Hook, Line, and Sinker Blogfest Entry

Thank You to Justin Parente over at In My Write Mind for hosting the 2nd Annual Hook, Line and Sinker blogfest.

Objective: Post your 500-1000 word hook and critique other hooks posted by participants

Suggestive topics to consider when critiquing:

• Does the character have a personality I can fall into easily? This includes any dialogue exchanged.
• Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they're introduced?
• Are there secondary characters to assist with the hook?
• Lastly, would I read more?

Please jump around and critique the rest of the entries.

So here is my entry.

****

The distance between darkness and light was a nano-moment, my mother once told me. A sliver of space. The breadth of a strand of hair. I didn’t know what she’d meant until that day. And still wished I didn’t.

I trudged up the darkened beach, digging my toes in the sand with each step. Visions of pearl-skinned sea nymphs still danced in my head. Their iridescent eyes and seductive charms made me smile.

“C’mon, Zeus,” Anytos called, throwing a stick at my feet.

I held a finger in the air.

"Zeus, seriously!" He clapped his hands. 

"Wait. Hold on." I closed my eyes to enjoy the images of those sea nymphs. Just a while longer.

"Zeus!" His words sliced sideways through my memories of them. “Sun’s nearly up. We don’t have much time!” Tos stood at the top of a dune, calling down to me.

I sighed. “I’m coming.”    

I hated the pre-dawn runs we took every morning. The birds weren’t even up yet. I couldn’t wait to get back to the goats I tended with my mother. Against her wishes, I’d named each one. That’s why she never let me slaughter them for food. Or rather, why I never participated.     

There was nothing too terribly stressful about goat herding. They were a self-sufficient lot. Sometimes watching them was like watching the sun crawl across the sky. In those moments, my mind wandered like a stray goat.

I’d always felt like I could do more. Be more. Something inside of me clawed for the extraordinary. Yet I had to face that I’d likely never leave Crete.

I joined Tos at the top of the dune and looked across the dusty Cretan expanse that stretched into darkened low-lying hills. Tos turned to me. "You ready?”

“Let’s do it…”

Before I finished speaking, Tos had taken off running, like being shot from a bow. His feet pounded the path as he ran ahead. I crested a high ridge in pursuit. A burning sensation spider-webbed through my lungs as I saw the sun’s first ray in the east. Pushing onward, I strained to keep pace with Tos, whose legs moved at a pace I simply couldn’t match. Not yet anyway.

“Faster, Zeus,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“We’ve been running non-stop since the southern coast.”

I stopped and clutched my chest. Ragged breaths came in gasps. I placed my sweaty palms on my knees and inhaled deeply. I knew that running daily would benefit me somehow. But, that didn’t mean I had to like it.

Anytos turned abruptly. “Whose fault is it we’ve been running such a distance, huh? I promised Amalthea I’d keep you safe, Zeus,” he responded. “You. Here. Not safe. Let’s go!”

"Hmmmph." I stood straight, stretching to one side then the other. I knew he was right. We’d been out way too long. But boy were those nymphs worth it. I took another deep breath and stared back toward the east.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into going to see those sea nymphs again,” Anytos continued. “Shoulda known better than that. The Tribe is gonna be pissed when we get back.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have a good time.” I managed a half smile despite my fatigue, rustling fingers through my hair.

"That’s way beside the point. The longer we’re away from the cave, the less safe you are."

I totally resented not being safe. I’d watched my mother’s pained expressions over the years. Stress from living in constant fear.

Tos began running again, building another healthy lead. He looked like a shadow moving through the trees. Rocking back on my heels, I resolved to finish. One last push. Come on. Dig Deep.

I lunged forward. Chasing Tos up the next incline, my feet barely touched the ground. I ran so fast, I didn’t even feel the rocks on the tree-lined path. As I reached the next ridge, a ray of sunlight speared my eye through the trees and blinded me momentarily.

I forced my stride farther. Wider. My arms whipped the air at my sides. I grinned as I closed the gap between us.

Ahead, the cave opening beckoned. The Cave. My home. I knew the drill. Get to the cave before someone sees you, they’d say. Someone like who? Who’d ever come looking for me?

I saw the dark silhouette of my mother sitting on a hillside just above the cave, surrounded by lightly grazing goats. Crouched, she gripped a hooked staff, on which she counterbalanced her weight. Her tunic rustled gently in the thick, salty breeze.

The sun rose faster than usual. Ridiculously fast. I stopped to look at the sky, marveling at the rapid ascension. Darkness to light. What had been a beautiful sunrise, quickly dissolved into chaos.

Tos pulled my arm almost from its socket. “That’s not normal, Zeus. We need to get in the cave!” His face looked like a fig left in the sun too long, wrinkled and severe.

We sprinted the final stretch around my guardian tribe, the Kouretes, who danced in a circle. Their chants filled the air. Fully armored, their tunics flapped around their frames as helmets clanked atop their heads. Shouts echoed across the plain, punctuated by spears clashing against shields. They always said that they chanted to ward off evil spirits. To protect me. All I heard was constant noise, really.

