Snippet Sunday: January 31, 2016

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

Snippet Sunday

I am still going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles, Fated to Darkness. When I’m going to switch to something new, I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe next month. I don’t know. We’ll see. For now, get lost in Heather’s very real nightmare.

Previously on Sunday Snippets: Four year old Heather had been kidnapped from her home by a woman clad in black and whisked off to another realm where she found her kidnapper wanted her to be her Heir. But not just any Heir. After being locked up and put through a ritual that has changed her and her life forever — though she does not yet know it — she has found herself in a small bare essential room with a tiny bathroom, and her new mentor has instructed her to clean herself up and be ready in ten minutes. They are now finally talking of what Ciara wants of little Heather.

Picking up right where I left off from last week’s snippet as Heather tries to grasp the concept of using magic.

(Some sentences may have been creatively edited and punctuated to try to fit the ten sentence limit. I’m over, again. Can we just agree that my snippets will always be a little longer but not too long?)

–*–

Ciara snarled. She held out her hand and out of nowhere, a swirling, pitch black ball of what she assumed was magic lit in the Dark One’s hand. There was an eerie feeling coming off of it; she could feel the downright wickedness that it portrayed, the darkness it represented. It made her shiver and cringe. “Like so,” she snapped.

Heather still didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She held her hand out and tried to imagine the same kind of ball in her hand, but it was to no avail — nothing was happening as the seconds turned into minutes.

“I-I don’t know h-how,” she stammered fearfully, afraid the woman was going to hurt her. “Y-You not t-telling me h-how.”

Ciara snarled again and suddenly reached out and grabbed Heather’s wrist. She tried to flinch back in fear but her grip was too tight. That same rush she had felt earlier when she first noticed it came back and she could feel Ciara’s magic prick at her as well, like it was forcing her to do what she wanted her to do.

Her hand was held out palm up as the rush thrummed down her arm and tingled in her palm, before almost the exact same ball lit in her hand — while Ciara’s was a pitch black, Heather’s was nearly just as black, swirling around and flickering in her palm. It tingled and pricked at her, a coldness that seemed to seep into her a little bit.

She let go of her wrist and almost immediately the raw ball of magic snuffed out like mist evaporating.

“You felt that rush?” she asked, her voice cold. Heather nodded tentatively. “Now replicate it.”

“R-Replicate?” she asked. She hadn’t heard that word before.

“Copy it,” she snapped, irritated the girl had so little knowledge.

Heather flinched from her tone and held her shaking hand out once more, trying to steady it. She tried to think of the rush she had felt, still not fully getting what she was supposed to do. As she thought about it, she could feel it start to trickle down her arm slowly, almost like multiple beads of water flowing underneath her skin and through her veins.

Still though, it didn’t form anything in her hand.

–*–

Think she’s going to be able to do it in the end? Guess you’ll just have to wait and see. And I know I said last week I might do a cover reveal, but I’m going to be the tease author that says you have to wait till a certain Sunday this coming month for a special birthday surprise from me.

This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…”

However! If you wish to read anything else that I do have finished, you can hop on over to my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,

hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

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Gone But Never Forgotten

So I had no idea what to write about for this post at first. Then at work I got a slight idea on what to write, at least, until I heard some bad news…

Now my heart is not in writing anything at the moment, but my commitment to not miss a post has me writing my heartache out.

Earlier today, I learned that a horse farm I used to work at had a barn fire at 3am last night. The two horses inside perished. Both of these horses I knew and loved; one a kind, abused ex racehorse, and another a spirited and slightly tempered chestnut. Despite their backgrounds and personalities both horses were great steeds and my heart hurts to learn that they both died in the fire.

It hurts worse to know that the cause of the barn fire is still unknown. It hurts worse knowing I used to work with those horses, and I came to care for them, thinking of them as horses of my own as I always have with every horse I’ve ever worked with.

Now I am left sitting here heartbroken and devastated, with no idea on what to write other than my sorrows with a song stuck in my head over the tragedy. A song that does not help the waterworks.

As an author, I know this heartbreak and tragedy provides more insight in writing, more depth of emotion to any tragedy I may come to write, but that doesn’t help to quell the hurt inside over the loss of these two horses.

As a horse lover and addict, I wish there was something I could do for them, for the owner as well. I can only imagine her devastation to lose two babies; as to every horse owner, our horses are our babies, our children. I wish to write my condolences to her, but I know it will be small in comparison to the hurt inside over the loss.

