It’s time to share our works in progress!
I’ve barely blogged in the past month, because I’ve been working on my sequel, but I’m getting back into it this month and in the fall. And of course, I didn’t want to miss WIP Wednesday!
I always decorate my house with sunflowers in August, so I did that with this post, too. 😊
For new folks, Work in Progress Wednesday is the first Wednesday of every month. I share a snippet of what I’m working on and I invite you all to do the same in the comments.
Copy and paste from a document. Sometimes your comment can be slow to load, but just leave it alone and it’ll get there!
You can also just let us know what you’re working on, so we can cheer you on!
Take a look at the rules first!
•Keep your excerpt to 200 words or fewer. I know it’s tough! If you post a longer piece, I may trim it.
•Don’t feel shy about sharing something that’s rough. We do it all the time.
•Please don’t include graphic sex or violence, but cursing isn’t a problem.
•We are sharing work that’s not really ready to be critiqued, so avoid making criticisms or suggestions. That being said, it’s good writer luck to share some encouraging words!
Here’s a snippet from my novel in progress, with the working title Her Duke Ever After.I’m avoiding spoilers, since this book is on contract! This snippet comes not too long after a duke from the year 1818 has appeared in Rose’s apartment in modern-day Chicago.
He took a cautious sip of the tea. “It is perfectly acceptable.”
“Great!” Her lively blue eyes twinkled. He sensed she might be laughing at him, though he couldn’t imagine why.
“But I take it with cream,” he added mildly. She would be mortified, he was sure, that she had failed to offer him either cream or sugar.
She shrugged. “Best I can do is some oat milk.”
“You cannot extract milk from oats.”
“Sure you can. Just squeeze them really hard,” she said, pressing her finger and thumb together. Then she giggled. “Sorry it’s not high tea at the Drake. I’m not that proper.”
That gave him, he realized, the opportunity to raise the matter much on his mind. He cleared his throat slightly.
“Speaking of propriety, perhaps I should leave after this cup of tea, before your neighbors wake.”
He hadn’t expected her to blush—she was cavorting about in a state of dishabille, after all—but he’d at least expected her to agree.
Instead, she blinked at him. “Why?” While he tried to think of the delicate way to say, So no one will think you’re a whor*, she added in confusion, “Where would you go?”
Your turn! Share something of your own below…
Or tell us about what’s going on with your work! Thanks so much for stopping by, and happy writing!
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Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:05 am
Oh, no! The neighbors! Hahaha, I love it. 🙂
Mine’s from a flashback in my current WIP, Blackbird Haunted.
NOVEMBER 1966
RENEWED SPIRIT HOME FOR BOYS AND GIRLSMina lay on the medical table, her tears freely flowing.
They were going to sterilize her.
I’m only fourteen.
The horrible Nurse Keller was getting things ready.
“Would you stop sniveling?” she snapped. “You’re going to be fine.”
Mina clamped her mouth shut, and tried to keep her sobs silent.
A moment later, Dr. Brown walked in, followed closely by a nurse that Mina did not recognize. She was beautiful, with hair the shade of pale yellow moonlight pinned up to reveal her striking face. Mina became fixated on her, unable to look away from the woman.
Do I know her? She’s so familiar.
“Hello, dear,” the new nurse with serene, pale green eyes said, earning a dirty look from Keller. “I’m Nurse Verthandi. I’ll be assisting Dr. Brown today.”
“H-h-hi,” Mina managed.
Nurse Verthandi glanced over at Dr. Brown, who was discussing something with Keller in hushed tones. When she looked back at Mina, she took her hand in both of her own.
“I’m here to keep you safe, my little Blackbird,” she whispered.Mina’s breath froze in her chest at the nickname no one here should know.
A strange but wonderful idea came to Mina. “Are you a guardian angel?”
Nurse Verthandi chuckled, amusem*nt lighting her features. “Only occasionally.”
A few minutes later, as the anesthesia began to pull Mina down into unconsciousness, her eyes sought out the kind nurse one last time. The last thing she saw before going under was Nurse Verthandi pressing a finger to her lips in a gesture for silence, and winking at her…with eyes that had gone pure white.
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Gera Jones says:
August 7, 2024 at 9:20 am
I felt like I was in Mina’s body. I want more. Why is she being sterilized? There is so much going on here.
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Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:05 pm
Thanks!
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Evelyn Puerto says:
August 7, 2024 at 12:20 pm
The nurse with the white eyes is creepy and intriguing.
