Follow the Sparks

“There is a real magic in enthusiasm. It spells the difference between mediocrity and accomplishment.” 
—– Unknown Author

 

Karen Mahoney brought up an excellent subject in the comments of my last post. She wanted to know what I really thought about writing the second in a series when the first hasn’t been sold. I’ve touched on my back and forth thoughts on this in a couple of posts, but Rachel Vincent pretty much summed it up quickly.

“But what I am sure of is that time spent writing is never wasted…So, if your sequel is begging to be written, I say: Write it. But then, I write whatever idea is driving me crazy at the time.”

I fully agree. I, too, wonder about spending my time writing the second of something that may not ever collect dust on retail bookshelves. Yet, I’ve also decided to try and stay as positive as possible when it comes to my UF series.  I like my characters and I feel my villain is pretty unique. I do have ideas for other books. Oh, I have so many ideas! But, this particular story–the one I started in DOTT–is still making me crazy. All the characters have things to share and it will take more than one book to appease them. So, I’m having fun working on BOAA.

I also think it’s a good idea to have something else ready. At least another synopsis, or even a proposal if you can swing it. Can’t hurt to show your enthusiasm for this career you want.

So, to show a bit of my enthusiasm, here’s a snippet of the roughdraft.  I wrote this part on Sunday. 😉

     Elsa hit her knees beside me, her hand on my back. She rubbed and I realized I was only wearing a shorty T-shirt and underwear. Great.
     “It was deliberate, Beri,” Elsa leaned close to whisper. She pulled my hair back from my face, holding it in her hand behind my neck. “The perp didn’t even bother to make it look like an accident. Left the damn gas can right on the front porch.”
     Lifting my face to let the cool breeze brush over my tortured skin, I tried to blink the sting from my eyes so I could see the house. The blaze rose tall and furious, lighting up that clear, black sky, creating dancing shadows around the smoke. “One can didn’t do that.” I muttered, then stupidly tried clearing my throat. Felt like lumps of cotton had been glued inside. On top of claw marks.
     “You’re right.” Blythe had joined us. She wore a pink, fluffy robe open over yellow, baby doll pajamas. As usual, there was a male following—this one a fireman. A hot fireman. He flushed when I met his eyes. Maybe because he wasn’t battling the fire? Or man…it could be my preferred nightwear.
     “How’d you get here so fast?” I croaked at Blythe, hoping the flush on my face still looked like it had come from the fire.
     “My house was burned, too, but I wasn’t there. Luckily, I was with him.” She smiled over her shoulder at the fireman.
     “Kind of convenient, don’t you think?” I brushed my hand under my eyes to wipe up tears.
     She leaned close. Her hair smelled like strawberries and that was a hell of a lot better than smoke. “I thought it would be a good idea to date someone who’s good at putting out fires.  You know, with my current problem.”  She whispered the last word.
     Like the problem was current.  “Since when? You never mentioned him.”
     She grinned. “Oh, I met him yesterday.”
     “Slut,” Phro muttered. We all heard.
     I sent her a glare because, I mean, really. The Goddess Aphrodite calling another woman a slut?
     Blythe scowled at her, but didn’t respond. She pulled a small bag of wet wipes from her robe pocket—why she had them, I didn’t want to know—and proceeded to gently clean my face. I didn’t complain. The cool, wet towelette was heavenly on my skin. “Beri,” she whispered. “One gas can didn’t cause that—magic was the fuel. The gas was only a starter.” She dabbed at my nose. “I think it was a message, too.”
     “Ya think?” I closed my eyes. They felt better shut.