8 Sentence Sunday

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Mattie meets Genya!

The steward there looked positively disgusted that she spoke in such a way, but he vanished to fetch her coat anyway. As she waited, she sensed a presence approach from behind. Knowing it was Thomas, she whirled to give him an unedited piece of her mind.

The words died on her lips when she realized the man behind her was not Thomas.

He was tall and dark-haired, and the only man she’d seen so far without a tuxedo or Naval uniform on. Instead, he wore a high-collared, double-breasted black jacket with a red sash from his left shoulder across his chest to his right hip. The gilded belt around his waist accentuated the definition of the body beneath it. His black slacks ended as they dove into shined black knee-high boots.

He smiled and spoke with a thick Russian accent: “You are not leaving, are you?”

8 Sentence Sunday

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I don’t have the time to make quality blog posts.

It’s sad, but true. And I’d rather make no blog posts than make shitty blog posts. So while I’m up to my buns in school-work-family, I’m going to mostly keep this blog limited to the “8 Sentence Sunday” posts I used to do. Those were neat, right?!

Along with recognizing how little time I have for writing, I decided to stick to a single story until I finish it OR DIE TRYING. I went with The Lightning-Maker’s Daughter because it’s the one on my mind the most often. I have the proto-synopsis posted somewhere around here.

Anyway, with no further ado, my 8 sentences for this week!

The door to the laboratory swung shut, and Mattie eyed the ON lever. Prue could drag her to a ball that was just a dressed-up flesh sale, but she couldn’t keep Mattie from bringing her theory to life.

Mattie grasped the lever with her ungloved hand and pushed up. The lever clicked as it engaged, and Mattie prepared herself for the sounds of the coil coming on.

She waited for ten seconds—ten long seconds in silence and electrical inactivity— before she slammed the ON lever back down to its OFF position. Maybe there had been further sabotage that she hadn’t seen. Maybe being underground interrupted the energy flow she needed.

Maybe her thesis was flawed.

Flake Update

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Hey guys!

I see the last post was when I won NaNo. That was… five months ago? Egads! I had a whole bunch of stuff happen in those months, not a one of which is interesting enough to recount here.

Oh wait, one is. I was a panelist at LtUE in Provo, UT! It was a blast. I just sat one panel, Military in Sci-Fi, and met some really awesome people. I really hope I get to do it again next year!

I’ve been experiencing extreme Creative Writing ADD (it’s not in the DSM), also known as My Muse Is A Dirt Bag Syndrome (MMIADBS). But I think I’ve got him wrangled into submission now! Maybe. He’s double-jointed so he can get out of the shackles sometimes.

Anyway, you should see me around more often now. I mean, as long as Dirt Bag Muse doesn’t…

Oh. No. He got out.

*dons helmet*

*grabs musket*

No sudden moves. Wish me luck.