As we drew closer to the cave, my mother stood suddenly and turned toward the sun. The sky brightened, and the sun’s brilliance grew more insistent. I shielded my eyes but the heat was searing. Spots dotted my vision. I watched my skin darken by the second. Sweat beaded all over my bronzing skin at once.

My heart raced wildly. “What’s going on here? Why is the sun falling?"

“Remember we kept telling you somebody might see you if you’re out too long?” Tos asked.

I nodded nervously.

“Hyperion’s descending!” He pushed my shoulder. “Get in the cave!”

Hook, Line, and Sinker Blogfest Courtesy of @jwparente

ATTENTION Blogfesters!! Justin Parente is hosting his second annual Hook, Line, and Sinker Blogfest!!

Date: February 13, 2012

Where: In My Write Mind blog, and your own

Objective: Post your 500-1000 word hook and critique other hooks posted by participants

Suggestive topics to consider when critiquing:

• Does the character have a personality I can fall into easily? This includes any dialogue exchanged.
• Is the world around them set up to compliment the character as they're introduced?
• Are there secondary characters to assist with the hook?
• Lastly, would I read more?

Click the link above to go sign up for this Blogfest. I participated last year and will be again with a brand new gem.

RETURN  for my entry on the 13th!!

Can We Guess Your Character's Age? Blogfest.

Thank you so much to Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes... for hosting this awesomesauce Blogfest. Here's the Blogfest rules in a nutshell. Post the first 250 words of your finished, or not quite finished, manuscript (any genre) to your blogs. This contest is about voice--whether or not your character's voice matches his or her age. From December 8th-9th hop around each others' blogs and try to guess the age of the character, give critiques, or praise. 


It's been a while since I participated in a Blogfest and I'm glad to be back on the circuit with a new WIP.
So here's my entry:


The distance between darkness and light was a nano-moment, my mother once told me. A sliver of space. The breadth of a strand of hair. I hadn’t known what she’d meant until that day. And still wished I hadn’t.


Earlier that morning, I trudged back up a darkened beach, digging my toes in with each step. Visions of pearl-skinned sea nymphs still danced in my head and I smiled.

“C’mon, Zeus,” Anytos called.

I held a finger in the air.

"Zeus, seriously," he insisted.

"Wait. Hold on." I closed my eyes to enjoy the images of the sea nymphs. Just a moment more. 

"Zeus!" He sliced sideways through my memories. “Sun’s nearly up. We don’t have much time!” Tos stood at the top of a dune calling down.

“I’m coming.” 

Life had been easy. All except the pre-dawn runs every morning. Hated them. I couldn’t wait to get back to the goats I tended with my mother. Against her wishes, I’d named each one. That’s why she never let me slaughter them for food. Or rather, why I never participated. 

There was nothing too terribly stressful about goat herding. They were a self-sufficient lot. Sometimes watching them was like watching the sun crawl across the sky. And, it had been in those moments that my mind wandered. 

I’d always felt like I could do more. Be more. Something inside of me clawed for the extraordinary. Yet I had to face that I’d likely never leave Crete.

<>

"Show Me The Voice" Critique Blogfest

Thank you so much to Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes for hosting this Critique Blogfest. And also big thanks to Agent Natalie Fischer for judging the entries. Make sure you click through the link above to see the rest of the entries.

We were charged with posting our first 250 words to be critiqued and judged. So I am opening the door again to my Caenus MS.. actually, now named "Banished." Following are the revamped first 250 words.

*****

Prince Caenus deflected a thrust from his friend’s sword. Dodging his friend’s advance, Caenus darted between fluted columns near the edge of the otherwise sparse palace courtyard. He sidestepped another advance while retreating several steps, but his friend’s sword point bit into Caenus’ ribcage.  Again.

No matter what he did, Caenus could neither escape his friend’s sword nor his father’s gaze, which needled his skin. During a lull in sparring action, the prince shot a brief sidelong glance toward where his father brooded. Disappointment bent the lines on his father’s forehead.

 “I need a strong son to reign when Hades darkens my doorstep!” The king barked. “You can’t beat your friend in a swordfight. You can barely ride a horse. When will you be strong enough to command the military?”

A shaft of sunlight streamed through thickening clouds and onto the royal palace. Caenus’ best friend, Galen cut off the prince’s evasive maneuvers. And again, wood beat against wood. Thrust. Swipe. Swing. Block. Dust rose from the ground in random clouds, kicked up by the swiftly moving feet of the two young men. Their sparring swords danced against one another as familiar foes.

 “Is that your best, Caenus?” Galen said, ducking a half-hearted swing of his friend’s sword. “Is there no more fight in you than this peasant’s display of swordsmanship?” 

Galen knocked the sword from Caenus’ grasp and, with the flick of his wrist, guided the tip of his own sword to Caenus’ throat.

“King Me!” Galen beamed.

 *****

Delusional Doom Ides Of March Blogfest

Thank you to the illustrious Hart Johnson over at Confessions of a Watery Tart for hosting this Delusional Doom --- Ides of March Blogfest. Make sure you visit the other ill-fated stories of death-becomes-them. I just love the buttons for this blogfest. But of course I would. See above and below.

