Mwaha...ha?

My evil laugh needs work XD But besides that....

I haven't done much writing, but I have good reasons which may or may not include watching Tangled, The King's Speech, and shopping at a bookstore which was having a 90% off sale. Oh yes. At said bookstore which I may or may not have visited, I bought a little book. Said little book is called "The Writer's Little Helper" and I've found it appropriately named. My favorite feature so far is called the Ten Scene Tool. The author, James V. Smith, Jr., suggests using this tool in place of the classic outline, mainly because outlining...

Wow, are you guys lucky....

....or not. Well. Instead of working on something to put up on my blog, I spent the last two days taking tests, buying books and devouring "The Killer Angels" by Michael Shaara (which, by the way, is the inspiration for one of my favorite films on the Civil War). So tonight you get the first chapter of my NaNo 2010 unedited and unfinished novel, Reapers. Oh, joy. This isn't the absolute beginning of the book--there's a prologue, too, but it's slightly new and I was hesitant about posting it. I pretty much loathe this first chapter, but I love Reapers' characters, and hopefully you will, too =)

<3, Elisabeth




Reapers: Chapter One

The water buckets were not heavy, but Twink crept along the empty dirt road as if he was walking on graves. He glanced constantly over his shoulder at the well, licking his lips in anticipation. I’ll bet my entire beetle collection that Bross and his thugs are hiding in those bushes. Well, let ‘em come; I’m ready!

First Chapter

'Kay, so I seem to be falling into a very disturbing trend of being sick and forgetting to post on my blog. I'm really sorry ._. It's not like I don't have anything to post--I have a whole PILE of stuff that I'm waiting to have evaluated by other people. Get your act together, me.

Today's (tonight's) post is the first chapter of my pet book (the one that I'm co-authoring with Fozzy/Danielle, and the one that kicked off my writing career six years ago). It has a very complicated plot that I STILL haven't figured out. It also has a prologue, but I feel that I show people the prologue too often, and forget about the first chapter. So you get the first chapter =) I pity you.

I covet your comments. My yearly Writer's Conference (GPCWC) is coming up in August and I'd really like to make some headway this year. Don't be afraid to be blunt--believe me, once you read the chapter, you'll know how much I need bluntness XD

Well, enjoy! I'll try to post again tomorrow--another exercise, perhaps?

~Elisabeth

                                     Chapter One: Anna

The clock’s running backwards.

Anna Foster watched the minute hand drag along the clock face. She listened with only one ear to Miss Morgan’s lecture and tapped her pencil against her blank notebook. Just two more minutes; two more minutes and you’re out of here. She twisted a strand of hair around one finger before turning her attention back to her teacher.

Ideas, Ideas

Okay, first of all, let me apologize for not posting in over a week. I've been sick and I've spent most of the last week on my sofa being miserable XD I haven't gotten any writing done, just a bit of brainstorming. And I think I kinda latched onto a new idea.

Maybe...

I don't know much about it yet, but all I DO know is that there are five brothers. They're not in a fantasy world; they're in ours, and I don't know what time period. And I have no idea what they do, or if they even do anything XD I think one of the brothers--maybe the oldest--has a problem. Maybe it's mental, or maybe it's physical. And one of the brothers is a lover. And one might be a scholarish rascal. But I don't know anything about the other two XD And I'm really not sure if my main character will be the youngest brother or the second-eldest. It depends on what ends up being "wrong" with the eldest. Or maybe it doesn't. I guess my idea's at "that" stage XD

I got the idea after watching "Dancing at Loughnasa" (an film set in Ireland centered around five sisters) and after watching the preview for "Little Women." Maybe it's just me, but I couldn't think of any stories about a little group of brothers other than The Brothers Karamazov, and certainly not one set in modern-day or close-to-modern-day settings. Correct me if I'm wrong; I'd like to read said books =P

All I know about my five brothers right now is that their last name is Falcarragh. And that's not even written in stone XD But it sounded cool when I said it (right?) and it's Irish =D

I must leave you now with that; just a random update about the state of my brain. Say Falcarragh five times and be very happy ^_^

God Bless~

Elisabeth

Ps. Aaaand, since this is sounding a little too like "Dancing at Loughnasa", my Falcarraghs don't live in Ireland. They might not even be Irish. They might be Swedish. I don't know. I'm tired XD

Teamwork

Here's a theme (#41) called teamwork. This involves three of my characters who aren't really thieves, but were just so much fun to write as thieves =P And they're all from the same book, which makes it quite amusing.

100 Themes #41: Teamwork

            “Go, go, go!”

            Guinevere’s feet pounded on the hard, glossy floor as she swung a corner and caught a glimpse of Marc bolting for the door. “Hold it!” she shouted, putting on a burst of speed. They crowded through the door together and sprinted onto the blacktop. Their ride, a squat, nondescript sedan with a clumsy paint job, stood idling across the parking lot. As they approached, the car’s motor revved loudly.

