Eeep — sorry this is late! Let’s do WIP Wednesday and Thursday!

Hey, everyone, welcome to WIP Wednesday! On the first Wednesday of every month, I always share an excerpt of my writing and invite others to do the same. Since we’re sharing work that’s in progress, we don’t offer critique here. It’s not Beta Reader Wednesday. However, kind words are always welcome.

Last month, I did a little work on 3 different book projects. Here’s what my word counter looked like at the end of September:


WIP Wednesday Bryn donovan

And here’s what it looked like at the end of October. The Equinox Stone is the second book in a trilogy after The Phoenix Codex.

WIP Wednesday #paranormal romance #Bryn Donovan

So that was 16,450 new words, which wasn’t a huge total, but hey, all progress is good progress! A Knight Restored is my NaNoWriMo project, so I should be making big progress there in November.

I’m going to share another excerpt from that story. Gryffen is a medieval knight who was turned into stone, and Emily is an art conservator at the museum that acquired him as a sculpture. Gryffen has communicated with her telepathically and visited her in her dreams.



“Don’t worry,” Emily murmured to Gryffen. “They’ll just move you to the other room off the main lab so I can do a little restoration. And then in a few weeks you’ll be in the exhibit, and you’ll see a bunch of people, so that will be fun, right? And after the exhibit I’ll finish restoring you, which is going to take months.” Gryffen didn’t understand all of this, but he liked the sound of the last part especially.

She raised her hand and caressed his cheek.

Gryffen’s soul crumbled into pieces at her silken touch. It was more pleasurable and intense even than her touch or her kiss in her dream, because it was real. Though she felt only stone, he felt her living warmth. For centuries, none had touched him in friendship or in love, and his gratitude overwhelmed him. Sweet lady. You undo me.

She gasped and drew her hand back as though it had been burned. Gryffen felt wetness on his cheek. Rain. A leak in the ceiling…

No. Moisture touched his face and nowhere else. His statue was weeping. He was weeping. Impossible, but true.

She backed away from him, her eyes as wide as if she regarded a devil from Hell. “This isn’t happening,” she whispered. He tried to open his mouth and speak aloud. If he could produce tears, than why not words?

They would not come. He attempted to lift a hand to reach out to her, but it did not budge. Do not be afraid, his soul implored her.

She turned around and ran out of the room.




Go ahead and share an excerpt of what you’re working on in the comments, if you want to! Either way, thanks for reading!