Happy birthday to my younger (and only) sister!
I’ve been doing mostly editing, but I did finish up the big project (on Labor Day, ironically enough), and while I’ve been working on copyediting the lovely KD Sarge’s next Turtleduck Press novel, Burning Bright (which so far is awesome, btw!), I have had a bit more time than I have had lately. I wrote bout 500 words on Fireborn, and have been happily noodling — or, uh, brainstorming ideas for When the Stars Fall, which my muse has insisted is BEFORE the Stars Fall. She feels this is very important.
So far, I’ve got a guardian angel in human form who doesn’t know it, frightening visions she believes are the result of mental illness, a rock star who’s about to die, and one rule: the angel and the rock star can’t fall in love. Also, they may have done this before in a past/parallel life before. Maybe.
So, um, that’s what’s been keeping me from going insane these days. Because life.
Here’s a little excerpt of Fireborn that I just wrote, so it may be rough:
“You…were a witness? How come you didn’t come forward?” Rick asked.
Another eye roll. “I didn’t want to be implicated…but then I started feeling guilty – ”
“Because you might be next,” I muttered.
“Yeah, that, too,” she said, glaring at me. She had a mean glare. She looked at Rick. “She would communicate with Tarot cards. And I saw…I saw her.”
Did I believe this? Could I believe this? Maybe she was mentally ill, or just twisted enough to compel us to dance on her strings. I gave Rick a questioning look, and he shrugged. So, I figured I was on my own until we could talk privately.
“You saw her? How does one see a ghost?” Mercy started to say something, but I stopped her by holding up my hand. “Of course you can see ghosts.”
“She’s around.” Mercy averted her gaze. “She won’t rest until she kills us all.” She gave me an assessing look. “Which is why I came here in the first place. Assuming you still want my help.”
Okaaay. “Yeah, of course. Rick?”
“Yeah, I’d like to hear what you have to say. Do you want another water?”
“Yes, please,” Mercy replied, taking her empty glass and placing it into Rick’s hand.
“Be right back. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone,” Rick said with a pleading look at me.
“We won’t,” I shot back. I gave Mercy an assessing look of my own. “Is this really for real, or you just having a joke at our expense?”
Mercy stood and tried to pet Love, who’d sat herself in front of me as my feline guard. She grudgingly allowed it. Briefly. “If you survive this, you’ll grow in power, and your child will be even more powerful.”
Chocolate consumption report: Not a lot. We did have Sanders Bumpy Cake for dessert on Labor Day though!
So that’s it from me for now. How are you all doing?
Weaver of Words 