On Wednesday I had a great time meeting with fellow writers, reading and critiquing each others work and getting input on query letters. It reigniting the writer's itch in my fingertips and I stayed up til 3 a.m. sending out two more queries for Horse Heroes and reworking the beginning of my YA novel Speak (yet again!). It can be very frustrating to never be done, fighting with the structure until it runs smoothly; I have found my stumbling point with that.
But I am so thankful for the connections I am beginning to make within the writing community: Thanks @KrisdKeith and @nova_mcbee! And, though I have fought long and hard against it, I now have a Twitter. Yup. If you too are a Tweeter (lol), you can follow me at @moosenaroundak. (If not, be glad and enjoy your life!)
Also, in an effort to get YOU to pester me to keep up on my blog, I will be posting my novels and their blurbs. Feel free to ask how it's going! (If it's not, then I might ask for free babysitting, lol).
To start things off, this novel came as inspiration from a writing prompt from The Spinning Pen (https://thespinningpen.com/). (Credit goes to Nova McBee for the first paragraph!) I will share my blurb (or what I'm planning for it at this point) and everything I have written. (Don't hold your breath, it is only around 500 words). Writing my first draft of this new novel will be my goal for #NaNoWriMo.
Duchess of the Seas
The sky drifted and fell into the
blasted, nasty sea doing nothing to help my splitting head. The
liar, whoever he was, hadn’t gained my favor. I swore, once I untied the
vile ropes of seasickness, I’d have his throat. Not knowing which way was
right side up I rocked back and forth, clenching my poor temples. When my
vision cleared, I sat up, and for the first time I laid my uneasy eyes on him.
He still wore the same tailcoat and
beaver top hat that had caused me to mistake him for a gentleman, yet now he
barked orders to the grimy sailormen as the true brigand he was. His sweet
words and amiable visits the past month had been for one purpose, this much I
could now see. I was no longer the sole daughter and heiress to my late father
the Duke of Chapman Heights, but a prisoner of pirates.
I certainly would pay any ransom price
for my freedom; no amount would be too steep if it meant I would be rid of the
smug sea green eyes that now turned toward me. I straightened my spine and
glared back, refusing to give him any more satisfaction at seeing my pathetic
seasick self. “Name your price, pirate, and return me to shore. Whatever your
demands, I will pay them.”
His slick boots took slow deliberate
steps toward me, cornering me against the railing of the quarterdeck. “Is that
what you think?” he asked, his voice uncommonly low under the sound of the sea.
To hear him clearly, I would have to lean in to his deep voice, but I refused
to give him the satisfaction. “You believe I took you hostage?” He took off his
hat and ran his fingers through his windswept hair. “Olivia—“
I interrupted him as he spoke my name,
“Don’t be impertinent.”
“My apologies,” he bowed slightly, only
to mock me. “Lady Olivia Chapman, you are mistaken. You are not a captive on my
ship Crimson Crest, but a guest.”
I pushed past him to hide my surprise
and confusion but my feet were still unaccustomed to the swells and drops of
the ocean. My hand gripped the rigging near the mast and I spun to face him.
His lies had deceived me once; I would not rely on him again. “An unwilling
guest! What possessed you to think I wanted to leave my home and friends and
join you on this forsaken piece of driftwood?!”
His glance was calculating, as if I was
an impending sea storm; would he turn his sails and try to outrun the torrent
or sail directly into the tempest? His response once again startled me. He
snorted, “Your home and friends?” He shook his head. “No, that was where you
were being held prisoner: all those lies and deceptions, layers of frills and
makeup, their only purpose is to hide the truth about a person. Those you
thought were your closest friends were truly your deadliest enemy, Oliv—Lady
Chapman. I swore an oath to your father and intend to uphold it.” He
straightened to his full height as he spoke, “I am setting you free.”
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