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Yay, it’s time for another Work in Progress Wednesday!
It’s the first Wednesday of the month, so I’m sharing a snippet of what I’m working on, and you can do the same.
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But first, the rules!
•Keep your excerpt to 300 words or fewer. If you post a longer piece, I may trim it.
For a while, we were doing 200 words, because we were worried about AI scraping, but that was before I found the anti-scraping protection for the site. And couple of regulars told me they were struggling with coming up with that short of an excerpt! So let’s try 300 and see how that feels.
•Don’t share scenes with graphic violence or sex. Salty language and innuendo are both fine.
•Don’t link to work for sale (which is not work in progress), but feel free to link to your blog!
•Don’t critique others’ work or ask for clarification. However, kind words are good writer karma!
In this excerpt, it’s my heroine Lauren’s twenty-seventh birthday…
And she’s celebrating with her four best friends—the ones she does everything with—on a boat tour of Lake Michigan. You might notice from Lauren’s outfit that this takes place thirteen years ago.
“Who’s getting in the hot tub with me?” I demand. “June?” Even though she’s standing on the deck with us, she’s staring off in another direction.
“Sorry.” She turns her blond head in my direction. “I was watching that seagull.”
“It’s incredible, the wildlife you can see out here,” Dave deadpans.
“Hot tub?” I repeat to June.
“Ohh, I forgot to wear my swimsuit,” June says and looks down. “It’s okay if I go in my bra and underwear, right?”
“No!” the rest of us respond.
She gives an annoyed little sniff. “It would cover more than her bikini.” She inclines her head in the direction of another group of twenty-somethings. One of the girls, with her back to us, is wearing a bikini whose bottom is barely more than a thong.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Nick says innocently.
“It’s too bad,” Dave adds to June. “I’m sure you could use a good soak, after working hard in the fields all day.” He’s making fun of her for wearing overalls.
“This is a party boat with a hot tub,” I scold them all. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Dave squints and tilts his head. “Is it?”
Nick appraises my outfit: skinny jeans and a chevron-printed top. “You have a swimsuit under that?”
“Yes! But it’s not giving away the store,” I add, referring to almost-thong girl.
“Not giving away the store?” Dave repeats. “Okay, grandma.”
Nick pretends to be baffled. “I never heard anyone call that ‘the store.’”
Dave shakes his head. “No offense, but that hot tub is a broth full of germs.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alysha nod.
“Soup of the day is germ soup,” Nick declares. When I look over at him, he plucks at his shorts. “These are swim trunks.”
“Yes!” I say, clapping my hands.
Have any writing you’d like to share? Go ahead below!
Since I always have Friday deadlines as a freelance book editor, I usually read and respond to these over the weekend (usually Sunday, in fact), so sorry if I don’t say anything right away!
You can also just tell us about how your writing is going! Any fun new projects? Any goals you’re striving toward? Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great rest of your week!
Currently untitled Regency Romoance:
It is a truth he did not wish to acknowledge that he – as a single man in possession of a substantial fortune, and title to boot – must be in need of a wife. Whatever his wants might be on the subject were of little consequence to his parents who decided to make certain that his marital future was secure by arranging one for him. He would have preferred if they’d told him about their plan sooner, but he supposed he should be lucky to have been notified at all before being marched to the front of a church. His father must have known it would leave him too much time to find his way out of the contract, but as it was, Reginald Augustus Eugene Roger Edgerton, current Earl of Tilbury and future Duke of Sedgewick, was doomed to be married in less than a week.
When he was first told of his impending nuptuals, Roger had just finished university and was heading to town with his friends to peruse the spoils of the season as newly minted men of the ton. They told him he could dance and make merry, but he could not enter any understandings or entanglements. They’d hoped he would accept that and be on his way. Instead, Roger demanded to know why. That is when he was informed of his pending life sentence.
I love the humor and the sharp wit in your narrative voice. And the first line feels like a subtle nod to Pride and Prejudice. Love it.
Hi Donna! Very fun voice here. I really enjoyed the droll wit! Thanks for posting!
This is from a story I’m working on about an older doctor who has beginning stages of dementia called If We Could Sleep. It switches between his POV and the main female protagonist Mei’s POV:
Lukas’s POV
If only he had known then that it all had everything to do with him.
The screeching of train breaks broke Lukas Becker out of his trance staring at the metro tracks. Traveling for work had become a constant for him, and today was no exception.
Heaving himself out of his seat, he wordlessly moved with the flow of human traffic until he was inside the vehicle, breathing in the pungent scents of the people all around him.
