This week has also been rather slow on the writing front for me, seeing as my sister graduated from high school and I've had family in all week. However, that didn't stop me from starting a new project that I'm super excited about. As you've probably noticed, I've had a hard time sticking to one story for a while now, but I'm hoping this one makes the cut. It's more on the middle grade side of the young adult spectrum, which is a new experiment for me. I suppose we'll see how it goes. I'm including the first two paragraphs at the bottom of today's post.

This week also gave me a frustrating problem: the biggest anime convention in Colorado is the exact same time as the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer's Conference. They did this to me last year, and I'm pretty sure they're going to continue doing this to me every year. This year, however, two of my favorite voice actors are coming to the anime convention (yes, you are free to call me a nerd). I also haven't been to a nerd con in years, and this one sounds like so much fun. However, I've made a commitment to my craft. There are a wide variety of fascinating and helpful workshops at the RMFW conference, plus a chance to pitch Savior again, rub elbows with agents and editors, and meet other people totally engaged in writing, which is just plain awesome. So, for another year, I make the tough decision to skip the anime convention (much to the chagrin of my friends, and the geeky part of my heart), and attend the RMFW conference. After all, who needs to meet voice actors and figure out how to get into voice acting when one can feel like a real author for a weekend, right?

And, now, the excerpt, before I continue whining.

The door opened and Terrence snapped his gaze to the entryway. A big man squeezed into the little room, seeming to fill every available amount of space with his bulk. At first, Terrence thought it might be fat, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was all muscle. This man was huge! His shoulders looked as if they were wider than Terrence’s arms could reach when he stretched them, and the thin cotton shirt he wore was pulled tight over the solid wall of muscle the man called a chest. His eyes were kind, though, pale green and in danger of getting lost in a web of friendly wrinkles. He sported a thick, curly beard that fell down to his thick shoulders, and his long, red hair was bound up in two thick braids at his back, both of them ending in big, heavy-looking gold balls. 

He made Terrence feel small and scrawny by comparison. He hadn’t ever been terribly self-conscious, but every now and then, he felt extremely out of place with his big, blue eyes, dirty blond hair and freckles splattered randomly over his long nose. And seeing this man who seemed to be physically perfect definitely made Terrence feel that way. 

Oljiru Kovy.

Apparently, the world ended today. Too bad it seems to be going on just as normal. Maybe the world hasn't caught up with what happened yet. Does that sounds like something from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy or what? Sorry, the Vogons decided they had to reschedule. They won't be destroying us to make way for an intergalactic highway for another few years. Please go about your business. Nothing to see here; move along.

As for me? I spent most of this week concentrating on the new blog I've been hired to maintain for MedCenter Network: Connecting the Dots. So, if you're interested in reading more of my ramblings (this stuff on what the company is doing, as well as behind the scenes of video shoots and whatever else I feel like talking about), go ahead and check that one out. I'm trying to update it every weekday, and continue updating this one on Saturdays.

In addition to blogging and picking away at Savior, I've also starting playing with one of the faerie characters I created three years ago during my Celtic Mythology independent study: Amadán na Broina, an Irish faerie who possess the power to turn mortals mad with a single touch. I'm rather fond of writing crazy characters. Anyway, here are the first two paragraphs of the random little story I started with him this week. I hope you enjoy it.

Amadán crouched low as he crept through the tall grasses toward the tall dome of the hill. Power pooled in his footsteps like stagnant water, putrid, lively and disgustingly alluring. Madness hummed about him like a swarm of flies, undeniable, loud and beautifully dangerous. The top of his red, broad-brimmed hat bobbed above the head of the grass. His long, scarlet coat rustled gently with his movements. 

As he approached the hill, every strand of his obsidian hair bristled in its thick braid, the familiar magick both welcoming and forbidding. It had been a long time in this mortal world since he had set foot within the Sídhe. 

Two days ago, the registration packet for the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writer's annual conference came in the mail. I got inordinately excited. A collection of wonderful workshops, chances to rub elbows with agents and editors, a pitch session, and, hopefully, a chance to see all the lovely ladies in my critique group again. What isn't to like? Well, besides the price tag, but I can easily justify that. And the fact that it's not until September. Though, of course, that just gives me more time to finish polishing before I pitch.

This past week on the writing front has been all Savior, all the time. Mercedes Lackey says that she loves writing revisions, but I much prefer first-drafts. I like getting all the stuff out there, and being able to play and not have to worry about the continuity or whether or not this plot twist is necessary or whether this sentence is much too long. I've been mucking through revisions for what feels like forever now. I know it means I'll have a nice, polished product at the end, but at some point, it just gets tedious. Good thing realizing that I can have a pitch appointment in five months seems to have given me a kick in the butt! I'm almost done with the major revisions and can move onto tweaking.

I would normally put an excerpt from this week in this space, but seeing as I'm currently reworking the middle section of the book, I feel that a snippet might give rather more away than I'd like to put out there at the moment. So, instead, I'll leave you with an excerpt from the beginning of the book. The first two paragraphs, to be exact.

Seven-thirty Ikol Avenue was a small, one-story house straight out of a children’s book: white picket fence, blue tiled roof, red and white checked curtains in the window, a beautifully sculpted, tulip-shaped knocker, and a spattering of blood on the doorstep. 

Trick Mathis hesitated at the gate, his back ramrod straight. His normally pale skin was a sickly shade of yellow, his delicate nostrils flared at the expected scent of blood. He tried to swallow in a dry throat. When that failed, he pulled the black uniform collar over his mouth and nose and pinned it in place  with the bridge of his oval-shaped spectacles. 

Oljiru kovy.

Nothing to Say

This week has been super slow on the writing front, but not for lack of trying. I graduated a week ago today, spent Sunday bidding Anchorage adieu, and flew back to Colorado super early Monday morning, complete with a budding cold. After not even twenty four hours at home, I got on another plane to Boise, Idaho for a video shoot with my dad (he's working on training videos for cable installers at the moment, in case you were curious), and returned home yesterday morning. At the moment, I'm still sick, but slowly getting better. I hope to get back on the Writing Bus today or tomorrow, and start up the Looking For A Job truck as soon as I feel better.

Sorry for the short post this week, friends. Hopefully, next week will be longer and more on topic!