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Boom. Kate wisdom. Love it. @kate-flournoy
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
@That_Writer_Girl_99 here… have a snippet to give you a few ideas.
That was it. They could do whatever they liked about him. But they were not going to touch Denholm. A murderous spark ignited at the base of his throat, and suddenly a great warm, eager humming swelled and filled his mind, pressing outward through the boundaries and seeking an exit.
“Harold! Don’t—!” the leader cried, grabbing for him with both hands, but Harold wrenched himself away with a hoarse cry and rolled onto his back, his bonds snapping with the flaring of devouring heat through his hands. He drove his boot into the pit of the man’s stomach, and before he could recover Harold had leaped to his feet with his hands pouring flame and shoved the nearest spy in the face, toppling him backwards. The man gave an unearthly shriek and clawed at his mask, flames leaping and flickering over his face and around the edges of his hood.
Stooping and snatching the sword the spy had dropped, Harold whirled with a furious scream and charged the man who held Denholm. In an instant Denholm lay sprawled on the ground, and the spy was a dwindling speck ploughing headlong through the grass towards the scrub-lands to the south. Some of his comrades followed him, but when Harold turned back panting and swaying the leader and two others were left, their swords drawn, their bodies tense and ready.
The humming intensified, filling his skull with pressure, and his arms began to ache from the shoulders down, the muscles crawling and shivering beneath his skin. On sudden impulse he dropped the sword, and holding his hands out at his sides, he let the heat and light immerse him. It was a foolish thing to do, but he did it anyway. And instinct took over. The humming broke out at the base of his brain and shivered through his neck and shoulders, rippling down his arms and through his hands. The moment it reached his ring splinters of light shot out from around it, and his vision was seared with a white-hot memory of a small campfire flickering damply in the morning chill of Rodenmere.
He gasped and shut his eyes, and the moment he did so something broke loose and tore a hole through the tight mesh of his mind, snapping down through his left arm and spilling out at his fingertips with a roaring crackle. The fire-memory that had been so weak and lifeless in the green pall of the swamp flew straight at the spies in a shimmering wall of giant flames.
They turned and fled.
The flames faded, then with a rippling snap they disappeared altogether, leaving the grass untouched in their wake.Wow. *jaw drops* Is that a snippet from your WIP? @kate-flournoy
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
@That_Writer_Girl_99 heh. Yes indeed. 🙂
I LOVE IT. @kate-flournoy
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
Glad to hear it. 😉
Okay. You need help. Just getting to a good place to start? Prioritizing your ideas? What?
Chapter Three:
As I walk briskly down the hall, the lights above me dim. The flickering bulbs cast an eerie, ominous splash of ashy gray on the pale walls. My footsteps are the only sound I hear.
Clip, thump, clip, thump, clip, thump.
“Is he insane?!”
Well. That escalated quickly.
The sudden shout makes my heart leap into my chest, and out of instinct, I freeze, panicked.
What was that? Where did it come from?
“I know this must be surprising, but I promise, it is true.”
I don’t recognize the voice of the man who speaks, but his tone is soft and authoritative.
The first speaker grunts. “I can’t believe he’d do that. Is he stupid?”
“Remember who you’re talking about, Matthias. The Warden protects you people from the outside world. From the-”
“Matthias?” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop myself, and I all but jump forward, to an intersection between hallways, to see if it’s true.
There, with a guard I’ve never seen before, stands Matthias. Gone is the playful humor and his relaxed, youthful posture, replaced by an angry glare and a stiff, defensive tightness to his shoulders.
“Kara, you’re supposed to be in your cell.” The guard beside Matthias says. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just walking back.” I tell him. “Who are you?”
“Ah…I…” He backs up. “Look, kid, aren’t you supposed to be in your cell?”
Matthias snorts.
“I don’t want any trouble, but isn’t he supposed to be in his cell to?” My hands are shaking, but I shove them into the pockets of my sweatshirt.
“I got lost.” Says Matthias with an uneasy laugh. “James here was just showing me the way back.”
“Yep.” James nods. With a grin, he jabs at Matthias’ shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Kids’ been here for years, but he still gets lost! Crazy, am I right?”
“Didn’t you tell me you’ve only been here for a few months, Matthias?” I frown.
Something is up.
“Get back to your cell, Kara.” James growls, angry again. His hand twitches, towards the small black pocket at his belt. I don’t know what’s in there, but the frustrated glint in his narrow eyes makes me think twice about asking.
“A-alright.” I back up, turn left, and start walking down the hall.
Matthias and James are gone when I look back towards the corridor.
That was strange. I think to myself as I—finally—enter my cell. I wonder what Matthias was talking about?