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renaetaylorsworld says:
August 8, 2024 at 12:08 am
I agree, this is awesome! Hope you post more! 🙂
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Megan Cline says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:13 am
This is an excerpt from my novel This Love of Ours. It’s about a high school principal (Clark) who is in a committed relationship with the mother of one of his students (Ashley) that he doesn’t get along with. The story is about how their relationship evolves.
This section takes place after Ashley was pushed from a balcony and has broken both of her legs. In a separate accident on the same night, her boyfriend was killed. Clark and her mom delicately wanted to tell her but her best friend’s mother told her in a not so delicate way.
——-Clark still held onto Corrin’s arm as he walked her down the hall. He wasn’t sure how tight his grip was or how much trouble he’d be in with the school board for dragging the head of the PTA out of a hospital room by her arm but he didn’t care. When he and Sydney found out the details of how Steven died, they agreed that they wanted to protect Ashley from that information as long as possible. They were going to tell her that he died but carefully and without getting into details about the tree branch that slammed into his chest. They didn’t think they’d have to worry about Corrin carelessly telling Ashley, fueling her nightmares for the rest of her life.
Once they were safely away from the room, Clark took his hand off her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”
“She’s the one lying about my daughter,” Corrin said.
“I don’t think she’s lying. I think you have some hard questions to ask your daughter.”
“What do you know about being a parent?”
“Enough to get by.”
Todd walked up to them. “Vale’s ready to go home.”
“Can’t you take her?” Corrin asked.
“You know I’m on shift,” Todd replied.
Corrin stormed off. Clark turned to Todd. “How is Vale doing?”
“Physically, she’s fine. Mentally, she’s a mess. She may not have a scratch on her but she saw what the branch did to him.”
“That’s going to be harder to come back from,” Clark said.-
Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 10:55 am
Yikes, those kids had a really bad night! Is Corrin’s daughter the one who pushed Ashley off the balcony? How did the boyfriend end up impaled on a branch? So many questions!
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Carolyn Orr says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:43 am
From my book 2 in the Series Unveiling Desires
The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the tranquil park where
Devon decided to take an evening stroll to the market. The gentle breeze rustled
the branches, creating a soothing melody as she walked along the winding path.
The serenity of the surroundings embraced her, easing her mind from the day’s
worries.
Several days went by without any dreams or nightmares. Laura returned to
her apartment. Devon attributed it to stress related to the Clients’ will distribution
and Amadeus’ inability to visit during Christmas or New Year. No responses were
received from the client’s children, suggesting they accepted the lawyer’s decisions
and would not contest the will.
As she kept going, a strange sensation crept up her spine, prompting her to
look behind her. In the distance, she glimpsed a figure, a silhouette in the haze. A
sense of unease washed over Devon, her heart racing and steps faltering.
She ignored her apprehension as paranoia, yet it persisted. Devon increased
her speed, hoping to shake off the uneasiness, but couldn’t escape the nagging
thought of being followed.
The path grew darker and the sounds of chirping birds were replaced by an
eerie silence as she ventured deeper into the park. Flickering lampposts cast long,
whispering shadows. Devon’s eyes darted around, senses heightened.
Devon’s heart skipped as a rustling sound came from the nearby bushes. She
strained her eyes, attempting to pierce through the darkness and discern any sign of
her pursuer. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, building a tense atmosphere
around her.-
Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:04 pm
Super creepy! Being stalked by a stranger is a great foundational fear to use in a story, I think just about everyone can relate to it.
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Carolyn Orr says:
August 8, 2024 at 5:55 am
Thank you.
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Susan Cook says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:59 am
“Essie.” He stopped and took her hand. “What kind of a name is that? A nickname?”
“Yes.” His hand was warm and felt good on her cold skin. “When I was little and people asked me my name, I always said ‘Essie.’ And it stuck”
“What is your name?” His thumb gently massaged the joints in her hand.
“Esmeralda. Esmeralda Novena.”
His smile appeared and disappeared in the same breath. “That’s an unusual name. And it’s lovely. Is there some religious significance?”
“No.” She laughed. “My parents were not particularly religious. They were hippies.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.” She tried to squeeze the lemon in her water glass with the straw, unwilling to pull her hand away from his. “I grew up thinking everyone smoked pot and listened to Bob Dylan all night.”
“Then, family names?”
“No. My mother’s favorite book was ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ and my dad liked the sound of Novena. Neither of them knew what a novena is. Of course, he wasn’t really my dad.”
Caleb started to speak and she held up her free hand.
“My mom went to Woodstock with some of her college girlfriends and when she came back, she was pregnant.-
Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 10:57 am
Nicely done dialogue. I laughed out loud at smoking pot and listening to Dylan all night. I knew some people like that while growing up!
