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From my WIP, The Point...The crumbling brown cliffs rise straight up out of the cold mist floating above the frigid black water. Kelp streamers are pulled in towards the shore and then are sucked back out into the Pacific as tens of thousands of gallons of water are forced through the passages between the boulders at the base of the cliffs. Anyone in the water would be hurled against these rocks, battered senseless, and returned insentient to the depths of the ocean.
Charles stands alone atop the cliff, his arms wrapped tightly around himself in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold.
A furious up-rush had driven Zachary since adolescence. He craved every advantage, trophy, scholarship, and fellowship a man could attain. The youngest Boy Scout in his region to attain Eagle, at age thirteen: This he considered the trailhead from which he would ascend to ever-greater honors. He lived by the Scout Oath, Law, Motto, and Slogan, all of which he knew by heart and was happy to recite, should anyone want to hear them.
Johnny’s Grandpa, gnarled and stern, sat hunched upon the stair. Johnny sat upon his knee and clutched his teddy bear,
And quietly searched for mousetraps in his Grandpa’s graying hair,
Which, moss-like, curled around them both and down the banister.
“Johnny, listen carefully. Dark and toothsome truths I’ll share:
Of why the attic door is locked, and what is dwelling there,
Of things that make our mothers cry, and sometimes make them frown,
Of willful boys who went upstairs, and didn’t come back down.
Crouched down on a ledge high above the small clearing, the angel watched in silence as a young girl emerged from the trees. Each day now for several weeks, he had waited patiently for her to arrive. And each day... she had come. Following her with his dark eyes as she slowly made her way to the fallen log lying by the edge of the stream which traversed the tiny glade, his focus became intent.
"Aren't you supposed to stay away from her?" Speaking in a voice not audible to human ears, the angel beside him reminded him that he was not alone.
The air crushed down, hot and humid. Breathing felt akin to a chore, difficult and laborious. Light skin suffered in this weather, but through painstaking attempts to avoid the sun and a constant application of sunscreen, she remained nearly unblemished. Her dark eyes and short, dark hair caused most to take more than a second look. A couple of men nearby shot knavish glances in her direction and she thought about pulling up her tent and moving elsewhere.Blue Tent http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
I closed my eyes and let my cheek rest against the cold window. Snowy days always seemed to make the windows of the Port Authority buses colder than normal, and it felt so good against my warm skin. Music blared through my headphones, unable to block out the chatter of the people around me. TOdays was one of those days I woke up irritated and everyone around me did not help the cause.The Last Grimm: Red's Hood
Every moment we are alive is an opportunity to take advantage of a lesson being offered. We either can or we can't, we either do, or we don't - and it doesn't matter. The lesson will be presented again and again and each time it is we may learn something from it - or not. Lessons: The Wisdom Within Each Moment
http://www.amazon.com/Lessons-Wisdom-...
First 111 words from The Keeper:High atop a gray limestone cliff a copper-skinned boy watches the sun rise. Though the long June days have darkened his tawny skin to a burnished copper, they have not and will never warm the deep water. The sun reaches the boy. But the lake is still dark, shaded by the rock.
Free on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Keeper-eboo...
Free on Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
The cliff is nearly bare, adorned only by two ancient trees and a number of red pictographs. One is larger than the others. It is a hand, palm out, that sends its warning down the length of the lake. The cliff is older even than the lake. It shoots hundreds of feet straight out of the cold dark water
The first 120 words from
A Trivial Case of Murder
, something I started today. The volume of the average piss is eight to ten fluid ounces. I am not normal. I don’t go unless I absolutely have to, so mine are double that. The velocity of a sneeze is roughly forty miles-an-hour with a range of nearly twenty feet. Rigor mortis sets in after three to four hours of death and subsides after forty-eight to sixty.
My brain is flypaper coated black with this type of useless crap. It comes in uninvited and sticks there doing me no good, all the while seemingly creating an impenetrable barrier to information that might be of benefit.
