Hehe, is it already time for one of these again? Oh dear.
These ramblings come from 2013...so long ago. Back when I was seventeen. I was a high school graduate at this point, so I'm hoping whatever scribblings I wrote are halfway decent. It might look bad otherwise.
"Where's the pills?" He sounded almost in tears.
"On the counter." She groaned.
There was a slight pause. "Where at?"
"On the counter." She grouched, pulling a pillow up over her face.
"No, it's not!"
"By the toaster."
Ethan swore viciously and Ashley scowled. She tossed the pillow aside and got up. She walked in and snatched the pill bottle off the counter and rattled it in his face. "On the counter. By the toaster. Like I told you."
He snatched it from her. "Give a guy a chance to wake up in the morning."
Ashley squinted at the clock on the oven range. "It's not morning anymore. It's afternoon."
I'm in love with the idea of this story, but I found it really hard to write. I was constantly trying to make it realistic without being too graphic. Which is a hard thing to do when your main character is an alcoholic who is dating a drug addict, and oh yeah, she is trying to have an abortion. However, it was ridiculously fun to write the two of them bickering back and forth and someday this thing will be finished. Once I get all the research done. Mom told me my pregnancy knowledge was seriously lacking
The red roan didn't hesitate as Matt Bryant urged him into the icy water. Halfway across the river he turned in the saddle to look back. He could see no sign of pursuit, but knew that meant nothing in these rolling hills. These were no greenhorns who were chasing him. They were men. Men with a grudge and an empty rope. He was hoping the rope would stay empty.
It never even earned a name. Poor thing. I was mostly writing this for a friend. He loved it, but I never finished it after about twenty pages and he forgot to hound me, so it fell into memory. I remember having a really cool idea for it, but I didn't write it down. I've read hundreds of westerns but they are so hard for me to write. I can never think of anything original. You know, something besides poor girls with ranches, and someone trying to steal it, cattle thieves and lost gold mines and old indian legends.
The razor made a scraping sound as Andrew slid it along his jaw. He squinted into the mirror, twisting his mouth. He glanced at me suddenly. "Are you going to watch my every move?"
"To a point." I shrugged. "I'm just waiting till you're done so I can clean up and go to bed."
Love the idea. Love the character. Nearly impossible to write. How do I cover a three to four year time span in one book in first person?? Andrew is a complete hunk. Just saying. I had to fit a sailor into a story somewhere, and he got the lucky spot. Rashahn (my point of view character) is a pill to write most of the time. She's always misbehaving, but not really in a fun way. She's a rather disagreeable soul
Tyne stared. It was the ugliest girl she had ever seen. She had broad shoulders, coarse hair, and no feminine shape. She even had a shadow of hair on her upper lip.
A woman in a red dress walked up. "Tyne, this is mister Wyatt Pierce."
Quite possibly my favorite snippet ever. Tyne has never seen a male before. Ever.
Reyin narrowed his eyes and looked around the sparse trees that grew on the mountainside. Not much to hide behind. But somewhere, Reyin knew he was hiding. He cast a glance over his shoulder, his breath fogging. It was cold this high up, though down on the flats summer hadn't quite given up the fight. He held still, listening.
I love Reyin. People tell me that name sounds like a girls. I disagree, but I did mention that in the story. He does not like to be teased like a girl. At all. This story is really fun because I get to swap between two point of view characters and Reyin can be such a total creeper and still manage to come across as a teddy bear. It's brilliant. The mood of the story likes to bounce between rolling on the floor laughing, to so intense its painful.
Out of Darkness:
“Who's sleeping in my room?” He asked warily.
Sophie wrinkled her nose. “Tommy.”
“Who the heck is Tommy?'
A hand tapped his shoulder. Cannon rolled his eyes and turned around. He had to look up to meet the guy’s gaze. He was incredibly tall, but skinny as a rat, with papery skin. He looked about fifty, but he was obviously burnt up. He could be twenty. Gage stood behind him. It was people like this that his dad and
“I'm Tommy.” He rasped.
Cannon flinched and backed away. Apparently, Tommy couldn't afford a room or a bath. “That's great.” He choked. Fumbling in his pocket, he handed him a stick of gum.
Tommy frowned. “What’s that for?”
“The good of mankind.” Cannon said dryly.
Tommy glared and swore at him. Cannon shrugged and put the gum away. Gage and Tommy stalked off to the living room.
“You shouldn't have done that.” Sophie said quietly.
“Mom, he's an environmental hazard.”
This one might tie the Purpose snippet. I love Cannon like I've never loved a character before, and his sarcasm is unrivaled in my not so humble opinion.
Thank you for reading and putting up with my tardiness! By my calculations there will probably only be another two, possibly three Throwback Thursday posts, as we are nearing the present and I'm running out of antique writings.