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August 7, 2024 at 10:56 am
This is from my currrent WIP, THE CASE AT CASTLE ROCK COVE, set in 1821. In the first chapter, the male lead finds a message in a bottle:
“His curiosity and his desire to collect warred for a moment, and curiosity won. He could not bear not knowing what the note said! He broke the wax seal, then drew out the cork. Coaxing out the scroll of paper was harder than he expected. In the end, he had to use a pair of tweezers to pull it through the neck of the bottle.
He unfolded it with shaking hands, then had to pause to silently laugh at himself. How foolish it was to act as if this note were something life changing! As if it were a map to treasure, or an appeal to rescue. Even if it had been tossed overboard by a sailor on a sinking boat, there was no way that that sailor would still be alive, waiting for rescue.
But he could not ignore the frisson of excitement that crept down his spine when he unfolded the note and read it. At first the contents made his eyes widen; then they made him grin.”
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Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 2:10 pm
This sounds great! WHAT DOES IT SAY?
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Jessie Turner says:
August 7, 2024 at 10:57 am
Hi Bryn, squeezing oats for oat milk. Haha. I love your humor.
Great news! My book, Moon in the Day Sky: Valley of Thunder, is out in the world as a published book!
My WIP piece is from a sequel. Working title is Dragon Taught: Edge of the Sword. Jerin is Yadira’s brother. DuShain is their best friend.Jerin called, “Ishemia! We brought Yadira. She’s been injured.”
The dragon approached the cave entrance but stayed out of reach. “So why did you bring her to me?”
“For healing. You’re magic.”
“She chose her course.”
DuShain reached out, imploring. “But she could die.”
“She wouldn’t accept what I could give her. She chose her family instead. So, let her family deal with this.”
“But we don’t know what to do for her.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Humans are lacking in judgment. They are unreliable.”
Jerin leaned toward her. “She’s your best hope and you know it. If you don’t help her, who will be your champion?”
“Champions are steadfast. They do not abandon their quest because something doesn’t suit their whim.”
“So, are you calling family duties whims? What about your family? You sent a little girl alone into the swamp to save your son. She risked everything for you! Well, I think it’s time to pay her back!”
The hard line of Ishemia’s mouth softened. She took in a breath and expelled it. “Bring her here.”-
Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 2:14 pm
Well, the dragon isn’t wrong, humans are lacking in judgment and unreliable. Glad she relented. Nice excerpt!
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Jessie Turner says:
August 7, 2024 at 6:54 pm
Thanks Pamela. I’m glad you enjoyed the excerpt and agreed with the dragon. She had good reason for her opinion.
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Starlately says:
August 7, 2024 at 11:14 am
Happy Wednesday Bryn!
I love the way you’ve written this narrative in the duke’s POV! (I’m trying to alternate POVs with my current WIP. It’s tricky to make sure the narrative voices are distantly different!) The oat milk commentary made me chuckle.
This snippet is in Ellie’s POV, just after she’s reconnected with Wes:
The ghost of Wes’s touch follows me all the way back to the apartment. As I sit in my soft gray lounge pants on the sofa sipping on a glass of bubbly wine, a king-sized chocolate bar broken into pieces on the coffee table between us, Willa gushes over her amazing, once-in-a-lifetime evening with the one and only Austen Sheppard.
But my mind is elsewhere, thinking about how it felt when Wes took my hand in the parking garage. Some distant part of me wants that feeling to come back. I think of the lines in Wes’s face, his laughter, our conversations, his presence. I think about the blue scarf I tried to make when I was twelve and my mom really wanted me to learn crochet, how proud I was of that crooked little monstrosity, and how 12-year-old Wes’s face lit up when he put it on for the first time. And he still has it? Whoa.
I sigh. All of that is the past.
“Ohmigod. That man is just… He’s even better in person. Like, I know I said as much at the parade but, to be right there, at the same table?” Willa flushes.
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Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 2:19 pm
Nicely done…the scarf as a link from past to present is a great touch!
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Don Blinebry says:
August 7, 2024 at 11:27 am
From a new short story called PROPHET MARGIN.
The old-fashioned bell on the door of McNulty’s Tavern heralded my arrival. Pinky was behind the bar pouring a glass of whiskey.
“A little early for that, Pinky, even for you. What the hell’s so goddamn hush-hush you’ve got to drag me in?”
