Welcome to my world and beyond...

A collection of snippets of the books I write and, occasionally, my life and the things that inspire my writing...

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Weekend WritingWarriors: Concession

Weekend Writing Warriors: March 31, 2013


Week 9: "A chade fight..."
Welcome Eighters! Happy Easter to all. :-)  Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog-hop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at Weekend Writing Warriors, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between 12:00 noon Saturday, and 9:00 AM Sunday EST.  Then we visit each other, read, comment, critique, encourage--all those great things that do a solitary writer's heart good.

Give it a try--we're a pretty nice bunch of people.  :-)

This week, returning to my WIP, ATNS, and immediately following last week's 8 sentence post (if you want to read it first, it's Here. ) This takes place about half way through the story.

The setup:

Rissa has just spent nearly two months being trained to use a sword, trial by fire--eat, drink, sleep, think sword.  This scene is the fourth post of a sword fight where she bested Dhurstan. He's one of Cuylrh's guards and also his oldest friend. Dhurstan despises Rissa-- the woman from a place called Earth, who has taken his place in his friend's heart.  Cuylrh is the young King of Rialt, next in line to rule.  The fight has wound down. Dhurstan is pinned with Rissa's sword across his throat.



Dhurstan’s brows lowered and his lips went slack, his face announcing his concession before his words did. Though his body was limp, no doubt a precaution to avoid risking fate or Rissa’s sword sharpening skills, his voice—barely above a whisper still carried a hint of something other than the respect she was due—disgust, or maybe loathing when he said, “Yes, I yield.”

She looked him in the eye just long enough to let the magnitude of her victory—and his defeat, pass between them; weighed and measured, she’d found him lacking.  Not just lacking—she’d found him to be less of a man than his months of threats had led her to believe. Twisting his braid one last time, she gave his head a dismissive shove to the ground, then she stood.





That's it.  What jumps out at you, good or bad ? I'd love to hear it and am truly grateful for every bit of criticism, opinion, and shared wisdom..  Thank you so much for visiting! 

Note* If you are launching a book, offering one for free promotion, or  have a blogpost you'd like shared, tweet me @Teresa_Willow and I'll retweet it for you. :-)

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors: March 24, 2013


Week 8: "A chade fight..."
Welcome Eighters! Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog-hop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at Weekend Writing Warriors, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between 12:00 noon Saturday, and 9:00 AM Sunday EST.  Then we visit each other, read, comment, critique, encourage--all those great things that do a solitary writer's heart good.

Give it a try--we're a pretty nice bunch of people.  :-)

This week, returning to my WIP, ATNS, and immediately following last week's 8 sentence post (if you want to read it first, it's Here. This takes place about half way through the story.

The setup:


Rissa has just spent two months being trained to use a sword, trial by fire--eat, drink, sleep, think sword.  This scene is the third post of a sword fight where she bested Dhurstan. He's one of Cuylrh's guards and also his oldest friend. Dhurstan despises Rissa-- the woman from a place called Earth, who has taken his place in his friend's heart.  Cuylrh is the young King of Rialt, next in line to rule. 


"Cuylrh’s expression softened into one of growing amusement—the first time he had appeared untroubled since Rissa’s swordplay began.  A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and one eyebrow raised while looking at his friend’s face.  Then with the slightest hint of teasing evident, he calmly quoted the words Dhurstan had spoken on the day Rissa’s training began. “I recall you announcing to all of us that there was more to sword fights than swords?”

While those words settled out of the air, the defeated guard’s defiant whining was set to rest-- along with any possible intervention on the young King’s part. Dhurstan’s face flushed red then his gold eyes looked up at Rissa’s where she glowered above him.

She was a wound spring, her teeth yet clenched, and her knuckles were white where one hand gripped and twisted his braid, and the other, a vise grip on her sword. She narrowed her eyes while she jerked his braid again, wavering the pressure on his throat for one instant. There was no thought behind it, no design of action meant to terrify him, just rage driving her."
  
That's it.  What jumps out at you, good or bad ? I'd love to hear it and am truly grateful for every bit of criticism, opinion, and shared wisdom..  Thank you so much for visiting! 

