Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene Eighteen

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Eighteen

Hael P.O.V.

First, a prick gets an invitation to crash my date and then I get reminded that I wasn’t among the living. At least, not on all counts.

“Red dressing,” was thought out loud as I went over what had happened so far.

She bobbed her head with her fork around coated in that very thing and I stared at her silverware.

“Do we need to go?” she asked from her unnaturally still posture.

No breathe escaped. There was no swallowing in that frozen moment. The absence of humanity struck like I was already a victim. Did I run? She had admitted what she was from the get go and I had not hesitated like this then so why should I now? I wasn’t the only human here. My choices were to either excuse myself with a plan for her to get home or stay and see if I was one of the courses that was planned for the evening. Was there another option?

“How do you see this playing out, Xylia?”

Calmly having laid salad fork on the china, “I may have taken away some of your options but I can tell you right now that you have every right to leave if that is what you choose to do. There will be no fall out and we never have to see each other again.”

My gaze speared into hers and I saw it, a flicker of fear. She didn’t want me to leave her here.

“I’m free to go at any time?”

“Yes. You have my word.”

“The word of a beautiful stranger,” I reminded her.

“True. It’s your move.”

Hands in her lap, shoulders stiff with the dejection she sensed was to come. Then she jumped.

“Why the serious faces?”

Neither of us had noticed the arrival of Christianna. Xylia’s eyes still held mine, waiting.

“Everything is fine.” I stated flatly and a slip of life released the visible tension in her graceful shoulders.

A waiter appeared just as Brian pushed Christianna up to the table. She stated what salads they would like and Brian seemed at ease with the control she had taken. I flicked my gaze over him to see if he was a human or a vampire and unless he was faking it, he was like me. Could they act like us and be convincing? I bet it was possible.

 I assumed the salad was good but I hadn’t tasted a bit of what I had chewed up. There was no way I was turning tail when nothing had happened for me to act like a coward. This was manageable.

When the second course was brought out, I worried for a few seconds of being fed raw T-bones on delicate plates but was actually pleased to see steak tartar and glazed duck for our selections. Nothing was asked of us as our same waiter passed around the correct meat for each person.

Christianna murmured over her steak but I wasn’t about to watch the women eat anything that was bleeding. Yup, there were levels to my sanity. If we’d actually been a real couple then maybe I’d be able to see it differently but not this soon. To hell with it. I was going to use the escape offered if things went sideways.

After that course was cleared away, cheesecake with a red sauce and chocolate truffles were passed out. I refused to ask if it was raspberry because I didn’t want to hear the truth. One piece at a time.

It was wonderful tasting the richness of the truffle after the last gulp of wine took the chalky taste of the orange glazed duck away. Whiskey would have been more bracing in my coffee then the thick cream we had been given. I’d nodded along with the conversation but I hadn’t had anything to offer since it was primarily about their work. Somehow I’d picked up that both women had upper level positions in the company.

“Excuse us,” Xylia said as she laid her napkin on her chair before following Christianna out.

“You’re new to the scene. I can tell,” Brian said after the ladies were clear of us.

“So you want me to know that you’re familiar with this particular crowd?”

Brian chuckled, “Absolutely.”

“Hmm,” was my response.

He drank his coffee like it was high tea at an English castle but I swallowed the last of mine while my mood sunk lower.

“Being a caveman isn’t going to gain you any favors with this assortment of people.”

“Meaning?”

I knew he was trying to goad me but I wasn’t about to take the bait so quickly.

“These individuals are either animals or upper crust and you don’t fall into either of those categories. Did you hit on her so you’d get a wild ride and then have stories to tell when you’re drunk and alone?”

Acting bored, I made myself glance around the room that was probably half full of blood sipping beings that were capable of just about anything. That included my date. Was she in the restroom getting meat out of her teeth before repairing her lipstick? I shifted in my seat to hide the shudder that rode up my back.

