A peek at my WIP ‘Finding Immortal’ and my battle with ‘the pit’

For the last few days I’ve been in a funk. You know that point where you can no longer form a coherent sentence? Where any words you string together are a bit crap, or even a lot crap. And even those times where you seem to be able to kill it when writing dialogue but as soon as you need to add the action, reaction, emotion, you fall on your ass and pick yourself up only to rather unceremoniously face plant the floor? That stage of writing – that’s where I’m at. In that dark little pit trying to claw my way out. Of course, the faster I claw, the further I slip so maybe some quiet contemplation is needed. Hmm.

I keep reading and rereading my earlier chapters and thinking – hey, I wrote that, I like it – so why can’t I do it anymore? I dunno. We all get to this stage though, that’s for sure. Then, at some point, something strikes and we can do it again. I’m waiting for that moment, but in the meantime, I thought I’d share a little bit of my WIP because one of my cp’s tagged me to do so. So here’s the opening of Finding Immortal – it’s still a little rough around the edges and there’s stuff I need to add per my amazing cp’s advice.

Finding Immortal

The text notification from my cellphone cut into my thoughts with the sharpness of a razors edge. Another message from Alex. I knew without casting so much as a glance at the screen. It was always him. Lana preferred email and sent me pictures of whatever country she’d chosen to gallivant through that week. I tipped my head back, staring into the sky above the Mallory estate. Clouds, heavy with the weight of unfallen snow, hung low, threatening to explode at any moment.

Lucas shifted next to me on the cold porch steps. “Aren’t you going to read it?” His breath billowed into the air, mixing with the muted light of the frosty morning.

Shaking my head, I pulled my phone from my jeans pocket and tossed it to Lucas. “No point.” Alex’s messages only ever consisted of one letter, a simple ‘x’, and though I’d replied on several occasions, asking how and where he was, he never responded.

Lucas slipped my cell into the front pocket of his green hoodie.

I tried to take a deep breath, but the familiar stabbing at my chest prevented anything more than a small inhale. For the past three months, the simplest of things hurt, opening my eyes each morning ranking amongst the most painful. My mind began to fog, pulling me back to the night of the ferocious battle with Sol and Selena. The night the colors in my world had paled to barely recognizable blurs of insignificance. Nathaniel’s face flashed and I clawed at the memory, desperate to hold it strong and unwavering, but as always, it faded to obscurity.

I raised my head as the crunch of hurried footsteps sounded across the yard of the Mallory estate. Kyle’s black hair lay flat and damp against his forehead, his maroon t-shirt and gray sweatpants bearing the sweat patches of his run. As he drew closer, he pulled his earphones from his ears and whipped off his top, then used it to scrub the moisture from his face.

Lucas rose from the steps to greet him. “Just in time, breakfast’s ready.”

Kyle slung his t-shirt across one shoulder and used his other hand to rub his taught stomach. “Good, I’m starving.”

Lucas pushed the front door open and stepped inside.

Kyle held his hand out to me. “You coming?”

I dropped my gaze to the ground. “No, I’m not hungry.”

One, two, three. I counted the maroon stripes on Kyle’s sneakers, at the same time, wondering when he’d begun to color co-ordinate his wardrobe.

“Tough shit, babe. You’re eating.” Kyle grasped my wrist and pulled me from my perch. I landed with a thud against his solid chest.


So I’ve kinda killed two birds with one stone(<<< ooo – a cliché, I should know better). I’ve talked about my feelings without talking about my feelings and I’ve shared some words. Now I’m off to stare out of the window. Hope the rest of you are coming along well in your writing endeavors!

Message in a Bottle

I think most people know what the 14th of February is – it’s Valentine’s day. The day of love etc etc.

love

I have a significant other – therefore I think it’s kind of expected that we celebrate it in some way. Now my husband, he’s one of these people that think Valentine’s day is commercialized crap, which maybe on the face of it, it is. But when you go deeper, it’s more. So much more. I’m a romantic through and through. I have watched nearly every romantic comedy made in the last two decades, read tonnes of romance books and when I listen to a song – it’s not the tune I’m listening to – it’s the words. Always the words.

I don’t know the numbers of how many people spent the day with the man or woman they love, how many girls hearts pitter-pattered when they discovered that Valentine’s card they so wanted, how many newly formed couples went all out to do something special, how many men or women clasped their sweaty palms around an all important little box and popped the question, how many teenagers or adults wished upon a star that the boy or man they really like would do something, anything, to show he felt the same. Or indeed vice versa.

