I did not participate in Camp NaNo, but I am still writing, so I have a few snippets to share with you today from my newly active WIP. If you're friends with me on MyWriteClub, you’ve seen me sporadically update this project: IPOM Draft IV.
The current working (and very silly) title is I Piss on Magic. It is about a girl person named Minty who accidentally murders the heir to the throne. And by murder I mean she makes him very sick. With the help of a bunch of people who don’t really like her, she sets out to find a way to cure the prince and gets involved with a war and fairy aliens.
Very exciting stuff. I’ve talked about this WIP before here, here, and here.
3. A snippet you plan to delete/significantly revise
Some girls would probably sew. Why not? It was the sewing parlor. Shafts of mid-morning sunlight pinned bolts of cloth up to the walls for my approval, shrouds in every rainbow color. If I tried, I bet I could find a needle and thread somewhere amidst the merchandise. If I were one of those girls, that is.
[I think these are the dumbest opening lines I’ve ever written but I’m pretending they don’t exist because I can’t think of anything better.]
1. A snippet that was difficult to write (define 'difficult' as you like!)
“Back off,” he snarled.
“Make me,” I hissed back. And that was when I reached for my power. I reached for the most disgusting thing that was near me, the most disgusting, vile, terrible, horrible, decrepit thing that I could hold onto and that was alive and I took it into me. It was gray, soft and gray, like the sheen of the water on a wet day. It wriggled in my senses like a worm, and the very feel of it made me feel dirty and unclean. It was perfect.
Around me, I could hear my parents cry out my names. Violette was beside me, but Reverie pulled her away from me, far away—was it me they feared? Perhaps they weren’t wrong to be afraid. I took that filthy mist in my power and I thrust it towards Silverhand, pushed it towards his face and nose and eyes so that he would suffer and he would know that I was not a girl to be messed with.
I had it in my hands… and then my grip slipped. It was painful, like the edge of a book returning to a new paper cut, and then there was nowhere else for it to go. I had it in my hands, and then it changed directions.
“No!” I cried out, already aware of the act I’d put into motion. I knew what it was that would happen and where it was going to go. There was no stopping it, no warning.
There was only Prince Lucas’s wide eyes as the gray mist that I had summoned, the vile plague I had meant for his lieutenant, slammed into his body and entered through every means it could find.
[This is hard because it’s something of an inciting incident, or at least really important, so it should be fast-paced and dramatic. And it isn’t.]
So, there you go. Proof that I have plenty of editing before me—but don’t worry, I have lots of time ahead of me.