Paris was no small place, despite the size of its apartments.
“I know you’ll find a good place for us, Luka, even if it is small.”
His wife’s words buzzed wholesomely in his mind, reminding him of why he had married Magda in the first place. No one was really looking for a middle aged washed-up doctor but he had been lucky.
Lukas Becker was a grieving man, pain from the past ten years wearing a deep line down the middle of his forehead. Germany had not been a kind place for him or his wife; people seeing the couple as too different or introverted to be worth socializing with.
Magda was a kind yet fiery woman, her eyes wide and glassy green with a head of shimmering red hair and curvy figure, a stark contrast to her husband’s towering muscular frame and serious, angular features.
He stared at his phone, shoulders slouched, pictures of Magda and their daughter Claire in the background, hazed out by his focused vision.
Lukas heaved in a deep breath as his mind wandered.
He could still remember the call to his work phone from his next door neighbor about the fire.
Hi Emma! Oh, several lines touched my heart. Thank you for sharing! I hope you have a good week!
LIght Romance, possibly titled, West is Best:
“Could you just spread your arms, please?”
Rosie did as she was asked, and Merry, the rather inappropriately-named costume designer, jabbed her tape measure into Rosie’s armpit and extended it to her wrist.
Rosie found herself back in London, in an obscure office building in the drab part of Farringdon (even though Farringdon itself seemed to have been severely), in a wardrobe fitting.
Merry proceeded to humph as she noted various measurements on an iPad, frequently sighing in exasperation.
“I long for the days of pen and paper,” Rosie tried to empathise, which raised another humph.
She’d rarely come across somebody who seemed so deeply unhappy in their work, and wondered whether Merry might consider a change of profession.
Rosie had arrived early for her fitting, and almost bowled straight into a willowy blonde with teeth that could probably have been seen from Jupiter.
“Kerry Blaskett,” the production assistant informed her. “Co-lead. Make-up girls call her Very Plastic.”
Rosie looked blank.
“Very little above the neck that is as God intended.”
“And very little below that, either,” floated a voice from the corner of the wardrobe department.
“Okay, spread your legs.”
Legs measured, a few jackets tried, and Rosie was finally free to head home. She thanked Merry profusely, but this simply elicited another “hmmph.”
She gathered her bag and coat, and headed for the door. As she went to grab the handle, the door suddenly thrust towards her, sending her backwards as she tried to avoid being hit full in the face.
“Lord! I’m so sorry,” a deep voice attached to a male frame cut through the air.
Hi Samantha! Thanks for posting! I really enjoyed the humor here. And I liked Rosie for trying to be friendly, even if it was a vain effort! I hope we get to see more of this next month. Have a great week!
Ah haha That was fun to read. Very “real”! I honestly had no idea they had hot tubs on boats lol but I loved the very real sarcasm from her friends that you sprinkled in.
This is from the WIP that’s been a very long time in the making. My MC is back home trying to just press forward with her life after a big falling out with the love interest (hint—it’s not Austen Sheppard).
-—•—-
The minivan behind me beeped lightly. I looked up, realizing the cars in front of me had moved.
I pulled out of line and into an empty spot, my heart racing.
@AustenFanUpdate
Who is she?
@SheppardsLambLiv
Was that where his parade was?
@AustenGirl_25
Yes! I wanted to go but I couldn’t get anyone to go with me.
@AustenFanUpdate
She’s his #AppleBlossomPrincess
@AustenGirl_25
Omg what about #RubySinclair? #AustenandRuby #scandal
@SheppardSleuths901
#AustenandRuby was debunked. Ruby’s dating @TheRealCeciliaErndst
@Austenismyloverpie
Hey @AustenFanUpdate did you see THIS ONE O_o That huggggg!
“This one” was Austen and me outside Whimsy. The sound that came out of me was half-groan, half-laugh.
@SheppardSleuths901
WAIT EVERYBODY STOP. Remember that sighting at #TheCosmicPig a few months ago?? LOOK AT THE PHOTO!!
@SheppardSleuths901
Same hair. Same build. Same BAG!
@BookishB
Not me rereading #TheCosmicPig posts and SCREAMING
@Austenismyloverpie
His BFF is holding her hand though. LIKE HOLDING HOLDING
@FeralforSheppard
This is either a love triangle or we about to find out some THINGS
I was still scrolling through the countless speculations, my engine idling, when Austen called.
“Ellie, I am so sorry.” His voice was low and muffled for the next few seconds; he was talking to somebody else.
