Want to sample other people’s WIPs, EIPs, MSs, or published works, eight sentences at a time?
Be a Weekend Writing Warrior!
Or if you’re a fellow Facebook addict (we can quit any time we want to, right?),
why not check out the offerings of the Snippet Sunday gang?
Last week, our hero Tom went to the historical home of the Talbot City packleader and met Merrok, a female werewolf who should not be mistaken for the housekeeper (once I get all my edits done).
Merrok is taking Tom to where Travis Rendall—the West Coast wolf who attacked Tom in the first chapter—is being held.
She led me through a series of hallways with oil paintings on the walls, thick carpets on the floors, and occasional objects d’art displayed on antiques.
It must have been tough to keep the wolf hair out of everything, but I decided to keep my comments to myself; I didn’t want to end up next to Travis Rendall—or buried in the back yard.
There was a small, discreet metal plate set into the wall next to what looked like a mahogany pocket door. She pressed the lower button and the door slid open. An elevator.
We went in, stood in it a while, and stepped out onto a different floor, darker and cooler. A painting of the Wild Hunt, with wolves instead of hellhounds, chased around a low, domed rotunda.
Three corridors led in different directions.
The Spring Time Change is a horrible thing to do to the chronically sleep-deprived and this seasonal torture is extended by at least a week for parents of school-aged children, because kids generally do not go gently into what their bodies tell them is an unforgivably early bedtime, just because of some government mandate. And waking them up an hour earlier than they’re used to is no picnic, either.
If you didn’t have to switch your clocks forward last night, you have my envy, and if you did, you have my sympathy and shared misery.
Either way, I’m going to try to visit everyone else’s blogs before I inevitably crash this afternoon. If I don’t make it before my brain shuts off, I will
if when I wake up.