I'm starting to get a little excited.
And because I'm getting a little excited, I've decided to have more giveaways, and more prizes. So come back Thursday (and then come back the following Thursday!) for back to back raffles. I have hardcovers of ARCHETYPE lying around, galleys of PROTOTYPE taking up space, T-shirts, tote bags... ALL THE STUFF. You know you want it.
Alright, so. The updates!
Adult Scifi: 30,321! That's what...? 4 1/2K over last week? Roughly? *insert more happy dancing* So yeah. I'm on a roll. AND, I had a super HUZZAH moment this week for a shocking twist that won't effect a single thing I've written or plan to write until the very end. I love it when that happens, ya'll.
“Ms. Bennett?”Ethan’s voice, a good five steps to my left, startled me. Despite the contrast of his pale skin to the entirely black ensemble, from his open-necked button-down shirt to his polished-to-a-shine shoes, he looked incredibly overwhelming today.I’d been so lost inside my own mind that I hadn’t noticed everyone leaving. Men veered around me, careful not to touch, as if I were a sharp stone jutting free of a violent rapid. Maybe because I was shaking.Ethan strode over as if with purpose, never taking his eyes off me, never giving the throng trying to pass us a second glance. They moved around him without question. Maybe he was as sharp a stone as I. Prepared to slice open the skin of anyone passing too close.
YA Scifi: 30,641. YEP. That's 3K +. I'm at this point where I sorta want to kick myself for writing 2 novels at once, because I could be 2/3 done with 1. BUT. The 2nd is nice to have for the moments when I get stumped on scenes. This one had a ridiculous chapter Sunday through most of Wednesday, that I knew needed to change, but didn't have a clue how. So I worked on the other novel until the HUZZAH moment happened Wednesday night.
(It's the 3rd novel I've been plotting on the side that would be just DUMB to attempt right now, yeah? Tell me that would be dumb and I'll believe you. Sigh. My muse, I swear.)
He looks dead as they wheel him into surgery with me close on their white, padded heels. They shout over my questions, my cries, my pleas for mercy. Can’t they see? He’s dying there and I’m dying here. The irony of my very own suffering going unnoticed in a place of healing. What remains of my innocence bleeds out all over this vinyl floor. Maybe they can’t see my blood though all of his. There’s so much. So, so much.The hospital staff forces me to stop outside the sliding doors leading to the surgical wing. Red paint bars the way with the words STAFF ONLY stamped across the glass.My footsteps falter backward as my aching heart heaves toward him, and like that, I’m broken in two. Leave, wait. Laugh, weep. Live, wither.
That one gives me chills. Just sayin'.
See you Thursday!