Hi Isla! Sometimes WIPs that are a long time in the making are the best ones. They have all that time to marinate. I love the authenticity of the posts in this snippet!
And thanks for the kind words on my excerpt. My friend told me about hot tub boats, and it inspired me! 🙂
Have a great week!
This was such a fun snippet, Bryn. I’ve never had a chance to sit in a hot tub and after reading this, I’m not sure I’d want to 🙂
Here is a short snippet of my current WIP about an immigrant looking for her roots and reconciliation. This scenes marks the beginning of World War I.
Four dragonflies thrummed barely over the horizon but kept growing, coming closer. They wavered, one moment coming closer, the next drifting apart, like clothespins on a laundry line when wind picks up. I remembered the picture in the paper. They were biplanes. But this was the first time I had seen them for real, not in smudged black print. Dragonflies with wheels. On their tiny heads a flickering rotor, its blades spinning like a paper windmill.
The baby kicked inside me. It must have heard the roar.
As they came over the village, I saw that they flew in twos, each pair like dancers trading glide for glide. They were far above us, and the size of a barn from up close. They flew east, to Lwów.
“What’s that, Mommy?” Stefka asked, pointing her little finger up.
“Airplanes.” I watched them climb higher and higher, and grow close enough for me to see the men inside the machines, their white scarves fluttering in the wind.
I didn’t want to scare Stefka, but I pressed her head to my belly, and covered her other ear with my hand. Dry dirt rose from the potato field and for a while, Stefka and I stood hidden in a reddish cloud. Goosebumps covered my arms and back. The baby kicked wildly and I heard Stefka whimper.
“Shhh,” I said, trying to sooth myself as much as my daughter. But I was wrong about her. She wasn’t afraid. She was laughing, raising her small fists to the sky. She tore out of my embrace and jumped, chasing after the airplanes over the potato field.
Beata, what a lovely excerpt. Great details. I might have already said that I am fascinated by WWI. It seems like a great project!
Oh, and about my snippet—I actually love hot tubs, but I understand why some people are wary! Haha.
Have a wonderful week!
I’m sharing the beginning of my recent WIP, and my first inspirational romantasy. The working title is A Winter Promise. This book is inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s, The Snow Image, A Childish Miracle. (1851).
Prologue: A Measure of Grace
Evergreen Hollow lay in the grip of a mid-January frost, the kind that silenced even the wind. Snow blanketed the countryside, its pristine surface broken only by the skeletal outlines of fence posts and the jagged trails of deer venturing out for food. A sleigh bell echoed through the night, swallowed quickly by the vast, icy stillness.
Clara Whitmore knelt in her garden, each labored breath visible in the frigid air as she shaped snow with painstaking care—the same way she’d watched her husband, Nathan, shape wood in happier days.
She counted each toll of the bells in the village—eight chimes. On a normal evening, he might still be in his workshop, having long since abandoned his practice of returning home at dusk. But tonight, he’d come back early, only to retreat upstairs, as if splendor itself had betrayed him.
Above, in their bedroom window, his silhouette stood motionless. Once, he would have joined her, his artist’s hands helping to create beauty from nothing. Tonight, he only watched, as far off as the stars piercing the bleak sky, as remote as he’d been ever since the governor’s wife had rejected his masterwork and crushed his pride.
From The Congregational Church, the melody of In the Bleak Midwinter carried.
Clara’s hands stilled. How appropriate that the choir would choose that hymn tonight, its lyrics fitting perfectly with the frozen landscape. Their voices brought memories of joyful hours when she and Nathan stood among them, joined in praise, before he’d retreated into his workshop to carve functional items instead of the exquisite pieces that once flowed from his gifted fingers. How long since he’d last attended services? The space beside her in the pew drew as many whispers as his masterpieces once had.
Hi, Josie! Thank you so much for posting! This is so lyrical and elegiac. I truly enjoyed it. I hope we get to see more next month! Have a great week!
Hi Bryn! OO! or is it EW! – I have to agree, hot tubs are germ stew pots. No thank you! lol I did love your snippet, it does sound like conversations I’ve had in the past. lol I really love all of the story pieces here, so much lovely talent. Here is my little addition, it’s hard to choose just one part! hehe! Imagine if you will, Henry Cavill as Eoghan, and Eleanore Tomlinson as Ali. I always put up a “movie cast” when I’m making characters. It’s so much more real, and fun, that way. Hope you have a wonderful day! Big hugs!!