“More coffee, sir?”

“No but I think that I’ll get myself a drink before the bar closes.” I smiled at the man who cleared the table and I left without a word to my unfortunate companion.

This time I got the two fingers of scotch since he already had a bottle ready. Half of that had disappeared when Brian came up behind me to request a glass of red wine. Anything red was not being ordered by me tonight. No telling what was in it.

I kept my back to him as I turned to look over the people that had moved around from their tables to join in on small talk with each other. 

“Liquid courage? Do you need that to be with a dame like her?”

I was too close to telling him where to stick his comments when Xylia and Christianna waltzed by our corner as they headed to our table. Most male eyes ate up the picture they made together and I zeroed in on the legs that peeked out from the slit in Xylia’s gown. I’d toss this whole experience aside if I could run my tongue over those curves.

“Yes, she’s stunning.”

“You can have your blonde but I prefer brunettes with smoky eyes,” I said after tossing back the remnants of my drink.

“Who said I was talking about Christianna?” The ass pushed by as he left me with his words and the urge to punch him in his smug face.

***

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 7

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Seven

Long legs were encased in straight leg jeans and dusty maroon colored Henley that was stretched over an impressive chest. His hair was a wavy mass of caramel tinged brown as the curls moved over his broad shoulders. He looked like a German model for sports cars or specialty brewed beer. A strong jaw with a couple days’ stubble attracted my attention next as I worked my way up to his intensely dark eyes.

We stepped in and out of each other’s way for a minute then both laughed at our antics.

“Apparently, we’re meant to dance, you and I.”

How more perfect could he have said it?

“It would seem so, my name is Xylia Natouri,” I offered my hand to him.

His big one captured mine in more of a grasp then of the handshake I had intended.

“Hael, Hael Braunner. It’s interesting meeting you.” He quipped back.

“Interesting?”

Where was he headed with that line?

“Since it wasn’t a pleasure being knocked, it was certainly interesting? Too many people say to have a nice day or ask how someone is doing but do they really mean it.”

“Rhetorical phrases and simply niceties, are in everyone’s day, I would gather,” I answered. He still had my hand and the warmth of it seemed to spread up my arm. What would it be like for him to hold me with those muscular arms? I suddenly wanted to know.

“But if you want your words to be meaningful then replace them with something more fitting to each individual scenario.”

Curious. Flipping through his aura, I picked up only positive vibes and colors ranging from ease to stability in himself. This made me feel more at ease after the last guy.

“You’ve given me something to consider. I appreciate that.”

I was pondering all sorts of things right now and one of them was to see if his butt was as impressive as the rest of him.

“Always happy to help a lovely lady. Shopping for a male friend?”

Looking down to where he nodded, I saw the bagged shirt still in my grasp. Having completely forgotten that I hadn’t put it back, I glanced at the rich color and decided the rich eggplant color would look great with my skin.

“No, I’m here for myself.”

“Ah, a woman in a man’s shirt is a powerful thing.” He eyed the shirt, then me.

“You know what’s even better?”

“What would that be?” His curiosity was piqued.

“A woman just as powerful out of that man’s shirt.”

“Indeed.” He was quiet for a moment. “You do realize that I’m allowed very few decent comments are that line, right?”

He hadn’t gone for the easy pickup line after that and I added points for him not being sleazy.

“Xylia, are you window shopping or planning for a trip?”

What if I said, I’ve come to compel you, let me see your rear?

Best not. Yet.

“That must mean an event coming up and you have nothing to wear.”

“You’re astute for a man. Most wouldn’t even broach that subject.”

“My man card is secure. I’m here because a nail went into my shoe and they have to be replaced before it rains again. The mall is less uncomfortable than squishy socks.”

“Your poor sole,” I joked.

“I’m lucky the nail was short or I wouldn’t have been able to dance with you at all.”

“Care to help me choose something?” He asked bashfully.

