So, for the month of October I am going to try something crazy ambitious… and a little bit scary. Those of you reading who are into skydiving or base jumping may want to roll your eyes now because you’re not going to think this is scary. I can guarantee it is for me though. I’ve decided to join up with The Nester and do a 31 day challenge. The challenge is to blog, once a day, for 31 days. I think I may be crazy, but I keep saying to myself how hard can it be…
Since I keep saying this to myself, I guess I decided to up the ante and make it also scary. I’ve decided that for the next 31 days I will post a paragraph (or so) of my recently ‘finished’ novel and on occasion a tip that made writing easier or more fun for me. It’s not published (but I hope it will be someday), and it may change up a bit. So why is this so scary? I’ve been really shocked to learn how vulnerable writing a book can make you feel. As a writer we pour so much into our books. We may not be writing an autobiography on ourselves but there is a lot of our own dreams, thoughts, ideals and heart in a book. If you don’t write with heart, I don’t think you can write a book that will touch anyone.
“Writing fiction is like writing a autobiography, except that the reader assumes that the characters emotions are their own.”
31 days of sneak peeks from my own book… my own heart… is scary. If you are reading this, then I didn’t chicken out. I am hoping that you will be kind as you read… or even excited as you see a glimpse into this book I’ve put a lot into. I’ll link each day to this post so they are easy to find!
Here we go. Here’s a little introduction to my heroine, Kate.
The passion in the crowd was contagious. They were talking about war, and they loved it. Many of those around her were bloodthirsty. Even when they weren’t off to war, they fought amongst themselves. They were continuously recruiting for more fighters due to the fights that always broke out. There were families, hers and a few others, that knew what it meant to keep tradition alive though. Her grandparents and their grandparents before had been fighting this war. They would not give into baser instincts to fight amongst themselves but that didn’t mean they were not fought with. She had learnt from a young age that it was better to be armed and prepared to fight than to go about in blissful ignorance. Her family status did not mean she was exempt from the bloodthirsty crowd. Several scars marked her forearms and a scar on her cheek came from younger years when she wasn’t as cautious as she should have been. A hand was placed on her shoulder and she looked into the eyes of her father, Tyson Bennett.