Pinky, hands occupied with the bottle and the glass, pointed his chin in the direction of a corner the morning sun had thrown into shadow. McNulty sat at a table, his color gone and the big Irishman’s effusive personality nowhere in sight. Buck stood behind him, a hand on his shoulder.
Pinky put the whiskey in front of the proprietor and turned to me. “We was getting breakfast, me and Buck and Mac an’ then we came here. Mac said Mildred come in early ‘cause she wanted to work on the books. So when we get here, Mac finds her slumped over the desk. He wants to call 911, but she’s already dead. Paramedics can’t do nothin’. I’m thinkin’ about all the cigarettes here. You know them smokes got no stamp. So I panic an’ call you. Can’t tell you all that on the phone.”
“Alright, Pinky. I’ll check Mildred. Mac, drink that. It’ll do you good.” -
renaetaylorsworld says:
August 7, 2024 at 12:09 pm
Hi Bryn! As always, thank you for the chance to share! I love the squeezing of oats to make oat milk – hehe – Well done! There’s lots of good excerpts here! Best wishes to everyone’s progress! 🙂 Here is my snippet from my paranormal/fantasy titled Evanescent, this is from my antagonist’s POV:
Lightening branched in the dark sky, the shattering brightness only lasting a few seconds before dimming back to the sepia shadowed room. Another boom of thunder crashed overhead before the energy rolled across the heavens. Torches lined the stone wall in high sconces, and dripping candles stood in their tall candelabrum, making a feeble attempt at pushing the shadows back. Judicas stared into his own sky-blue eyes, his focus remaining steadfast on the long, oval mirrored surface standing before him. He’d heard of such things as this. But never in all his wild imaginings had he ever dreamed of standing before such a thing. Magic mirrors were something he avoided, but then this wasn’t a mirror, was it. Raising his hand, he felt the energy radiating from its liquid silvery surface. A ripple spread over the sterling satin smoothness from his whisper of touch on the silver opalescence. Chills skittered up his spine, making gooseflesh over his skin. His heart raced a little in anticipation of stepping through this portal, and into the unknown, to the other side. Focusing a tendril of power through his fingertips, he hoped to gain a thread of knowledge as to what was on the other side.
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Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:10 pm
I’m interested. I love portal stories!
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renaetaylorsworld says:
August 8, 2024 at 12:01 am
Oh lovely! Thank you so much for commenting… I am working fast and furious to get this done and published. This is still rough draft, but able to share. Imagine being able to step through a portal to the world of the Fae, imagine again if they could step through to our world, and none of it is what one would think. Welcome to my world.
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Evelyn Puerto says:
August 7, 2024 at 12:23 pm
Hi Bryn, You had me hooked from the beginning. Loved how he was concerned with what her neighbors would think!
This is from my epic fantasy The Girl Who Shattered the Sea. Princess Derya is returning from having stolen the evil sorcerer’s scepter.Bahadir turned to rest his back against the rail. “I don’t know about you, but I’m grateful those clouds are hanging onto the rain like a miser grips a coin. I’ve had enough of storms at sea for a lifetime.”
Derya laughed. “And I thought you enjoyed the sound of rain.”
“Not on a ship tossed by waves higher than the mast. I’m looking forward to a little quiet.”
“You think we’ll find it in Nafplio? I’m wondering if anyone else was murdered while we were gone.” Including my dear cousin Nazif.
Bahadir chuckled. “Let’s hope—”
His words were lost in a gurgle. Derya jerked her head towards him. A water fae with needle sharp teeth protruding from its gaping jaw gripped Bahadir’s throat in long, bony fingers. Long tentacles protruded from the fae’s shoulders, tentacles that ended in barbed hooks. One of them raked Bahadir’s torso, slicing through his leather armor like it was fine silk. The other tentacle lashed towards Derya.
The princess ducked. What are these things?
As from a distance, she heard the captain’s cursing. “Cetus’s monsters!”-
Pamela says:
August 7, 2024 at 2:23 pm
Oh, this is awesome. More please.
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Rich Pauli says:
August 7, 2024 at 2:28 pm
A departure for me from playwriting: Started a short story titled “The Door.”
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Amy Bennett says:
August 7, 2024 at 4:23 pm
Very enjoyable read, Bryn! I imagined tasting that oatmilk flavoured tea as I was reading 🍵 😋
Last week Thursday was my birthday 🎂 (I celebrate it at the very beginning of August 🍾)
Here is a snippet from my latest domestic thriller novella, this chapter being titled New Beginnings in Scarborough:
I insisted on being the driver and having David be the front passenger. Not that I don’t trust him behind the wheel. Or that he is a pococurante when it comes to travelling on the road. However, I’ve always insisted on being the one to wear the trousers. (Not in the literal sense, obviously).
