A little bit ago, I participated in A Novel Idea’s prompt for story blurbs. It was a lot of fun and I got some great responses (shout out to my Tumblr folk and brambleberrycottage for chiming in!), so I’m doing it again: this time, with excerpts!
Here’s the Novel Idea prompt for this week:
This week, share a favorite quote from your novel: whether it’s one sentence long, a paragraph, or even a whole chapter. It can be from your current novel or one that you’re finished with. Writing can be filled with self-doubt, but this week, take the time to show off your hard work.
Like last time, I’ve included four responses to the prompt from my four most-active works-in-progress. And I made them graphics again because why not! Enjoy!
My fingers tremble, but for once it’s not the hunger or the sadness that’s gnawing my insides. It’s a painful warmth. Hope. – The Eleventh Trade
Melle’s father fell silent. Beyond the palace walls, the clatter of carts and shouts of vendors grew louder as the city woke. Everything was unreal, the scenes of a life that would go on whether or not her father lived, whether or not this was the last time he would tell her the story. Unbearable was not the word for the hollowness in Melle’s chest. She could bear it. She could feel it and still she breathed, still her heart beat. And that was worse.
While he began to pour [the tea], she studied him on the sly. If she ever made a pigment for his eye color, she would mix black made from vine twigs with a touch of gold powder. That way his eyes on the page would flash, as they did now—dark and then, when he looked up and the light caught in them, bright and shining. Illuminated. – Illuminate
The birds round me fall silent and air sharpens with evergreen scent. I drop the fletching, my hand already to my quiver when I turn. But it’s not another stranger come to shoot at me. It’s the child. The child from the tree. “Wheest!” I blurt, startled. No one sneaks up on me like this. Even the assassins gave themselves away by creaking in the tree boughs. “What are you doing here, little one?” She smiles, mouth full of sharp teeth, and steps from the tree shade onto the trail. Pointed ears stick out of wild black hair, and her skin gleams in the light—like gold brushed over with soil. “I smelled the blood,” she says, “and I came.” – Popinjay
I’m curious – which blurb intrigues you most?
Want to join in? Check out Sky’s original post.