Note* If you are launching a book, offering one for free promotion, or  have a blogpost you'd like shared, tweet me @Teresa_Willow and I will retweet it for you. :-)

The Chade Fight: A Lesson in Wewriwa

This is what Weekend Writing Warriors aka wewriwa and #8sunday and #wewriwa does so well. It works as a polishing tool for writers' prose, eight sentences at a time.

I won't swear that these words won't change before this story sees the pages of a book, but I can tell you that wewriwa (and the now closed sixsunday group) taught  me a lot about preening my selection for errors before posting. When I'm at the end of looking for what's wrong, as my friend and editor, Steven Weissman, tells me to do, I ask myself how I can make it better.

This is  a compilation of several weeks' postings.

*Note "chade" is a Rialtan word, rough translation into Earth  English is, "bitch".

And Norstar is one of the young King's guards, has been impressed by Rissa's tenacity and effort throughout the training.


Cuylrh, young King of the Rialtan Empire, two months ago, commanded that Rissa, the young woman from a place called Earth, is to be trained to fight with a sword--eventually to earn a place in the King's guard.  Since then, she's been training. The method the group is using to teach her is simple and brutal. Any of them can (and do) draw on her anytime, anyplace, on any given day-- with very few exceptions. They have all been warned to not draw blood on her. All have complied, but Dhurstan has come as close as possible without earning punishment from Cuylrh's sword.  It has been a trial by fire of day in and day out, eat, sleep, drink, breathe, sword.

By now, Rissa's exhausted, thin as a rail, and has been pushed to her limit by Dhurstan's  incessant tormenting. The ultimate in waking on the wrong side of the bed furs occurs- finally giving Rissa the moxie to do what she must. To best one of the group with her sword. 
Growling, Rissa drove forward--her elbows bent in a two-handed power-grip like she was wielding a Louisville Slugger. She met Durstan’s steel with her own. 

For what seemed like an eternity, their motionless and deadly standoff of cold metal opposing cold metal played out, finally brought to an abrupt end when Rissa dropped and rolled.

While Dhurstan’s broadsword sliced the ground beside her, barely missing her hair, she grabbed a handful of dirt and ashes. 

In a fluid motion, she scrambled to her feet and emptied her fist, flinging it at Dhurstan’s face. 

His unarmed hand flew through the cloud of caustic dust, and swiped at his eyes.

Seizing the opportunity, she shifted effortlessly--now second nature to her, attacking with the balance and grace of a dancer merged with a sweaty, enraged wildcat.   

Sparks flashed when she slammed his sword with hers--her  undersized weapon wielded by the most unmanly of hands, lifting his up and out, and launching it from his hand. "
Black tears streaked down his ash covered face as Dhurstan spun the whole way around, squinting then blinking over and over, no doubt searching for his weapon.
In her opponent's weak moment, Rissa  tackled him-- dropping her sword as she launched herself, toppling him to the ground.  No holds barred, she bit, she scratched, kicked, slapped and she even pulled his hair.  When he was reduced to cowering behind his hands, she leaned out, grabbed her sword, and laid it across his throat.
Through clenched teeth, a fierce voice came from someplace deep within her, someplace that had never seen the light of day, resonating steel no less hair-raising than the song of the executioner's sword.  Her breaths were deep and fast, and stinging sweat ran into her eyes as she warned, “Do you yield?  I mean it Dhurstan--you yield, or I swear to the Giver above, you won’t live to torment me another day!”

More tears of ash irritation, or possibly from hot embarrassment ran from his eyes as he scanned the crowd  of astonished onlookers, finally coming to rest on Cuylrh, then he blurted, “She... she cheated--it  was a chade fight!”

Amid snickers that followed Dhurstan's whining, Norstar quipped, “You say it was a chade fight, yet by all appearances, you are the one who must yield?”
 
Cuylrh’s expression softened into one of growing amusement—the first time he had appeared untroubled since Rissa’s swordplay had begun.  A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and one eyebrow raised as he looked at his friend’s face and with the slightest hint of teasing evident, calmly quoted the words Dhurstan had spoken on the day Rissa’s training began. “I recall you announcing to all of us that there was more to sword fights than swords?”



While those words settled out of the air, the defeated guard’s defiant whining was set to rest-- along with any possible intervention on the young King’s part. Dhurstan’s face flushed red then his gold eyes looked up at Rissa’s where she glowered above him.



