I hope your month is off to a good start!
As most of you know, Work in Progress Wednesday is on the first Wednesday of the month. I share a little of what I’m writing, and if you want to, you can do the same in the comments section. Please note that if you’ve never commented on the blog before, I’ll need to manually approve it, but I’ll try to get to that quickly!
If you always want a heads up about future WIP Wednesdays, make sure you’re subscribed to the blog, if you aren’t already—you can sign up below. And familiarize yourself with the rules before you post!
Here are the rules:
•Limit the excerpt you share to 400 words or fewer. Otherwise, I might trim your excerpt.
•Adult language is fine, but no graphic sex or violence, please.
•Don’t share excerpts of finished, published stories. This is only for work in progress.
•Don’t offer critique—this is only for sharing, and many of us are sharing excepts that aren’t ready for that yet. However, leaving some positive words is good writer karma!
Today, I’m sharing something a little different, because it’s an excerpt to a thriller! But this excerpt is actually romantic. Zach is recalling when he first met Claudia, his live-in girlfriend. Spoilers: she is a troublemaker.
It was almost two years ago. I was at Roscoe’s, a few blocks from my condo. The bar’s been a Larchmont Village hangout for decades, and I wasn’t there to meet anyone. I wanted to watch the Dodgers game on the outdoor patio and eat some fries.
Soap bubbles drifted in front of my face. I whirled around and saw her quickly hiding something under the table. She was holding a plastic bottle between her knees, I realized, and she’d just stuck the wand back in. Her big brown eyes met mine and then she pressed her lips against a laugh, realizing I’d caught her. Then she put a finger up to her lips as if to say, Shhh. It’s our little secret.
Her sundress left her back bare: a vulnerable slope of satiny, golden skin. A waiter came to her table, and she ordered a margarita. Once he had retreated, she darted a mischievous look in my direction, and I realized I hadn’t taken my eyes off her.
She pulled the wand out and blew soap bubbles again, like a child. They drifted toward the couple at the next table, who startled, but by the time she’d turned around, she’d set the wand back down in her lap and was gazing absently at the game.
Why was she doing this? After the waiter had brought her margarita, and the couple’s attention was fixed on their burgers, she blew some more bubbles. She was sipping her drink and looking down at her phone when they looked around the patio again. That time, looking away from her, I laughed.
The man shot me a suspicious look. But I didn’t look like the guy you accuse of blowing soap bubbles. I’m six foot three and my nose has been broken twice and looks like it. And I’d just turned forty. Every time I thought about how I’d never expected to be single at forty, and about the reason I was, I felt this numb horror.
The man turned away.
You’re a troublemaker, I murmured to Claudia, surprising myself because it sounded so flirty.
She put her bottle of bubble soap in her backpack and zipped it closed. Then she got up and sat down at my table, across from me.
Well, you’re my accomplice, she said, and it was one of the most romantic, sexy things anyone had ever said to me.
My goal for May is to get to 100 pages plus the synopsis for this story. I’ll let you know next month if I get there!
If you want to, share something of your own below…
OR, tell us about your May writing goals, or whatever else is going on with your writing life! Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great rest of your week!
I’ve been slowly but surely plugging along at my book. This scene is from Her Hidden Star, a contemporary romance about a woman hiding a secret relationship with the most famous actor in the world. Julie’s husband is staying at one hotel while she is at another because the apartment building that she manages (secretly owns) flooded. She finds that one of her tenants had an interesting night.
Julie added jeans and canvas sneakers to her breakfast outfit and walked up to the door of her hotel room. As she reached in her purse for her key card, the door next to her opened. Max stepped out, wearing just his dress shirt and work pants. Shane followed with Max’s tie in his hand.
“Don’t forget this,” Shane said. “They’ll probably charge you for it.”
Max smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Shane and Max looked at each other. Shane spoke first. “Last night was…thank you. I want to do this again.”
Max shyly smiled. “Me too.”
”Pambice sounds great. Maybe we can do that.”
Max nodded. “I can taste the margaritas already.”
