Archive for the ‘Novel excerpt’ Category

EDITED: I remembered that I’d seen another movie.

Last book I finished reading: Are These My Basoomas I See Before Me? by Louise Rennison. It was okay, although Georgia, the main character, is so stupid that she’s unable to realize which guy she really likes…

Writing Progress

The Way Wars Are Won

Word count: 61 966


Maeve never thought she’d miss the sensation of blushing—cheeks burning, like a fire beneath her skin, heart pounding, head dizzy. She closed her eyes. “But I miss being human.” William’s hand still touched her cheek, and his right arm was still wrapped about her waist. If she were human, her body would react in so many different ways to his touch. “You’re wrong about things feeling better. I felt more when I was human.”

Kenna’s Choice

Ideas for new, improved plot. Might add a POV. Will be awesome. Too lazy to start working on it though, because I’d have to go through every chapter and write a mini-summary for the Plotting Spreadsheet. Argh!

Word count is same. No excerpt.

Movies (as per usual, bold=better than the others)


Bienvenue Chez Les Ch’tis

Legend of the Guardians: The Owls of Ga’Hoole

Vampire Bats

The Wind that Shakes the Barley

Day of the Dead

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2: Wow… I laughed, I cried, I felt nauseous (because of the tension). Maybe on second viewing I’ll find plenty of things wrong with it, but, having seen it just once, I’m 98% happy with it. The 2% mainly stems from the epilogue. It was way too short to my liking. The Battle of Hogwarts was very epic.

Whip It

Satan’s School for Girls

The Usual Suspects: Amazingly, the twist wasn’t spoiled for me. (If you know me, this is quite an achievement–I’ll usually spoil it myself…)


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From “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” [2.16]

  • Angelus: Dear Buffy. I’m still trying to decide the best way to send my regards.
  • Spike: Why don’t you rip her lungs out? It might make an impression.
  • Angelus: Lacks… poetry.
  • Spike: It doesn’t have to. What rhymes with lungs?
  • Drusilla: Don’t worry, Spike. Angel always knows…what speaks to a girl’s heart.
[From http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer]

And on with the post.

First off: I created a blog at Blogger, which you can find here.

Second: I reached 40%! Yay 🙂 To be precise: 30 291 words.

I underestimated my novel

See, when I started “Playing with Darts” I had only a vague idea. I knew it’d be about a vampire hunter who uses silver darts (so far she’s only used them once), a bunch of vampires who were actually evil, Anne, a young teen who gets kidnapped by said evil vampires along with a hundred or so other teens, Maeve, a newborn vampire, and Fabienne, an old vampires who wants to be her mentor.

I knew I wanted it to be 75 000 words long, because my longest piece of work is 50 900 words.

Now 75k seems laughable. I’m probably going to end up with 90k at the rate I’m going. I’m not complaining, oh no, on the contrary. I’d love to have a 90k novel. The problem? How the hell am I going to do it?

In December I outlined the novel from start to finish. 50 chapters. 75k. That was my plan, my goal. Now I have to re-outline it because despite some writers thinking that an outline takes away the surprises, I’ve had plenty of them and my outline is no longer correct.

I also underestimated myself. I never thought I could write such a complex novel and pull it off.

Okay, fine, I admit: so far it’s going very well and nobody else has read it, so I don’t know if other people can follow it without being confused.

And now a teaser:

William put his hand under her chin and lifted her head. “You can save lives. There are about ninety teens stuck in a dungeon in Vladislav’s mansion. They need to be saved and all the hunters in this mansion may be great hunters, but they are still human. Just think how much having two vampires on their side can help?”

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From the end of chapter 11. Maeve is a newborn vampire. William is a 222 year old vampire. Both are on the “good” side, meaning they kill only to feed. And Maeve doesn’t even want to do that. Danielle is a vampire hunter. The three characters are in the mansion Danielle’s inherited from her parents.

“There was another vampire in the forest, Fabienne, and she—”

“Fabienne?” William said. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Danielle said. “Don’t just say ‘Oh shit.’ Give me details.”

“Well, first: did she have black hair and blue eyes?” Maeve nodded. “Yup, that’s Fabienne.”

“Well?” Danielle said.

“Right. Um, Fabienne is half a millennium old and nobody knows much about her. She could be good or evil. Only older vampires than me would know, or people who are in her colony, if she is in one.”

“First, how come you’ve never told us what a group of vampires is called?” Danielle crossed her arms.

“I dunno. It’s not important information, is it?”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Second, why don’t you know more about Fabienne? If she’s that old…”

William shrugged. “I guess she’s kept out of the limelight all these… centuries. When a vampire wants to keep a low profile, they can. It’s not that hard.”

Danielle sighed. “Okay. Third, what side do you think she’s on?”

“The evil side,” Maeve said.

“How do you know?” they asked her at the same time.