One other useless thing I know is that the guy on the other end of the bench from me is dead.
The opening paragraphs of MR. MILLENNIUM:"Who remembers Gabor Esterhazy now, the global outrage, the tabloid scandals, the delight? There has been no shortage of new wickedness since then, so perhaps Gabor’s adventure has been largely forgotten. But the story of the melancholy labourer from Vancouver who learned that he was descended from Jesus Christ should be recorded in detail at least this one time.
For those in charge of the affair, Gabor’s transformation began well before the fracas in the food court of the Fraserworld Mall. But for Gabor himself, that is the moment his life broke loose from its tenuous mooring and was gathered to the bosom of the storm."
Mr. Millennium
The opening paragraph of SINCE TOMORROW:"They stopped – the three wagons and their drivers, the guards, the four dogs - at the cusp of the bridge. Already the noise of the market reached them. Shouts. Shrieking. The workhorse that was harnessed to the lead wagon turned its head and looked back at the driver. Noor said to it “No, we’re goin’. You know damn well we’re goin’.” She set her mouth and twitched the reins and gripped the handbrake. They started down the long slope of Frost’s Bridge."
Since Tomorrow
“Upon our arrival I will piss over the drawbridge and drip slowly. Then I will park my chopper.” Lady Caroline Trentham studied the pilot carefully. Either he was deliberately winding her up, or, somewhere in France, a village was missing its idiot.
“Please take the mop, and have a leak,” he continued, handing her the flight plan.
She took the map and scanned the landscape below, wondering why he was planning his descent when their destination was nowhere in sight. Surely Marcel’s navigation skills were better than his command of English?
“My Anglish cod be butter, but trust me, we lond soon,” he said on cue, with the smile of an imbecile.
Open House
Here are the first 100 words from my in-progress novel, tentatively titled "A Dove Flew West." It's an allegorical story about the interplay between faiths in Cordoba during the middle ages:In the year 1001 AD of the western calendar, a dove flew south into the heart of al-Andalus, across the dangerous and bandit-ridden low mountain passes of the Sierra Morena, over the vast, evergreen-blanketed depressions of its angular grey-slate peaks. Drawn by a current of air that held a purpose as surely as it held his gliding wings aloft, the dove veered west, his speed growing as he plummeted downward, side profile cutting through the wind and leading him into the valley of al-Wadi al-Kabir, the Great River, until he was but a tiny speck against the vastness of the land.
Here is the first 100 of my in-progress novel, currently called Delivered Among the Veils. It is the third book in my series The Lumenessa Saga. The first is Birth of the Fire Child http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008035H8O. The Second Awakening Beneath the Blood Moons http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008BVMUD0."In the land of dust and sand, a race of beings came to form. The Gods shaped them from smoke and fire to help with the heat of the desert. They gave them power over the elements, ability to create illusions and power over creatures that dwelled in the sands. The race flourished the first few generations until they learned they were not alone in the heart of the Gods.
The race loathed being second in the Gods favor. They became jealous and resentful. Their powers twisted and corrupted their souls. They found the first race living on an island just off shore."
Mark wrote: "The first 120 words from A Trivial Case of Murder
, something I started today.
The volume of the average piss is eight to ten fluid ounces. I am not normal. I don’t go unless I absolutely have..."
Good intro mang
The Ancient RealmThe moon was full and the forest stood still in the windless night. Fireflies danced all around River Duchess Merced as she stood on a jagged cliff, just above the waterfall. Each drop of water cascading over the falls seemed to absorb the moon’s light, allowing the pool at the bottom to shimmer in the darkness. She seemed to linger for a moment, toes curled over the edge of the cliff. Then she suddenly raised her arms over her head and dove headfirst out into the night sky.
Available ConsentMy book is actually on here.......Cool!
(trying to get sales...first book)
Dephia and Sharen have an affair while Sharen is awaiting the birth of her first child. Dephia transforms Sharen into a vampire. Sharen's child's chemistry changes within 24 hours. Dephia, a psychic/telepathic vampire, knows Sharen is pregnant with a boy named David.