So for this sudden tragedy, I light a candle in honor of these two horses, Ben and Bobby.  You may now be Far From Home, but you are forever in the home of our hearts. Rest in peace, babies, you will be greatly missed.

Cursed Cargo (Wednesday Words 1.27.16)

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction prompt based off a three word combination. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cursed Cargo

“What’s the matter, mate? Never rolled along the blue waves?”

The priest gagged again as the ship lurched in the unruly waves, leaning over the side of the Blue Bell. The rolling waves of the ocean did no good to quell the sea sickness churning within his gut. The white-haired man had his hand to his chest, his face green.

“They…should have sent another member of the Convent. Someone younger, might I add.”

The conniving pirate grinned and chuckled, his hand resting on the pommel of his rapier. He was rather strapping, a mischievous air to him. The bed head of sandy brown hair atop his head made him all the more eye candy, not that his old lad of a priest saw it.

“Have you ever been abroad a ship before?”

The older priest shook his head, then leaned further over the side of the ship as he nearly lost the remains of his lunch.

“The seas are rather unforgiving today, I do say. Come, lad, have a drink of whisky and it’ll settle that churning right quick. You’ll be too trashed to notice the rolling waves under your feet there. You’ll be rolling with them!” He grinned crookedly with a deep belly laugh, the gem in his pierced ear glinting in the sun.

He received a dismissive wave in response as the priest righted himself, still green in the face, but seeming like he might be starting to settle at least enough that he wouldn’t lose his lunch.

“Right,” the pirate replied, “you holy types aren’t the guzzlers of merriment.” He opened his flask and took a swig, just to watch the priest eye him and mutter a prayer for this soul no doubt under his breath.

“Just how much longer until we reach the isle?” the priest asked, clearing his throat.

“Brother Jebidia, I assure you we are right on course with what I told you not a half hour ago.” He saluted the flask to him and took another swig before capping it and tucking it away in his overcoat, right above his heart.

“And you are quite sure we will reach the isle in a day’s time?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “I bet my life on the winds we shall.”

Jebidia blinked at that, not following the supposed joke. He opened his mouth to say something more when a roar rang out from down below, the boards under their feet rattling with the intensity of it. They could hear clattering and splintering.

“That thing is not going to destroy my ship, is it?”

The priest hesitantly shook his head. “The rune chains should hold that monstrosity.”

“Tell me again the story behind that beast we are hauling.”

“Must I really?” he sighed, rubbing at his weathered and crinkled forehead.

“Aye, you must, as I was the only voyager willing to take your their cargo down below the decks. As long as you ride my ship, you live under my rules, oh holy man,” he replied cheekily.

“Really, Captain, I believe I have–”

The shick of the pirate’s rapier sliding out of the sheath was enough to make the old man’s lips clamp up. He looked up to see the pirate leaning over the banister by the wheel, pointing the sword at his throat. He gulped, remembering just who it was they had found passage with; one of the most notorious pirates in the land. The only man willing to take on such an adventure of transporting the beast below to a deserted island where it would live out the rest of its miserable days.

“What are the rules of my ship again, lad? We don’t want you to be walking the plank now, do we?”

He involuntarily gulped again, slowly shaking his head as his body locked up in slight fear. This guy was a ruthless pirate that got his reputation for a good reason.

“Good,” he grinned, lowering the rapier. “Now tell me again the story of this beast. We pirates like our tales.”

Jebidia hesitated before clearing his throat to start for what felt like the thousandth time. “The King was rather greedy when it came to the matter of his secret troops. He valued them highly, they were talked about highly and honored, but he treated them rather poorly, took them for granted. These elite soldiers soon turned rebellion and sought out an old legend of a witch in the wars, seeking for blood money and revenge. This witch accepted to help them when their story was told, and thus started a curse. A curse that landed on the King first, transforming him into an unruly beast man. A monstrous thing. Fur thick like a rug, and larger than a horse. The curse was laid upon his family as well, but it is said it will be like the ticking of a clock, never knowing when their transformation will take place. They have been left exiled to this isle, while the soldier of their choosing among rank in the elite take rule of the land, where they will live out their days, if the King doe–”

His tale was broken off by another roar from down below. The ship rocked and they heard more splinters, followed by yells and screams from the crew. Jebidia’s eyes widened, looking towards a hatch in the ship’s deck. The green to his face started to turn white.