Ali was more beautiful than ever with a fiery halo surrounding her, magnified by flowing wild flaming hair. Eoghan resisted nothing, he had to know, cupping her face he slid a soft kiss over her lips. Before Ali could react beyond her lids sliding closed, he pulled away from her.
“What was that for?” She breathed as her lashes fluttered open.
Eoghan laughed, “Me, and for you, to see if you feel the same.”
Ali couldn't help the chuckle that escaped, “Eoghan Dannon, you’re a tease, a task master, and— ”
Eoghan encircled her in his arms, savoring the moment, “And what?”
She didn't answer right away but rather looked deep into his eyes with her crystalline gaze, “Wonderful. Everything I could ever want and need. I've never had that before and it's just wonderful to have someone to rely on who understands what all of this mess is and can help me through it,” She touched his cheek, letting her fingers slip down to his chest, “Thank you, thank you very much. I cannot even start to express how thankful I am.”
Eoghan grinned, “Well, we'll see how you feel about me at the end of the day. Come on now, let's get going, time and daylight is wasting away.”
Hi Colleen! Ohh, this is so romantic! I sometimes do Hollywood casting in my head, too. 🙂 But the words themselves are making me swoon here! I hope we get to see more next month. Have a wonderful week! Big hugs!
Here is our love story. For me it is a story of pursuit, of enduring and of following God’s direction.
Chapter One: A trip that threw my life upside down.
The sound of my alarm woke me up. I wanted to sleep more, but I also knew I had something exciting waiting for me. Finally, I was going to Paris for two weeks. I had been looking forward to this trip for months. In preparation of getting ready to serve in ministry for two years in Australia, I was going to do a short term mission trip in Paris. A city I really loved. My backpack was ready downstairs. All I had to do was eat breakfast and my parents would bring me to the local train station. Once on the train, I had no idea what was going to happen to me. How God would turn my life completely upside down.
I was always interested in the idea of finding a lifelong partner, a soulmate. But so far any girl I really was interested in, wasn’t interested in me, or funnily enough vice versa. It was about a day’s worth of travel. I took the train to Utrecht in the Netherlands which was about an hour away from me, to then hop on a bus to Paris. Once I arrived, I got myself situated in my dorm that I got to share with some guys who were following a school in the mission organization that organized this short term trip. Mornings were worship time. It was always amazing, afternoons were focused on a specific ministry. Some people were using their musical skills to worship on the streets, boy… If only I had that talent, but I’ve got the musical skills of a gummy bear, so basically non-existent.
Hi Rick! What an interesting story! For some reason, I didn’t even know anyone ever did mission trips to Paris. Thank you for sharing! “Musical skills of a gummy bear” made me smile. 🙂 Have a great week!
This is from my current mystery WIP, tentatively titled “Roanoke”.
I wake up covered in blankets and drenched in sweat. It’s another one of those lovely Boston days where you go to bed thinking you’ll die of hypothermia and wake up in the Sahara. Great. Now I need to wash my sheets again. I half-roll, half-fall out of bed and clump into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door as I pee and brush my teeth. If I’m feeling this hungover, my roommates are definitely still sleeping.
Slackers.
In the four years I’ve lived with these guys, all of them have stopped working and are now barely surviving off unemployment checks, trust funds, and my mercy. Not that I get paid enough to really be sharing my check with anyone else.
I hate people.
Anders is the only remotely tolerable person in my life–and even he leans too much towards “old crony” and not “good pal”. If I wasn’t indebted to him for taking me on as his partner I would probably hate him too.
I mutter my way to the front hall to look in the mirror. Our idiot landlord took down the perfectly fine one in the bathroom and so I’m forced to style my hair as a fractured Picasso of greasy curls, chapped lips, and hooded eyes. One of these days I’ll get revenge on Miles for breaking this thing.
My phone chimes. I go back to my room in annoyance, opening it to see four missed calls from Mom and a text from Anders.
Anders Kingsley | 6:06 AM
Our arsonist made an appearance. 165 Trulet Ln.
Reed Sullivan | 6:08 AM
On my way. Be there in ten.
Did I mention I hate people?
Hi, Karissa! Gosh, I just love this! The voice, the casualness between the roommates, the sarcasm. it’s so much fun. Thank you for posting! Have a wonderful week!