“You want my help?”

“Sure, unless you have something better to do. If so, I’m sorry for holding you up.”

The honest enjoyment in his gaze had me answering, “Actually, I’ve got some time to spare. Take me to your shoes, dear cobbler.”

“This way.” He pointed out the sign above us that showed the way to the shoe department.

As I thought, his glutes were mighty maximus.

The mens’ shoe department was in a smaller corner and I didn’t even bother to look at the people we were passing as I focused on the hunky male specimen in front of me. We perused the shelves and found three pairs for him to try on. All were loafers in rich shades of brown but comfort was what he was searching for. The first pair caused a cute moment as we both reached for the exact pair at the same time. Our fingers almost locked around the display pair.

“This is the one I want to take home. They’re lovely to stare at and feel like they were made for me.”

“Be still my beating heart, a man who appreciates shoes,” I joked.

“Your mistake is thinking I was truly talking about the loafers.” He wagged his eyebrows as me as he impersonated Groucho Marx.

“You have me there,” I laughed.

“Do I?”

“Good question.”

“I’ll be honest and say that I’m trying not to overthink this. So forgive my awkward slips of the tongue.”

“So far, there’s nothing to forgive. I find your efforts refreshing.”

“Then maybe I should apologize for men who use only clichés and ill-timed punchlines when vying for your attention.”

“That apology is accepted.”

He gave a fake bow after giving the clerk his shoes to ring up and I realized my time was running out. The mall would be closing soon and I still had to feed. Looking around, I saw my opportunity.

“Let’s take the elevator downstairs and see what they have in housewares.”

“What do you need down there?” He looked lost for a moment.

I floundered for something that would get him in the secluded walls of the elevator.

“Toasters. I have a thing about toasted buns.”

Putting my hand in the crook of his arm, I directed him to the elevator while no one was standing by.

“After you.” He waved me before him.

By the time he got in, my gaze started. My right hand laid briefly on his left as it held his shopping bag.

“Look at me, Hael.”

He stared into my eyes and didn’t move as I closed the door to outsiders.

“Listen to my voice and hear my wishes. I need a fake boyfriend for an event and I’ve chosen you. You’ll do as I ask and my friends and coworkers will never be the wiser. I won’t hurt you and you’ll have a wonderful time. As a matter of fact, you won’t even remember this discussion when we part ways in the next two weeks. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Xylia. It’ll be my honor to escort you.”

Leaving the compulsion within him, the doors opened to the first floor where we looked at crockpots, iron skillets, and toaster ovens.

But by the time I purchased the purple shirt I’d been carrying for an hour, the guilt laid on my conscience worse than the skillet would have landed on my head. What the hell had I done?

***

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 6

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene 6

Here’s hoping the mall would be better. Wait, did I just say that? I’m so not a teen heading for the perfect Twilight movie premier outfit. This is a trip by a grown woman window shopping for a man who’s probably better off with a store mannequin. But I took what was left of her coffee and headed to the land of kiosks and hormone driven wallets.

I hid at the back of the mall at dusk, by the copse of trees, was the safest place to park on an overcast day in Atlanta. As I left my heavily tinted SUV there, my equally tinted sunglasses went with me. I entered the largest department store at this mall put me in the men’s department--the best location for men to shop and disappear before they got anywhere near the throb of humanity. Men had it easy. Most of us women had to strut through cosmetics and perfumes to get to the lingerie section. By then you carried the ambiance of a street walker coming in for fishnets and garter belts.

Standing in the middle of the aisle between business and casual, I fought for which to “shop” through first. Gentlemen in suits and ties were elegant and Bond-like but most were posturing peacocks. Men in casual attire were more my style, though I didn’t exactly get sweaty over a cowboy in a Stetson ad. My likes lay in the middle and I was being stared at while I stood flipping between styles.