The rate of incest among members of a vampire family is very high because they are forced to live unknown to the mortals. There is little interaction between vampires and mortals except, of course, when a mortal is being fed on or transformed into vampire. David, Sharen's firstborn, kills Sharen's twin boys in the sunlight for their homosexual tendencies. David also dies. Sharen is tormented by the tragic loss until the end of the novel.
Sonia's SongI stand three feet six inches tall when I am declared an enemy of the German State.
I would feel prouder of this distinction if I’d actually done something to earn it: like sabotaging a train by laying dynamite on the tracks, or willfully exposing my neighbors to a dread disease á la Typhoid Mary. But at the age of seven, my options for wreaking havoc are limited. In fact, my family and I have been spending more and more time by ourselves, in the shadows...
Sonia's Song by Sonia Korn-Grimani thanks!
Just wanted to say that this is from a short story book, each of the stories are very different.I huddled in my bed, a small ball of non-feeling in a sea of warm, heavy quilts. My belly ached. The dog whined downstairs, pawing at the door. It hadn’t been out for ages. Had it even been fed?
The thoughts pop up unconnected, floating like soap bubbles. We met when we both sought shelter from a sudden downpour in the same doorway. Fifteen minutes was all it took to move from shy introductions to kisses in the rain. Just fifteen minutes, me who is usually so shy and reserved. Fifteen magical minutes of bliss, forever tattooed onto my heart.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008KGT83G
Yary wrote: "Sonia's SongI stand three feet six inches tall when I am declared an enemy of the German State.
I would feel prouder of this distinction if I’d actually done something to earn it: like sabotag..."
Excellent!
I hated being on guard duty, the constant walking up and down the parameter, in the freezing cold for hours on end, was not very appealing. Like most nights nothing happens and I am finally dismissed to go. Good luck finding a hot meal, that is if anything is left from dinner. Then try to get some sleep before the morning drills begin. I had not been asleep for more than an hour or so when the attack began.
One second it was the dead of night, the next there were multiple explosions, I jumped out of bed, at first I wasn't sure if it was a dream, or not. Then the alarm went off,
Book: Till Kingdom Come
Link: http://www.amazon.com/Till-Kingd...
Looking for reviews not only on book, but also, blurb and cover.
One second it was the dead of night, the next there were multiple explosions, I jumped out of bed, at first I wasn't sure if it was a dream, or not. Then the alarm went off,
Book: Till Kingdom Come
Link: http://www.amazon.com/Till-Kingd...
Looking for reviews not only on book, but also, blurb and cover.
It was 1 am and he was drunk so Marty Johnson walked out of the bar. It was his usual haunt, Jimmy's over on 5th, but still no-one waved him goodbye when he left. Jimmy used to, back when he was still alive, but then Jimmy had known the value of a dyed in the wool alcoholic like Marty. It wasn't about making them feel liked or being pally with them. All you had to do was make them believe that what they were doing to themselves was normal. Jimmy's son had taken over when he died... 
http://www.amazon.com/Guy-Walks-Out-B...
Here's mine: A furious up-rush had driven Zachary since adolescence. He craved every advantage, trophy, scholarship, and fellowship a man could attain. The youngest Boy Scout in his region to attain Eagle, at age thirteen: This he considered the trailhead from which he would ascend to ever-greater honors. He lived by the Scout Oath, Law, Motto, and Slogan, all of which he knew by heart and was happy to recite, should anyone want to hear them.
