It’s been awhile since I’ve mentioned anything about my writerly doings. If I’m in the middle of a first draft I’m often skittish about sharing any details because those details frequently change. In the current WIP (work in progress) alone I’ve written 90 thousand words and deleted about 40 thousand, only to add another 30 thousand different words. Sometimes it takes awhile for the story to mesh with the idea I had in my head of what it should be, or sometimes the characters tell me the direction we’re going in is, frankly, sucky and there’s a much better one just over there behind that tree.

That said, I’m in the middle of revision #1 (which is really still the rough draft, version 2) and things are beginning to gel. The story has coalesced around me and now I just need to be sure I nail down the details from my head to the page. The WIP? A continuation of Stronger Than Magic. Yes, Tarian’s journey continues, and boy does it ever present challenges for her. If you haven’t read Stronger Than Magic, what follows below is a tiny bit of a spoiler. If you have, then here is a tease at what Tarian is facing:

Tarian Xannon lay curled in a fetal position on her bed and clutched her stomach as another jolt of pain rocketed through her. She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. This invasion from the inside couldn’t be over soon enough as far as she was concerned. She’d never felt so helpless and so out of control of her body. She was only five months along. Surely it wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Not this fast.

She took several deep breaths until the pain died away, then snuggled further into the pillows. The covers had long since been kicked to the floor, since the Pacific ocean breeze did nothing to cool her internal temperature. She felt hot all the time, as if burning from the inside out. 

Deep. Breath. Look at the ceiling. Focus on the happy, joyful, peaceful scene painted there.

When she was a child, that mural had been her friend, her escape whenever things were annoying or hurtful, and it reassured her every night that things would be better in the morning. If she was angry, she found comfort in the flowing leafy tendrils. If she was sad, the happy little fairies cheered her up. Now that she was with child, instead of being one, surely the mural would take pity on her uncomfortable, out of sorts mood. At the very least it should take her mind off the kicking, squirming, soccer match that was going on inside her stomach.  

It didn’t work at all. Her eyes watered as another jolt wracked her body.

The ceiling she sought comfort in simply stared back and mocked her. Happy green leaves twined around trees and grass, with the hint of a pond peeking through and tiny, blinking eyes which glowed when the lights were low. They almost looked like stars. She’d spent hours forming patterns out of them, but today all she could think of was curse words. 

Another kick brought her right up off the pillows. She clutched her stomach and winced. “Dammit, kid, knock it off.” Now she was talking to an empty room. Perfect.

Nobody had mentioned that kicks from a tiny baby would hurt this much. She’d been told it would feel like little flutters. Butterfly kisses, her sister had told her.

“Butterfly kisses my ass,” Tarian muttered. 


I hope you enjoyed this little sneak peak! In the coming weeks I hope to share more, as well as a title and cover reveal during which I’ll be asking for your opinions and possibly putting it up for vote. Stay tuned!