To set this scene up, in the second book of my Caenus trilogy, Caenus marries Kalliste and they've just returned home from the wedding. Kranos is announcing the news, but someone in the royal court has other plans.

            Long rectangular wooden tables dissected the cavernous reception hall built for small intimate gatherings of fifty people or less.  Silver wine goblets sat innocently at the top edges of the plates on the exquisitely set tables.  Invited guests slowly strolled into the room and mingled with one another while picking from the grape and fig platters that had been placed in random intervals along the length of the table.

           General Nikios paced in a corner, silently wondering about his own destiny.  He had hoped that Kranos would name him king for now, knowing that when Caenus was old enough, Caenus would assume rule. If I were king, he schemed, perhaps I could have the prince exiled and rule with absolute power. Perhaps send him on a modern wild fleece quest.

            Nautical mastermind, Akaikos, certainly desired the royal scepter and crown, however he knew that being the youngest of the generals, his chances would never look as good as they did right now. He had absolutely no desire to go to Samos, but how could he stage a coup… and whom would he recruit to support him?

            Diokles’s mind wandered, as he mingled through the crowd, thinking of what life would be like were he king. To be sure, Nikios topped the queue. How, then could he possibly create the necessary vacancy to take a more advantageous position in this royal race?

            Kranos and Alexis welcomed all guests into the hall.  Golan, finally feeling like his old self again after the long trip, had finally arrived. He approached and embraced first Caenus then Kalliste before turning the corner to enter the hall and embrace Alexis and Kranos. 

            A buzz permeated the hall. The air, filled with the scintillating aroma of roasted lamb and wine, crackled with such a high level of excitement and energy that no one saw the hand that grabbed Kranos’ wine goblet and slipped a poisonous concoction into it.

            Guests continued to enter the hall and locate their seating assignments. Once everyone was seated and ready for the reception to begin, Kranos stood from his throne of a seat at the middle of the table, directly beside Alexis. All chatter fell to the ground as the still muscular king stood.

            “Tonight we honor two great young men,” Kranos echoed through the silence.

            From his position toward the middle of the table, Golan turned and shot a look of pride toward Caenus who was sitting at one long end of the table.  The generals, seated together at the other end, each looked nervously at one another, trying to figure out who the second guest of honor would be.

            “These two men have shown both courage and valor in trying times, and have proven loyalty and allegiance to the kingdom of Iolkos,” Kranos continued.

            Golan next looked sidelong at each of the generals, who sat with their wives. He felt that surely the good king had something of import to say of one of the generals. He never suspected that the second guest of honor was in fact himself.  Caenus looked with dreamy admiration at his own beautiful new wife, who beamed with radiance.

            “To Iolkos!” Kranos said, lifting his goblet toward the rafters.

            “To Iolkos!” the guests roared back, echoing off the stone walls.

            “Take now your goblets in hand.  If they are not already filled with fine Samian wine, a gift from the esteemed royal family of Samos, let them now be filled.  For tonight, shall we first honor my son, Caenus…”

            Caenus stood as applause rang out, filling the hall to the rafters.

            “… And, to his wonderful new wife, Kalliste, the Princess of the Kingdom of Samos…”

            Applause continued to roar as she then rose to her feet, waving to all. 

            “…A marriage of empires, no doubt, but a marriage of hearts, first and foremost. Raise your goblets now until their bases are high in the air,” Kranos bellowed proudly, lifting his goblet and consuming the whole of its contents.

            When the roar subsided, Kranos continued, “Now… for the other great man I wish to honor this night.  Remember, I said that I wished to honor two great young men…”

            Caenus and Kalliste both replaced their seats, clasping one another’s hands tightly. The generals looked at one another with sidelong glances. Akaikos then shifted his gaze to Golan, still unsure of the direction Kranos would take.  Caenus also looked at Golan with a supportive smile then up at the generals, for he was not quite certain of whom his father would speak next.  Caenus wondered whether his father would speak of Golan’s bravery on the Aegean, or name a general to succeed as king.

            “I have taken on anotherrrr…” Kranos spoke slowly, slurring a bit, and taking a deep breath. “I have takennn…” Clearing his throat, he paused and then tried to continue. Kranos began feeling queasy and weak. Then his stomach felt as if it was being eaten out from the inside. Kranos clutched his stomach and, again tried to continue through the pain.

            “I have taken onnn anotherrr s-s-s…” That was all Kranos managed to get out before he crumpled to the floor, his crown clanking as it tumbled from his head.

"That's YAmore" Blogfest

Thanks to the Oasis For YA for hosting this lovey dovey mushy "That's YAmore" blogfest. Whether you write sci-fi or fantasy or dystopian or historical... it's difficult not to get caught up in a good romance. And with that in mind, this YAmore blogfest showcases, in 250 words, some of the best romantic scenes in YA WIP's anywhere in the blogosphere. Please click through the link above to visit the other participants.

This will probably be my final blogfest post from my Caenus WIP. (subsequent blogfests will likely feature other WIP's I have in the cooker.) In this scene, Caenus, who has been doggedly pursuing Adriande, finally gets his chance to kiss her.

