Friday, September 7, 2012

August Writing Report

Forged Steel: I'm on chapter 4 of the rewrite. It's going a little slower than I anticipated, just because there's a bunch of new stuff to add right away. Once I get into the middle of the book, rewriting should speed up.

Darkglass: I have about 10,000 words written here. While not going as quickly as I'd hoped, I'm enjoying the process of discovery on this story so much! Plus I'm having fun with some new twists I put into it. Celtic Elves, anyone? :)

Face: Has been at a standstill for the most part, as both Mirriam and I are busy with other projects. I hope to pick it back up this month--there's no doubt that we could easily finish it, as we both love it very much!  

Falls the Shadow: Is very close to being finished! My final chapter posted on the first.

Avenir Eclectia Volume 1: Will be releasing on September 15th! Look--that's my name, second-to-last there! On the cover for a PRINT BOOK! :D 

EXCERPTS:

Forged Steel: I lowered my hand, but Blake had already seen me. He waved back, but instead of coming across the room, he just stood by the door, staring at us. Another guy with a blue Mohawk came in the door and stopped beside Blake. They exchanged a few words, then the blue-haired kid ducked back out. Blake never took his eyes off us the entire exchange.
"This is creepy," I muttered.
Marc shifted in his seat and finally looked at Blake. His eyes narrowed.
Blake grinned, the silver stud in his lip twinkling, pointed at Marc in an "I'm watching you" sign, then turned and pushed out the café door. For a split second, as he crossed the threshold, his skin seemed to waver and stretch. I caught a glimpse of green skin covering his arm, then Blake was out the door and walking away.
I blinked hard. "Did you just see what I saw?"
Marc turned to me, his face perfectly composed and blank. "What?"
Uh huh, sure, act like Mr. Innocent. "You know what."
"Blake is always weird." Marc flicked a wad of napkin at me.

Darkglass: He stood between me and the stairs, his eyes blazing hazel fire. "Have you regained your magic?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Oh, please. You know that some of the best Elven magic-workers have said I won't. Why should you care? Even if I did regain it, it'd be my luck that your magic is still stronger than mine."
He chuckled. "You only run yourself down like that when you're hiding something, Mollan. Now answer me."
I shoved past him. "I'm not going to waste my time."
I had just put my foot on the first step when I felt it, a sharp tingling in the back of my skull. I whirled around, slamming the door to my mind, but it was too late—Fachtna was in. His eyes were narrowed, his ear tips red as he bore down on me. I clenched the staircase bannister and pushed, hard, but his magic only moved forward, prying into me.

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