“After I bumped into her, she sort of became my mentor, but I could tell she was… cruel. Her smiles were fake; she was only pretending to care so I’d trust her.”

“Right, well this is good to know, right?” William said.

“Kinda, I guess. If she ever comes looking for you, we’ll know what to expect.  At the same time, it means we’ve got yet another pissed off vampire.”

Maeve frowned. “Another?”

“William, here,” Danielle said, “killed Petrick. He was part of a fairly important colony. We’re more or less in deep shit.”

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This excerpt is from chapter 2 and is written from the vampires’ point of view. Antone and Desdemona are what the vampires in my novel call “pratilaca”, Serbian for “companions.” Amaia is 400 years old, Antone and Desdemona are 321 years old. The three are in a truck with humans they’ve taken hostage, kind of.

“Oh really?” Amaia said, looking at Desdemona.

“What is she talking about?” Antone asked.

They were in the forest now: the smell of damp trees, mud and animals fulled Desdemona’s nostrils; an owl or two and a tired hush were all that she could hear. For one moment, they overpowered the humans’ presence. Antone’s hand pressed on her shoulder and replaced the scent of nature with his own; his voice was the only thing she could hear. “Mona dear, what is she talking about?”

“I can’t believe she never told you… And you call yourselves pratilaca.”

“Marianne Ludlow, tell me now.”

Antone calling her by her human name was more than she could bear. “Half a century ago,” she started, a lone tear rolling down her perfect vampire skin, “I slipped up. Our side lost someone, but… Until now, only Amaia knew. Everybody thinks she just vanished. And she had a reputation for that—before she’d leave and then show up a decade later. Nobody thought she was… They never questioned her disappearance.”

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38 158 words, baby! Oh yeah. I might still reach my weekend goal of 40 000. If I don’t procrastinate or distract myself. See my twitter (on the right side of this page) for quick updates on how it’s going. And now for a little excerpt:

That night, after dinner, Liam and I go up to the roof with blankets, cushions, and our cameras to watch the sunset. Facing the backyard, I admire the sky. “It’s so beautiful,” I say, taking yet another picture, knowing the picture will never compare to the real thing.

The sky is alight and the burning sun sinks behind red-, yellow- and brown-leafed trees, leaving behind streaks of purple like a pale iris and soft baby blue. These colors, I know, will turn to deep blue-black that will cover the entire sky. Only stars, pin prick dots of light, will pierce through the vast emptiness.

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Making a choice

Inspired by this quote: “Anyone can give up, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that’s true strength.” I found it online but I don’t know who said it.

He spread his arms and I leaned against him. “Shh, things will turn out fine. Listen to me, Kenna. You have two choices: you can simply give up and let all these problems slowly drive you insane. You can be weak, kill yourself, stop caring.

“The other choice is where you keep going, you get up each morning, get through each day, hour by hour. You can be the strong person I know you are, the kind of person Aura would be proud of. You can take care of Breanna and let me take care of you, and that wouldn’t make you weak. It would make you smart. Nobody can handle everything alone. Not even Aura. She had her friends and her family helping her. Do you think she tried to single-handedly keep us together? And no, she didn’t, no matter what you might think. We kept each other together, and we can do it again. We just have to choose to.

“What are you choosing Kenna? Because anyone can give up, it’s the easiest thing to do, but if you keep going now, then that will make you strong. It won’t matter if you cry in despair, if you scream in frustration, and if you feel like giving up every single second, because as long as you don’t give up, as long as you keep going, you’ll be strong.”


I will probably be going with the title “Kenna’s Choice” for my novel instead of “Learning to Breathe”.

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“You were right, problems with my family didn’t give me the right to…” This time I’m not a fly stuck in his amber eyes; his eyes aren’t trying to trap me, they’re trying to say sorry, they’re looking for forgiveness.

I’m sure my blue eyes are saying no. Forgiveness is a long way from here. I find myself shaking my head.

Zale takes my hand. “I know it’s not…” He struggles to find the right words. ”I know it’s going to take a long time for you to forgive me. I accept that. And I deserve your hatred.”

I slip my hand out of his and step away to sit down. “That’s the problem, I don’t hate you. Can’t seem to anymore.” In my mind I see those bruises and cuts on his skin, that sadness in his eyes, the lost boy behind the sometimes arrogant, sometimes charming smile. “This just feels like a dream, like it never happened…” I see a look form on his face. “No! You can’t be wishing I can deny it, that I’m going to pretend it was a dream. Because it happened Zale, don’t go thinking I’ll forget it. I…”

I stare at a poster on the wall behind him. It’s a painting by Monet, and it’s just like the one I have at home. I used to love it and I’d look at it, illuminated by moonlight, before falling asleep. “And it was a nightmare. It gave me nightmares.”

I get up to leave but he stops me. “I’m sorry.” And he lets go, knowing that there’s nothing else he can say that will make it better.

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