“I reckon he’s destroying my ship and crew,” the Captain frowned, looking in the same direction.

Like clockwork, moments later as the splintering turned to crashes and cries of pain, they felt the ship rock substantially and claws suddenly pierced through the hatch, making the priest jump back to the rail of the ship. The pirate, on the other hand, didn’t even seemed fazed, wearing a devilish grin on his face.

The hatch buckled and groaned before it splintered apart and was flung into the air. Another roar shook the air as claws the size of a child’s hand gripped the wood deck and heaved the massive bulk upwards. A head and a snout met the salty air first, yellow fangs parted, dripping with saliva, and a nose twitching at the smells of the sea. Deep amber eyes peeked out next, latching on to the occupants of the deck above and roared again. The monstrosity looked like a cross between a bear and a wolf as it pulled itself up and out, larger than a horse for sure.

Its eyes first locked on the priest who paled to a ghost white and took another step back, tripping over a coil of rope and tumbling off starboard with a cry and a splash into the waters.

“Cowardly scallywag,” the pirate huffed, eyeing up the monster as he fingered his rapier. “Shall we dance, beast?” He grinned.

 


Now you can find this flash fiction work and others on my profile on Wattpad! Click here for my profile and go dive into a sea of Shards of Imagination!

Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Cover made by @_teenagers on Wattpad

That Nerve-Racking Moment When…

…you click the “publish” button on something new you are releasing to the world.

Granted, this is only me publishing something small to Wattpad. Not anything big like a novel to Amazon or Smashwords or B&N. But in my books, hitting that little publish button is nerve-racking no matter how small or big the story and site.

Technically though, I’ve already hit the publish button on this story before.

Right here. On my blog.

You see, for a while, I had been tossing up the idea of publishing my flash fiction pieces from my Wednesday posts here into a collection book on Wattpad. My reasoning for this was partly so that I hold myself accountable for keeping up with this one flash fiction piece a week goal to write consistently, and also because, I really haven’t posted anything new to Wattpad in over a year.

I’ve spent my time writing, of course. But I just haven’t posted anything new to the site. Probably because I hate to share and publish something that is unedited and unfinished. It makes me cringe too much that I’m not putting my best work out there.

(Which is part of the reason I’m re-editing Rivers of Black, and debating on taking down A Chance Encounter from Wattpad. Romance is just not my forte.)

But with these small flash fiction pieces that are no more than a thousand words, I figured, what the hell, why not? I need to start updating and maybe this will help that goal out of writing consistently. And learning from experience: the more you post on Wattpad, and regularly I might add, the more attention it seems to bring to you.

So this really had more than one reason for happening, I just finally got around to it.

With that being said, call this blog post a self promotion of sorts. Although, many who follow me here have already seen the Wednesday Words flash fiction pieces I am coming up with — and I will continue to post them here as well — but that doesn’t mean you can’t hop on over to my profile on Wattpad and check it out anyways!

Those little star voting buttons really mean a lot to an author on that site, as do comments, or even shares!

And don’t forget, I have more to offer than just this collection on Wattpad, so why not take a hop over and see what I have to offer?


Shards of Imagination Cover Final

Cover made by @_teenagers on Wattpad

Genres: Short Story, and everything in between

Flash! Magic in the night!

Flash! Deserted time!

Flash! A fairy’s purpose!

Flash! Hallucinations are reality!

Flash! The Gates of Hell open!

An ever-growing collection of short flash fiction pieces from all sorts of genres and topics with no rhyme or reason other than explosions of inspiration creating Shards of Imagination.

Excerpt:

Abandonment is inevitable.

Desolation is the end.

What was once beautiful and grand in its prime now falls to shambles. A ghost of a once happy time. Weeds grow wild where wildflowers were once tamed. Stonework crumbles to pile of misshapen rubble. Long forgotten toys are kidnapped by the fierceness of nature, allowing nothing to stand untouched in its reclaimed lands.

The winds and forces of nature beat mercilessly upon the battered structure. Wearing it down stone by stone, section by section. Grime and dirt splatter its once pristine colors. Vines and ivy crawl up its walls, obscuring the home from passersby.

-Shard Two: Time is Enemy

Now available on Wattpad!

 

Snippet Sunday: January 24, 2016

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

Snippet Sunday

I am still going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles, Fated to Darkness. When I’m going to switch to something new, I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe next month. I don’t know. We’ll see. For now, get lost in Heather’s very real nightmare.