A wide smile broke across Shane’s face. “Tommorrow night? Eight o’clock.”
”Will you have enough time after your shift?” Max asked.
”For you, I will make the time.”
Max held out his arms for a hug. Shane stepped into his arms. They held each other, lingering for a moment.
”Tomorrow night,” Max said. “I’ll meet you at Pambice.”
”Tomorrow night.”
Max walked down the hall, smiling at Julie in recognition, but still in a hurry.
Shane noticed Julie. “You’re back. Marinda thought you were kidnapped by sex traffickers.”
Nice! Right on for Shane and Max!
Megan, I’m so glad to read more of this! You know I love the whole idea of the story. Go Shane and Max!
I love this so so much!
Jill, you are too kind! Thank you. I hope you’re having a good weekend, and a good May! 🙂
Greetings! This excerpt is from a holiday novella I’m working on that’s part of an MM Small Town romance shared world. Firefighters Arnie and Roger are an established couple who desperately wish to add real estate agent Derek to their relationship, but they’ve had some bumps. Derek sent a text the night before letting them know he will be traveling for work the next two months and Arnie is convinced he’s trying to end things with them. The scene is from Roger’s POV.
“Hey, Arnie, you okay?” Derek asked.
Arnie cleared his throat, but when he talked his voice was still raspy. “I’m okay. The fruit was really nice.”
I wanted to kick him under the blanket, but I didn’t want to let on with Derek that anything was wrong.
“You’re welcome. Oh, man, you guys look tired. I wish I was closer. I would love to be there to cook for you so you could just rest.”
“But you’re leaving.”
I sighed as Arnie put his fears out there.
“What? No, I’m not… You read my text? I’m sorry, I didn’t want to text it, but it all happened so fast and I didn’t know if I’d be able to talk to you guys today. This associate wasn’t supposed to go out for another four weeks and there was already someone lined up to take on her clients, but that didn’t work out. I hate it, I don’t want to be away, but my manager was really in a bind and she promised me that afterward, if everything goes well, I’d be up for a promotion, which would give me flexibility.” He smiled hesitantly.
Arnie blinked a couple of times. “You’re not leaving? All that wasn’t just to let us down easy?”
Derek’s eyes bugged out. “No, oh God, I knew I shouldn’t have texted it. No, absolutely not. And it’s not that I won’t see you at all for two months, I’m just going to be slammed more than usual, and I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t think I was blowing you off. Arnie, no, I want to see you. I missed you.”
“Baby, I miss you, too. Can we come to you sometime? It doesn’t have to be for a long visit—”
“Yes. I’d love that,” Derek said and his smile was so full of longing.
Watching the two of them work this out had my heart pounding. This was the reality. There were going to be misunderstandings and hurt feelings and my men were already working through it.
Thanks Bryn! And I can’t wait… a thriller! Very exciting!
Ro, hi! Thank you for posting! I love seeing characters work through misunderstandings, because every relationship has them. And thank you for the kind words about my writing a thriller 🙂 I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Greetings: Last week, on April 22nd I wrote the last chapter to my memoir. I am now doing the more difficult chore of editing. It is OK to accuse me of procrastination since the first page was completed in author Truman Capote’s house on April 22nd, 1976.
From the first chapter of: Unlawful Orders: Confessions of a Man Who Dissents—and Can’t Stop
I could have blocked the punch coming at my face. I certainly could have struck back and knocked out this fat bully with a left hook. Others who have tested my temper usually didn’t test it twice. But I had to let him at least land a glancing blow. I had to fall out of my chair and on the ground.
This bully was a Dade County sheriff.
And he was beating me in the Airport District Station at Miami International Airport, with twenty deputies close enough to watch.
I did not enter the station charged with a crime. I was there to sign complaint forms against a couple of thieves. It was spring break in April 1968. My friend Richie and I went to Fort Lauderdale by Greyhound bus. We met these three guys, college students from Pontiac, Michigan. It was like one of those three in a boat joke. There was Jamil, six-foot-one, émigré from Saudi Arabia, slick black hair, a karate student who broke bricks for show. His best friends were Sam, a tall Jewish student who loved chess more than his pre-med studies, or Notre Dame Football at his school and Frank, an Irish lad who drank tea at frat parties. He had diabetes and had to routinely explain to the cops he did not deal heroin. We let them stay with us at the Bon Soir motel in Fort Lauderdale.
