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Showing posts with label unpublished manuscript. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unpublished manuscript. Show all posts

Saturday, August 23, 2014

Weekend Writing Warriors - 8/24/14


   Weekend Writing Warriors
8/24/14

 
Come join the hop to read an awesome eight from published and unpublished authors at: http://www.wewriwa.

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I know I'd already posted my first eight lines of my manuscript, but I decided on a rewrite as a result of a critiquer's advice. Hopefully this new beginning will jump the reader, agent, or editor into the story sooner.
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       I tried to focus on Ms. Link’s daily review, but it was pointless once I’d spotted the fat guy outside. He had hung under a tree for the past half hour with his bug eyes aimed straight at me, or at least it seemed that way. I rubbed my hand over my stiff neck and noticed that my shoulders had inched upwards. Knowing I had to stop this stalker, I got out of my chair and headed toward the window. Maybe if I closed it, he wouldn’t be able to see inside.
       “Ben, what are you doing?” Ms. Link asked.
       “Sorry, m’am. I was cold. Thought I’d close the window.”

       “I don’t think so,” she sang. “You can’t do that to a menopausal women. I’ll be burning like the steel under Carnegie’s furnaces.”


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Sunday, July 13, 2014

Weekend Writing Warriors Blog Hop 07/13/14

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8sunday / 07/13/14
www.wewriwa.com


A weekly festival of writers sharing excerpts from their work.  
Many different genres; something for everybody. 

     Here is a passage from my unpublished young adult manuscript called BEING BENITO CARLEFFA. 
Ben was recently told that his mother had died.

∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫


I clenched Mom’s pin in my pocket––twisted, turned, and squeezed it tight enough to tear it in two, until the point jabbed my pinky. “No!” Yanking my hand out of my jeans, I sucked my stinging finger and gave it a rapid shake. Next, my hands covered my face and then worked their way to the top of my head where I clutched my hair in a firm grip. My heart pounded in my ears as I rocked forward and back continuously. “You’re lying.” I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut to keep my tears inside. “Dammit!” I punched the door. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” 


 ∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫


Saturday, July 5, 2014

#8 Weekend Writing Warriors Blog Hop - Get's Musical

I'm glad to be a part of the Weekend Writing Warriors.

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8 Sunday / 07/06/14
www.wewriwa.com


A weekly festival of writers sharing excerpts from their work.  
Many different genres; something for everybody. 

     Here is a passage from my unpublished young adult manuscript called BEING BENITO CARLEFFA. I've included a short description below the passage to give background information if wanted. 

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡
     “Here’s the deal, kid.” Carsa leaned close, brushed the handle of the strap down my jawbone, and used it to move my face so that I met his eyes and could almost taste his sour breath. The cold plastic grip dug into my cheek while its leather tail gently danced against my ribcage in a cruel tease. Once again, Carsa’s pupils widened with a three-second crazed expression then dwindled back to normal size as if drugs had returned him from his psychotic trip. 
    “You will not leave this room unscathed,” Carsa continued, “however a little cooperation could help.” He cracked the air beside me. Every muscle in my body tightened as a shiver shot down my spine. “Did your dad say two or three,” he grinned while stroking his torture device, “or was it five or six? Just can’t remember.” 
¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡

My teenage character had been kidnapped earlier in the day by employees of a mob boss father who he didn't know existed. The scene takes place in a dark study after Ben broke his father's Waterford lamp and used a glass shard as a weapon against Dad while cussing him out. Not that Ben's a bad kid, he's actually quite good, but he just learned that this scum bag killed his mom, and you can't blame him for being just a little ticked. Of course his father never does the dirty work. Why should he when he's got Carsa to wear the mud?

Compliments are great, but what I'm really looking for is the constructive criticism to take the passage to a new level. 

Thanks!
Joyce


Sorry I almost missed Musical Monday Moves Me. I'm vacationing in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Here's a quick musical addition to go with my writing.






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