Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?
Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!
This week, the opening eight sentences of something new:
Viv shuffled into the kitchen on purple bunny feet, squinting against the unfamiliar and unwelcome sunlight coming through the window over the sink.
She grabbed her morning mug from the counter and shoved it at the coffeemaker . . . which was empty, cold, and unplugged. After a moment of bewildered betrayal, she remembered she hadn’t set the overnight timer because she’d planned to sleep as long as possible. Which was, according to the microwave’s clock, 10:15 am.
She’d slept almost five hours past First Caffeine—no wonder her brain felt like it was made of packing peanuts.
A few minutes later, she was beginning to remember why she’d long ago decided to set up the coffeemaker in the evening, when she was awake enough to pour the water into the reservoir instead of the basket, where she would have put the filter before the coffee.
She closed her eyes, opened them, set the glass measuring cup gently on the counter and went to the cupboard for a bowl. Maybe a hit or two of sugar-coated, nutritionally suspect, extruded cereal would fool her brain cells into firing long enough to clean up the mess and get her caffeine fix brewing.
So, here’s the deal:
I was rummaging around in Full Metal Librarian yesterday, trying to find eight consecutive sentences that made sense, when I realized that after a year or so of doling out this story six to eight sentences at a time, give or take some creative punctuation, there really isn’t anything left to share that won’t ruin the ending.
Clearly, that’s not a good idea, so I needed to find something else to share, if I wanted to keep participating in these Sundays. And I do—it would still be fun to see what everyone’s doing, but sharing my own stuff provides awesome feedback and weekly kicks-in-the-pants.
The current project above is something I’m calling The Anti-Cupids. It’s a working title, and it works because the MCs have no use for romance—or at least the more obvious tropes and trappings.
Viv, the overly practical sister of the bride, and Jack, the overly cynical brother of the groom, meet during the preparations for their hopelessly romantic siblings’ Perfect Wedding, and forge an alliance to survive with their sanity intact. After the reception, they cheerfully part ways . . . until the newlyweds have their very first fight and flee heartbroken in opposite directions to camp out—indefinitely—on Viv and Jack’s respective couches.
As our anti-cupids join forces to
get their apartments back convince the crazy (and remarkably stubborn) kids that love doesn’t have to be perfect to last, they discover that there’s no one else they’d rather be imperfect with than each other.
Or that’s the plan, anyway . . .
Please note: any similarities between Val’s morning slapstick routine and anything the author may or may not have done are entirely conjecture, as there were no eyewitnesses.