She was a wound spring, her teeth yet clenched, and her knuckles were white where one hand gripped and twisted his braid, and the other held a vice grip on her sword. She narrowed her eyes while she jerked his braid again, wavering the pressure on his throat for one instant. There was no thought behind it, no design of action meant to terrify him, just rage driving her.


I'll add to this as #8sunday posts have been commented on and edited accordingly.
 
  

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors: March 17, 2013


Week 7: "A chade fight..."
Welcome gr8ters! Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog-hop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at Weekend Writing Warriors, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between 12:00 noon Saturday, and 9:00 AM Sunday EST.  Then we visit each other, read, comment, critique, encourage--all those great things that do a solitary writer's heart good.

Give it a try--we're a pretty nice bunch of people.  :-)

This week, returning to my WIP, ATNS, and immediately following last week's 8 sentence post (if you want to read it first, it's HERE ) this takes place about half way through the story.

Rissa has been training with the sword for well over a month, day in and day out. Eat, sleep, drink, breathe, sword.  The method the group is using to teach her is simple and brutal. Any of them can (and do) draw on her anytime, anyplace, on any given day-- with very few  exceptions. They have all been warned not to draw blood on her. All have complied, but Dhurstan has come as close as possible without earning punishment from Cuylrh.

Rissa is exhausted, thin as a rail, and has been pushed to her limit by Dhurstan's  incessant tormenting. The ultimate in waking on the wrong side of the bed-furs has occurred- finally giving Rissa the moxie to do what she must. To best one of the group with her sword.

*Note "chade" is a Rialtan word, rough translation into Earth  English is, "bitch".

  And Norstar, one of the young King's guards, has been impressed by Rissa's tenacity and effort throughout the training.

Today's snippet:  

Black tears streaked down his ash covered face as Dhurstan spun the whole way around, squinting then blinking over and over, no doubt searching for his weapon.

In her opponent's weak moment, Rissa  tackled him-- dropping her sword as she launched herself.  No holds barred, she bit, she scratched, kicked, slapped and she even pulled his hair, then, after toppling him to the ground, she leaned out, grabbed her sword, and laid it across his throat. Through clenched teeth, a fierce voice came from someplace deep within her, someplace that had never seen the light of day, resonating steel no less hair-raising than the song of the executioner's sword.  Her breaths were deep and fast, and stinging sweat ran into her eyes as she warned, “Do you yield?  I mean it Dhurstan--you yield, or I swear to the Giver above, you won’t live to torment me another day!”



More tears of ash irritation, or possibly from hot embarrassment ran from his eyes as he scanned the crowd  of astonished onlookers, finally coming to rest on Cuylrh, then he blurted, “She... she cheated--it  was a chade fight!”



Amid snickers that followed Dhurstan's whining, Norstar quipped, “You say it was a chade fight, yet by all appearances, you are the one who must yield?” 
  

That's it.  What jumps out at you, good or bad ? I'd love to hear it and am truly grateful for every bit of criticism, opinion, and shared wisdom..  Thank you so much for visiting! 


Note* If you are launching a book, offering one for free promotion, or  have a blogpost you'd like shared, tweet me @Teresa_Willow and I will retweet it for you. :-)


Sunday, March 10, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors: March 10, 2013



Week 6: "Dirt and ashes..."

Welcome gr8ters! Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog-hop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at Weekend Writing Warriors, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between 12:00 noon Saturday, and 9:00 AM Sunday EST.  Then we visit each other, read, comment, critique, encourage--all those great things that do a solitary writer's heart good.

Give it a try--we're a pretty nice bunch of people.  :-)

This week, returning to my WIP, ATNS, and using the random scrolling method (I give Kate Warren complete credit for coining the term for that method) I've landed about one half of the way through the story.

Rissa has been training with the sword for over a month. The method the group is using to teach her is simple and brutal. Any of them can (and do) draw on her anytime, anyplace, on any given day-- with very exceptions. They have all been warned to not draw blood on her. All have complied, but Dhurstan has come as close as possible without earning punishment from Cuylrh's swords.