There were a few men eyeing me over racks, but I pretended to be looking at the rainbow of wrinkle free dress shirts in front of me. Having no idea what a size fifteen was in these things, I flipped through to make it appear like I knew what I was doing.

“Looking for a particular size or color?” asked a voice behind me. The voice belonged to a tall brunette standing just outside my personal space.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it?” My eyes sized him up and this was worth a moment of my time.

“Yes, you’re in the way but no, I don’t happen to mind.” He flashed a smile.

It couldn’t be this easy. No way.

“I can get out of your way, then?” I swiveled but his words stopped me.

 “Why, when I have an excuse to reach around you like this?” His left arm snaked out and grabbed a light blue shirt from the metal rack by my face. Then he did the same with his right hand on my other side. “Or this.”

The second hand held a sage green that matched the tight polo shirt he currently had on over strategically ripped jeans.

“Is that what you came for?” I asked as I made great eye contact with him, daring him onward..

He looked at both and then at me. “Oh darn, wrong sizes.”

He slipped them back in their appropriate slots simultaneously, and reached further down. He was positioned at my waist with both hands and came back slowly with a burgundy and a bright red.

I tilted me head over my shoulder to take in the selection again.

“Those aren’t the same colors. What shades do you need?”

“Oh, you’re right. These would look better on you.”

He copied the previous maneuver then slipped his hands to each side of my hips to the lower rack. This had him leaning far enough into me that we were staring into each other’s eyes. This was prime for a kiss, a bite, or compulsion but I waited to see what the suave man with light brown eyes and perfect teeth would do as his next trick.

“Hmmm, black and classic white. You could never go wrong there. Right, my dear?”

Hovering there, in my face. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. No racing. Shouldn’t the beat be more up tempo if I was exciting him? This wasn’t right. Most guys like this were usually—

“Gary, what the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. “I send you in here for a shirt for the wedding and you try to pick up some hoochie in the meantime.”

“White or black, Darla dear?” He whipped, with inhuman speed, to face the banshee coming at him.

“Excuse me?” She stopped within two steps of us.

I wanted to back up but my escape would have taken the rack with it.

“This lady was just helping me with what shirt, dearest. She thought the black but I told her you always liked me in white as it was more retro to set off your classic clothing style.”

He put on puppy dog eyes for me to go along with this and I was sorely tempted to tell him he was the one trying to make a sale. But I didn’t want ...  why does she go along with it? Tell us. Especially after the “older lady” bit.

“Quite true. In fact, I almost tipped the display over and he had to reach for me. He’s quite a man. You’re a lucky lady.”

Darla’s pinched face looked like she was deciding whether to buy this line. She had her hands full with this one and I wasn’t sure who I felt sorry for more.

“Did you get the right size, sir?”

He had to look at it twice to make sure. “Yes, indeed. Thanks and be careful.”

She humphed at me, tucked her arm in his, then sashayed her man out of the department, all the while complaining about her fluffy, pink, bridesmaid’s dress.

And to think I imagined it would be easy. Nope, not that easy. Score one for the Old Cat Lady and zip for the Vampire Liar.

So long as I was at the mall anyway, I decided to find a dress for the party and headed to the women’s section. Work had been hellish the last few months and I hadn’t had time to shop anything other than online sales.

I took the last sip of my now room temperature frap, and turned for the waste basket. My arm hit a solid wall and bounced. Dropping the cup like a surprised mortal would, I looked up to see what folly I had just made in public. He was no folly. He was hot  with his boy next door charm mixed with romance cover model sex appeal. And I had just about clotheslined him in the juniors department.

“I’m so sorry.” Thank heavens it had been empty.

“No problem, I should have been looking where I was going.”

We both bent to get it and our eyes met. His heart cranked up. Hello hawtness, my name is Damsel and I’m in distress. Can you come save me?

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Writing Tools I got from library books - Jumping the small writing blocks

As I'm trying to absorb learning tools for my craft, I've been checking out books at my local library and I'd like to share some of it with you. Some of these are more in line with someone writing essays and reports but a few tidbits run along the lines of writing novels.

