Snippet Sunday: February 28, 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.

I am going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles yet, Fated to Darkness. Next month I believe I might switch to something different for March, and then flip back to this in April as motivation for Camp NaNo. I think. Unless I end up rolling with this through April — which is a long time — then switch in between the two Camp months to something else.

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. Having talked of what Ciara finally wants of her, she is now left in her first lesson under her mentor.

Picking up right where I left off from last week’s snippet as Heather still tries to grasp the concept of 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?)

–*–

A flickering dark grey, nearly black, ball started to form in her palm. It was small at first, no bigger than a bouncy ball. The more she tried to focus though, the larger it slowly became until it reached the size of a tennis ball. It swirled around in her hand, flickering as she struggled to hold onto it. Averting her attention for the slightest second would start to make it snuff out until she would force it back up, the act making her actually feel physically tired and sore.

The Dark One smiled, satisfied with the child’s accomplishment finally. “Good,” she stated smugly, starting to walk a circle around Heather. “Continue to hold it.”

“I-I can’t,” she answered meekly. Already, after less than a minute, she was struggling to keep it going, feeling that hum through her body start to die down.

“Hold it,” she snapped.

Heather made a small whimper but tried to hold it as the woman said, afraid to find out what would happen if she lost the ball in her hand. She was half fascinated by what she was doing, and half scared out of her mind. None of this should be possible, she knew that much. She was a child that believed in fairy tales, white knights, monsters under the bed, fairies, and magic, but this… Now that she was seeing something she couldn’t explain, doing something she couldn’t explain other than calling it magic as the woman had described it… She was at a total loss.

She managed to hold the flickering ball for another minute or so before she couldn’t do it any longer and it snuffed out, evaporating like steam. She didn’t even have a second to try to bring it back somehow before a sharp hit was dealt to the back of her head.

She crumbled to the ground from the blow, crying out in pain — dark spots danced in her vision and the room tilted as her head started to pound something severe. Ciara reached down and hauled Heather up by the back of her shirt until she was back on her feet. Then she grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back forcefully to make her look up at her, nearly tipping her over backwards. The harshness to her actions made the room spin even more on Heather and she wobbled on her feet, close to falling over once more.

“That was not holding it, Heir,” she sneered.

Heather whimpered, crying a little again. “I-I tried,” she answered timidly.

“Not hard enough.”

She threw the small girl back to the ground, glaring down at her like a teacher with a ruler in their hands, ready to slap her hands. However, it wasn’t a ruler she had in her hand; it was a glinting knife.

“Again,” she snapped coldly.

–*–

No rest for the wicked! Er, I mean, weary. No rest for the weary, right… Anyone care to place a bet on what happens next? ;)

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!

Revenge Writing

Writers get revenge in writing.

Every day we run into people that we just want to strangle, slap some sense into, hit with a door, have a meeting with the floor — or a fist…

For us writers that simply just stew in fury inside, there’s a much more satisfying way to take that anger out then a fist and a few heated words. (Although that can help, too. Well, the words maybe, the fist tends to make more problems.) That way is by turning the nuisance and irritating person into a character that you can torture the hell out of and kill. Turn them into a nasty villain and then have the protagonist beat them and be their downfall. Make them miserable.

Of course, if you’re like me, you’re already doing that in your head before it finds its way onto paper or screen, but it still works.

So yes, writers get revenge in writing. Do remember that when you intend to piss off a writer, we are not forgiving with pen and keyboard. At least I’m not.

You could also take this to a whole new level. Don’t just base the character off who ticked you off, use their personality, their flaws, everything you hate. You can even twist their name around — especially if it’s a fantasy story — and make it even more enjoyable to watch them suffer.

The best part?

Only you know who that character is and what it really means when you dump them in a torture chamber. No one else knows, it makes it your own little personal revenge that you can revel in every time you read that scene.

And after the week and a half I’ve had, there’s a multitude of people I want to hand over to my villain right now and let her have the “mortals” screaming within minutes.

No I am not a violent author, why do you ask?

Beauty Decays (Wednesday Words 2.24.16)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

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.)

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

Beauty Decays

“This place used to be so beautiful…” Her voice was a soft whisper as she glanced around, almost afraid of disturbing the overgrown peace the palace had taken on.

