Since I’ve gotten back into blogging and editing and whatnot, I’ve come to realize that my blog here still has been gathering a good deal of new followers! Needless to say, this was only all the more reason to get back into the groove of writing (and editing).
One new writer I’ve met (so to speak) since coming back to the blogosphere is Sarah from The Old Shelter, who also writes dieselpunk fiction and is working on a trilogy, as well. In visiting her blog, I’ve learned about a series over at Dieselpunks.org called “8 Sentence Sunday” in which writers are encouraged to share snippets from their finished works or WIPs and get a little feedback.
Sounds pretty swell to me!
I think this would be a fun way to help get me back to my writing happy place on the regular, so I’m going to try this and see how it goes. 🙂
The following is actually a snippet from the first novel in my Element 7 series, which I’ve decided to call The Elementalist: Rise of Hara. Here, we get to meet the main protagonist Voi for the first time. Voi Román is an aviatrix with a rare genetic condition that she suffers from–or so she believes! Hint-hint: it has something to do with that fantasy element I keep mentioning. 😉 (Check out my updated blurb for a more detailed summary about the plot, if you’re interested.)
Anyway, without further ado…my 8 Sentence Sunday entry! (You’ll see where I’m getting the new name for my blog from, as well.)
“LEAGUE SPECIAL ENVOY ATTACKED ON TRAIN LEAVING DARMOIL.”
“LOCAL PILOTS LOSING BUSINESS TO AIRSHIP CONGLOMERATE.”
“FLIMSY STUNT PILOT MEETS GRIM END.”
It was 8:37 sunrise and Voi soaked alone in her clawfoot tub, avoiding her meds, with a morning copy of The Chandra Tribune propped open. An autumn breeze drifted in through the awning window, gently encouraging the jasmine-scented steam rising from the tub. The telephone clanged repetitively from a faraway place—Voi’s sitting room, actually—though she paid it little mind.
Rather, she folded the newspaper and set it aside on a nearby stool, flexed her fingers and toes then slipped deeper into the bathwater with an earnest sigh, keeping her head aloft. She shuddered as she closed her newsprint-assaulted eyes, momentarily forgetting AeroTaxi’s financial woes, the Tribune and the troublesome world it reported.