****

Caenus and Adriande walked through one of the six arched openings to the ornately constructed fountain. Torches illuminated their steps. They descended a short stairwell to the basins to withdraw some water.

Cupping their hands and dipping them into the basin, they both took a few sips of water and then paused for a moment, turning to face one another in the half-light. Caenus tensed, sensing the perfect moment had come. His gaze locked on her. Neither moved an inch.

Go for it. It won’t get any better than this. Caenus grabbed her right hand with his left. He waited. She didn’t jerk away.

He extended his right hand upward. Caressing her shoulder, he slowly moved his hand to the back of her neck. Pulling her close, the space between them evaporated and their lips grazed several times before joining. A slight jolt of energy shocked Caenus, and held him frozen as she returned his kiss. His heart beat faster. She stole his breath.

Their lips broke contact. He inhaled deeply. Completely enveloped in her rose-petal and honeyed essence, Caenus struggled for words, but found none. After staring at one another for a collection of moments, Adriande giggled.

“You do something to me, Caenus of Iolkos,” she breathed.

When Caenus finally caught his breath, he responded, “Likewise.”

Adriande threw her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. The embrace lingered as they simply enjoyed the closeness.

 “I’ll make you deal, Caenus. If you can win the games, perhaps I’ll come visit your Iolkos.” 

"It Was A Dark And Stormy" Blogfest

Thank you to Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes for hosting this "It Was A Dark And Stormy" Blogfest. That is such an awesome title for this contest, which calls forth everyone's first line from a finished manuscript. And yes there are prizes, so click through the link above to view the other entries.

So here is the first line from Caenus:

Prince Caenus deflected a thrust from his friend’s sword, feeling the heat of his father’s gaze needling his skin.

"You've Come A Long Way Baby" Blogfest

Thanks to Christine over at Writer's Hole for hosting this blogfest. She is celebrating her own four year journey along her path to publication... how her command of the craft has improved over that time. As writers, we can't help but notice our improvement through the revision process. We look at early stuff we wrote and nearly gag, wondering how we could've written such godawful rubbish. But the journey is just as rewarding as the destination.

In this blogfest we are to post an early version of a scene. And then follow it with a well critiqued and revised version... to show growth. So here we go. First is my opening to Caenus as I first wrote it. Next will be my opening to Caenus now.

****

FIRST DRAFT:

King Kranos sat perched upon the low wall
surrounding the interior courtyard of the Iolkosian
royal palace. He gazed intensely at the training
session taking place between his son and his son’s
longtime friend. As dust rose from the ground in
random clouds, kicked up by the swiftly moving
feet of the two sparsely armored young men, the
king wondered how long it would be before his son
would be strong enough to assume command of the
military. A fine prince he was, though unremarkable
and undistinguished as yet.

Prince Caenus, standing a muscular six feet tall
with skin that had been kissed by the sun, dodged and
ran around the huge ten-foot statue of Kheiron, the wise
centaur of lore, which stood at the northern edge of the
courtyard. The statue depicted the half-man/half-horse,
reared up on his hind legs and pulling a bow taut that
looked as if, at any moment, it would launch its arrow
far into the middle of the Gulf of Pagasae.

In a surprising move, Golan, Caenus’ friend,
jumped on Kheiron’s back and swung over to the
other side, cutting off his friend’s evasive maneu-
ver. Again, wood beat against wood, their sparring
swords dancing against one another as if familiar
foes, all to the amusement of the king.

“Is that your best, Caenus?” Golan yelled, duck-
ing a half-hearted swing of his friend’s sword. “Is
there no more fight in you than this peasant’s display
of swordsmanship?”

Golan was correct in his questioning assess-
ment. But, at present, Caenus’ soul could not focus
on the sparring. He certainly appreciated the train-
ing, but thoughts of his upcoming eighteenth birth-
day dominated his mind. The son of King Kranos
of Iolkos, brushed his dark chestnut, curly locks of
hair from in front of his soft, inviting brown eyes.
His squared jaw softened as he wiped beads of per-
spiration from the length of his straight nose into
his loincloth that was heavily soiled with dirt from
the sparring session.


NOW:

Prince Caenus deflected a thrust from his friend’s sword, feeling the heat of his father’s gaze needling his skin. During a brief lull in sparring action, the prince shot a sidelong glance toward where his father brooded. Disappointment bent the lines on King Kranos’ forehead.

 “I need a strong son to reign when Hades darkens my doorstep!” the king barked. “You can’t beat your friend in a swordfight. You can barely ride a horse. When will you be strong enough to command the military?”

A shaft of sunlight streamed through thickening clouds and onto the royal palace. Kranos remained in the shadows. Studying. Assessing.

A sword point bit into Caenus’ ribcage, demanding the prince’s attention. Caenus shifted his sun-kissed frame, his focus again singular. Dodging his friend’s advance, Caenus darted between fluted columns near the edge of the otherwise sparse palace courtyard.

Caenus’ best friend, Galen cut off the prince’s evasive maneuver. And again, wood beat against wood. Thrust. Swipe. Swing. Block. Dust rose from the ground in random clouds, kicked up by the swiftly moving feet of the two young men. Their sparring swords danced against one another as familiar foes.