I heard the voice of my little girl reach my ears from the backseat behind me. “Are we there yet?”
I glanced in the mirror to catch a glimpse of Emma-Louise. Even though she had been keeping herself busy with her colouring books, she looked as bored as her twin brother. Oliver had been keeping himself occupied with his portable Nintendo DS for heaven knew how long. Since I had to keep my eye on the road and couldn’t glance back to see whether or not he had switched to something else, I didn’t know if he had simply lost interest in his minigame. Or if Emma-Louise had taken over.
“We’re almost there.” I tried to sound as reassuring as I could, although I felt David’s eyes focusing on me.
“Why give them false hope, Alison?”
When he said this, it made him sound like someone who was complaining. It also made me feel that familiar annoyance. But I tried to suppress my irritation towards my husband, who was an optimist only when it suited him. “I wouldn’t call it false hope, would you?”
I’d made a promise not only to myself but also to my family that this new move was going to mark new beginnings – starting and ending – on the right note. At least I was the driver, which I’ve always preferred to be. I’m used to being the one in full control.
“Mum,” I heard Oliver’s voice from the back passenger’s seat on my left, “there’s a paintball place over there. Can we check it out?”
“Not now, Ollie.” I adamantly continued focusing on the road. “We’re on our way to the new house, but I’ll see if we have time to check it out later.”
David jumped in. “I can always offer to take Oliver paintballing.”
David? Participating in paintball shooting?
I took in the scenery of the lake, the rows of beautifully exotic log cabins that sprawled like giant lego building sets, and the triple bungalows with friendly front porches. Eventually, we reached our new home destination. The first objects that caught my eye were the Canadian flags and Adirondack chairs lined neatly on the velvety grass that made me feel as though this spot was guiding me to my family’s new residence. David and I had put our heads together in purchasing a two-bedroom suburban house with four spare rooms for when sleepovers were allowed as soon after the children entered their preteens. For now, though, their playdates were not allowed to spend the night. My decision, by the way, since I call the shots and make the rules.
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Christie Adams says:
August 7, 2024 at 5:23 pm
Hi Bryn – thanks for the chance to share a bit of the current WIP. I’ve really only just started this, so it’s still very raw.
A familiar sense of pure, ice-cold dread settled around Taylor Markham’s shoulders, sweeping away the warmth of the late spring Texas sunshine. Familiar, but… not. This time around, there was an intensity to it that suggested something was different. She’d been doing this every couple of weeks ever since she’d started renting the box, and this was the first time she’d experienced a frisson of foreboding that their luck was about to run out.
Why had this been going on for so long? Her letters had included that question many times over the years, more and more frequently as time had gone on. The absence of a response baffled her, as it had every time she came to check for mail, until the confusion morphed into anger that it had lasted this long—over four years of wondering if her latest visit to the post office would be the one where the sword of Damocles finally fell.
Four. Years.
When this first started, she’d imagined it would be over in six months, maybe a year, and certainly no more than that, yet here they were, almost half a decade later. More to the point, how much longer would it be until the issue behind her flight from New York was resolved? Not that she was in any hurry to return to the big city. She loved the life she’d created for herself here—the only thing preventing it from being perfect was the situation she now feared might never come to an end, and the baggage it brought with it, like not knowing whether she’d ever see her father again.
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dholcomb1 says:
August 7, 2024 at 8:40 pm
love what you shared!
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ambroseandelsie says:
August 8, 2024 at 1:21 am
Ahh! I completely forgot that today was WIP Wednesday until just now. 😣
So, sorry that this one is late, but here is my excerpt…..
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Last night, Pinkerlee had been a place of street lamps and shadows with skulking figures. But now it was full of daylight and of life. People walked about the streets on errands, on cellphones, and on with their individual lives. They talked. They laughed. They scolded. They walked in sullen silence.
Greg felt a sad yearning to be just like them. But he knew the stories that others told. Once changed, a vampire cannot be changed into anything else. Presumably, that included being changed back into a normal human.
He winced at the brightness of the sunlight. It was dazzling and blinding—a little like sunlight on fresh snow. He tried to look away, but the sunlight was everywhere. It bounced off the windshields of passing cars and parked cars. It saturated the people around him. It glared out of the storefront windows. Even the ground was touched by the sunlight. There was no escaping it.
Greg darted into a nearby alley and leaned back against the wall. He pressed his hands against his eyes, even though there was only one to cover.
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