Surprisingly, the glass archway and doors that opened to the walkway leading to the once lush garden weren’t shattered. They were dirty, streaked by rain and pollen, bits of mud or bugs, but the panes had never shattered in the elements and forces of nature. The doors stood wide open to allow an arm of vines to creep their way into the terrace room.

Mother nature was reclaiming everything here now since the place had been abandoned. Vines growing along all the walls and overtaking the walkways. Insects and animals having made their homes inside the rooms. Cobwebs adorning the corners of the rooms. There was no furniture anymore, or hardly any left. Most she was sure had been destroyed or pilfered off, but what was left was now weathered with age and falling into shambles.

It looked as if birds had pecked at the soft cushions of velvet chairs for the fluff for their nests. The paint on the walls was cracked and chipping away, leaving little flakes polka dotted over the floor. The once polished and fine woodwork was now discolored and withering in decay, ants having bored their way into it to make the place their home now.

Slowly, she turned in a circle to take it all in. The once whole bright and lively place returned to peace and serenity at nature’s hands. She could still imagine the time she spent here, before the wars destroyed their city and they were forced to flee across the borders.

The chandeliers used to twinkle with the lights, hanging high above the partygoers enjoying a dance or two. Flowers and bright colors had been everywhere, portraits of loved ones adorned the walls with paintings of the utmost famous at their sides. The grand staircase always adorned in ribbons and bouquets during the balls. Tapestries hung everywhere along the walls and beds. It had been a marvelous castle and reign in its prime.

Maids and servants would bustle about happily in their duties, chatting and laughing along with the rest when her parents hadn’t been the stuck up snobby kind that looked down their noses at anyone beneath them. The people respected them and had full trust in their abilities, there was no governing by fear or poverty. They had been a truly togetherness reign, for the people and not just for their own riches and glory as most Lords and Ladies now were.

She sighed to herself as she looked out the spotted windows at the garden of weeds now, one old gnarled hand trailing along the glass. “I wonder if that is what made others look at us as such a threat.”

Neighboring cities getting word of their prosperity and equality, giving them hope of overthrowing their own tyrannies for something better, or trying to leave to settle in their city of Alminearta here. It had threatened what all those other power hungry buffoons wanted and she feared it was the reason for their city’s downfall. For the attacks that ransacked and destroyed their homes and forced them in the end to flee into the night with barely a pack on their backs.

That had been ages ago now, years and years. She had been a young lady then, and now she was an old woman. She had only returned finally because all was now lost and she wanted to see the glory that was her home one last time before nature claimed her body as well.

“Lady Annemarie.”

She turned at the kind and gentle voice to look at one of her servant companions standing in the door to the terrace. He gave a small bow in respect.

“The carriage is waiting, we must return now. I am deeply sorry for the time cut short down memory lane.”

She gave the young man a gentle smile. “Don’t be.”

One last longing and reminiscing gaze of hers traveled over the once bright palace and grounds. Before returning to her servant though, she reached up and took off her tiara she had brought along. One of the few things they had fled with that fateful night. She crouched slowly, her knees creaking, and placed the jeweled tiara in the vast sea of vines creeping in through the door before getting back up and turning to leave.

---

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!

Cover made by @_teenagers on Wattpad

Grinding to a Halt

That pretty much sums up how things have been going for me since a week ago.

Between work and other things going on last week I had no time to do anything, then I ended up sick a day later and got screwed over even more on that piling to do list I have.

It wouldn’t have been too much of an issue because I was better by my last lucky day off to recover that I could have done some things, and I knew I was getting off work early enough today that I could have gotten things done, and then…

Then everything just came to a sliding halt and those plans were screwed over as well. Another road block came slamming down in my way.

My room has once more become a cluttered mess and I’ve fallen far behind on the roll I had going before all this happened. I can’t even do anything about it right now or it’s just going to cause more stress and tempers than it’s worth.

I really had been on a roll, too…

I was keeping up with my camping journal schedule I set myself for the overdo entries I had to write. I was hashing out a few thousand words a week at my novel. The desk was staying organized. I was crossing things off the to do list. I was in good shape because I was actually finding myself with some spare time.

And now one week of mishap and I’m five miles behind with no idea when I’ll have peace and solitude to get back to what I need to do. It probably means I’m not going to keep up with my timeline of what I wanted done this month.

Snippet Sunday: February 21, 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.

Today is a certain special day to me, I’m not going to say what, but because of it there shall be a surprise at the bottom of this post. (And no you cannot just scroll all the way down to see what. Read first. LOL!)