The first thing you need to know is that Super Spuds have magical powers. The scientists who created them don’t know this and neither does the rest of the human population. At the instant the seed is created, the Super Spud is alive, aware, and governed by a set of stringent magical rules. These magic rules have always existed throughout the universe and are not exclusive to Super Spuds. They are there simply to hold the universe in a state of balance and to keep the beings with magic unknown to those without. The Super Spud Trilogy
Will Stark ran toward his home as fast as he could, despondent at the likelihood that his wife and son would already be dead when he got there. And it would all be his fault. He ran, not for enjoyment or accomplishment, but in a desperate attempt, no matter how futile, to prevent his wife and son from being brutally murdered.A Question of Will
Far away from urban life, a dense forest grew on the upper corner of the country Adbertos. The moss layered trees went on for miles and miles and not a spot went uncovered. The undergrowth so thick the sun had no way of getting through.Deep in the forest hid a mansion. The tip of the residence peeking out of the trees, but not too noticeable in the vast area. It stretched about as long and wide as a football field.
The mansion was a brilliant white with clean windows and marble pillars higher than the mansion‘s rooftop. Many circled the place as if they were a protective shield. A lake reflected the abode while the sun made the water sparkling crystals.
Desolate City
Gothic Cavalcade
The stars sparkled above the mist shrouded tents and caravans of the carnival. The night crackled with an odd vibration, as if a veil of peculiarity settled over the company. The Family gathered in the main tent, the surrounding canvas rippled lightly and the smell of old dirt and memories were in the air. Voices murmured in subdued tones, wariness was felt among the assembled.
Mother had called.
She stood watching them, and absently pushed a white tinged lock of hair from her face, to tuck it back into her mass of upswept grey hair.
Cornerstonehttp://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009...
Lady Valencia Warren's head snapped up as surely as if someone had called her name. Placing her infant daughter in her maid's waiting arms, she hurried to the door.
Valencia didn't bother to grab her cloak before stepping outside; knowing what was coming chilled her more than the cold morning ever could. Her keen gaze searched the hill beyond the estate wall, fighting the wind's determined bid to block her view. Blonde strands whipped across her face as she watched the two small dots, moving purposefully closer, and closer still.
There was no time for fear.
The MZD: A novella of undead horrorAll things considered, if he’d known the end of the world was coming, Felix would probably have stayed in Baltimore. Instead, after grad school, looking to travel in Asia and get a start on paying off his debt, he’d come to Korea, where he taught English to elementary school students.
His returns were mixed. He didn’t much care for teaching, the pay wasn’t as good as he’d hoped, and the city where he lived - Mokpo, a grubby little outpost on the southern end of the peninsula, was a fishing-based backwater filled with peasants, bureaucrats, and a sometimes blatant hostility towards foreigners. Which, ironically, made it not much different from the Baltimore he’d tried most of his life to escape.
There were several years where I didn’t think about Jack, my father, much at all. But understand: All my life he’d been no more than a drunken bully infected by wanderlust who, after periodic short desertions, had abandoned us one final and permanent time by dying. So I punished him the only way you can punish a dead man, by removing him from my thoughts altogether. And I did not allow his return until the third spring after his death, when I found myself in the undignified aftermath of a brief and embarrassing relationship. Jack's Boys: http://amzn.com/B009FII0BO
From Man to ManThe first 100 words from my new ebook 'From Man to Man':
I never meant to let you down.'
Draven lifted a stray curl of his wife's hair from her face. She smiled in her sleep as if knowing he was there. As silently as he could, he leaned over the bed and kissed her softly on the cheek.
'I've tried everything.'
Rising slowly, as quietly as he could on the wooden floorboards, Draven retreated from the bed. By the fractured light from the shutters, he made for the bedroom door. The walls of the house were thin and he heard a creak from the neighbouring room.
'Best be off before Kale wakes.'
