Six Sentence Sunday

Another six from my WIP, Caliburn.


~*~


An angry voice shouted from across the warehouse . Gunter Rasmussen was well-known in the underground. He was known for grinding a fighter to dust before he build them back into unstoppable machines.



Many long-timers in the scene wondered when he’d get around to rebuilding Alejandra.



Santiago and Gen (and secretly, Gabriel) were convinced he never would. She was still winning fights, and Gunter liked his women powdery.

~*~

Enjoy others' Six Sundays. And hopefully I will be on time next week.

Six Sentence Sunday

And I am sooooooo late. Missed the posting deadline for the official Six Sunday. Work week tried to kill me, but here it is!

~*~

Alejandra Guitierrez headlined the spray-painted placard. It helped that the artist was trying desperately to get back into her good graces. He stood at the top of an impossibly tall ladder to hang the sign while people on the floor u-bolted chain-link fence to the I-beams.

At the base of the ladder, Gen held it steady, uncertainty clouding her blue eyes. Possibly because she was the only white woman in the building, but probably not.

She went to every one of Alejandra’s fights.

~*~

Enjoy others' Six Sundays. And hopefully I will be on time next week.

Aha!

I've figured it out.

It's not the print-outs or the goal setting or any of the fancy and complicated things I've been doing. It's simple and it works for me.

Take my doggone spiral-bound notebook and a pen and go somewhere that will make me bored. Leave behind the Nook, any books, the laptop, even my Blackberry and sit my butt down to put pen to paper.

Miracles, I tell you.

Caliburn

So, the snippets I've been posting for Six Sunday is from my WIP, currently titled Caliburn.

There's a bit of a story behind this novel. See, my job sometimes involves long nights of doing a whole lot of nothing. So I've been known to trawl the depths of Netflix. One night I found a Disney movie called Avalon High. Now, I've long been a fan of any sort of legends surrounding Avalon, so I decided to give it a try.

It was a Disney movie. They thought they'd give it a twist by making a girl the reincarnation of King Arthur, but it was still a very, very Disney movie.

All I could think at the end of that was... I can do better.

So you have Caliburn. Please ask me any questions you would like!

Six Sunday

Turned out his biker brothers knew where there was a really nasty fight going
down that evening. So that’s how Derek ended up in a temporarily
converted warehouse on the wrong side of Harry Hines.

That’s when Fate smacked him upside the head.

When the first fighter stepped out, he was shocked to see it was a
twenty-something Latina woman. The bigger shock came with the
certainty that this girl was his King.

And she was terribly broken.

So slow.

I've begun the self-imposed Twitter exile. Except for Six Sunday and other blog announcements, I will keep myself from Twitter until Caliburn reaches 10 000 words! I've taken the app off my phone and Chrome. Thus far, I wrote a little bit instead of Twittering. It's a start. Here's to much more.

Motivation

I don't have it.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have stories coming out my ears. The disconnect seems to come when I try to get it into text. I can IM and research and jot notes from sun-up to sun down, but when I sit down to type those ideas into a story, I freeze.

I've written just over 5 000 words on Caliburn, the novel you've been teased with for the last few Six Sundays. I think this is actually the most I've written independently on anything since the 100 hand-written page Thing I wrote between sixth and eighth grades.

So there are some things I'm trying for inspiration. The first would be music.



I've always been a musical person. Many of my stories have their own soundtracks. Something comes on the radio and my brain kicks into overdrive on a certain story. Unfortunately, this mostly happens while driving.

Then there's this:



Yeah, that's massive, but it's the feedback on this blog from YOU guys. *shrug* That's probably the most inspiring thing out there. What can I say? I'm a bit of an attention and feedback whore.

I've also posted the 100 day writing challenge up there. The goal is 800 words a day on Caliburn. So, while I've enjoyed this blog entry, I have housework and writing to do.

Until next time!

Six Sunday

Al looked at the three-quarter empty bottle of bitter tea at her feet. "Did you just drug me?" she couldn't help the angry squeak in her voice, because the world was definitely taking on a distinct fuzz.

"I think this is the right spot," he murmured as he stopped rowing, his head up to look around.. He met her eyes for a moment, crow-black to velvet brown. "Sure did," he said as he capsized the boat.

Six Sentence Sunday

Derek shook his head with a sad smile. "Can't say you won't end up with bruised ribs, my way," he said. "I can tell you my way will quite possibly blow your mind."

She stared at his outstretched hand. She might end up raped and dead with him. But she wanted to take the risk, because the other chance was feeling *alive* again.

~*~

Hey! Did you know you can schedule these things?

Word Count Widget!

To show you how VERY slowly it's going! Because I know you want to see.

Six Sentences!

I'm about three minutes late, but bear with me. I've been and the renaissance festival all day. You're lucky I'm upright.

~*~


She tilted her head as she studied him. “Do you live your whole life this footloose?” she asked, trying to hide the note of envy in her voice.

He just grinned. “I live my life for you, lady.”

She shook her head again. “You’re just nuts, man.”

Six Sentence Sunday

I should probably note that this isn't any sort of official Six Sentence Sunday, as I am not affiliated with the people who originated it. This is more of a motivator for me to get off my ass and write.

Rather than babble any more, six sentences from my WIP.

~*~


In all honesty, though they billed her by her full name, she much preferred to be called Al. Yes, like the Paul Simon song.

“Alejandra!”

She winced. Not that she could get her boyfriend to call her that. There was just something odd about her full name in a German accent.

Six Sentence Sunday

One of the guys told him about old man Hennessy. Nobody knew if that was his real name, but nobody really cared, either. They said he grew his stuff along with the rose bushes. Then he dried it all out on the same table. The roses went to some potpourri company, the pot sold to whoever he felt like selling to. Rumor was, the shit tasted like roses.