I am going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles yet, Fated to Darkness. Next month I believe I might switch to something different for March, and then flip back to this in April as motivation for Camp NaNo. I think. Unless I end up rolling with this through April — which is a long time — then switch in between the two Camp months to something else.

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. Having talked of what Ciara finally wants of her, she is now left in her first lesson under her mentor.

Picking up right where I left off from last week’s snippet as Heather still tries to grasp the concept of 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?)

–*–

The final up of pain, the lash out that caused Heather to thrash around finally did it. With a shrill scream, that rush burst forth from her small quivering form. She felt the adrenaline-like flow ebb through her veins at a fast course, like a plug on a hose had been let free. The force of the sudden rush made her entire body tingle. A loud crack sounded out from Heather as a dark grey flash erupted from her body.

The flash of grey acted like a wave of energy, pulsing through the room like an atomic bomb dropped. It struck Ciara and pushed her back a little before the Dark One’s own shield shoved it away from her.

Ciara let the curses drop, freeing Heather of the intense pain finally and she gasped in relief. She curled up on herself, shaking violently and crying silently now. That thrill was still humming through her and she could feel it prickling at her palms. Was this the magic she wanted her to call up?

“Good,” Ciara smiled. “Now call it up as I said.”

Against her better judgment, she picked her head up slowly to look at her captor. Her face was nearly white from enduring the pain and from her terror, eyes wide in fright and quivering with unshed tears.

“Get up and call it up,” Ciara repeated, her voice stern with the promise of what she would do if Heather did not obey this time.

However, Heather didn’t move. It wasn’t until she felt the first pricks of a curse again that she whimpered and forced herself up. She stumbled and fell back down though, crying out and reaching a hand to hold her side when she felt a sharp pain stab through her ribs.

“Up,” she snapped, un-amused now.

“I-It hurts.”

A short burst of fire thrummed through Heather again at the warning curse, making her scream in surprise and pain.

“Now!”

She could feel the rush still running through her and she shakily looked up again, tears started to stream down her cheeks again. She knew better than to challenge the woman another time though. Slowly, and shakily, she climbed to her knees, and then to her feet, wincing loudly in pain as she did so.

“Call it up,” Ciara instructed, smirking smugly that the child was listening now.

For a second, Heather whimpered, not knowing how yet. She held her hand out palm up though, trembling violently in fear and pain. For a few long, tense moments nothing happened as she tried to picture the same thing she had done, tried to focus on that hum she was feeling inside her.

Then it finally happened.

–*–

Cliffhanger! Now as for the surprise I mentioned, here is the first look at the cover I created for this first book!

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!

One for the Memories

Alright, so this isn’t going to be my standard writing related blog post. I am going off on a completely unrelated topic tonight. (Actually, if I really wanted to, I could turn this into a half related writing post…)

Anyways, on Wednesday, I had the chance to go to my first concert ever, courtesy of a Christmas/birthday gift from my dad. (I only say birthday because the concert fell right around my birthday.)

I went to see my favorite country artist, maybe one of my favorite artists period, Carrie Underwood!

I will admit, I own every single one of her CDs and know the lyrics to just about every song she has ever written. (This is where I could turn this into half related to writing. Remember my post about music and writing?)

I digress though. It was truly a night to remember, for more than one reason. A night out with cousins, dinner and a concert — an amazing concert at that — and lots of singing and laughing. Needless to say I sang along to every song she performed.

Carrie is one rather great performer — in my opinion at least, I don’t want to hear smash talk back on this post if you don’t like her. She has the voice even without all the audio tuning studies do nowadays, and she has the heart and passion for what she writes to really make the songs come alive. Her songs don’t just go on about some girl or heartbreak, her songs actually go into so many more topics. Being a mother, growing up, losing someone, love, heartbreak, betrayal, little town drama, family, and so much more.

As her tour is called, The Storyteller Tour, her songs really do tell a story. More than your standard girl meets boy, fall in love, tragedy and break up happens. No, not every song is like that of hers and that is one reason I love her songs. She puts so much emotion and heart into these stories that she tells in song.

A tug at the heartstrings. The bursting joy. A tender love and touch. Betrayal and anger…

Her songs have so many layers to them that they become their own story, their own song. It is like I said in that Music Musings post of mine ages ago: song and story alone have their own amazing qualities, but putting them together makes them that much more incredible, that much more powerful. Carrie has a way of achieving both of those together in her own sort of song and dance with the words and tune.

