Archives For work in progress

The Next Big Thing!

DebE —  November 7, 2012 — 10 Comments

Or, to quote many a Brisco County Jr episode “The coming thing”… Yep, I think I’ve just set up a mission in the back of my mind to rebuild interest in that early ’90s show (not that I expect a remake… it wouldn’t be the same without Bruce Campbell, and John Pyper Ferguson… I love Pete). And if you don’t know what tangents I am disappearing off to there, I suggest you go learn! It’s worth a few giggles.

Right, on with the show… I mean post.

Do you want to play a game? No, this isn’t some weird ‘Saw’ horror malarky, but a game of ‘blog tag’ that’s circulating at the moment. I was tagged by Sammy HK Smith, who writes in a variety of genres. She would describe her current project, ‘Anna’, as Speculative Literary fiction, but I’ll let her explain that to you!

The blog tag game involves answering questions about your current work in progress.

What is the working title of your book?

I honestly don’t have one. I suck at titles. All I’ve got to work with at the moment is that it’s the sequel to Healer’s Touch and I have it in mind to call it Warrior’s… something, or Soldier’s… something. You get where I’m going. I’m still pondering.

What genre does your book fall under?

Well, first and foremost, I would say Fantasy. But I think it deserves a subgenre. Now, this is either going to be Steampunk, or Weird West, depending on what I settle on. When I say Steampunk, I think most people think Victorian England, whereas I think Victorian Western US States. Or even Victorian New Zealand (which I think combines the two, because we had fresh settlers from the British Isles, but we were very much taming a frontier at the time).

Give a brief synopsis of your book.

Well, without giving too much away, this book continues on where Healer’s Touch left off. Continue Reading…

Snippet for Snippet’s sake

DebE —  July 19, 2012 — 6 Comments


So, you guys know I’m not organized enough to have special days for special kinds of posts (I call it being creative … You know, writing whatever my inspiration tells me to write) but I know sometimes other bloggers share bits of their WiPs(eseses – uh oh … maybe my coffee was a touch stronger than necessary), and I just felt like sharing a scene.

Um, yeah … that’s all the intro I can think of. So here goes:

Leaving yet another small town behind, Jonas swung from Chino’s back and punched a tree.

Things were not going well. They had been zigzagging through every Turhmos town that lay roughly between Brurun and Duffirk – that city being the capital of Turhmos. Jonas suspected that was where Braph was, but there was no telling for sure. He could just as easily hide in a small town, if he found the right one. Granted, small town folk were more likely to talk and be suspicious of the kind of activity Braph got up to, but it wasn’t impossible. And so, they had been checking, with nothing to show for it. There hadn’t even been sightings.

Jonas punched the tree again. Bark and blood went flying – he might have been super strong, but his skin wasn’t impenetrable.

“Hey, Jonas.” Hisham slid from his own horse and tried to stop Jonas taking another swing. But Jonas went Syakaran on him and swung even faster and harder preventing Hisham grabbing his arm.

The tree creaked, and pain shot up Jonas’ arm. He bent over, cradling the limb, then shaking out his hand, all the while cursing profusely and stamping a foot. It was a hard-won victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“That’s not helping, man,” said Hisham, placing a hand on Jonas’ back. “We’re doin’ the best we can.”

Jonas took a moment to breathe through his curses. Then he straightened, stretching and clenching the injured hand. He’d scraped his knuckles good and jarred his bones, but nothing was broken. If he’d been alone in a room, he might have been pacing and throwing things. Nature didn’t always offer a decent alternative. But punching a tree was close.

Jonas looked at Hisham thinking he would just agree with his friend, climb back on his horse, and they would carry on. But when he looked up, all he wanted to do was punch something – someone – else, and Hisham didn’t deserve it.

Jonas turned from his friend, striding several frustrated paces, muttering incoherently, cursing Braph, cursing Turhmos, cursing himself for leaving Llew, cursing Llew for not just letting him be and staying put inside where she was safe, cursing Lord Tovias for not having an estate secure against Braph . . . He walked away from and back to Hisham several times, muttering and cursing, muttering and cursing. And finally stopped, puffing out a deep breath, in front of his friend.

“I know,” he said. “But it’s not enough. Braph can fly.”

The usual “I’m open for constructive” criticism invitation applies. Of course, scenes out of the middle of the story might not work as well as I think they do out of context, but oh well.