 “Is that your best, Caenus?” Galen said, ducking a half-hearted swing of his friend’s sword. “Is there no more fight in you than this peasant’s display of swordsmanship?” 

Galen knocked the sword from Caenus’ grasp and, with the flick of his wrist, guided the tip of his own sword to Caenus’ throat.

“King Me!” Galen beamed with victorious confidence. He smiled, perspiration coating his short crop of dark hair.

Caenus’ shoulders slumped. He appreciated the training session, but thoughts of his upcoming eighteenth birthday held center stage. He brushed a curtain of wispy hair from in front of his eyes. His squared jaw softened as he wiped beads of perspiration from the length of his straight nose into his loincloth, already dirty from the sparring session.

With Galen’s sword tip at his throat, Caenus looked around the courtyard slowly. Before he turned back around, his father had grabbed a handful of Caenus’ hair.

 “The House of Kranos will not stand behind your weak sword!”

The prince gasped at the preternatural speed with which his aged father had crossed the sandy expanse between them.           

“Are You Training Or Playing Games?” Kranos roared. “There is no place for mediocrity in the history of great men! Is this all that my blood can produce? Is it?”

Caenus remained silent, deferent. His father’s disappointment cut straight through him. He sighed, casting his eyes downward. 

I wish I could tell my father that I’m trying my hardest. Why does that count for nothing? He looked at his father diagonally due to how sharply his hair was being pulled. The pain of his father’s grip threaded through him.

“Are you destined to be like your brothers? Worthless? I’ve not had a son yet that could even return from the wretched games, let alone win.” Kranos spat on the ground, shoving his son’s head. “If your brothers could see you now, may the gods rest their souls. And you’re not even half the prince they were.”

Caenus’ heart sank as a lump formed in his throat. His stomach clenched. A single tear formed at the corner of his eyes as thoughts of his deceased brothers bled into his father’s disappointment. He willed the tear back, determined to give his father no satisfaction. Though he hadn’t known his brothers well, he still looked up to them. Now their ghosts haunted him.

 

****

Thank you for stopping by. Please click through the link above and see the rest of the entries.

"No Fear" Blogfest

No Fear Blogfest
Writes of Passage

Let me just say that I am posting *live* from New York City at the SCBWI conference. I'm staying at the Grand Hyatt that overlooks Grand Central Station... above which is a sculpture of my good friend Hermes (or Mercury for you Romans out there). So, you know I'm in good hands.

Thank you to Dominic de Mattos over at "Writes of Passage" for hosting this "No Fear" Blogfest. At first sight, the title made me think of a line of clothing called "No Fear" and they used to have catchy little empowerment statements on them. Loved those t-shirts!

In this blog we are charged with posting a scene wherein your main character experiences fear and overcomes it. In this scene from my Caenus WIP, Caenus must mount a bull and stay on for five drops of the judges hand. This is the first competition at the games. Some have already tried and failed before him... Some simply received broken limbs for their troubles. Some perished.

Thanks for stopping by. Please enjoy the other entries by clicking through the link above.

****

Caenus stepped into the ring and considered his best tactic. Muscles tensed. Fists clenched. Thump-thump, Thump-thump. Thump-thump, Thump-thump. The lumps in his throat pulsed in time with his racing heart. His parched throat contrasted his moist palms as the soles of his sandals indented the sand.

The judges finished infuriating the bull. Just before they released it, they stuck it in the rear with a hot fire poker, glowing red as the evening sun.  With a cry, the bull shot forth from the corner.

Perspiration rushed from Caenus’ forehead as he sprinted to his right. The bull turned sharply in pursuit. The prince turned left then right, and then left again, the bull's nose nudging his backside. Caenus swore he felt the rough shave of teeth at his hip.

The bull’s searing breath against his lower back, Caenus performed another series of sharp pivots, but found himself cornered by the snorting steer who stopped a moment and seemed to savor its prey. Crimson eyes bulging with fury, the bull inched closer to its subject.

Caenus’ muscles twitched. He considered darting to a safer area. The bull tipped its ivory to quell the thoughts of escape. The bull inched closer, licking its chops, eyes blazing rage, cloven hooves pawing at the sand. Closer, and closer it drew.

Images of Caenus’ brothers flashed before his eyes. Then images of his father and mother. He wondered if the bull would rob him of the opportunity to see his family again. He decided not to go down without a fight.

With no other options, Caenus summoned all the courage he could muster. He balled his fists and delivered a crushing blow to the bull square in the nose. Hitting the bull with first his right then his left fist, he stopped the bull in its tracks long enough to mount its back and ride for five drops of the judge’s hand. He held fast to the gleaming ivory, but barely. Dismounting proved to be more difficult. 

The enraged bull launched Caenus high into the air. He landed on his right hip before rolling in the direction opposite the bull’s path. Rising to his feet as the bull turned vengefully, he exited the ring. Safe.

           Caenus dropped to his knees outside the ring, gasping for air 

and reason. Running his hands over his body, he uttered a breathless

prayer to the gods, thanking the Olympians for preserving him.