We partied, drank, and looked for girls. I got a little wasted; enough to crawl from the pool area at the motel to the Black Angus restaurant across Route One, screw out the bulbs producing the letter “g,” and return while avoiding getting squashed by a semi.
On our last day before our return to New York, we awoke to headaches and a looted room. While Richie and I slept it off, the creeps from Detroit took off with my watch, wallet with $45.00, and transistor radio. Their mistake was leaving the keys to the motorcycle we rented. We hunted them through Ft. Lauderdale then down to Miami.
We found them at the airport. We fought, beat them up and got our stuff back in time to welcome a riot detail from the Dade County sheriff’s office. The three had additional stolen items in their possession. They were arrested. Jamil had to go to the hospital because bricks don’t fight back. I do.
We started out as witnesses.
It had only been ten days since the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King. A lieutenant popped out of his office and barked orders at a sergeant who looked like Rod Steiger from In the Heat of The Night. “Atwill, get a bunch of units to assist Beckman. They are having a memorial march for King. I need Biscayne Boulevard cleared for that vigil.”
Oh wow! This kept me riveted!
Hi Alex! It must’ve been very satisfying to finish the last chapter of your memoir (and how cool that you wrote the first page in Truman Capote’s house?!) Congratulations! I am sure editing is a big job, but satisfying, too. Whew, this is a fascinating episode. I love “bricks don’t fight back. I do.” Thank you so much for sharing!
Hi, Bryn!
I loved your excerpt! I can just see that she’s gonna get that guy in trouble. 😆
And here is an excerpt from my most recent chapter:
//////////////////////
“Before we go, are you carrying enough stakes?” Elsie asked Hildreth as she double-checked all of the stake slots in her gauntlets.
“I sure am! And! My Bossman 550 is all loaded up and ready to rock and roll.” He held out his hand to her. “So, let’s go hit the road, Elsie baby.”
She took his hand.
The heat of his skin.
The smooth cool of his ring.
And the most obvious of things occurred to her. “This will be the first time we will hunt as a married couple.”
The playful expression in his green-blue eyes softened. “I know. It’s gonna be interesting to see if that changes anything.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The way either of us fights. The way the vampires fight us. Your jealousy if any hot vampire chicks flirt with me.”
“Well. I don’t know about the first two, but yes to the last one.”
“Oh? Does that mean that…..you’ll be less jealous?”
She scoffed. “As if!”
“Oooo! So, you’ll be more jealous of innocent damsel me.”
Elsie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I will have you know that you are not a damsel.” Memories of him in bed flashed through her mind. “And innocent is not the word I would use to describe you.”
“Oh my! Ah am floored and gobsmacked by such slander! Where is mah fainting couch and smelling salts? Ah do feel a swoon about to happen.”
She laughed and tugged his arm. “Let’s get going. I want to see you fight again.”
“And I’m looking forward to seeing you fight as well.” It was a simple statement with an undercurrent of undeniable heat.
That was all Elsie needed to get her moving. She headed to the door with Hildreth laughing in tow.
Heyyy friend! Thank you! Yes, my girl is trouble with a capital T in this story. 😀 I laughed at the “innocent damsel” bit here, and I loved “The heat of his skin. The smooth cool of his ring.” It’s always such a pleasure to see what you’re working on. I hope you have a fabulous weekend!
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Okay, Claudia sounds so fun. I love the idea that she brought bubbles to a bar! It’s so untypical that it makes the scene feel real. It always impresses me how you do that!
This is a snippet from my second chance romance:
When Ellie excuses herself to the restroom during one of the band’s loudest sets, Austen grabs my arm. “Hey,” he says, his eyes starting to look glassy. “Ask her to dance when she gets back.”
I shake my head; the thought of overwhelming her again leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. She’s been laughing for the last half hour or so, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. “We’ll probably head back soon.”
