From draycevixen‘s WIP meme:
Post the first sentence (or several) from every WIP you’re currently working on, even if it’s very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs.
With any luck, you’ll get talking about writing, and the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!
Meh. I was gonna do a WIP update post anyway, so here’s mine. Also, my slave-driver of a muse says hi.
“She had not always been a vampire.” — Brief Candle pub: 10/10/12
“Isabella Marie Swan perhaps loved her mother in her own, unique fashion. She did not feel the same stirrings of the heart that her schoolmates referred to, or the oft-touted warm and fuzzy feelings when given a hug. But she was keenly aware of Renée’s efforts to raise Bella into a decent adult, alert to the level of Renée’s glad devotion to the tasks of motherhood, and so respected and appreciated Renée for her efforts.” — After Dark (working title)
“‘Uh! Baby, I love it when you mark me…’ she groans, her eyes half closing at the pleasure she feels from the brief twinge of his teeth against her throat. Her nails scratch a livid path along her lover’s back, which are filed just so she can mark him in return.” — Time Changes Everything
“My name is Isabella Marie Swan. (You were expecting Ishmael?)” — Breaking Down, Building Up (working title) pub: 02/23/12
“‘Rosie!’ Emmett bellowed, his usual cheerful grin wide on his face. ‘I missed you so much, baby!’ He wrapped his burly arms around her waist, lifting her as he did so, and her feet dangled about a meter up from the ground.
A smile pulled at Rosalie’s lips, as it always did whenever Emmett was around. He never failed to brighten her day. ‘Emmett, you silly ass, put me down!’ But her grin matched his, the insult playful rather than mean-spirited.
He obliged, but not before he rained kisses all over her face.” — Survival
* * *
“The sandy earth still radiated heat it had absorbed during the day, though the desert clime was more forgiving in the night. A hooded figure approached the grand archway of the temple within the Precinct of the Great Mother almost blindly, seeking but not knowing what there was to be found.” — Beneath The Eye Of Ra (working title)
“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you find you need less and less sleep with the passing centuries. Meaning, you have the choice of either wasting several hours every day watching soap operas, twiddling your thumbs idly till the sun goes down… or you develop hobbies. Because, if there’s anything imperative in having copious amounts of time at your disposal, it’s in learning how to spend it all. Especially when most normal, human folks have trouble learning what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday afternoon, much less an eternity of bright sunny days they’re forever locked inside.” — Grease Monkey (character study)
“That first night after Nick’s final, irreversible death, Natalie had retreated to Nick’s now empty loft. Empty not of things that retained his scent, his memory, but empty of him. She had crawled into his bed, on top of the black silk sheets and deep red linens and wept until the weight her profound grief propelled her into slumber. The wind outside had howled in harmony with her agonized wails of mourning, rattling the windows with galeforce, as if Nature itself understood and shared in her sorrow.” — Ashes Upon The Wind
“For the first time in eight hundred years, he felt the sun on his face and was sound enough of mind to appreciate its warmth. The world that surrounded him was now bright, bathed in the light of endless possibilities. Natalie stood beside him, her hand no longer scaldingly hot as human flesh enfolded in a vampire’s grasp, but comfortably warm; warm as the sun that now smiled on him kindly.” — Degrees Of Darkness
“=== Transcript: Passive monitoring, N. Lambert residential line, 17:05:31 June 3, 1995 ===[outside line connecting to N. Lambert’s residential line]
Resident [female voice]: “Hello?”
Caller [male voice]: “Hello yourself, beautiful.”
Resident: “Mornin’, handsome. You’re up early. Sunset’s not for another hour.”” — The Phone Call