Simply Hot Blogfest

I'm lumping today's Artful Thursday post with a blogfest. Also known as... multitasking. lol

Thanks to Erica and Christy for hosting this fantabulous Simply Hot Blogfest. If you follow those gals long enough, you'll see that they have a thing for Hotness... all things Hot!! So in this blogfest, we're simply posting a picture of our favorite coffee mug... the one you'd rather drink from the most if it never needed washing.

So, here's mine...

Tadaaaa!!

Make sure you click through the link above to see the rest of the entries!

Top Ten Countdown Music Blogfest

Happy Monday Everyone. This week is a big one for me, so Let's Get it Started, Let's Get It Started In Here (a little Black Eyed Peas fo ya).
Thanks to Alex J. Cavanaugh for Counting down our top tunes of all time in the Top Ten Music Blogfest!
Music moves us. It inspires us! So in this particular blogfest all participants were charged with sharing our Top Ten Songs of all time: The Band/ Singer- The Song- The Reason it moves you.
In no particular order, here are mine:

1. Frank Sinatra- Luck Be A Lady Tonight (Guys and Dolls)- It used to be my pregame song when I was a high school Special Teams Coordinator. Led to 3 kick returns and 1 punt return for touchdowns.
2. Any Symphony- Overture~ Le Nozze de Figaro- The violins ring to my soul.
3. Frank Sinatra- Fly Me To The Moon (Intro to Wall Street) because I love that movie and that version of the song
4. Jay-Z/ Linkin Park- Numb/ Encore- They go together like champagne and orange juice.
5. The Three Tenors (Carreras, Domingo, Pavarotti) - Nessun Dorma- Goosebumps... Chills...
6. Sade- Cherish The Day- Smooth like warm caramel
7. Nirvana- Smells Like Teen Spirit- This song is like injecting adrenaline straight into my veins.
8. Dave Matthews- #41- Makes me sway involuntarily
9. Evanescence- Bring Me To Life- Love her angelic voice against the aggressive guitars and drums
10. P.O.D.- Alive- Because it ignites me.

Make sure you click through the blogfest link at the top to see the rest of the entries.

Birthday Bash Blogfest

Thank you to Tessa Conte over at Tessa's Blurb for hosting this Birthday Blogfest. And by the way... HAPPY BIRTHDAY TESSA!! Many Happy Returns!

In this blogfest we were to post a portion of our WIP that featured a birthday celebration. My selection is from my currently querying project, Caenus And The Quiver Of Artemis. Make sure you click through Tessa's link above to see the other entries.

*****

Standing beside a large tent, Kranos waved his hand for the boys to join him there. Bright blue flags flew all around the agora, marking the boundaries of the royal celebration. Four large urns sent flames toward the midnight blue encasing the heavens.

     The king embraced his son. "Welcome, Caenus. I have waited for this day since your birth. Let us enter the tent together."
     Galen ducked his head in first to give the father and son ample space for their grand entry. Next, Kranos and Caenus slipped through the tent flaps to a raucous applause by nearly seventy people. In attendance were aristocrats and wealthy merchants and their sons of varying ages. Also present were the three generals and their sons.

     Alexis, stunning queen of Iolkos, smiled widely as her son entered. She had been sitting on a kline, braiding her dark hair over her shoulder, but rose to her feet when Caenus walked in. "Happy birthday," she said embracing him warmly.

     "Thank you, Mother."
     Awash in sepia tones from flickering firelight, the tent’s interior smelled of bears’ claws and lions’ breath. At the far end of the tent, two boars roasted over a crackling spit. In the foreground, a long table divided the tent equally. Younger boys chased one another, while young girls filled water goblets from large amphorae jugs they could barely wield.

     The din died to a whisper as the king spoke, "Tonight esteemed guests, let us celebrate my son’s emergence into the majority. No longer a boy, but a man!"
     The tent erupted in rollicking cheers.

     "Here shall he prove his worthiness," the king continued. "Send forth six young men of comparable age to test my son."
     Here we go, Caenus thought. Galen ran up first, followed by five other similarly aged young men, some broader, some thinner than the prince.

     Kranos clapped his hands twice. "Bring in the wine!" Two young girls appeared carrying a goatskin of diluted wine, which they emptied in to six tall clay jugs.

     "To begin the celebration, each boy shall drain the contents of their amphora jug to honor Dionysus. First to finish shall receive an olive branch," the king bellowed. "Boys, take your places."
     Each young man surrounded one end of the long table, grasping tightly their jugs. I knew my father had something strange planned. Caenus inhaled deeply, looking into the excited eyes of his competitors.

     "Ready, Go!" Kranos belted.

     Each young man hoisted his amphora to his lips and chugged the measures of wine and water. Some spilled from the sides of their mouths, soiling their tunics.

     First to finish was a broad shouldered general’s son. He slammed the jug down on the table and threw his hands skyward in victory. A scrawny aristocrat’s son finished second. Caenus finished third. Galen next. Amidst a ringing of applause, Kranos presented the olive branch to the victor.

     What had that been about? What was it meant to prove? Caenus wondered.