Previously on Sunday Snippets: Four year old Heather had been kidnapped from her home by a woman clad in black and whisked off to another realm where she found her kidnapper wanted her to be her Heir. But not just any Heir. After being locked up and put through a ritual that has changed her and her life forever — though she does not yet know it — she has found herself in a small bare essential room with a tiny bathroom, and her new mentor has instructed her to clean herself up and be ready in ten minutes. They are now finally talking of what Ciara wants of little Heather.

I am skipping ahead quite a few pages from last week’s snippet. Ciara has decided it is now time Heather’s training began and she has dragged her off to a different room in this dark manor. A large circular room that, well, you guessed it, is used for training — filled with weapons, targets, and various other things that Heather doesn’t want to know about. Including the stained dark spots on the stone floors.

(Some sentences may have been creatively edited and punctuated to try to fit the ten sentence limit. I’m over, again, I know. No surprise there anymore.)

–*–

“Stand up,” she ordered, and this time Heather complied, standing up on shaky limbs — tears still streaked her face and she was biting her lip to keep it from quivering too much. “Stop crying,” she snapped.

If only it was that simple. It wasn’t like she could hit an on and off button like she would a TV to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

Thankfully, Ciara didn’t seem to press it when she couldn’t stop the tears and she swept back up to Heather, stopping a few feet from her. “I’m going to show you how to start to call upon that magic thrumming through you. Pay attention and do not slack off, I don’t have much patience for disobedience.

“Hold your hand out,” she instructed. Heather shakily did as she was told, looking at her in fear yet. “Now call it up.”

Call it up? How did she do that? She wasn’t given any instructions on how. She wasn’t even told how it worked, she was just told to tap into it; but she barely even knew what it was to do that as well. She looked hesitantly and quizzically to Ciara, pleading silently she would explain a little bit more.

“Well?” she hissed, still waiting for her to do something.

Heather gulped. “H-How?”

–*–

Uh oh, just how is this going to go down? And I have finally managed to redo the cover after my title change! Should I do a cover reveal next week? Maybe?

This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…”

However! If you wish to read anything else that I do have finished, you can hop on over to my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,

hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

Plugging Along

So I seem to have started to find a groove.

Well, a sort of groove.

Half a groove.

It’s more like I was finally managing to cross some things off my never-ending to do list. Things that have been sitting on it for awhile. Like getting up the Short Stories page here on my blog, and making the new cover for Book 1 in the Dark Heir Chronicles being as I changed the title of it.

Then there was also a couple things that weren’t on the to do list for very long. Like getting set up to post my Wednesday Words flash fiction pieces I post here onto Wattpad as well. All I’m waiting on there to finish it off is receiving the cover I requested. I didn’t attempt to make myself one this time because I knew what I had in mind was not going to work out with my minor skills.

The thing is, I’m crossing off these things on my to do list, but I don’t even really have the to do list written out anymore…

You see, I filled the notebook I had been using before for these things — oddly enough with the end of 2015, maybe it’s telling me something. Of course I already had another notebook lying around I could use as the new one because I am a hoarder in office supplies.

(Seriously, what author isn’t?)

But I have never actually gotten around yet to transferring the to do list and rewriting it into the new notebook yet. That was partly because I was still journaling out my goals for this year, and because of that I was going to write the goals on the first page of the new notebook. I wanted to have those written before I started writing the to do list in case I needed an extra page or ended up with a blank page one too many.

(I hate skipping blank pages. I just hate it for some reason.)

I have finally journaled out the goals and put a semi timeline to them. I just need to transfer them over and organize them in the new notebook now, along with writing out some things into my planner.

So I suppose I’m plugging along here, getting some things done that have been sitting around for awhile, and others that were new and nagging.

Now I just need to finish off the rest and then, who knows? Maybe everything I wanted to do in January I’ll actually get done.

If I can just get myself writing every day now and then get myself going on those camping journal entries I need to do, I’ll be good to make a new list for February!

Too bad there’s this thing called work that’s taking up the time when I want to be doing something at home off that list…

Heaven’s Protectors (Wednesday Words 1.20.16)

A good friend of mine, P.T. Wyant, is doing a blog post every Wednesday called Wednesday Words with a new prompt for a bit of flash fiction writing, just to get in the habit of writing something, anything. (Even if said flash fiction is complete garbage at the time. Garbage is better than nothing though, right?) If you’re looking for some inspiration yourself or just something to aimlessly write, then go check out her blog for this week’s prompt!