There are so many of her songs that are not just black and white. They are not standard. They are unique and I believe that is what makes her so successful, along with her voice, heart, and passion for what she does.

Not many artists can do this to me, but she is one of the few that have the ability with her songs to move me to pure joy, to wanting to scream, to breaking down into tears. Each of which her songs have brought me to. For someone to achieve that, if even with a few, they are doing something right, and they are doing it with their full heart and soul. It’s the same with authors as it is with singers and songwriters.

I believe an achievement like that is something to be proud of, something not everyone can claim they have managed with their fans or readers. I believe that is something to be respected as well.

As if they have a gift of touching people’s hearts and lives.

Accident Twin (Wednesday Words 2.17.16)

Welcome to a piece of Wednesday Word’s flash fiction on Darkling Dreams!

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 an occurrence and setting. 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.)

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

Accident Twin

Rain pelted the car’s windshield in sheets, the wipers going a mile a minute to try to keep up with the storm. Lightning streaked across the sky, zigzagging and giving an eerie green glow across the pitch black night sky. The storm had been raging for miles now with not an end in sight. Cars along the highway crawled at no more than twenty-five miles per hour to try to see two feet in front of their hoods. The glow of headlights and taillights was nearly impossible to see, even if you were right up on someone’s bumper.

“I can’t see a damn thing…” Melanie muttered to herself, leaning forward in her seat to try to see better. Her knuckles were white on the steering will in nerves and tensions. She couldn’t wait for this storm to pass. It was so unnaturally long, so widespread. She had never seen anything like it.

The next flash of green lightning that lit up everything for a split second had her slamming on her brakes too late with a scream. She could see the high winds whipping the signs along the road, but what really made her eyes widen was the white Subaru directly in front of her.

Tires squealed, rubber burning as she plowed her little hybrid car into the rear end of the stopped Subaru with their four ways blinking. The storm was so bad that she hadn’t seen the car until the last moment.

A moment too late as it was.

The airbag deployed as she felt the rear end of her car actually come up off the highway’s blacktop. She was jerked forward against the seat belt with a cry, the material locking and knocking the wind out of her, bruising her ribs. The two cars skidded forward along the pavement, glass shattering as the slick ground made them spin out in puddles on the road.

Her entire world seemed to flash before her eyes; regrets, dreams, wishes, memories, and all the people she cared for and suddenly wasn’t sure if she had told them she loved them enough. She could have sworn she saw a flash of a woman who looked just like herself as well, yet it wasn’t her. The whole crash only lasted about ten seconds before the cars landed in a ditch off the road, but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. She gave another cry as her car hit the largest ditch and tipped sideways, shattering more glass as her car rolled onto its side, dangling her in her seatbelt.

When everything stilled her ears were ringing, her heart pounding, broken glass tinkling around her in the pattering rain. She tried to calm herself, taking in the fact she was still alive at least. She could feel blood trickling along her skin from the broken glass raining around her, her head pounding from hitting the airbag and steering wheel.

The next set of lightning brought her an unclear vision of someone pulling off the side of the road, getting out and waving a flashlight around as they ran to the vehicles.

“Is everyone alright?!” the voice called.

She vaguely heard a reply coming from the car in front before she heard more than one set of footsteps in the muck coming to her car and someone peered through the cracked windshield at her.

“Hang on there, we’re going to get you out. My husband is a firefighter. Just hand tight.” The voice sounded almost…familiar. Had she spoken to herself and just thought it came from outside the car? Unless that was her pounding head making everything wonky and delusional.

She barely had time to register much before she felt the car rock a little as someone managed to yank her driver side door open. Arms were supporting her, a soothing voice calming her before she found herself being pulled carefully from the vehicle and carried a safe distance away.

“Meredith, go get the medical kit.” It was a male’s voice this time.

Melanie was set down gently on a patch of grass away from the road and the crash and she heard the footsteps approach again as the other good Samaritan came back. The cold rain stopped pounding against her face as someone leaned over her.

“Can you open your eyes? Can you hear me?” That voice… It was so familiar. It was…herself, almost, with a slight difference in pitch. Had she not imagined that this time? Was she hearing herself talk?

Groggily, she managed to open her eyes, not having even noticed they had closed earlier as she had been carried out of the vehicle. Another flash of lightning overhead allowed her to see double of the woman leaning over.