To me it’s about hope, new love, old love, unrequited love and sadly, broken hearts. I adore everything the day encompasses, even the sad bits because they make me feel. But I’ve never really said it out loud. I’m not a ‘talk about my feeling’s’ kind of person. Generally, we don’t really do anything to celebrate Valentine’s day – it passes us by year after year, and we just let it.

This morning, a delivery truck pulled up outside our house. We live on a small street, nice, quiet – only eight houses. I thought the delivery was for my best friend who lives next door but one. Nope. The driver dude climbed out of his van, dissappeared into the back with his legs waggling out the door and emerged with a long, rectangular box – then he opened my gate and trundled down the path. As someone who occasionally reviews stuff or enters a competition or two, I wondered Ooo, what have I won? I even told my husband I must have won something.

I did not. Nor was it something to review.

I can count on half a hand how many people I have told this, but for the past few years, my husband has been rather unwell and I’ve done my very best to look after him. Now – I’m not a Florence Nightingale, so don’t go thinking I am. I’m as far opposite of a domestic goddess that you can get. He’s the better half, for sure. Anyway, inside the package was this:

bottle

It’s a bottle with sand and shells covering the bottom. If you know me, you’ll know how perfect this is for me. It has little bits of sand in it – and shells! Little bits of the natural world that I love so much. But if you look in the middle, that’s a scroll. A message. And that message thanked me for just being there, by his side throughout.

That little bottle, with those tiny shells and even tinier grains of sand, sends a huge message. A message in a bottle, to me, from the man I love. There is nothing more perfect. He’s also taking me to see 50 Shades of Grey the week after next, which is an amazing and selfless thing to do, because he hates it!

So what did I get my husband? *Hangs head in shame. Nothing – I am the worst wife ever! Luckily, I have a chance to redeem myself. It’s our 15th anniversary in eleven days (we got married when we were eighteen), so I better get planning!!

Happy Valentine’s day to you all and if you haven’t got a special someone, I hope this time next year your heart is pitter-pattering.

Free on Kindle today: The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants by Lori L. Clark

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the heart knowsEstelle “Star” Falconé, a thirty-year-old tattooed bartender, was once a free-spirited dreamer who dabbled in astrology for fun and secretly dreamed of becoming a rock-star some day.

Twenty-one-year-old Shane Harper was once the star of his high school basketball team. With a full ride scholarship, his dream was to play college basketball and study astronomy. When a tragic car accident permanently sidelines his basketball career, college is out of the question.

Sparks fly when their two worlds collide.

Can a relationship survive between a thirty-year-old starry-eyed woman who’s on the run from an extremely dangerous man, and a twenty-one-year-old science guy who’s hell-bent on protecting her at all cost?

***Caution*** This book is not suitable for young readers. It is intended for mature adults only (18+) containing adult situations, non-consensual sex, and violence. This is a full-length, standalone novel.

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From Here to Nashville by Julie Stock

I’m really excited to show you the cover and blurb for Julie Stock’s debut novel. It’s exactly the kind of book that I like to read and I can’t wait to get my grubby hands on it. You can preorder it now, using the links below!

fh2n_From Here to Nashville is a contemporary romance novel with a country music theme.

Can Music Really Bring People Together?

Rachel Hardy dreams of being a successful country music singer in Nashville’s Music City, four thousand miles away from her lonely life in Dorset.

When Jackson Phillips, an independent record label owner, encourages her band to audition for a nationwide ‘Open Mic’ competition, she decides they have nothing to lose.

But when she starts to fall in love with Jackson, the stakes suddenly get higher and she finds herself with a great big dilemma on her hands. Should she abandon her dream and take the easy way out or should she leave the life she has always known behind and take a gamble on a man who has personal demons of his own?

Follow Rachel and Jackson as they learn to trust in love again and to see whether music really can bring them together.

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about

julieJulie Stock is an author of contemporary romance novels and short stories. If you would like to keep up-to-date with news of her forthcoming releases, you can sign up here:

She blogs about her path to publication on her website, ‘My Writing Life’. She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Scheme and is a Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors. You can also connect with her via her Facebook Author Page and on Twitter.

When she is not writing, she works part-time as a teacher. She is married with two teenage daughters and lives with her family in Bedfordshire in the UK.