“C’mon, ask her. You got her here, didn’t you? You danced with her before,” he says, peering at me through squinted eyes. “Not that long ago.”
“That was different. Some guy wouldn’t leave her alone.”
“But she danced with you, man,” he says, leaning back in the booth and lifting the hat from his head.
“Hey, keep that on,” I scold.
He rolls his eyes and puts it back on. “If you don’t ask her, I will.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.” When I spot her walking back, my heart swells. I’ll never get used to seeing her here in Texas, here with me.
Some guy with red hair and steel plugs in his ears steps in front of her. As she steps to the side, he matches her and blocks her again, and I’m out of my seat before I can blink.
Not today, asshole.
I take my place beside her and slip my arm around her waist. “Hey,” I say to her, staring the dude down. “This guy’s not bothering you, is he?”
“Actually—” she starts.
“No, of course not,” Steel Plugs says, shorter than me by at least six inches. “I thought she was someone else. My mistake.”
He leaves, and I look at her. “You alright?”
Her nod is quick and tight.
Back at the table, Ellie asks about Austen’s latest movie. He gives her the basic press tour answer and pivots to talk about the boats that look like classic cars and the Peter Pan mini golf here in the city. I suppose we don’t need to go home yet.
As Ellie digs out her phone, he twitches his head toward her.
I set my jaw. I glance at her as she reads a text message, probably from Willa, and shake my head discreetly. Not right now.
He leans back, frowning at me like he’s disappointed. Then he hops out of the booth and says, “Ellie, may I have this dance?”
Aw thank you Isla! My character Claudia is actually unhinged but I love her. 😀 I can’t wait for this story of yours to be out! Seriously! I love his buddy challenging him here. 🙂 I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Hi Bryn and everyone 👋
Although I don’t have any new extracts to share for now, I’m currently working on my latest ones that I hope to share next month.
Meanwhile, I’ve taken the opportunity to enjoy reading what has been shared
Take care and have a nice day 🙂
Hi Amy! It’s great to hear from you! I hope the writing’s going well, and I hope you have a lovely weekend!
Simply love the excerpts! I don’t know how to overcome the writer’s block for the past year! Seriously need to get back to writing…especially for the joy of it..!
Hi Fami! I’m sorry you’re feeling stuck with writing…and you know, everyone’s been there! I hope you don’t mind some advice, and I don’t know if this would work for you, but just freewriting or writing to a prompt for five minutes or so every day for a week can get most people’s creative juices flowing again. Anyway, I do hope you get back into writing for the joy of it. 🙂
[From Chapter 14 of “City of Big Swindlers”, a double date at the Art Institute, Stan and Kaylee, Madeline and Professor Galindo]
Galindo rushed in, winded, gripping a dozen stem roses. “Apologies, Maddie.” Dark bags lurked under his eyes; he wore a timeworn grey tweed jacket and a pilling dress shirt sans tie. A guard eyed him; roses probably weren’t permitted. The professor trekked to Madeline and relinquished the fragrant flowers. Kaylee scanned my empty arms. I needed to hone my Casanova skills.
Madeline flung herself around Galindo with the roses drooping from her hand.
We soon sauntered through knots of people admiring paintings.
In front of the esteemed Mary Cassatt painting The Child’s Bath, I crossed my arms over my chest and focused on the artwork.
Kaylee laughed. She deployed behind me in the same studious, arms folded expression.
Madeline’s eyes lit in recognition and she moved behind Kaylee, aping the pose.
Galindo’s face scrunched. “What’s going on?”
Madeline said, “Take our picture! We’re imitating a scene in Ferris Bueller.”
Galindo fumbled with his phone. “What’s Ferris Bueller?”
Kaylee smiled.
I impersonated the deadpan roll call of the movie’s high school teacher, “Anselm? Anselm?”
Kaylee grinned, then mimicked the movie’s Simone explaining why Ferris wasn’t in class. “Anselm’s vomiting. He passed out at an art gala after drinking contaminated IPA.”
Madeline put her hand over mouth while laughing.