A woman that looked exactly like herself. Her mirror image twin.

---

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!

Cover made by @_teenagers on Wattpad

A Concordance and a Mishap of Notes

It’s been a few up and down days as of late. The weather has sucked, tempers have been flaring, and one thing after another just seems to be going south. My mood has been going up and down right along with the roller coaster, and not in a very positive way.

Which also means I haven’t gotten down to any writing or things on my to do list because my mind and heart just hasn’t been in it.

(I know, no excuse. Always write. But this lack of sleep and stress is not helping the focus, or creativity for that matter. I could have fallen asleep at 2pm today if that’s any indicator how I’ve been sleeping, coming from a night owl.)

While I haven’t been doing any writing the past few days, my mind has been stuck on one other thing:

My binder of notes. My book bible. My concordance. Whatever you wish to call it.

I’ve realized I’ve fallen a bit behind on keeping up with notes for this novel. (Okay, a lot behind.) Now this binder that’s all organized out and labeled and everything has sections with dividers for each type of thing I need to keep track of in this novel.

Examples: Blurb and Chapter Summaries, Characters, Settings, Timelines, Spells and Rituals (because it is a fantasy novel with magic), Maps and Sketches, Research, Miscellaneous Important Tidbits, etc. etc.

I have plain lined paper in the front of the binder for easy access when I need to jot down a new character, a new setting, or a new summary. Then everything is labeled out precisely. Pages are titled with what they are, everything is detailed.

Like “Chapter 1 Summary”. Then it even has a subtitle for the name of the chapter, then another note to the side for what page the chapter starts on in Word. (I am telling you that one is a life saver.) Or characters are labeled by their name, then a subtitle of MC, minor character, recurring character, forwarding character (meaning the only purpose of them is to further the story and they never show again), etc. etc. For the characters that don’t show too often I am adding another subtitle of which chapters they show up in. Then I go into listing their age, description, personalities, favorite things, dislikes, fears, everything. I am going all out on this thing.

Which is all good and done…if I had it all done, that is.

I’m working on it. Really, I am, don’t laugh.

But then when I find I didn’t jot down something important yet, or was on too much of a roll to stop and write out a character page because I didn’t want to lose my train of thought or flow and then…

And then I find this happening:

You see, I started Chapter 14 last week. To remind myself where I was heading, I read through the chapter summary I had written up ages ago now, before my computer crashed for two months, and I came across this note…

[PERSON TO BE THE FIRST GIRL’S SISTER! SAME EYES!]

Well, that wasn’t a major problem yet as I remember who the first girl was and what role she played in the story. So I easily flipped back through the summaries until I found what chapter she was in and then realized this was one of those “on a roll, can’t stop to jot” moments as I came across a bright pink sticky note — that was supposed to stand out to remind me to do it and apparently failed that purpose — that read this…

[WRITE CHARACTER SHEET. GIRL IS IMPORTANT! REMEMBER HER!]

And that is when I realized I had never written her character sheet down. Which meant I had to go sifting through 20 some pages of my novel — which, actually, had me quite pleasantly surprised in a good way at what I had been writing looking back on it — to remember what she looked like for the reference of the same eyes and all.

Needless to say, I did begin to write down her character sheet after that moment, and it is now in the binder. It still needs some addition, like her later role, but that will come as I more accurately get to that scene to know her full role. (My characters love to throw me curveballs.)

Writing is all good of course, but maybe I need to start keeping up with these notes. Like, say, maybe finishing a chapter, jotting down the beginning of the ideas for where I’m going next so I don’t forget, and then stopping to work out any notes from the chapter. Then maybe I won’t find so many [CHECK FOR ACCURACY] notes throughout my Word doc. Like the one after saying the girl’s eyes were a startling blue color that I got confused on from the previous chapter what color I had envisioned them to be when really they were a pale blue-grey.

But hey, I was half right to remember the blue to it! That’s a start!

Snippet Sunday: February 14, 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.

Happy Valentine’s Day, peeps! Sorry to say you aren’t getting a lovey dovey snippet from me, I don’t do romance. You’re getting the opposite of chocolate and roses and a perfect night, you’re getting a nightmare. ;)

I am going to continue on with the first book in the Dark Heir Chronicles yet, Fated to Darkness. Next month I believe I might switch to something different for March, and then flip back to this in April as motivation for Camp NaNo. I think. Unless I end up rolling with this through April — which is a long time — then switch in between the two Camp months to something else.