            “Can’t he cut the dramatics?” Guinevere threw herself at the passenger door and hurried inside; Marc jumped in the back. There were already several guards charging the sedan from across the lot. She threw their driver a killer glare. “Jace! Drive!”

            “I’m on it!” Jace threw the car into gear and floored the pedal. They lurched forward so quickly that Guinevere almost expected the car to whiplash and fall apart then and there. Somehow, they gained speed and roared across the empty lot.

            “Did you get it?” Jace asked, one hand on the wheel, the other hand grasping a half-empty milkshake cup with obnoxious smiley faces plastered all over it.

            “What do you think?” Guinevere snapped.

            “No thanks to you,” Marc added breathlessly. “Jace, do you think that you might be able to park a little closer to the exit next time? I mean, we had to run across the entire lot!”

            Jace jackknifed the car onto the highway and took a loud slurp of his milkshake. “Well, I just thought you needed the exercise, that’s all.” He turned to Guinevere and smiled broadly. “So, can I see it?”

            A loud horn blared to their left; Jace guided the car into the right lane and smiled sheepishly.

            “Jace.” Guinevere pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed. “Just drive.”

            “And fast,” Marc announced from the back seat. “We’ve got a few cars on our tail.”

            Guinevere clenched her teeth. “Jace!”

            “They must have had their garage somewhere near us!” Jace exclaimed. “I mean, how else could they have gotten to their cars so fast?” He passed two cars and sucked on his milkshake.

            “Gimme that!” Guinevere snatched the cup away from him and threw it out the window. “Just focus on getting us out of here!”

            “My shake!” Jace turned nearly completely backwards as the cup met a semi truck head-on and was reduced to a spray of white sludge on the truck’s windshield. “Guin, that cost me three bucks!”

            “She’ll make it up to you!” Marc shouted. “They’re gaining! Guin, why couldn’t you have chucked that shake at one of the guards’ cars?”

            “I’ll have the foresight to do that next time.” Guinevere transferred the box which she’d had in her hands to Jace’s lap. “Speed up.”

            “Is this the special item?” Jace asked wonderingly. “Can I see?”

            “Jason!” Marc roared. “You just missed our exit!”

            “We can’t exit with them behind us!” Guinevere cried. “This is the best place to lose them!” She reached into the glove compartment and found a small pistol. “Did you load this like I told you to, Jace?”

            “Um—“

            “Don’t answer that,” Guinevere growled. She reached into her pocket and found a small pouch of extra bullets. The gun took only five; she put the rest back.

            “What are you going to do?” Marc demanded.

            “Hope this works like it does in the movies,” Guinevere replied. She leaned out the window and saw three black sedans roaring up behind them. She pulled the trigger; the bullet hit the hood of the first sedan.

            “Maybe I should do it,” Jace suggested.

            “You’re driving!” Guinevere shot again; this time, the bullet missed the cars altogether. “Blast.”

            “I really think I should do it,” Jace said. “Here; hold the wheel.” He reached across Guinevere, snatched the gun, rolled down his window, and leaned out, leaving the wheel unattended.

            “You maniac!” Guinevere lunged for the wheel and turned it sharply to avoid hitting the truck in front of them. “Slow down! You’re going to get us killed!”

            “Hold on!” A shot exploded from the pistol; behind them, tires squealed. Guinevere craned her neck to glance at Marc.

            “He hit the wrong car!” Marc exclaimed.

            Guinevere turned back to the wheel. “He would.”

            A loud crash came a second later; cars slammed into each other. Jace’s foot floored the gas pedal.

            “Are they still coming after us?” Guinevere shouted.

            Jace pulled his head back inside the window, his hair standing almost on end and his eyes watering from the wind. “Nope. They all crashed. One shot—ka-pow!” He took the wheel again and steered serenely off the next exit. “You owe me a milkshake.”

            Guinevere swiveled and peered out the back window; behind them, a smoking pile of wreckage blocked the entire south-bound side of the highway. Marc met her gaze and shrugged.

            “I think he’s right.”

            “And I thought he could only fly airplanes.” Guinevere slumped back into her seat with a relieved sigh. “Good job, Jace.”

            “I know,” he said. “So, after we drop off the box, where to next?”

            “The nearest fast food joint, I guess,” Guinevere muttered, “for a milkshake.”

            “An extra-large shake,” Jace corrected.

            “For everyone,” Marc added.

            Guinevere chuckled wearily. “At three bucks a piece? It’s highway robbery.”

            Jace eyed the box on his lap and shrugged with a grin. “What can I say? We’re good at it.”