With that being said, I am going to share what I came up with for this week’s flash fiction prompt based off a photo. So here is my very rough around the edges minute of inspiration based off her prompt. I’d love to hear what you guys think of it!

(Please excuse any errors you may see, I said it was rough around the edges.)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Heaven’s Protectors

The red orange haze hung over the bridge eerily in the dusk of night. The tourists wandering the bridge were unawares to the dreadful feeling creeping along, the pulsing of the cobblestone underfoot half way up the bridge. It was like an energy, an unseen field of it washing out slowly, growing in volume. Wariness hung over the place, but to the laughing, smiling, cuddling tourists it went completely unnoticed.

The lamplights lining the walls started to flicker first, like a fuse shorting out, and a cold chill washed over the area, sending death’s fingers crawling down the tourists’ spines. Only a few of them paused to look along the bridge, but there was nothing there to meet their eyes.

A ripple like a sound wave rolled over the cobblestone next with a low hiss and whine like a steam locomotive. This time it was noticed as the ground rumbled from the wave, shaking under the tourists feet as if an earthquake was going to upset the balance.

Tales of myth and legend started to flit through the tourists’ minds, their eyes widening as numerous pairs of eyes snapped towards the ground underneath them..

Laughs and smiles turned to gasps and startled cries as the ground rippled again, the cobblestone rising up slightly as it rode the wave before settling back down. Tourists stepped back fearfully towards the solid street, girlfriends clinging to their boys’ arms with eyes wide in panic as they all stumbled backwards.

Halfway across the bridge the cobblestone started to crack and the chill to the air was replaced by blast of hot, humid air. People scattered now as the ground shook, the cracks spider webbing out to the edges of the bridge along the walls. The ground buckled upwards and then started to crumble inward, creating a sink hole in the center of the bridge, a split like a fault line.

From the opening hole came piercing shrieks and rumbling roars. Snarls, hisses, and screeches of inhuman proportions. People watched in fear as the sink hole widened, big enough for a grizzly bear to crawl out of.

Fire could be heard crackling among the growls, and now spurts of flame rose out of the crevice as hellish nightmares began clambering out the hole — horns, scaly skin, sharp yellow claws, slit pupil eyes, forked tongues, pointed tails, and piercing fangs. All sorts of twisted, gangly creatures scraped their razor sharp claws along the stone creating sparks like flint against stone as they crawled into view, their sights on the stunned tourists. Wicked grins and an evil glee on their morphed and demented faces.

One stepped forward, a mace trailing behind in its scaly red hand. Its yellow eyes pulsed as it fixed its gaze on the frightened people. “Mortals…” Its deep, gravelly voice grated on their ears. “The Gates of Hell have opened at last.

That single sentence seemed to be a rounding battle call for the rest of the creatures gathered behind this tall, twisted horned leader, for they made sounds of victory and screeches of malice.

“Feast and destroy, my minions.”

The creatures started to rush forward towards the city, the ground shaking under their bulks. Some on all fours, some swift on two legs, others a lumbering hobble like a giant, and even more slithering with bodies like snakes. Winged creatures threw their leathery wings open and took to the sky with bat-like screeches, going to dive towards the city.

However, as their ascension began, a flash of white light suddenly blinded everything, earning sounds of pain from the hellish demons. The statues of saints along the bridge’s walls started to creak and groan. Their stone figures cracked like an egg shell and pieces started to fall to the ground with clatters of dust and rock.

White, silky wings sprung out from the back of the saints, stone tumbling off the bridge. They broke from their rock prisons, strong wings flapping and lifting the saints away from their silent vigilance for centuries with a rush of air.

When the light had fallen away, a small army of the saints hovered above the scene. They landed on the bridge between Hell’s minions and the city with a flutter of wings, light and amble. They were dressed for battle — broad swords, bows, daggers, and more adorning their ethereal figures. A gold glow surrounding their bodies like the haze of Hell’s fires in the sky.

The two sides faced off silently, a stare down of will to see who would make the first move, or if either side would retreat before war broke out. Neither side was about to back down though and once the nightmarish creatures got over the shock and burn of the light, their angered and frustrated sounds filled the air as they rushed to attack.