     His belly swollen with wine, the prince sighed. He studied his father’s face for sign of disappointment that he hadn’t won the wine-drinking event, but the king’s face offered no signs to be read. Nevertheless, Caenus felt the sting of disappointment.

     "All right, boys," the king continued, not even acknowledging the guest of honor. "The next event shall be an arm wrestling challenge to prepare my son for the Isthmian Games."
     The crowd fell silent. The music even stopped.

     Alexis approached Kranos. "Is there something you need to tell me?" she asked, hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed.

     "About what?" Kranos replied, annoyed at the question.

     "You’re sending our last son to the games? To death?"
     "Yes!" Kranos spoke above her to the entire crowd. "As many of you know, Iolkos has had a poor showing at the Isthmian games, losing two princes in the process. Caenus is now eligible, and he too shall compete."

     "Look at him!" an unidentified voice sailed above the crowd’s din. “He’s not ready! He’ll never win!"

     Caenus’ posture shrank as a cacophony of chatter criss-crossed the tent.

     Kranos blared, "Caenus will prove once and for all if my blood is weak or not. The House of Kranos is in his hands. For if he does not return, then the Fates have already cast his lot."
     Alexis drew close to her son and grasped his hand tightly, the warmth of her love passing through Caenus’ skin. "I won’t let you send him!" Alexis spoke sternly.

     The crowd’s collective voice again hushed to a whisper.

     "What did you say?" the king growled.

     Alexis stood in front of her son, a lioness protecting her cub. “Haven’t we lost enough sons to the games?" Tears rivered down her flushed cheeks.

     "It’s not your decision! The future of Iolkos rests in his hands. If he doesn’t go and win, he’ll be viewed as weak, as will the whole lot of us. We’ll never see a season unencumbered by assaults against the kingdom. Epirus smelled the stench of my fallen sons when they attacked. Did they teach us nothing? Simply returning from the games is no better. He must return victorious to erase all doubts!"
     A single clap pierced the silence. Then another and another. The staccato applause rolled to a thunderous ovation of the king’s words. The enthusiasm bolstered Caenus, yet made him no more confident than he had been.

     "Let’s get on with it then," Kranos bellowed. "Young men take your places for the arm wrestling competition. To the victor, another olive branch."

"Show vs. Tell" Blogfest Entry

Thank you for Misty Dawn Waters over at "Writer's Block. Oh Wait... I mean Blog." for hosting this fabulous "Show vs. Tell" Blogfest. The ability to "show" and not "tell" in your story is so important. I actually did an earlier post on this subject (see it here).

In this Blogfest, we were charged with choosing one of the pictures given in her prompt and writing two scenes; one "telling" and one "showing." So below you'll find the picture I chose and my entries. I tried to write the exact same scene with the exact same feel. The first selection is "telling." The second is "showing." Hopefully I've done a good job of illustrating the difference.

Telling:

I walked to the crown of the bridge, my opaque wings extended in the twilight. I waited for my dark angel to come. To rescue me from the restrictive confines of heaven. I felt nervous. After all, I'd risked all to meet him. Then he appeared. His wings flapped menacingly as he descended through the darkened sky to meet me. Wind kicked up my clothes and silvery hair a bit. The look in his eyes made me feel a bit uncomfortable. His feet came to rest just above mine. Close enough to touch the tips of my snow white stilettos.
His eyes looked through me. I felt scared but excited at the same time. He extended his arms, fingers stretching, palms open. I walked into his arms and immediately felt his love. At first, it hurt. But the pain eventually subsided. I returned his embrace, dropping my head to his muscular shoulder. A tear escaped my eye. But, I knew I was safe. I knew I was home.

Showing:

My legs trembled as I inched closer to the crown of the bridge, my opaque wings extended in the twilight. I treaded with trepidation, unsure of my fate. Anxious energy prickled my skin, every nerve ending ignited. I waited nearly long enough to curse my folly in coming, risking everything for a chance at love. A love I wasn't supposed to feel. A love I wasn't supposed to know. Uncertainty gripped my soul, and I began to turn. Then I saw him.
He descended through the darkened sky, filling my vision. His eyes glowed with an unholy, insistent hunger. I knew what he wanted. And I was ready to concede it. His wings flapped menacingly. Short bursts of air swirled off his wings, lifting my clothes, tussling my silvery hair. The closer he drew, warmth curled through me, radiating in concentric circles. He extended his arms, fingers stretching, palms open and his  aura engulfed me. I slipped my arms around him, grabbing the muscular ridges in his back just below his wings. A striking pain sliced through me as his aura consumed mine. I arched my back, inhaling sharply.
Dropping my head to his shoulder, I melted into him. An immediate sense of serenity permeated my skin. Serenity and safety. I exhaled slowly, knowing I'd made the right decision. A tear bubbled at the corner of my eye, and then slowly caressed my cheek.

***
Hope you enjoyed my entry. Please click through the blogfest link above to visit the rest of the entries.

Tuesday Tidbits: "Don't Talk Me To Death! Whatchu Got?"-- Showing vs. Telling

As writers, we've all heard the mantra "Show. Don't Tell." And what that means is to allow the reader to experience the character  through dialogue, actions and behaviors, emotions, thoughts, and senses instead of having the author "tell" how the character is feeling, thinking, acting.

