Meme! Again! What is this "life" you speak of?
Snagged from jacyevans:
Post a random sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale
Her first shot knocked the can off the fence and out in the field beyond, set the fence post to shaking. Her next six shots did the same. When she turned to look at her dad, there was a strange, sad smile on his face.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close against him, and she almost missed the hitch in his voice when he said, “You did good. I’m proud of you, Dee.”
In the thick heat of summer, under the hot press of a vast blue Texas sky, Deanna learned how to harness lightning and shoot thunder. She was seven years old.
The Road Knows Your Name
There's a lot of things in the night that can't resist the sweet curve of her ass when she's bent over an engine bay, her hair falling in loose waves down her back, her skin smelling like oranges and gasoline and desperation.
I Have Spent Nights With Matches and Knives
Hell follows her topside, a jealous lover she can't outrun, her skin burning and her body trembling and the acrid scent of smoke swirling so thick around her that even after three months of breathing free air, she's half-convinced she'll choke on it.
Remember You Could Catch Fire
Leah’s got a habit of loving men who can’t love her back. They’re impossible to quit, like the cigarettes she carries in her back pocket, one more drag, just one more, and in the end all she’s left with is smoke and ashes and a bone-deep need for more.
It All Falls Down
The pain of the gaping hole Edward had left in me was eclipsed by the burning in my throat and the pounding on my chest. Jacob's palms pushed at the spot above my heart with measured desperation, beating the life back into me. Live, each beat seemed to say. Live. Live. And suddenly, impossibly, I wanted to.
Sweet Girl
I’m Atalanta, she thinks.
When she can run, no one can catch her.
They'll never catch her, so long as they know so little about ghosts, and the broken-hearted girl she used to be.
Feel free to ask questions about any of these stories :)
Post a random sentence (or three) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, you'll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
Put Your Kingdom Up For Sale
Her first shot knocked the can off the fence and out in the field beyond, set the fence post to shaking. Her next six shots did the same. When she turned to look at her dad, there was a strange, sad smile on his face.
He laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her close against him, and she almost missed the hitch in his voice when he said, “You did good. I’m proud of you, Dee.”
In the thick heat of summer, under the hot press of a vast blue Texas sky, Deanna learned how to harness lightning and shoot thunder. She was seven years old.
The Road Knows Your Name
There's a lot of things in the night that can't resist the sweet curve of her ass when she's bent over an engine bay, her hair falling in loose waves down her back, her skin smelling like oranges and gasoline and desperation.
I Have Spent Nights With Matches and Knives
Hell follows her topside, a jealous lover she can't outrun, her skin burning and her body trembling and the acrid scent of smoke swirling so thick around her that even after three months of breathing free air, she's half-convinced she'll choke on it.
Remember You Could Catch Fire
Leah’s got a habit of loving men who can’t love her back. They’re impossible to quit, like the cigarettes she carries in her back pocket, one more drag, just one more, and in the end all she’s left with is smoke and ashes and a bone-deep need for more.
It All Falls Down
The pain of the gaping hole Edward had left in me was eclipsed by the burning in my throat and the pounding on my chest. Jacob's palms pushed at the spot above my heart with measured desperation, beating the life back into me. Live, each beat seemed to say. Live. Live. And suddenly, impossibly, I wanted to.
Sweet Girl
I’m Atalanta, she thinks.
When she can run, no one can catch her.
They'll never catch her, so long as they know so little about ghosts, and the broken-hearted girl she used to be.
Feel free to ask questions about any of these stories :)