Hey D.E.M.you're a good writer filled with emotion pouring onto the page but you'd be better if you chopped the LY adverbs.
here's the latest read from my book on rewriting the novel:
YOU CUT YOUR WAY TO A FINAL DRAFT. Cutting means you excise the bad prose. Bad prose blurs the word-pictures. Bad prose slows the story to explain what’s going on. Bad prose is made from weak verbs and abstract nouns. Here’s an example of bad prose:
“She turned fifteen, then sixteen, then seventeen. And then she was in college. She thought that that should have been wonderful, but at the end of the day, at the termination of her second week, she had begun to think somewhat differently, to consider options, like, well, that she could have been wrong, like totally. It wasn't only the faculty, the students, the administration, she thought fretfully, it was basically also the way people, like, pointedly, fixedly, stared at her when she changed classes, or like she wasn’t being looked at all, and if things didn’t turn around, if something really terrific didn’t happen, like, well, then, she would attempt to begin to make a decision, strategically, to begin to start to rectify whatever it was she might have been feeling when she finally dragged herself to class only to discover….”
This is a story about a college girl. She had high hopes for college, but now she sounds depressed. Instead of showing the character in a scene – walking to class, crossing the threshold into a hostile classroom, meeting a friend for coffee – the writer stands back and explains from a distance. The writer is working hard, but with each line the language weakens and the word-pictures blur and we are left with a confused, empty-sounding passage. This passage needs cutting. If you need proof, take a minute to circle the nouns and the verbs. Also circle any word that ends in LY. (The LY words are adverbs.)
• verbs: turned, was, thought, should have been, had begun to think, to consider, would attempt to begin to make…to begin to start to rectify, being looked at, didn’t turn, didn’t happen, should have been, could have been, might have been feeling, dragged, to discover
• nouns: fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, college, day, termination, week, options, faculty, students, administration, people, classes, things, something, decision, class
• LY-adverbs: totally, pointedly, fixedly, basically, fretfully, strategically, finally
Analysis: There is one strong verb (dragged) trying to haul the passage through a thicket of weak verbs. The nouns are either abstract and far away (termination, decision, administration, options) or generic (people, students, class). The writer uses LY-adverbs (totally, pointedly, fixedly) to pump emotion into the passage.
Tip for your rewrite: if you find a passage of bad prose, then cut it from the manuscript. If you need the passage, convert to a scene, starting with sense perception to lock down the point of view.
EXAMPLE: CONVERTING BAD PROSE TO A SCENE
Step One: use sense perception to lock down the point-of-view:
“She entered the room and smelled wet wool.”
Step Two: use action to express emotion. The emotion here is despair:
“She sank into her seat. Took a deep breath. Her eyes felt wet. When she reached for a tissue, she raked her finger on the zipper. Red pain. She sneezed.”
Step Three: put a second character into the scene. If you’re writing a college novel, the other character is a teacher or another student.
all best,
robert ray
She couldn't be dead. Not yet—not like this. Laura screamed at her lifeless figure, trying to rouse it. The sound was frozen. She wasn’t finished with her life. She had to get back. “Clear,” the paramedic shouted again as he pressed the paddles into her chest.
“Lady, don’t you dare die! I have a flawless record and I’ll be damned if you break it. Not tonight. Not on my watch. Breathe damn you, breathe!”
The Perfect Clone
http://www.amazon.com/The-Perfect-Clo...
Robert’s advice to edit out adverbs and passive language is dead on. Anyone who spends time and dollars to attend a writers conference will encounter multiple seminars preaching those basic craft principles.With that in mind, M.L.’s first hundred are good but the killer hook is here:
M.L. wrote: “Clear,” the paramedic shouted as he pressed the paddles into her chest. “Lady, don’t you dare die! I have a flawless record and I’ll be damned if you break it. Not tonight. Not on my watch. Breathe damn you, breathe!”
Mark wrote: "Robert’s advice to edit out adverbs and passive language is dead on. Anyone who spends time and dollars to attend a writers conference will encounter multiple seminars preaching those basic craft p..."Thank you Mark!
Here's the beginning of my new book, Radiant Shadows
Believe me; I never imagined the eventual result I was left with.
When I was called to stand before that vampire high council myself, the oddness of the situation had me a little concerned that their whole event may just be a dramatic bit of show before I was killed/possibly turned (vampires seem to enjoy creating eerie situations like that for their own amusement), the only reason I felt that I might possibly keep my human life was because of the presence of one specific other human I saw who was sitting among them.