These are from "Writing with Power - Techniques for Mastering the Writing Process" by Peter Elbow.

If you are in a slump are hitting a wall, then I believe that this could get you through that:

Open Ended Writing - Write for fifteen to twenty minutes without stopping. Start with whatever comes first to mind or perhaps with some particular topic you've been wanting to write about. But make sure to let your writing go wherever it wants to go.
Pause to find the center or focus in what you wrote then summarize it into one sentence.
Use that focusing sentence and expand on it. When you're done, go back and cut what isn't crucial to the main point of focus.
Keep this up until you have a larger picture of what you're accomplishing (even if you have to jot down note) and go between spurt of writing to focusing/cutting and then back again.

For those who have a scene or idea and need help to grow it, then try this:

Loop Writing - As fast as you can, type out all you can see about your scene/idea. Don't tie yourself down with getting out any details, no matter how small they may be. Such as, if your character is waking in a park, what smells/sounds/feelings would go along with this?
Write write the issues with what you've already typed. Like, why is the character there and why would he be picking up these feelings?
Then step into the shoes of that character and jot down an instant/raw version f what they are experiencing.
At this point you can add any dialogue that comes out of you character while you're feeling what he is feeling. Ask yourself what you would do if you were that person.
Get a description out that mirrors those feelings and settings.
If you have a small piece of back story to add, then see it the story allows it here. Is it a full scene and can you feel what the reader should be feeling?
Go back and cut out anything that is not immediately relevant to that picture. Like, too much back story or too many details about the scenery that can distract the reader from your main opening image.
Then broaden you image with any needed details that will push you to the next scene. (realizations by the characters, moving them forward).
Rinse and repeat :-)

In the past, I saw that I was using the Loop Technique but am learning the Open Ending  Technique is very usual in my current WIP. So far, I've been using the visuals to jump start a scene that may have stalled in my brain. See if any of this helps you and I'll keep looking for more info to help all of us.

)))Corset Hugs((( and Happy Writing

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer 

Hooking Your Reader, five things to consider

Let's talk about hooking :-). Don't you want to grab your reader in the first line as they sort through novels at the book store? Can you start with a line so enticing that they have to see if the rest is like the first line in the book? I'm aiming for that goal.

1. Go straight to the action or a crucial scene that will move the story into a page turner. 

         EX: "I screamed bloody murder when I saw that a car was heading into the lobby of my downtown office." This is better than starting with her coming down the stairs to a car that has already come through the glass entrance.

         

2. Don't use too much flowery language or words that have to be researched to get the point.

          EX:  Paul West's words, "a certain amount of sass to speak up for prose that's rich, succulent and full of novelty." 

          What would be your first thought when you opened up a book and saw this as the opening line? Me? I'd put it down and go for something else.

3. Some words are attention grabbing yet can completely throw the reader for a loop.

         EX: "His mother@*% girlfriend *itch slapped me across my f^&))( mouth."

          Yes, I was kind and yes, I have seen things like this. I was okay with it as the book was from someone that I knew wrote in that manner so I wasn't as offended as I would have been from someone else. I'm great with people using some words, if the scene calls for it, but just make sure of how you handle this kind of opening.

4. Jokes can be a great opener, depending on the humor used and if it's relevant to the story line.

          EX: "So we're friends now, when do the benefits kick in?" This would be great for a romantic comedy but not if you're doing a regency or an inspirational.

5. Go for a power play and use strong words. 

          EX: "The ground shook under my feet and I fought not to fall down the flight of brick steps as the out of control car went barreling through the glass of the front lobby." Sounds better than: I was on the third step when a sedan came through the glass walls of the lobby and had me grabbing the rail for support.

I hope this helps.

