Work In Progress: Tentatively titled "The Savior of Mousekind"

More snow today. Best part is, it's Saturday and we have nothing to do and nowhere to go. You know what that means? WRITING DAY!

I've already put in almost a thousand words on my work in progress. I bought Scrivener for Windows. It is inferior to the original Scrivener for Mac, but it is better than Word in that I can go back easily to chapters and find things; characters, plot holes, places.

I took a little break from creating new scenes and renamed some chapters. I didn't have to go in and make a table of contents and sync everything up like I do in Word. Scrivener does that for me. It outlines everything as I go and gives me little note cards to make notes on about the chapters if I want to. It gives me a place to store my research, character sketches, and anything novel-related that I have in electronic form. I even moved entire sections around with ease. I moved an entire a chapter, adding it to another to make the flow better.

I'm really happy with it. I even learned how to take a document in Word I had already been working on and import it into Scrivener with chapter breaks already done. All I have to do is put pound signs in my .doc. Beautiful.

I guess I should share a bit with you readers, huh?

:)

Here is a little bit where Councilmousewoman Melma Bristle coldly tells Flora, nearly a new grandmother, that she must take her youngest daughter and flee in order to protect her yet unborn grandbaby who is prophesied to be 'the savior'.

“The savior of the race must be protected.” She stared coldly into the eyes of the still-smiling mother. “No matter what the cost.”

Flora’s smile faded. “I..I think I understand.”

“As the time draws near, the birthmother should be taken to the Council. We will protect her.”

“I and Maisey will come, too. Camber needs her mother at a time like this, and I can’t leave my youngest.”

“No. You will take Maisey and hide, far away. The enemies could use you or her to get to your daughter. Think what you would do to save your child’s life. That is what your daughter would do to save her babe’s. If she has to choose between you or her offspring.. well.”

“You think they will torture us, to get to Camber and the Savior? You think we should flee?”

“The sooner the better.” Melma stood and calmly walked to the door on her hind paws, nose not quite so high. Flora got her coat and helped her into it. She curtsied her out of her home.

As the door closed, a scream was heard from the nursery.

Do you think the councilmousewoman has a bigger plan?
Why did Maisey scream?
Will Flora leave or stay? Will she believe the warning?

The parts I am working on now are far into the story. Many things have happened in the story and giving you a piece in the middle would confuse you.

This is only a first draft. I still have to finish it, then go back with a little more research and polish up the settings. I also want to add more layers. The idea of a bigger plan, or things that can be read between the lines to add depth, or even more subplots I can tie together, are all things I want to do with the second draft.

Before I get ahead of myself, I think I should return to the action in the middle of this novel.

Summer Creativity; PLUS a Sneak Peek!

Summer is a great time to be creative!

Whether it is building a track for your cars,

 Or doing some counted cross-stitch,

The entire piece, so far.

close up of my stitching

What it should look like when finished.

The lions on the bottom.

Or doodling a journal page,

The creativity bug has bitten!

Anything you can do to keep the juices flowing will help your writing. If you can carve out a few minutes, or hours, to do a craft, you can do the same with a blog post or a blank Word document.

Doing a craft with your kids is also a great way to keep in practice. Hit up a sale at your local craft store for anything and google crafts to make with them.

P.S. I've been working on the lion cross stitch for 10 years, doing a little in the summer or winter when I feel like it. I bought it on sale for about 5 bucks. I told my 9 year old I might still not be finished in another 10 years and asked him if he'd like it as a graduation present. :)

Have I also been writing? Oh yes. Would you like a sneak peek? Of course you would!

Vivian had taken down the thick curtains that had given the shop a warm, homey feel and moved the comfortable reading chairs for selling. I only just realized they were gone. Sadness swept over me. The store was really closing.

This place had been my home away from home the past 3 years. I could curl up in a chair by the curtained window and dive into any book under Vivian’s watchful, but distant eye. She was like a great-aunt to me, even giving me quotes as advice and picking out books for me when I had exhausted all the titles I knew. She was a librarian as well as a saleswoman, and more of a guardian to her treasures and wizened old woman than a mother hen. I was going to miss her.

I ran my fingertip across the old spines unfocusing my eyes from their faded titles. The inked letters were all worn away, anyway. Dust mites flew in a sunbeam across the shelf from the naked windows. Something flashed before my eyes, a face, a handsome young man, but he looked sad, troubled, and brooding. It was a face that stopped your heart and left you wanting to help him at the same time. Then he was gone. Such a clear image for a millisecond: one that I wanted to see again. Maybe if I retraced my steps. I ran my hand back over the spines again, slowly. I concentrated, my entire being desiring to find him.

EXCERPT

This had to be a dream. There was no possible way the sultry, curvacious, supermodel Vanessa Brubach was in MY bedroom massaging MY shoulders. She was a bikini model and I was a 16-year-old affluent male drooling over her perfect portions.

