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This week I'm going to ignore Brexit, because it's pointless getting upset anymore, & crack on with these books I'm writing. & I have to remember, I'm going to Tomorrowland in July. I'm going back to Tomorrowland...It's all good. OK. Let's do this...







My Picture Book Study Plan this week ~Pacing & Voice~ using THE OLDEST STUDENT HEART ON FIRE DANCING HANDS -Magarita Engle NOTHING STOPPED SOPHIE MAGIC RAMEN
















DONE. Amazing! What's your biggest challenge right now? Reply with your sprint word count and team name (Green, Blue, Yellow, or Red).







Need help with your novel? Check out this FABULOUS deal!! First-timers to seasoned writers...this is exactly what you need!




Lusting over her muse cherishing fragile magic of nature's blues admiring graceful branches in gentle winds she breathes in memories of daytime hymns reminiscent of sunset dreams










Today is the fourth "Monday Word Count Report Day" on the 85K Writing Challenge! Writers, head to the forum on to report your progress. We report word counts every Monday and Friday (Jan-Mar). ? stay on the







Have you ever wondered how to improve your novelโ€™s pacing? Hear us talk to Vivian Jamieson about it on the Writing Gym:







Explosives, a grave, & a baby... there's quite the story to tell. Author walks us thru the scene on this Adventure. She also offers insight on pitching your Here's the listen link >>




and all forms of are terror to those who wish to suppress truth. WOLE SOYINKA






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O to be a writer,

To be a writer everyone admires,

To be worthy of a hater’s love,

To be quoted and held up to the stars,

A writer who is known,

A writer who is the bestseller among bestsellers,

Better yet,

To be a writer who never measures success on something as

Fluctuating,

Cheap,

And fleeting

As people’s opinion.

A Serenade to the Thought of You

I don’t think I’ve properly picked up a guitar for a decade at least. Setting my fingers right seems more a game of trial and error, and the weight of it on my lap is unfamiliar rather than comforting. In some ways, it scares me. 

You always made it look so easy, strumming away, not caring if the world deigned to spare a glance. Dwelling on those moments makes me see green. But they’d been happy. I’d been happy to live them through. 

Hate is a strong word. Still, there’s not a whole lot of good about the frail jerk of notes now filling the air, my fingers like oil on a sheet of glass. I stop. Breathe.

You’d find it stupid if you were here; you’d laugh at how far I’d fallen. So I laugh instead, for both of us. And you know, it is a curious sort of irony. Life’s a little too stealthy, responsibility a masked killer especially. Not that you’d cared much about that sort of thing back then. You lived to play, after all.

It’s easier to hum the tune, the old melody that always drove Mom crazy. I think she misses it these days, caught her humming it this morning, too. Or maybe it’s just you Mom misses — the child who lived to play. 

If only you were here.

Maybe if I’d stuck at this guitar thing, you would be.

and the garden blooms

And she sits in the garden where the colors blossom, surrounded by the peace that entices her to sleep. It has never been so alive before. this is where it had all started, so long ago.

Who knew something so beautiful would create years of terror and bloodshed? Sage has half a mind to lock it up and never look back – but the memories of the before always keep her from doing so.

The wooden swing is old and threatens to snap underneath her weight, and this is where they first kissed, she realizes as she slowly rocks back and forth. And there was a time when her mother smiled.

And the flowers and the sun block out to be replaced with the amber eyes of someone much more beautiful. Her hands cover her own, thick curls of brown hair curtaining both their faces – and she is smiling. Sage hopes that she never stops.

Without much thought she reaches up to the woman who is much more beautiful than the flowers, much warmer than the sun and cups her face between both her hands.

And she closes her eyes as she draws Nyx in for a soft kiss.

A silent promise to herself, her people, Nyx – Nyx, most of all – that she will do better than her mother ever did.

“I love you,” Nyx whispers, voice hoarse but sincere.

Sage does not let go of her face. If she does let go, she fears the other woman will disappear.

“I love you too,” And all Sage can do is pray that she will not disappoint her.

The taste of blood weighed heavy on her tongue; the smell of death thick in the air. The bodies of those she had already taken care of littered the ground around her, but she paid them no mind. Her attention was drawn fully on the man before her; a man who trembled, whose blood-covered hands shook with fear. It was enough to keep her going. She had to see this through. 

“Look, sugar.” Despite the broken arm, he lifted both up; a sign of peace. “We don’t gotta do this. You want money? I got plenty of it. I got— I got connections. And you’re pretty good with a gun! I have a few positions, uh, freshly opened, if you’re lookin’ to make some good money! There’s good money in what I do, yeah?”

Despite his words, his offers of money and power, Ianthe did not lower the gun. She narrowed her dark eyes, tilted her head as a smile curved her lips. “What else ya got?”

His shoulders sagged in relief.

“I can get ya a good job with us. We got money, y’know? Lots of it! New apartment, too. I can’t imagine what a single girl can afford in New York, but we can do better.” He flinched as Ianthe cocked the gun. “Oh, ho, hey! Didn’t mean to be rude! I’m just sayin’, we got—”

“You know what I want?”

She stepped forward, movements slow and steady as she stared into his eyes. He matched her pace in the opposite direction; one step forward, one step back. He laughs, the sound not-quite-right.

“I can make a few guesses.”

“You’d guess wrong. Tell me you can make my dreams come true.”

“I— I can, doll, I really can!”

“Then bring my husband back, you disgusting fuck.”

And she pulled the trigger.

the first draft is just to shit out ideas, i whisper to no one.

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pale empire -> the khos marni

“Be careful, Zahri,” said Masej.