And you have this admission
verbs are all weak--making the opening weak--you can do better than this--no way to compete in today's world of writersread these aloud::::
was called to stand
had…concerned
may just be
was killed/turned
seem to enjoy
felt
might keep
was
saw
was sitting
happy writing
robert ray, the weekend novelist guy
From my new Novella:The heaviness of the small, empty word worried little about his armour, overwhelmingly crushing him as it fell from his daughter’s lips. He was a vessel, his family his cargo that he selfishly sailed into oceans of isolation and regret only to foolishly run aground. His family now waited on the shore for him to sink from view so they could profit from what flotsam and jetsam would wash ashore. He wanted to open his eyes and look upon his wife. She was the star he once navigated by. He wasn’t foolish, he knew just as all stars, what he saw and what is, were not the same. The distance between him and his star so vast that the love that once shone so bright died so very long
ago.
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1...
First 99 words taken from the prologue of my book The Legacy: FateMy spaceship abruptly froze in place as it came to a screeching halt. The emergency system prompted me out of my symbiosis status. No time to stretch: something was amiss.
"Wait while I check for a malfunction."
The Heart hummed in response.
"Ok, what do we have here?"
A red lightning flashed in front of my eyes, followed immediately by another.
"What the…," I said while a third one hit the ship. Vapors of burnt substance rushed into my nostrils. "Shield up, buddy, and let's see where that came from."
A peculiar object, seemingly static, appeared on the radar.
A yellow SUV in their shared driveway was blocking half of her ivy-covered carport. Seriously? Monica Wilson squeezed her BMW in almost grazing her husband’s car. That wouldn’t have gone over well. She pried herself out, trying not to scratch her door or laptop against the adjoining fence. Frustration with her neighbor Rebecca bubbled as she slammed the door shut. She tried to get control of her chestnut hair and looked over the vehicle. She'll be sending her husband Alex to complain. The SUV had New York plates, was filthy and had quite a few dings around the bumpers.
August Fog
I am the sum of my ancestors. The trowel slices the moist soil. I am the foundation of my family. Lilian rips the weeds from the loosened soil. Honor is my blade and shield. The trowel slashes, the weeds are decimated. Again and again, Lilian tears into the soil, clearing space for her plantings. Above her, the walls of the garden rise on three sides. On the north side, the house rises four storeys to complete the enclosure. The ancient house has stood for five centuries. It is in desperate need of repairs that have been too long postponed. It does not matter. It only needs to stand for three more years. Three years. Honor endures.
The first two chapters can be downloaded via pdf from Goodreads or as a free sample from Amazon, Apple and Barnes and Noble. The Cartel, Volume 1: The Apprentice
Evan woke up craving a cigarette. The bedroom was pitch-black. He reached out, searching the nightstand. His hand found something solid, square. He opened his eyes. The digital alarm clock glowed 4:45.“Damn!” He’d been asleep barely five hours. His mouth was dry as cotton. He groped in the dark, knocking over a glass, pushing his keys from the nightstand to the floor. No cigarettes. Not even an empty pack.
He sat up, reached over and turned on the lamp atop the nightstand. He could see now. There were no cigarettes on the nightstand, nor were any on the floor...
Sudden Addiction: A Short Story
Connecting Readers and Writers
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Sudden Addiction: A Short Story (other topics)The Cartel (other topics)
August Fog (other topics)
Fate (other topics)
Radiant Shadows (other topics)
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April Alisa Marquette (other topics)Jeffrey Kosh (other topics)
Leslie Deaton (other topics)
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Deluge of the..."
These reads are all facinating, but the one interested me particularly because the horror of the rape attack on the woman resembles to some extent the beginning of my next novel (not even typed up), all about a dsytopia following an acoplypse too.
Unfortunately, it seems most likely to me that following an acoplypse women would lose all their rights, save those prepared to fight.