Wilson, the butler, entered carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He poured wine into one and ginger ale into the other.

“Wilson, I’d like wine also.” I ordered, speaking smoothly and refined.

“Sir, you are too young for wine,” he curtly replied. I felt defensive, no mere butler should chastise me! I was about to berate him, but was interrupted.

“Oh don’t be sad!” Vanessa cooed in my ear. My anger faded. It didn’t matter how old I was to Vanessa! I settled back into my chair.

“You give a wonderful massage.” I crooned suavely.

“I studied in India!” she bragged. “I learned a few other things in India, too,” she softly teased.

“Oh, really?” I smoothly replied, locking my eyes on hers as she got down on her knees before me and reached for my foot. Kinky. Then she tarted licking it.

“Vanessa!” I chided, trying to keep my cool. “What are you doing?!” She licked again and I tried to pull my foot away, but she held it fast. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape. I began to panic. Vanessa’s face turned evil. She frightened me, her eyes turned red, and her tongue began to wrap around my foot. I tried to kick harder. I jerked myself to consciousness.

Bright light invaded the edges of my eyelids as I rolled over. I squeezed them tight and rubbed the sleep from them, then blinked awake. Vanessa had disappeared but the licking had resumed. I sat up. A medium sized, muddy, mangy mutt was thoroughly enjoying the taste of my bare feet.

“Ugh!” I yelled and kicked at it. I pulled my feet towards me and it ran off. My brain began to awaken. The first thing I wondered was why I was not wearing shoes, or socks? I looked at my feet. They were relatively clean and well manicured. I had gotten a pedicure this month. But I usually wore socks to bed. I looked at the bed I was on. It wasn’t my bed! It wasn’t even A bed, it was a pallet! I was sleeping on the floor! There was some kind of woolly, hairy lump on the floor beside me. It must have once been my covering, but it looked more like a hide than a blanket.

This wasn’t my room! I looked at the thatched walls and ceiling. It reminded me of a tiki hut at an overdone tiki party I had attended last month in honor of a friend’s birthday. Was I passed out in that hut? What did I do last night?

I remember being at a party, of sorts. It was just a family and close friends get-together. But it was at my house. We had served roasted pork. Maybe this all was just a roasted pork dream. I pinched myself. It hurt. I was NOT dreaming. So how did I get here?

I had gone with my cousins and friends down to the pool house. We swam and then called some girls over to relax in the hot tub once the adults had drank enough to settle in the family room and not worry about us. We found beers and wine in the basement bar, unattended. We all had a little to drink, I suppose. But something prevented us from partying as late as we wanted. What was it?

Dad! Dad found us, and the girls, all drinking, and he was very mad. He yelled, but I laughed. Oh no! I had been sloshed and laughed at my father! I don’t remember what he said to me, but I will never forget his face. It was red, frowning, shouting, and the vein in his forehead was throbbing over his left eye. Somehow, then, it seemed funny, since I didn’t feel anything but serene and bubbly. Then what? I don’t remember what happened next.

Where am I?

I stood up. My head swam. I sat back down. I suddenly felt like retching. I moved the fur hide out of the way and leaned over as my stomach rolled and pained. I’ve never felt this bad upon waking! Maybe I had been drugged! The dirt floor didn’t seem like such a bad place to be sick. Not that I cared where I did it, I never had to clean it up. I couldn’t hold it down, not that I had tried to, and I hurled up pure liquid bile. Even after my stomach was empty, I heaved and heaved for what seemed like a half hour with no effect until my ribs hurt with each effort.

When the dry heaving finally abated and my head’s throbbing began to subside as well, I stood. I decided to find out whose summer party hut I was visiting. I stepped into the blinding sunlight and squinted into a dense tropical rainforest. This was some secluded summer home locale! I rubbed my eyes again, trying to figure out where exactly I was, maybe spot a skyscraper over the trees, or hear a car zoom past. A very colorful bird flew right in front of me from a tree and screeched. Startled, I caught only a glimpse of bright yellow and green feathers, as the screech echoed in my skull, making me close my eyes and duck, the shrillness shooting streaks of painful white lightening across my eyelids. It was that obnoxious bird that made me realize I was definitely NOT in any place I had been before! In fact, I was probably not even on the North American continent!

The shock of this realization hit me full force as I looked back at the hut and then again at the forest. I turned to see more huts which, including mine, formed a ring around a central smoking fire pit, sending a thin stream of smoke upward.

Like a camera panning back, I began focusing on the bigger picture. Beyond the hut ring was a sparkling blue sea. One long, skinny, crooked pier stretched out from a tiny beach. It was in disrepair; planks were missing in several spots. I had the distinct feeling the pier was flipping me off, “Ha ha! You are stranded here!”