeology students had uncovered, well discovered by sheer accident a tunnel in the mountain. A spirit had emerged with it, claiming it was a portal to the ghost realm. After cooler heads had come and a few Demigods confirmed, it was confirmed as a route down to where the spirits were kept. The idea to go down and bring her back had slowly stemmed from that. He would do whatever it takes.

A half hour later he came to the cave entrance. Only Jack had come with him. No one else believed it would work. It was odd to think of this youth as an adult now. Ten years had gentled aged him well.

As they approached the Gate Keeper slowly looked up. It was a dark cloth over the frame of a corpse. There was no smell to it, no scent. It was a thing that always stood, patiently waiting for someone to come and pass through.

"What is your purpose?"

"I'm here to bring back the soul of Mira Penumbra."

For a moment the ravaged visage seemed to grin. Then it stepped back, waving its arm  toward the opening of the cave in a showmen's gesture. From the depth a set of stone steps appeared. There was only one direction to go: down.

"You know the rules Jason of the Argonauts. Break them and she is lost for eternity."

"I understand."

Erik took a breath and stepped inside.

He'd read, studied, been told the tale, yet finally going down seemed surreal. There was no echo of his step on the stores, no lingering echo to fade into the encroaching black. The light was dim, coming from sources he could not place. As he made his way down and further down still he began to see the signs of a vast dwelling. He knew that was where her soul, her spirit would be. Leveling out on the ground he looked behind him - there was no trace of the entrance. High above him the world lay, full of light. He was in the pit of night.

"What is your purpose here, mortal?"

Turning back to the path leading to the underground castle he saw a guard.

"I've come to free the soul of Mira Penumbra."

He didn't know if he imagined it, but the guard seemed to grin.

"Right this way."

Through a door of black granite was an outdoor throne room. Upon a throne of pure obsidian sat a figure framed in shadows. Erin couldn't make out any details about the form. Around him in the courtyard were the souls of those who had dearly departed their mortal coil. These spirits were grey, hazy as though they might vanish forever. When he looked near a broken and barren willow tree he saw a spirit that appeared brighter than the rest. He knew it was her.

"What is your purpose here, demigod?"

He faced the throne, stepping before it.

"I am Jason, leader of the Argonauts. I have come here to return the soul and spirit of Mira Penumbra, who is not fully deceased. I am here to bring her back."

The mass of shadows moved, swirling and slithering like snakes.

"Come forward."

Erin watched as a spirit, brighter than the others, stepped up next to the throne. He withheld a gasp as he recognized her. She hadn't aged a day in ten years, still wearing the dress she'd been in. Everything about her was the same, except the gleam in her eye was gone. Instead she appeared lost.

"You know the rules Argonaut: you will walk forward, she will follow. If you look back once, she remains here. Forever." There was a grin in the shadows voice, "You are free to persuade her however you choose."





Tune in next week - when I'll finally be back on track!