Rissa's exhausted, thin as a rail, and has been pushed to her limit by Dhurstan's  incessant tormenting. The ultimate in waking on the wrong side of the bed furs occurs- finally giving Rissa the moxie to do what she must. Best one of the group with her sword.


"Growling, Rissa drove forward--her elbows bent in a two-handed powergrip like she was wielding a Louisville Slugger.

She met Durstan’s steel with her own. 

For what seemed like an eternity, their motionless and deadly standoff of cold metal opposing cold metal played out, finally brought to an abrupt end when Rissa dropped and rolled.

While Dhurstan’s broadsword sliced the ground beside her, barely missing her hair, she grabbed a handful of dirt and ashes. 

In a fluid motion, she scrambled to her feet and emptied her fist, flinging it at Dhurstan’s face. 

His unarmed hand flew through the cloud of caustic dust, swiping at his eyes.

Seizing the opportunity, she shifted effortlessly--now second nature to her, attacking with the balance and grace of a dancer merged with a sweaty, enraged wildcat.   

Sparks flashed when she slammed his sword with hers--her  undersized weapon wielded by the most unmanly of hands, lifting his up and out, and launching it from his hand. "


Dhurstan getting his. How 'bout that?  I'll pick up here next week, rather than random scrolling.


That's it.  What jumps out at you, good or bad. I'd love to hear it and am truly grateful for every bit of criticism, opinion, and shared wisdom..  Thank you so much for visiting! 
Note* If you are launching a book, offering one for free promotion, or  have a blogpost you'd like shared, tweet me @Teresa_Willow and I will retweet it for you. :-)







Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Wordless Wednesday: 30 seconds of peace

Wordless Wednesday: 30 seconds of peace.

On this day that I'm looking out my wiindow at over a half foot of new snow...
Summer dreams...

Next time, tripod to hold the camera still. :-)

Enjoy...

Saturday, March 2, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors March 3, 2013


Week 5: "When abzions fly..."

Whew, March already! And in my neck of the woods, spring is not far away.  Never enough time...

Welcome gr8ters! Weekend Writing Warriors is a weekly blog-hop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at Weekend Writing Warriors, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between 12:00 noon Saturday, and 9:00 AM Sunday EST.  Then we visit each other, read, comment, critique, encourage--all those great things that do a solitary writer's heart good.

Give it a try--we're a pretty nice bunch of people.  :-)

This week, returning to my WIP, ATNS, and using the random scrolling method (I give Kate Warren complete credit for coining the term for that method) I've landed about one quarter of the way through the story.

The young King, Rissa and his guard are visiting a world under Rialtan  Empire control. It's a mostly rural world with a few larger cities and many small villages. Cuylrh and group are in one of the small villages,  They all, with the exception of Abraxum, drank too much, and a few have displayed poor judgement. It's the middle of the night and Cuylrh has just been roused from his sleep by his first guard, Abraxum, and informed that Dhurstan, in a drunken state has just spent the better part of the night with the wife of a local.  Dhurstan is now standing in the street with sword drawn, ready to take on the husband over an affront to his honor.

*note: Abzions are  four legged, flightless predators.  Chade translated is roughly equivalent to Earth English "bitch"

Cuylrh, shirtless and barefoot in his haste, is now standing in the dirt street between  the two angry men:

"A corroborating onlooker barked, “She steal’t off and left the poor man and all the little ones at home, sound asleep. Took him hours to find her.”



In a tone meant to mollify, Cuylrh said, “The dishonor in this appears to be with your woman.  Perhaps my friend, here,” as he narrowed his eyes at Dhurstan, “didn’t even know she had a mate.”



“When abzions fly, he didn’t know!  With the Giver as my witness, we all sat together at our meal this day, and the cheating, stealing, chade-monger even asked us about our children!”



Kicking in serious diplomacy instilled by years of being groomed to rule, Cuylrh asked, “What is your name--  I didn’t catch it?” 



Foolishly flouting-- quite a risk even in this situation, the man sneered at the young King then gave a terse reply, “Bickmard.”  

That Dhurstan!  Endless trouble with that man. :-)  Aren't the bad boys fun to write ?

That's it.  What jumps out at you, good or bad. I'd love to hear it.  Thank you so much for visiting!

And please visit the other participants. :-)