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Writing Tip - Proofreading

I've been looking up writing tips and have found a wonderous load of them at Daily Writing Tips. I've picked some tidbits and wanted to share them, plus my take on them.

7 Proofreading Steps

By Mark Nichol

1. Use a Checklist

Create a list of important things to check for, such as problem areas like agreement of nouns and verbs and of pronouns and antecedents, and number style.

ME - I do this in my track changes at the beginning of every chapter or in a separate comment if I'm using Google Drive. It's always after I read through it the first time and see if I need to add something important, or question part of the content. That way I can look back and remember all of my thoughts on each single chapter when cutting down on my less needed material.

2. Fact-Check
Double-check facts, figures, and proper names. If information remains to be inserted at the last minute, highlight the omission prominently so that no one forgets to do so.

ME - I typically do this in the rough draft outline that I make up when the story first starts to form. I ask myself what items will I need to look up in order to tell the story properly.

3. Spell-Check
Before proofreading a printout, spell-check the electronic version to find misspellings, as well as errors you or a colleague make frequently, such as omitting a closing parenthesis or quotation mark.

ME - I'm one of those people that have the spell check on at all times when I'm writing. It just feels like less work if I do it while I'm purging the rough draft from my brain.

4. Read Aloud
Reading text during the proof stage improves your chances of noticing errors, especially missing (“a summary the report follows”) or repeated (“a summary of the the report follows”) words.

ME - This works for me if I have a scene that just doesn't seem to sound realistic. Sometimes it's a love scene or just an argument between the sexes that I want another person to give me feedback on as if they were listening in on it happening in front of them.

5. Focus on One Line at a Time
When proofing print documents, use another piece of paper or a ruler to cover the text following the line you are proofreading, shifting the paper down as you go along. This technique helps you keep your place and discourages you from reading too quickly and missing subtle errors.

ME - I always read in order and then leave myself notes on what to check further into the story, like "make sure you used this car color in the next three chapters". I lose myself if I go out of context with any story. It's just how my brain works.

6. Attend to Format
Proofreading isn’t just about reviewing the text. Make sure that the document design adheres to established specifications. Check page numbering, column alignment, relative fonts, sizes, and other features of standard elements such as headlines, subheadings, captions, and footnotes. Inspect each type of feature within categories, such as looking at every headline, then every caption, and so on.

ME - I do this and then do it several more times as each time I submit something that particular house wants it sent in a very specific way. I even name the file, after it's sent, under the name of the house so I can see what I've sent and to which house. 

7. Proof Again
Once revisions have been made, proofread the document again with the same thoroughness, rather than simply spot-checking the changes. An insertion or deletion may have thrown off the line count, for example.

ME - Give it some time between read throughs or you may not catch something crucial to the story. I also ask my critique partner and beta readers to go back into it to see what we all may have missed. Better safe than sorry in my eyes.

Thank you: http://www.dailywritingtips.com/7-proofreading-steps/

I hope these were helpful. 

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

How I Deal with Writing a Synopsis

As a novel author, I usually write 50,000 - 90,000 words to each of the manuscripts that I create. It depends on the story line as to how long the story will be and I go with every twist and turn that my characters will give me. So, if I’m used to producing this many words, it’s mind boggling for a published or editor to ask me to summarize all of that into a two page synopsis. You want me to what?? Can you make War & Peace into a three page synopsis? So here’s how I deal with these little gems of hair pulling insanity. And remember that I’m more of a pantser than I am a plotter, so twist this any way that it will help you.

 Outline/Highlight - Yep, a pantser can outline things in a free flow thinking type of way. I jot down a few things that are the main point of each chapter and then go back to highlight the most crucial parts of that outline. These will be my items of interest that have to be on my synopsis.

Make sure that these points are things that will grab the attention of the publisher/editor/agent. You won’t need anything about secondary characters unless it’s crucial to the story line or the main characters developing.

