Lucky Ducky

Ladies and gentlemen, I have arrived.

Or at least been tagged in that writerly meme that’s been making the rounds: Lucky 7

What does that mean? You are about to be treated to seven un-edited (because I haven’t gotten that far yet) lines from my manuscript, Grove. I’m sorry.

“No” I scowl at him, a little afraid to touch a glass that now plays host to so many different people’s bodily fluids. One of the other guys at the table offers Silas five bucks to take a single sip from the glass, and he slams it back, polishing off the slice of bacon with gusto and slapping a hand down on the table palm-up to collect his winnings.

                “I’ve got to get home.” I excuse myself, done with this bizarre dinner. “I have a lot of reading to do.” Everyone is perfectly polite, offering the requisite nice-to-meet-yous and see-you-arounds. I pay for my soda and burger, making it all the way to my truck in the parking lot before I hear Silas’ swaggering footsteps behind me. He ducks around me to block the driver’s side door.

                “I don’t even get a kiss goodbye?” He asks, eyes sleepy and big pink tongue wagging.

Now, because sharing is caring, I’m gonna tag seven writers with their own blogs to share bits of their manuscripts. If I can come up with seven.

1. My super-busy alpha reader has been my biggest cheerleader since I started this whole crazy NaNoWriMo adventure, and she catalogs her own writing adventures over at There are three rules for writing a novel.

Um, that is the only writer I know who hasn’t done this yet. Meme fail.

On the bright side, I have a Hunger Games movie review and an entry looking at literary love triangles in the works! Watch this space.


5 responses to “Lucky Ducky

  1. Woo, writing meme! Here is an excerpt from my YA WIP lovingly referred to as “Dirge.”

    “For Rilee, the road to hell was roughly twenty-five hundred miles long and punctuated with protest rock.
    Her head lolled back against the seat and she did her best to ignore the way her father pounded the steering wheel in time to the music. Usually armed with her iPod, not even her dad’s random bursts of car dancing could faze her. Unfortunately, her first line of defense was gone; a casualty claimed hundreds of miles ago by a booth in some hillbilly diner back in Arkansas. She wondered if the back woods country boy who found it would even know what it was.
    Squeezing her eyes shut against the next verse of her dad’s version of ‘Fortunate Son,’ she hoped whoever was the lucky new owner wouldn’t be too disappointed when they realized there was no banjo music on it.”

    Also, super busy Alpha Reader is on her last week of classes from hell, in which much rejoicing and editing will ensue. Be ready Dear Writing Partner.

  2. LOL. Nicely played!
    And I love the excerpt. That pink tongue, soaked in…ewww, really paints a disturbing picture.
    Grove sounds like a keeper. I’m looking forward to more!

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