Galindo frowned, sensing he wasn’t in on the joke. A museum guard scrutinized us.
I felt confident enough to razz Galindo. “You talk like Ben Stein, the movie’s teacher.”
The professor’s look darkened.
Madeline stifled a laugh.
Kaylee blew me an air kiss. “You have a silly side.”
Galindo said, “Tell me about this movie.”
Madeline winked. “Ferris calls in sick and skips school.”
The professor scowled. A patron behind him cleaned her eyeglass lens with a wipe.
Madeline said in a scandalized tone, “With his friends they play hooky and have fun downtown.”
Galindo raised his hands. “That’s all? An anti-intellectualism movie?”
Kaylee smirked my way. Galindo had been her respected professor, but this amused her, too. “They stand in this pose at this museum. It’s iconic.”
The woman behind Galindo put her eyeglasses on and smiled at the film reference.
Galindo’s face lit. “Every American knows this movie?”
Madeline said, “Pretty much. It’s a cult classic.”
He rotated to look at The Child’s Bath. “The paintings are important to everyone, even people who don’t know art?”
Madeline and Kaylee relaxed their movie poses.
I squinted. “I suppose.”
Galindo’s brows rose. “The President would know Ferris Bueller?”
I put my hand to my temple.
Kaylee said, “Sure.”
Galindo pointed at the Cassatt. “Like a national treasure!” He flashed a mischievous smile. “Interesting.”
Hey hey, Milwaukee Avenue! 😉 I am biased, obviously, but I think this is one of the best settings ever, and you’re really using the setting. I love them trying to explain Ferris Beuller. Anti-intellectual, haha!
I’m currently writing a rather long short story called The Death of Magic. It’s fantasy. I’I’m afraid it’s a tad over 400 words. I hope you don’t mind, but feel free to cut if necessary.
The sun beat down on the valley. Pine trees stood silent, the scent of their resin permeating the air with a sweet scent. Not a breath of wind moved the grasses
Six-year-old Arthon breathed deeply and looked at the stream wending its way through the meadows. How lovely it would be to feel that cool water running over his naked body, cooling his sweating skin.
But his father would never allow that.
Apart from the shocking thought of being naked in a public place, they had work to do, collecting berries growing by the water’s edge for his father’s employer. The magician, Olivas, needed these berries for his magic.
Arthon looked at the sky. No sign of clouds to give a break from the heat of the sun.
What was that appearing over the snow-capped mountains? The boy squinted. Something round and blue.
He turned to his father and pointed. “Papa, look!”
Goroy shaded his eyes with his hand. “A balloon. It’s bringing important people for a meeting.”
The balloon drifted closer, Arthon had never seen anything like it before. It was beautiful. A slightly deeper blue than the sky, but ringed around with golden threads. At least he thought they were gold. They were certainly a gold colour.
“How does it stay up?” Arthon asked.
“Ah! That’s magic. Balloons need a magician to fly them. That’s why we don’t see them often. Magicians are needed to keep things going.”
“Can I be magician one day?” Arthon’s eyes widened as he imagined himself in a beneath a balloon, drifting silently through the sky.
“It takes a special person to be a magician.” Goroy said. “There’s something magicians have most folk don’t. That’s why there aren’t many of them.”
The boy thought for a moment, then gazed at the balloon approaching the highest tiers of the city. “Perhaps I have this thing.”
“Come on, Arthon. We need to gather a basket of imbelberries.” Goroy led the way to some bushes covered in black fruits, put the basket on the ground and began picking. “And don’t eat all you pick, or we’ll be here till nightfall.”
Soon the basket was full, and Arthon had blue stains on his fingers and round his mouth.
His father looked at him, shook his head. “How many?”
“I didn’t count.” The boy gave his father a mischievous grin. “But not as many as I put in the basket.”
On the way back to the city, Arthon, looked at the mountains, snow-capped even in summer. He frowned. “Why’s it cold on top of the mountains even though they’re nearer the sun?”
His father shrugged. “I don’t know, boy. It just is. You ask such strange questions.”