I take off my shoes and walk across the cell, towards the book shelf attached to the wall. It is time to take my mind of things. Time to read.
I pick a book, one of my favorites, and turn towards my bed.
Unsurprisingly, I can’t focus. Somehow, my book of fairy-tales just isn’t as interesting as Matthias’ strange meeting with James, a guard I have never seen in my life.
I mean, what was he even doing there? None of the Elementals are dumb enough to try and talk to one of the guards. Most of the guards are too rude to even keep up their end of the conversation. They don’t care about us.
Is James Matthias’ personal guard? That would explain why I’ve never seen him before…but what was he doing with Matthias?I feel like everything I’ve written is incredibly boring and I still don’t know what I’m doing with this chapter. Something needs to happen but I don’t know what… @kate-flournoy
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
@That_Writer_Girl_99 Ahhh… yes. You’re POV telling. That makes it boring and dull; you’re right. See, what you’re doing is giving us Kara’s thoughts instead of showing us her emotions through the way she acts. Instead of doing this:
That was strange. I think to myself as I—finally—enter my cell. I wonder what Matthias was talking about?
I take off my shoes and walk across the cell, towards the book shelf attached to the wall. It is time to take my mind of things. Time to read.
I pick a book, one of my favorites, and turn towards my bed.
Unsurprisingly, I can’t focus. Somehow, my book of fairy-tales just isn’t as interesting as Matthias’ strange meeting with James, a guard I have never seen in my life.
I mean, what was he even doing there? None of the Elementals are dumb enough to try and talk to one of the guards. Most of the guards are too rude to even keep up their end of the conversation. They don’t care about us.
Is James Matthias’ personal guard? That would explain why I’ve never seen him before…but what was he doing with Matthias?try
That was strange.
I push my cell door open, stumbling a little on the threshold, and slam it behind me. My hand shakes a little on the lock. I release it quickly, wipe my damp palms on my shirt, and pivot to face the blank walls of my cell.
Strange, but it doesn’t matter.
Randomly I select a book from the small shelf, kick my shoes off, and lower myself to my bed. The creak of bedsprings seems deafening in the horrible stillness.
I fidget around, searching for a comfortable position, but nothing seems to suit. The bed is too hard. The coverlet too slippery. The pages of the book in my hands rasp against my fingers like sandpaper. I close my eyes hard, blink internally several times, and open them wide. Focus, Kara.
The words only blur.
Shoving myself upright with a grunt, I toss the book into the corner and jerk to my feet. Still no sound. Why is it so quiet in here today?Also, see how much I told you by not telling? *grins*
Yeah. I did.
That’s great, Kate, but it isn’t me. I didn’t write that, and I don’t think I can right now. I’m not that good.
I get the point you’re trying to make, though. @kate-flournoy
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
I didn’t write that, and I don’t think I can right now. I’m not that good.
*wise Yoda look* That— is why you fail.
*goes off into gales of smothered laughter* Okay, okay… so it’s not that drastic. I have a reputation to live up to apparently, though, so… *shrugs*
No, you’ve got enough humility to sink a ship. That’s good. That’s a good thing to have. But the thing is, humility can become insecurity. If you’re afraid to try (and I’m going to be a horrible Jedi here and contradict Yoda— there is a try) because you know how much you still have to learn, you’ve defeated the whole purpose of learning. Of course you’re not that good yet. Do you have any idea how long it took me (and how many agonizing critiques I had to suffer through *gulp*) to get where I could write like that? Long time. Lots of criticism.
The nice thing about learning though is you don’t have to stay where you are. You’re not assigned a level that you have to complete before you move on. If you set your mind to it, you can usually do it. You want the stars? Start building a ladder. It may take a while, but you’ll get there. It’ll take practice. Lots of practice. Sometimes you’ll just want to throw your entire manuscript away and sit staring at a wall and sobbing into your empty pop-corn bowl for all eternity because you can’t get it exactly how you want it. Believe me. I’ve been there. 😛 But in the end, the more you write, the better you’ll get. It’s just that simple.Nor should you necessarily write like me. I’m me. You’re you. We’re different. That’s beautiful. I see things that you don’t. You see things that I don’t. This is your story— you tell it how you see it. I can give you advice, but ultimately this is about what you want the story to be, not how I would write it.
Comprendo?
(That’s, um… Spanish I think… XD)“You can go back and fix things you already put down, but you can’t fix what isn’t there.”
Awesome advice, Kate! 🙂 @kate-flournoy
Thanks @DelightInLife. 😀 It took me forever to get that actually… :/
I have no words @kate-flournoy Thank you.
Writer. Dreamer. Sometimes blogger. MBTI mess. Lover of Jesus and books.
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