Clatters of weapons, vicious snarls, the flapping of wings, scraping, screeching, and growls filled the air as war broke out between Heaven’s protectors and Hell’s minions. Tourists finally fled the scene with cries of panic as flashes of fire and white light battled between the two sides, winged creatures falling out of the sky, others being thrown over the walls of the bridge and down into the dark waters below.

Other pockets of ground now started to split and crack in more fault lines, more creatures pouring out of the bowels of Hell. The haze of the fires of Hell reflecting in the sky split apart by flashes of light opening the Heaven’s and raining down glowing gold figures to combat and fight for Earth’s protection.

A peaceful city turned to chaos and confusion in the matter of an hour for the war of Hell on Earth had finally begun.

One Thing at a Time, One Step at a Time

So earlier I sat down to try to work out my thoughts better on the goals I made for 2o16. I journaled it out, going into more detail on what I would need to accomplish them, and the type of time frames I could be looking at.

(Seriously, journaled isn’t a word according to auto-correct? Well, it is in my books. I’m a writer, I’m allowed to make words up.)

Truthfully, I’m not sure if writing it out made me feel better about the goals, or a little intimidated. I mean, it doesn’t really look like TOO much, but when I think about it harder, I realize I set a lot of goals, some easier and smaller than others.

I believe I’ve started to work with a time frame I can deal with. Maybe.

Everything is tumbling around in my head yet and I might be slightly overthinking and being a little bit too unrealistic. Not that any of my goals are unrealistic, they aren’t. It’s just me and my problem of follow through and such…

Anyways, I figured if I can get through catching up on some journaling from last year, doing one entry a week, I will finish around mid-March. (I have six entries and I was thinking one a week to give me some leeway depending on work schedules and other things, so I’m not so overwhelmed.) If I finish by mid-March, that’s just in time for Camp NaNo in April, and I plan to do all three NaNo sessions this year — pending computer cooperation.

That will allow me to focus on NaNo and my novel during April without worrying, then I’ll have the beginning of May to set up the next set of journaling for this year before it starts. Of course, I plan to work on my novel all year, my goal is to finish the first book by the end of the year, and that will be my biggest challenge.

However, if I keep my goal to write consistently, I should have no problem getting it done, and then I can focus on the notes for it. I don’t plan to edit till next year, after taking a few months to focus on a different project so I don’t dive into it with a clouded conscious to it. That goal to write consistently also brings me to writing a short flash fiction piece each week, a small piece (anywhere around 500 words) that I will be making sure to post to Wattpad to keep myself going — and maybe draw some more attention to myself.

So those two kind of work themselves together in that time frame of early 2016, up till say May. Minus the novel, that will be all of 2016. And the flash fiction pieces, that will be every week, though I might give myself wiggle room during NaNo months.

Once spring rolls around (it can’t come soon enough with this weather) I can focus on some spring cleaning/organizing and also getting back into horseback riding when I don’t have to worry about the snow and ice to get there. The other goal is going to be a long process, but will need to be started soon and carry through till probably summertime.

A lot of this seems focused around the beginning and middle of the year. Which, that really isn’t all that bad considering come October in retail, the rest of my year is shot to nothing but work like mad until the end of January.

So maybe this will just work out. Maybe I’ll keep things in order and make out okay with these goals if I can just stick to it.

Of course, those goals don’t factor in the ever-growing to do list either though…

But — one thing at a time, one step at a time, right?

Snippet Sunday: January 17, 2016

Welcome to Snippet Sunday on Darkling Dreams!

Where writers come together to share a few sentences (8-10) of their current project — whether it’s a recently released novel, a WIP (work in progress), or an older manuscript that’s being revived. Intended to hook readers, gather feedback and build an author’s fan base, Snippet Sunday is the FB group that does all three.

Snippet Sunday

I am still going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles, Fated to Darkness. When I’m going to switch to something new, I’m not quite sure yet. Maybe next month. I don’t know. We’ll see. For now, get lost in Heather’s very real nightmare.

Previously on Sunday Snippets: Four year old Heather had been kidnapped from her home by a woman clad in black and whisked off to another realm where she found her kidnapper wanted her to be her Heir. But not just any Heir. After being locked up and put through a ritual that has changed her and her life forever — though she does not yet know it — she has found herself in a small bare essential room with a tiny bathroom, and her new mentor has instructed her to clean herself up and be ready in ten minutes.