The princess flashed a smile at him and gestured to an attendant, who tossed her a six-foot-long spear. She caught it easily. Its wicked point glinted silver in the sun. “Haven’t you learned anything of our country, Masej? I am khos Marni. I am untouchable.

In Sereng, a monarch’s children by blood make up a new noble family—a vhos—but can never succeed to the throne. Instead, young people who show extraordinary talent or courage are adopted into a khos, a royal family, always known as the khos Marni. After the monarch’s death, the royal ministers and the heads of the vhosi elect a successor from among the khos Marni. The current queen, Pasheera, has three in her khos—Princess Zahri, Princess Sabhira, and Prince Raqash.

Fearsome Princess Zahri, once a servant girl, ascended to the khos Marni when she saved the lives of the queen’s sons. Now known for her reckless, spectacular strategies commanding the elite royal forces, the Galadhrim, she leaves court intrigue to her siblings.

Mild-mannered Princess Sabhira was a student of the Blue Tower’s honoured medicinal arts, and when still in her youth she assisted in creating a quarantine system which delivered the people from a plague. She is widely adored and a popular candidate for the succession.

Silver-tongued Prince Raqash, chosen for his gift in finance, recently and controversially married a Dashkirian warrior prince, Masej. Many vhosi favour the alliance, as well as the prospect of a monarch and consort of the same sex, therefore unable to create a new rival vhos. On the other hand, it increased tensions with Dashkir’s partial conqueror, the Tyrian Empire, which fears the alliance. Reports are spreading of Tyrian attacks on Serengese borders.

The three siblings have always been fiercely protective of one another. Yet the unspoken truth lies between them—when their mother dies, only one can succeed to the throne.

TAGLIST -> @megxnswrites | @noloumna | @reverie-writes | @writingwithhotchocolate @stravaganzaa | @zeesqueere | @nadiasnarrative | @zmlorenz | @claudethecloudqueen | @musicofglassandwords | @carmina-solis | @chavawrites | @alternativeforensicscientist | @ladywithalamp | @the-ineffable-husbando | @cirianne | @astorsa | @eluarii | @easternstorms | @velvetinewitch | @aepreall | @lipmoji | @samplewriting (Please ask to be added or removed!)

WIP Page: To Catch A Dream

Working Title: To Catch A Dream

Genre: YA Romance, LGBTQ+

Synopsis: Ava and Lily live a normal life as roommates. That is until Ava loses her job, and wants to own her own flower shop. Which only creates more tension between Lily and Ava.

Characters:

Ava: Ava loves to plant things, mostly flowers and succulents, as well as making flower arrangements. Works in a flower shop, but would love to own her own shop one day. Also loves dogs and to spend time just chilling on the couch while watching TV. Her favourite colour is green, especially dark green and her favourite flower is a lily.

Lily: Lily likes to take photos and posts them on her Instagram. Mostly takes pictures of nature and Ava’s flower arrangements. Always puts others needs before hers. She loves Harry Potter with all her heart and loves to read as well as to play the guitar. Works as a photographer.

Flash #1955

“DARK MAGIC!” The Evil Wizard cackled, lightning blasting forth from gnarled hands.

“I’ve always hated that,” Bob said. Alice nodded.

“Real loaded language,” she said, arms folded.

The Evil Wizard glared at them.

“Can you at least ACT impressed? You’re ruining the drama!”

“What drama! It’s fucking lightning! Big whoop!” Alice shouted at him through cupped hands.

Lightning being, at this point, old news.

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You don’t know what might change tomorrow. #amwriting #authorsofinstagram #dontgiveup
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wild wonders, chapter one
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I’ve been posting excerpts of this first chapter, but I’ve decided to just post the whole thing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

From a WIP called Wild Wonders, that has not a super defined plot at the moment but for which I managed to write the first chapter, somehow. Here’s what it’s about, basically:

a ragtag gang of twentysomethings try to unravel a mystery they really should have left alone. Featuring heists, art theft, black market dealings, traveling across countries, treasure hunts, supernatural forces, etc. 

Keep reading

‘It’s a shame you two have to wipe my memory; I could’ve spun this into one hell of a ghost story for the kids at camp next half-term.’

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𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 || 𝐎𝐂 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨

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Name: Sophie Marsh
Age: 21 years old
Orientation: Lesbian
Occupation: Outdoor Activities Instructor

Background:

Born in Cumbria, England, Sophie Marsh spent as much of her childhood outside as humanly possible. With her bike and her camera, she took advantage of the precious sunshine in the summer months, and spent the rest of the time shopping around town with her close friends and staring gloomily out of her rain-streaked windows. 

Sophie took to being the eldest sibling like a duck to water, and with twin sisters almost a decade younger than herself, the little ducklings began to waddle in her shadow just as soon as they’d gained the mobility to do so. 

It was her love of watching over her sisters and their friends that inspired her to take on a job at the Outdoor Activities Centre as soon as she left high school. Despite working hard on her studies, they were never something that she wanted to pursue further than she had to, and having a job lined up for her at a place that already considered her family was the perfect solution. 

Something of a neat freak, Sophie would often find it difficult to balance her love of the outdoors with her hatred of mud and slime, and though she would always hold a special place in her heart for the countryside, the urge to take some time off to visit London, to experience something new, grew and grew until one day she impulsively packed her bags, said her farewells to her family, and caught the train down to the city. 

She had counted on a lot of things coming to London: the noise, the smell, the life, the excitement, the verticality of it all… But what she hadn’t counted on was the gleaming phenomenon, like a cocktail of galaxies and rainbows swirling in a small, floating orb, but expanding, splitting, until a large shuddering archway appeared before her. 

What happened next was far from whatever Sophie’s imagination could’ve conjured up. One thing was for certain, though: she’d wanted a new experience, and, by god, she was going to get it.