Arthon pouted. “Don’t you want to know?”
“It makes no difference. The world is as it is so there’s no point in asking questions.”
But Arthon kept wondering.
Hi V.M.! I haven’t written a short story in so long, and that sounds like a lot of fun. I really like the father-son relationship and the child’s curiosity! Thank you for posting! I hope you’re having a good weekend! 🙂
Working on a “between the books” novella in my Raven Tales (written as J.B. Dane) urban fantasy series. It’s the only story left to write before I move on to something else.
Hi Beth! Oh, very cool. It must be satisfying to be finishing off a series! I hope you’re having a good weekend!
I don’t have a WIP right now. But, to get myself back in the writing spirit (finally) I found that a writing group I’m a member of (but haven’t been attending) on Meetup lost it’s organizer and was less than a month from being canned. So I plunked down the cash and now I’m the organizer (it’s strictly online via Discord…I think). Debating if this was a good choice. Wish me luck.
I L💜VE it! I need to ask, so I don’t feel stupid, is a thriller a horror story or a murdery mystery?
My writing goal for May is to write a bunch of thank you (and other) notes. I am really far behind, so I’m hoping that by putting it here i b will be shamed into getting something accomplished.
Hi Merry Lu! You know, that’s a good question. A thriller usually involves a mystery, and it has a lot of twists and keeps you guessing. GONE GIRL is one of my favorites!
I’m sure you’ll get the thank-you notes and other notes done, and don’t pressure yourself. They are always appreciated whenever people get them! 🙂
I tried to submit yesterday, Grandmother was a Pirate.
I knock on the oak office door.
“Enter,” calls Sir John Fitz Osborne, Leige Lord of this fortress.
“Your name, boy, John Hill?” asks Sir John, with the authority of a general.
“Yes, My Lord, no middle name.”
“I’m sending you away for a time.”
“Sir?” I look toward my grandmother, Billie. Her face offers nothing.
“Lady Wilhelmina is taking you. That’s all.”
The Lord puts his seal on a parchment envelope and hands it to Billie. She nods and leads me out of the office.
“What’s goin’ on? I don’t want to go anywhere. A stuck-up man writes a few words on a paper, and I’m out the door, the bastard.”
I look Billie in the eyes as I plop into the cab beside her. “Where are we going? Am I in trouble?”
Billie’s face sharpens as she points a rough finger at me. “John, you should be careful about whom you call, bastard.”
It hits me like a stone behind the eye; I’m the bastard.
She gives me a sly grin. “You’re not in trouble.”
“Where are we going? You didn’t answer that.”
“Sharp boy, I’m taking you to America.”
“America, but why?”
“What do you know of Sir John?”
“Besides his being the castle’s 9th generation Earl, not much.”
“You are his blood. You are John Fitz Osborn, his son.”
The cab backfires, but the noise is nowhere near the explosions in my head.
Just where am I going?”
“The Knight Riding School in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.”
“And what else haven’t I been told?”
She says a weak “trust me,” and goes silent.
We abandon the cab near a rustic wharf in Portsmouth. The sea air assaults my nostrils as we walk to the tavern at the base of a pier. Billie orders sandwiches, a pint, and tea for me.
The tavern turns quiet.
Men and women with weathered faces and clothes stare at Billie; it must be her chin tattoo.
“Billie, Billie Erikson, is it you, is it really you?” booms an Irish voice from across the room. The florid man with eyes as gray as his side burns strides over
“Paddrick, you old shark bait, what are you doing here?” answers Billie.
“Why, I worship the very ground you walk on, the seas you swim in, you lovely mermaid. I thought you had turned over and received your tail by now.”
“Well met, Paddrick. As you can see, like a cork, I always pop back up, and you never know, under this skirt there might be a mermaid’s tail. What brings you to Portsmouth?”
Donald, you write so many different kinds of stories! I admire that. There were some great lines in here! Like “hits me like a stone behind the eye,” and “like a cork, I always pop back up”! I enjoyed it. Thank you for posting! I hope you’re having a good weekend!
You made my day.
That was such a fun excerpt.