Picking up right where I left off from last week’s snippet. For clarification purposes, this was the last sentence of last week, spoken by Ciara: “That rush running through your veins. That almost adrenaline-like high that is pulsing through you. It’s a powerful, wicked feeling, and a tinge of cold to it that chills you. Don’t you feel it?”

(Some sentences may have been creatively edited and punctuated to try to fit the ten sentence limit. I’m over, again, I know. No surprise there anymore.)

—-

She glanced up at the woman, her bright green eyes meeting those dark forest green ones. Yes, she felt that. She still felt it, but she had no idea what it was or what it meant; it was just…there, suddenly. After a moment, she nodded hesitantly.

“That is what magic feels like, the magic you now possess and will have the ability to use and control once I have taught you; that is what marks you as no longer mortal, as now a witch like myself. Did you think your hair and eyes changed by some accident? That is your change taking root, your Turning taking its course.”

She looked a little confused, not following what Ciara was talking about. “Turning?”

“What happened down there, Heir,” she said bluntly. “That was a Turning ritual, changing you from a pathetic mortal to a powerful witch. Though you know not the basis to be powerful. Yet, of course.

“B-But why?”

Ciara rolled her eyes, getting exasperated already; the child had too many questions, but at least she wasn’t a crying, sniveling mess as she had been before. Maybe that was the magic taking root in her now, the new feeling of it distracting her from the trauma. It wouldn’t last though, she needed the child to fear her, that was how she would break her.

“Did I not already explain you were to be my Heir?” she snapped, her voice cold again. “I have been searching for the appropriate Heir for some time now, and you, child, have fit the broom I was searching for.”

“What’s an heir?” she asked, genuinely confused about it — she had never heard the word before.

A low growl-like sound came from Ciara and the muscle in her hand twitched, like she wanted to smack her. “It means,” she drawled at a hiss, “that you will be my successor. You will take my place one day, whether you want to or not.”

—-

This story is not yet on Wattpad because it is my baby that I hope to publish one day, and if no one will publish me, I am self publishing. But it’s also not on Wattpad because it’s in first draft phases yet. So there will be no “if you wish to read more…” And I do technically have a cover made but since my little crisis in changing the title…that’s going to change now, too.

However! If you wish to read anything else that I do have finished, you can hop on over to my profile on Wattpad and check out what I have to offer. I love to hear any and all feedback on my work as well. Comments are greatly appreciated, as are the reads.

And if you’re looking for some other great snippets of fellow authors,

hop on over to Facebook and check out Snippet Sunday!

Plot Bunnies! Plot Bunnies Everywhere!

Why is it at the worst possible moments, and the most unexpected, that a new plot bunny can come raging into view and refuse to leave me alone?

It’s not like I don’t have enough of them already.

But alas, for the past few days, one has been nagging at the back of my mind, sending me little tidbits that are exciting and want to bloom into something more but just aren’t getting enough Miracle Grow up there yet. Maybe they’re waiting for Spring to bloom fully with the changing season to spring upon me.

(Wow, that was really corny… Can you tell I hate winter?)

Anywho, this said plot bunny came out of nowhere, just by a random conversation with a friend that had absolutely nothing at all to do with writing. I honestly don’t even really remember what we were talking about, something along the lines of “great minds think alike”. What we were saying that to, though, well, it could be just about anything with us. Literally, just about anything.

But now this bunny has started a rampage through my mind.

Needless to say, I’ve already written it down and started letting the random scenes popping into my head play out to see where it takes me.

Not that I need this bunny… But it’s refusing to go away or be silenced, no matter what dark hole I shove it down, it just pops its cute little fluffy head back up screaming “I’m still here!”.

See my dilemma?

Well, said dilemma only got worse tonight at work.

All I was doing was pricing books and organizing, daydreaming to myself and humming along to the music in the store, when BAM!

The plot bunny suddenly sprang a new idea into my head that I can run with. Well, let me rephrase that a little. It sprang a very interesting twist that I could work with and run with, riding along the lines of the original idea from said conversation.

Now it’s nagging for even more attention.

But it’s not like I already don’t have two novels in progress, an entire series to write, another story to edit, sequels begging to be written (some that don’t even have the first book written), a writing prompt that turned into a novel with only one chapter done, and multiple other half started works that are jumping around screaming for me to do something with them.

What’s one more plot bunny, right?

(You can all stop laughing now…)