Hello! I’m a day late, but this is my second Spring Writing Bootcamp Check-In (I missed last week…midterms)!
What’s Spring Writing Bootcamp? It’s an awesome accountability bootcamp for writers. To learn more visit our amazing hosts, the YABuccaneers!
My goals for each week have been to write 10,000 words. I fell a couple thousand short this week as well, however my story reached 20,000 words and most of the writing was completed in two weeks so I basically did do 10,000/week!! This week my awesome bootcamp team, Team Defiance, has Twitter writing parties planned every night at 8pm CST so here’s to getting a lot more writing done! Feel free to join us 🙂
My NA Urban Fantasy, THE SUP FILES is really coming along. I’m through the beginning and am getting to that point where the words are flowing without much effort. Not to mention, I, even though I consider myself to be a pantser, outlines the entire story so it’s smooth sailing from here on out!
I’m currently on Spring Break so my goal for this week is to read a couple books, read a CP’s manuscript that I’m finally able to get to, and bask in the sun and, write, write, write!
Here’s an excerpt from a pivotal scene, it’s a bit rough but it’s set in a Voodoo shop in the French Quarter so the setting it’s interesting to say the least 🙂 The last time I was in New Orleans I actually visited a couple as research…some are 100% touristy, but others are definitely creepy.
A fake voodoo doll was strung by its neck in its usual place in front of the door. Circe used to say it made the place look creepier, but my mom had once said it was a small persuasion charm. It couldn’t stop someone determined from entering, but it often stopped those who were curious about what it held inside by reminding them of all the other things they had to do. In addition there was no open or closed sign. From the outside the shop was always dark so people really had to know that this is where they were supposed to be in order for most to be brave enough to enter.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door. There was no need in delaying our reunion any further. She’d known it was me the second I’d pulled up. I inhaled the fresh scent of jasmine. Even without the visions now flooding through my head, it would’ve brought back bittersweet memories.
The door creaked open in a most mysterious manner. My mom had tried to get her to fix the door years ago, but she’d brushed her aside, saying it added to the place’s charm. Of course, charm was something the shop had plenty of. It resembled an antique shop, all dusty and the like. When you entered you had to stoop down or else you’d hit your head on one of the many masks and dolls, intertwined with cob webs, that hung from the beams. To my left was a wide shelf full of many compartments, each having within it a mason jar. Some of the jars were broken with only dust for contents and others were filled with herbs you couldn’t find in any grocery store. From the wax figures of Catholic saints that stood side by side in a glass counter to the many crosses and Bibles and other spiritual books that hung on a slanted bookshelf, everything had a place. An order. If you spent enough time here, like I had, the shop would reveal to you its secrets.
How’s your writing going?