Janet Evanovich has been quoted as saying this on the subject:
"Instead of stating a situation flat out, you want to let the reader discover what you're trying to say by watching a character in action and by listening to his dialogue. Showing brings your characters to life."

I think it's fair to think of "Show. Don't Tell" in terms of a job interview. In a job interview, unless it is on site and you're given specific situations to "show" what you can do, the interviewee is typically sitting across from the interviewer... "telling" what he or she can do.

Even better, think of a high school courtyard, two guys shoulder to shoulder, walking in circles. What are they doing? Mouthing off... "I'm gonna do this!" "I'm gonna do that!" I Hated (yes, that's a capital H) this preamble. I always wanted to yell out... "Don't Talk Me To Death! Whatchu Got? I'm gonna be late to class watching you fools!"

Now, as an author, I could write this scene and "tell" you how angry the guys were. Or how embarrassed Guy A was that Guy B kissed his girl. Or how nervous Guy B was that Guy A was a foot taller than his foe and twice as wide.

Or...

I could describe the biting embarrassment that stung Guy A's eyes every time he glanced at his soon to be ex-girlfriend. How his fists clenched tighter with every abrasive brush of his foes shoulder. How sweat pooled in his tightened palms. How his muscles flinched with each step. How he growled every profane word he could think of. And, how sweat beaded on Guy B's forehead, running into his eyes. How tiny quakes of uncertainty rippled through his body as he silently considered how many pieces his body would be ripped into. But, how he stood up to Guy A because no body else would. And, how the girl's love strengthened his own resolve, because after all she didn't love Guy A anymore. And, how he felt the girl's gaze at his back, powering him into certain massacre, yet for the best cause of all... her hand.

Showing, not telling is one of the best tools a writer can have in their toolbox. And I am happy to say that I am participating in a "Show vs. Tell" Blogfest over at

 

Please join her blogfest and come back on the 15th through the 17th to read my entry.

Never Ending Scene Blogfest Entry

Thank you to Brenda Drake for hosting this blogfest. Please visit her page to get a list of the other entries. We were all charged with writing a scene with a cliffhanger of sorts. A scene that you would rather stab your eye out then stop reading. Hopefully my scene has done that.

My selection is from a short story in which I re-wrote a popular fairytale. I wrote it under a pen name because the entire work as pretty *romantic* we'll say. Again, hopefully the selection will leave you... hungry for more.

***

     “Thanks for the concern,” she casts a sarcastic glance up toward her strapping savior. “But, maybe I want a little danger in my life.”

     Scarlet pulls her hood down, allowing a wider range for her peripheral vision, and then sets off again. After several steps, her cloak sweeps up and her fiery tresses rustle as a sudden gust whips through the trees. Wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she strides on with purpose. Determined. Her feet crunch the goldenrod, crimson, and rusty sienna bed beneath her slippered feet, a rhythmic cadence pacing the cricket’s delightful chorus as she travels deeper into the darkness.

     Her eyes adjust to the unlit path, treetops shunning the moon’s attempts to light Scarlet’s journey. A sharp whistle sails past her ears. Tickling. Unnerving.

     A howl pierces the night’s crisp air, ripping through Scarlet’s consciousness. Faint footfalls gnaw at her soul. Beginning as a well-spaced, monotonous drone, the rate of them increases the faster Scarlet’s own feet move.

     Suddenly, they stop. Everything stops. Eerie silence cocoons her. Deafening. She looks cautiously. Nerves fraying. C’mon, girl! Get a grip!

     She steps forward again, feeling eyes on her skin. Their heat primal… inhuman. Her pale skin prickles beneath her cloak, goose bumps rising, hair standing on her neck. She rubs her arms as chills thread through her arteries, icing her blood. Her eyes dart from side to side. Searching. Combing the spaces between cold shafts of moonlight suddenly permitted to stream through the dense canopy of treetops.

     From the darkness appears a single pair of foreign eyes. Glowing. Sinister. A low growl reverbs. Scarlet’s heart rises into her throat, pulse racing madly as a huge, bristly wolf prowls from the abyss onto the path, blocking her advance.

     Snarling. Hissing, it speaks, “Grrrl, it’s a bit late for dinner. Evening snack, are you?”

     Scarlet stares into the teeth of the beast, into the heat of the slivered, lupine eyes, unable to break its gaze. Captive. She curses her folly in not taking the roundabout way. Her red lips purse tightly. She grips her basket tighter, pale, boney knuckles protruding to sharp points.

     “Did you not hear me, grrrl?” the wolf snarls. “Did no one warn you of me? Surely they must’ve.”

     “Your speech is rather proper for a w-w-wolf.”

     “The better to ease your fears, my dear, and lower your defenses…”

     Scarlet’s heart hammers in her chest. Her pulse drums in her ears. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her free hand twitches as she searches desperately for a witty remark to divert the wolf’s mind from devouring her.

     “What’s in the basket?” The wolf snarls, raising his eyebrows, drawing closer. “You smell, I mean, it smells… delicious.”