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. Having talked of what Ciara finally wants of her, she is now left in her first lesson under her mentor.

Picking up right where I left off from last week’s snippet as Heather still tries to grasp the concept of 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?)

–*–

“S-Stop!” she cried desperately, her voice cracking under the pain as she squirmed against it.

She didn’t let up though, only intensifying it until it felt like molten lava was being poured over her skin. Heather screamed more, her legs giving out on her now as she attempted to curl up against it, tears streaming down her face. It left her hanging in Ciara’s grasp by her wrist, her hand still held palm up.

“Call it up,” she snapped coldly, not caring for the child’s pain.

Heather just cried and screamed. “P-Please,” she spluttered, “I’ll do a-anything!”

Ciara let go of her wrist and she dropped heavily to the ground. However, the pain didn’t stop, the curse still thrumming through her at full force. She curled up on the ground, shaking under the intense pain and starting to see black spots, unable to bear it.

The Dark One smiled and sneered all at once. She begged too easily, that would need to be changed, but it showed she could break her and mold her if she was careful enough. She knew just how to do it too.

“I’m waiting,” she said smugly, looking down on the small child.

But still, Heather wasn’t trying to call it up. Her mind too focused on pain like she had never felt before. She didn’t know what the woman wanted her to do, or at least how to do it. She was only four, she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why she had taken her, what was happening to her, and why she couldn’t go home.

The constant crying and pleading finally had Ciara fed up. She kicked her sharply in the ribs, making Heather roll away and scream at the sudden sharp crack that followed. That coupled with the pain from the curse started to make Heather terrified for her life, begging even more.

“Call it up,” Ciara repeated, firmer now as she continued to curse her even further so that Heather felt like there were needles piercing through her as well.

Heather just continued to scream and plead, and each one only made Ciara amp up the pain and add another curse until Heather could no longer take it.

“Call it up!” she snapped for what seemed like the thousandth time, becoming impatient, but she knew it was coming. She could feel it.

–*–

Dun dun dunnn. Just what exactly is coming though?

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!

What’s in a Name?

Here’s something that just about all authors either hate or love. Okay, maybe it’s more like a love-hate relationship with it. Like a see-saw, back and forth, up and down…

I have the love-hate relationship with names.

I hate trying to come up with the perfect names for characters, places, creatures, chapters, novels, series…

Naming is a real bitch.

It’ll make us curse and ponder and leave a [FATHER’S NAME] note in the story because you still haven’t decided on the best name for the character. Which, that is really one of my predicaments. I know the mother’s name, know the daughter’s name (Goddess I better know since she’s one of the main characters and I’m 89k into the story already), but I haven’t figured out the father’s name yet.

Naming is tricky though. Especially in fantasy stories.

You have to find a name that suits the character’s personality and is something unique for the story. Which, for fantasy that can mean making up your own names and twisting other names around to come up with something you love. I find the first names aren’t the hardest, it’s the last names I’m struggling with at the moment. And, well, there are some characters that still need a first name. Thankfully, those characters haven’t been introduced in the book. Yet. They will be soon though.

It’s a headache in the beginning, trying to find the right names or create your own. You sometimes have to wait for the character to reveal the name for you. For that split second of inspiration that springs the name on you while you’re in the middle of a shower and you can’t write it down. Or you sit and spend hours sifting through the internet and rearranging letters, only to still not find that one eureka name.

But when you do finally find that perfect name, it’s a celebration and you become excited like it’s your sweet 16 birthday all over again. At least I do. (Not that I had a sweet 16…)

The problem is just finding that name…

Lately, that seems to be what my mind is wandering down often when I find myself daydreaming: trying to come up with names.

Part of it is me suddenly on a creature creation kick. Why I don’t know, but I am. There’s a couple ideas for them kicking around in my head. Ideas that I’m not quite sure what they are forming just yet. Though some of them are forming up to be quite interesting.

Every time I’m getting a new idea, a new name, I’m pulling up the notes in my iPhone and jotting it down because I know I won’t remember it.

Naming when it comes to writing feels like a battle. A battle that doesn’t always seem to go in my favor.

Which, no one better look at my browser history or someone is going to think I’m looking up baby, Celtic, mythical, and villain names because I’m having a kid. Ha! Yeah, no. I’m writing a book, people.