This is from my current novel, Love at the Christmas Tree Farm
As they sat down together on the wooden slats of the old porch swing where so many of their fondest memories had taken place and gently began to push it back and forth with their legs. Laura looked up into the handsome face of this one she had come to love so deeply. “I wish we could freeze this moment in time and never leave”, she softly whispered. A.J. placed his arm around her and gently replied. “As wonderful as that would be, you and I both know that wouldn’t truly be living. Life is filled with all of it, sweetheart, the good, the bad, the pain, the joy; that’s what makes it life and that’s also what makes it so worthwhile.” Laura lay her head over on A.J.’s broad shoulders and in the silence of that moment, she suddenly found herself filled with a sense of strength and peace. The silence, however, was soon broken as Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs walked out of their house and locked the door behind them for the last time. A.J. got up and walked over to Mr. Jacobs and extended his hand.
Hi, Larry! Love at the Christmas Tree Farm is a fantastic title, honestly. I love the romance here. We all have those moments we wish we could freeze forever! Thank you for sharing. Have a great week!
WIP from “City of Big Swindlers” where sociology grad student Madeline, daughter of billionaires, invites Stanford to an art gala to introduce him to her friend Kaylee. The two vibe although Stanford accidentally damages an avant-garde work…
Madeline sighed. “I need to get away from Chicago. Someplace snobby.”
Although I felt more urgency about departing than Madeline, I asked, “Scottsdale? Or Brooklyn? France?”
“Stanford and Kaylee, pick a place in France. Your dream first date.” She hesitated. “It can’t be a D-Day beach, World War I trench, nothing boring. And not Paris, I’ve been there half a dozen times. Twice in Nice, once to Biarritz. Someplace new.”
Kaylee and I exchanged perplexed glances. Why did Madeline care if she’d been to our hypothetical first date location?
I said, “All this lousy art contrasts with the Impressionists in Provence.”
Kaylee said, “Provence, wine tastings, running in a lavender field. Or a seaside villa on the Riviera.” She laughed. “But I never left North America.”
Madeline gestured like a teacher encouraging her student to share more.
Kaylee’s eyes lit up. “’Bedroom In Arles.’ Arles is in Provence, isn’t it?”
Madeline sipped her merlot. “Kaylee, you got a passport?”
“Yes.”
“On you?”
Kaylee’s face scrunched in confusion. “Why?”
“Arles!”
I asked, “Huh?”
“S’il vous plait, Google if Arles has an airport! I’ll charter through the plane share app.”
Kaylee’s mouth plummeted. I had experienced Madeline’s spontaneous air travel before. How would this work logistically?
Kaylee stammered. “I’ve, uh, I have work Monday.”
Madeline said, “We’ll return Sunday night, Chicago time.”
Kaylee laughed. “You’re a crazy bitch! We’ll be there Sunday morning, but they must have Catholic churches in France! My social media story and my blog will be lit. I’m in.” She redirected her stance toward me. “Are you going?”
“I planned to study and drive UberEats. As long as we’re back for Monday.”
Kaylee’s eyebrows rose over her widening smile.
Hey there! ‘City of Big Swindlers,’ haha! Love seeing this in progress. And I’ve often had the fantasy of jetting off to somewhere glamorous, just for the weekend. 🙂 Thanks for posting! Have a great week!
Thanks, Bryn, for the added words. I already trimmed my piece so I’ll send it at the shorter length. This is from my most recent Sci/Fi book – first draft – Challenge of the Deadly Fire. I am sorry for missing the day. How did it get to be Thursday already? It’s been crazy around my house!!!
“Gavin! Am I glad to see you! How did you get here so fast?” He ushered Gavin into his private quarters.
“I came as soon as I got your message. What’s this all about?”
“Oalia is missing. I’ve got to have your help to find her.”
“So, you want me to look for her?”
“Not exactly. I need to find my crown. My father confiscated it and my vessel. I have no idea where he put it.”
“Crown? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll show you.” They traversed the long hallway to Oalia’s room. After they had stepped in, Shazer indicated the painted walls. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“Only in my nightmares.”
“And it didn’t drive you crazy like it did the other visualizers?”
“Of course not. It’s only a dream.”
“Well, her dream is what made Oalia paint these walls. But it’s more than a dream. My father thinks it’s a map. I guess in a way it is. We followed it. We went to Makala, Gavin. We flew into the dimensional portal.”
“You did what? Nobody goes into Makala! The energy would kill you.”
“Yah. It nearly did.”
Gavin gave a sharp laugh. “I think you’re the one who’s crazy.”
Hi Jessie! We definitely needed more words for WIP Wednesday. 🙂 I love the painted walls. You’re always so good at magic! Thanks for posting. I hope you have a wonderful week!