Now that February is Fantasy Month is over and Minstrel’s Call has released, I am in need of a good, long winter nap. However, as winter is ending soon, as well (on the calendar, anyway… we’ll still have snow here for a while) it doesn’t look like a nap is anywhere in my near future. I have DREAMS, y’all.
Big ones. All of which involve writing multiple rough drafts this year…
Which brings me to Write 100 – a challenge to write for 100 days in a row! Anne Elisabeth brought it to my attention and I thought to myself that it sounds like just the challenge I need to get back into drafting mode. I started yesterday evening and plan to write for at least 10 minutes a day every day until the challenge ends on June 19… (which I realize is actually 112 days… but as we are planning on taking a trip somewhere in there for a week to visit family, I am going to be taking that week off, hence starting early). I know 10 minutes doesn’t sound like a lot, and I definitely plan to write for longer than that most days, but there are some days (like on weekends) when I know I won’t get much writing time, and 10 minutes seems manageable.
I will be using this challenge specifically for my next rough draft.
This is me giving you permission to bug me about how I’m doing on this challenge! Definitely feel free to hold me accountable, I need it!
It is also me explaining that I’m not going to be blogging as much. I’m not going on hiatus or disappearing completely or anything, but I will probably only be posting once a week at the most.
Turrim Archive Book 3… here I come!
And, just because I love you, a couple of snippets from my new project:
The figure made a strange, inhuman noise, a rumbling sound that made Marik’s skin crawl. He had the sudden urge to flee back the way they had come. It was the same sensation he had felt once before, as a child in the woods behind his home. Evening had been approaching, and he had heard the eerie barking howl of a wylfen. He would never forget the way that sound made his skin prickle with dread. The sound coming from the shadowy man gave him that same sensation: it was the feeling of a predator stalking him, of being considered as prey.
The man thrust out his hand. “Hrafn,” he said, his voice short, the name sounding more like a cough than anything Marik wished to attempt repeating. “If information is all you seek, then perhaps we can come to an agreement of some kind.”
Marik stared over the side of the Hawk pensively. Below was an endless sea of gray; above was a matching wash of silver mist. Even at high altitudes, the cloud cover was generally thick over Melar. He was thankful for it, as it helped hide his airship from those searching for them. But it also worked against him, muddling his thoughts, making it hard for him to concentrate. The air around them was thick with fog, and droplets of water covered everything, making it difficult to stay dry. Marik didn’t mind the gloom, but he didn’t like the way the clouds obstructed his vision and made it impossible to tell in which direction the horizon lay.
“Captain?” Oleck’s gruff voice brought Marik back to the present.
Oleck just stared at him. Marik could read the struggle in the big man’s face, the way his eyes were full of pleading and hope, but the set of his jaw trembled in a never-ending battle against despair.