No matter what anyone says, put the ending of your story in the synopsis. I know… Wench Lady, say what? Yes, if you’re going to pitch the story then the person interested in it needs to know how it ends. No one likes giving away all the juicy points once you’ve made the story one of your “children” but leaving it at a cliffhanger can piss off the person trying to see if you have what it takes. Most of the editors/agents/houses that I’ve spoken with are not going to call you just because you ended at a point where we don’t know what happens. It just leaves them wanting to toss it and go to the next candidate. You don’t want this to happen. (If there happen to be any of these professionals out there that like being left in the fictional lurch, please let me know who you are. :-))

If you are able to use this info, then try using the top items of your highlighted list to make an elevator pitch for your story. Run it down and reread it a few hundred times to see if it would stop the seller in their tracks. What can it hurt? Sometimes it can be the tiny little slip that makes your dressy manuscript shine. I did it and it seemed to go over well. Good luck :-)

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

First Week Snippets

Unedited Snippet from my first Gothic Romantic Suspense

***

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“Yes,” was all he said as I saw him swiftly glance at my eyes through the shaggy brown hair that brushed his broad shoulders. The look in his eyes was enough to make me gulp. Was he laughing at me or did he find me utterly stupid? Why did I care? This was getting more frustrating than I had thought and may not be worth the fuss of the next few days, especially if Mr. White hadn’t even made an appointment to see me once I was here.

“Well?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course it does.”

All he asked was, “Why?”

“Why? One, it’s the polite thing to do. Two, if we’re going to be in this house together for the next few days then I’d feel more comfortable if I knew the names of the people that were staying here. Three, is there a reason for you not to share your birth name?”

“Oh Christ,” was his reply.

“Excuse me?”

“That was the first thing that was said when I was born.”

I blinked at him as he finished winding the light gauze around my hand. I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Not even knowing you, I find that you’re exasperating. Are you normally like this?”

“No one usually tells me to my face,” as a light entered his eyes.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

I took my hand back and waltzed over to my bag. “I’m tired. Is there anything else that needs to be handled while we wait for Mr. White?”

“I can show you the grounds in the light of day tomorrow.”

I huffed with annoyance at his lack of conversation. Was I not a guest in this dusty old estate? Not one moment had I felt welcome here.

“Sir, are you ever going to answer one of my questions?”

As he went to silently leave the room, with his candle, “My name is Kenrick, Kenrick Giles.”

He shut the door and when he did, a breeze ran through the room. It was as if it had to follow in his footsteps. I hoped that I had imagined that.

***

Whatcha Think?

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Do you read what I'm seeing? Seeing v/s reading - A Writing Excercise

While painting the walls in my new place, I started listening to the audio books that were saved to my laptop. This was a great break from the radio stations that were annoying me and solved the problem that we had no internet for my Pandora stations. In doing this, I got a great idea today and it's the difference between hearing a scene instead of reading one.

Think about it. I'll even give you an example - Beetlejuice.

Remember the scenes where the Maitlands turn into their Scary Selves? You saw Adam bring his nose out to resemble a sub sandwich and Barbara popped her eyes onto her tongue, but could you write that? The music and sound effects go hand in hand with the visuals but how would you translate that onto a page? Would you be able to do it justice? 

 What about the scene where their skin turns into alabaster prunes? Yes, colors are a great way to handle this but is it enough? The sound of the aging process being multiplied has to come through with your choice of words.

Dancing to the tunes of the crazy beat during the dinner party? Can you write as if you are actually hearing the music in your own room? Does the choreography run over your fingers as you jot the moves down?

Is Lydia soaring by the broad shoulders of the ghost football players as the hat boxes play the drums? 

You get what I'm saying, right? As a writer, I need to be able to see, hear, and read the words that are on the page as if they are a fully pixelated movie inside of my head. It needs to pop like 3D and move like a two hour drama. How many of you are going to see what you can do with these scenes? Use it as an exercise and see if you can work some magic. 

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer