So, I Finished My NaNoNovel

Wow. Another novel done.

And I wrote it in less than a month.

HBD Anna! #frozenfever
Time for cake, now?


43,861 words. 49 chapters. No definite title.

So… snippets?

Kellen glanced at his aunt. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. It was gold with a gold dragon on it that had ruby eyes. Ashleigh had seen it before; it was the ring he got from his father because he was the prince and the heir to the throne. Kellen nervously glanced at his aunt again then took Ashleigh’s hand and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. The ring was really too big for her.

“I’m going to marry you,” Kellen said. “I promise on this ring and on my kingdom.”

“I promise, too.” Ashleigh looked around for something she could give Kellen. All she could find was a little toad and some daisies in the grass. She picked up the toad and set it in Kellen’s hands. “I promise on this toad.”

Kellen laughed and Levosia rolled her eyes. “He shall hold a place of honor in my court forever. Speak, toad! What have you to say on the matter?”

Kellen’s magic made the toad speak. “First of all,” the toad said, “I am a female toad by the name of Lady Priscilla Joan Everton. Second of all, I do not appreciate oaths being made on me without permission! Third, why am I even speaking to you? Who are you who possesses such great magic that can make me speak to a lowly…”

Kellen waved his fingers a bit and the toad stopped talking. It looked indignantly at Kellen before hopping out of his hand and away.

            “There goes Ashleigh’s promise,” Levosia sniffed.


“Do you want me to drive?” she asked. “So you can get that to stop…” She gestured at her nose.

Luke shook his head. Like he always did every time. He was never going to let her drive this stupid old pickup truck.

It was probably for the better. She hadn’t had much practice driving stick shift.

But like always, Luke invited her to put her hand on the shift and he’d put his on top of it as he changed gears. They always drove home like that.


“Princess Ashleigh is my betrothed,” Kellen said.

Luke shut his mouth. Then opened it again. He glanced at Ash then looked back at Kellen. “And Ash is my girlfriend.”

Kellen took a step back. “How dare you imply that Princess Ashleigh would be unfaithful? That is a smudge on her honor, sir, and I will not stand for it!” His hand moved to his sword.

“I’m not the one implying that she’s engaged!” Luke raised his pistol. “I’m also not the one prancing around in tights!”


Kellen cleared his throat. “I’m Prince Kellen. And these are my betrothed Princess Ashleigh, and her… servants? Friends?”

“Suitors.” Luke said under his breath.

Claudius raised an eyebrow. “She’s supposed to marry you and yet she has all these other…”

“I’m not,” Zac said. “I’m just a friend. We talk about books.”

Claudius looked at him for a second. “Of course you do. That’s everyone’s excuse.” Claudius turned to Kellen. “You do realize she’s not a fairy, right?”

“That’s why we came to see you, sir.” Kellen replied. “She has to become a fairy before we can get married and we need to know how she’s supposed to go about it.”

Claudius looked at Ash. Claudius had penetrating eyes. They seemed to look right into her soul. She tried not to be freaked out by the fact that he was staring so closely at her, so she focused on other things. His hair was starting to grey at the roots. He had a scar across one cheek that looked like something had clawed him on the face.

Okay, his gaze was starting to freak her out.

Suddenly, Claudius looked up. He looked from Luke to Zac to Ash and then to Kellen. “Just an observance, your Highness, but I don’t think this is the makings for a happy marriage.”


There was a long silence. Then Claudius stood up and walked to the front of his cell and started banging on the bars with his staff.

“What are you doing?” Zac asked after a few minutes.

Claudius turned to Zac and smiled. “This, my young pupil, is how you get out of a dungeon.”

Claudius started banging and sliding his staff across the bars. It was very loud and annoying but it only got worse when Claudius started singing.

“I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people and it goes like this: I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people and it goes like this: I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people and it goes like this: I know a song that…”

(Chapter break)

Much to Ash’s annoyance, Claudius kept singing and banging for hours. How his throat wasn’t sore or his voice even a little hoarse, she had no idea.

But it was also annoying the guards, which was rather amusing to watch. After two hours, one of them groaned and shouted, “Aren’t you done singing yet?”

Claudius stopped singing for a minute and smiled. “Oh good! You’ve come to your senses.”

The guard stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Claudius raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to let me out now.”

“No…” the guard said. “Why would you think I was letting you out?”

“Oh,” Claudius said. “Okay then. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” He cleared his throat and began singing again, “I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people and…”

The guard groaned loudly. “Why should I let you out if you’re just over there singing and being a bad influence to the other prisoners?”

Claudius shrugged. “I don’t see anyone else singing with me. Why shouldn’t I sing if you aren’t going to let me out? I mean, I might as well be cheerful about circumstances I can’t change, right? Because I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people, I know a song that aggravates people and it goes like this! I know a song that…”


My power flurries to the air and to the ground, my soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around...

Something for You

Hello, reader-peeps!

Sixth annual Peeps Show diorama contest - The Wizard of Oz
The Wonderful Peep of Oz


So, I’m editing, as you know. And sometimes when you edit, you have to get rid of stuff you really like.

They call this “killing your darlings” in the writing industry.

Well, I have a scene that I love but it must go.

So, I thought I would share it with you!


Isabella looked at the clock. She had half an hour until Nick was supposed to pick her up.

And she was nowhere close to ready. She had been sitting in her room, showered and in her bathrobe, for the past two hours under the pretense that she was getting ready. She had done her nails… and that was it. Her dress still hung in the closet door hook—a floor length, sleeveless ball gown. The bodice was grey, but covered entirely in glistening, silver sequins. The sequins continued down the gown, spreading out gradually over a two-layered black skirt until it almost appeared as if one were staring at a clear night sky. Isabella would wear stars.

Perfect for the angel Nick seemed to think she was.

The thought of Nick made Isabella smile and blush and feel like she was going to be sick all at once. She stopped pacing in front of her desk and flopped onto her bed. She wrung her hands. Ever callus and weird thing stood out. Fencing had done her hands in.

She stood up again and looked in her hand mirror. She had looked in it more in the last hour than she had in the last six months. A large pimple, angry and red, stood out on her cheek.

She walked over to the floor mirror, pulled out of the attic and dusted for her. She ran her hands down her sides… she hadn’t fenced in weeks and she was gaining weight. How could fencing ruin her hands but not fencing allow her weight to increase? It didn’t seem fair!

Why did she feel like this? She didn’t want to fuss about her appearance. She hadn’t cared in months!

There was a knock on her door. Before Isabella could tell whoever it was that they could not come in, Shamira stepped into the room. She took one look at Isabella. “Hmm… cutting it kind of close, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Isabella shrugged. “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“Nonsense! Oh gracious, it would seem I’m not a minute too soon. Come here in front of me and hold still.” Shamira reached into her purse and pulled out what looked like a wooden knitting needle.

“Is that…” Isabella began.

“Yes. I am your fairy godmother, after all.” Shamira looked thoughtful for a minute then started moving the magic wand a bit. “Isabella, I know you are scared. But listen to me. Not every boy seeks to court you only to dump you for seemingly no reason. And I know that what you went through with Claude was traumatic. But I think you need to relax a bit. Allow someone you like work his way into your heart. Because he is trying.”

Isabella was silent. Was Shamira’s claim that Nick was trying based on real fact or was it just an assumption? And even if Nick was trying, Claude had, too.

“Look in the mirror.” Shamira said.

Isabella started when she saw the girl staring back at her. She was wearing the dress, her hair was up with a few red curls hanging loose, and the pimple had disappeared. She forgot about her callused hands.

“Isabella!” her dad called. “Nick is here!”



Something for You

I’ve been typing up LASER.


And honestly, it’s been enjoyable. My story is improving even in the transition from page to screen. And that’s an awesome feeling.

And an even more awesome feeling is getting chapter by chapter feedback. I have an alpha who reads each chapter as I get it typed. And then she begs me for the next chapter. That helps me stay motivated. (Which is odd… I can’t write a first draft if I tell anyone about it, but I have trouble typing it up without a reader. Hmm…)

And I have discovered that having an alpha-alpha reader really does help me have momentum and type faster.

Now… she’s the only one who has been getting pieces of LASER (besides Mom, who has a printed copy but also has yet to give feedback). And since you have been hearing about LASER for months now and tolerating it…

Who wants snippets?


She couldn’t help the snorting giggle that erupted. “Riley, you can’t speak French and you’re taking Spanish.” Isabella said. “How is that going to help me?”

“Oh, not me!” Riley laughed. She looked around the auditorium and then pointed down two rows to a boy beside Stephen. “Him.”

Isabella squinted. “What does Nick Elliot have to do with my French grades?”

“He speaks French fluently, Isabella! And he just transferred into our apprentice group! It’s perfect! I’m sure he’d help you out!”

Isabella glanced at Nick again. He and her brother were laughing about something. Nick’s close-cropped hair—was it brown or blond?—his t-shirt instead of a school uniform—how was he going to find time to change clothes before school?—he didn’t seem like the sort of boy who could speak fluent French. He looked like an ordinary teenage boy, the kind that had never heard of Les Misérables, much less how to correctly pronounce it. Of course, Isabella couldn’t correctly pronounce it, either, but at least she knew what it was.


            “Red Riding Hood?”

The girl turned to Isabella. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Underneath her red cape, she was dressed entirely in black. Her nails were painted black and her eye makeup was black. Even her lipstick was black.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about… well, your story.” She hadn’t expected to be nervous. But it really was odd to go up to someone and ask if you could discuss her grandma being eaten by a wolf.


Isabella raised her pistol and fire again, this time hitting the bull’s-eye and keeping her balance. No one interfered, not even Mr. Carp. They were smart enough to know this was a challenge of pride.  Isabella turned to Nick. “Fire at will.”

Nick calmly lifted his pistol and aimed. “Lucky for Will, he isn’t here.” He pulled the trigger.


The infirmary took up about half of the very large basement. The labs took up another part of it and the final part was “The Kennel”. It had another, less terrifying name, but none of the apprentices really knew what it was. It was a place where dangerous creatures were kept. They were needed so that the lab could make serum and antidotes. The occupants of The Kennel were said to be insane or murderous. Isabella didn’t linger near The Kennel. No one in their right mind did.



"...I'm a high functioning sociopath. With your number." GIF


A Sneaky Peek

Shifting Sands is going quite well. A bit slow, but that’s half my fault and half the fact that I can’t type very quickly. I am working on remedying both problems. But I’m excited about the story and everything is going well…

Who wants snippets?

If you have any helpful criticism (though I don’t know how you possibly could without the rest of the context the snippet is in), feel free to leave it in the comments. Enjoy.


Sandstorms almost never came to Kathos.


“Are you okay? Let me help you up.” Claire squinted and looked up to see a someone wearing bright green. A hood covered most of his face and a pair of goggles protected his eyes. A Sand-Wizard and judging by the voice, a man. His hand was outstretched to her, waiting for her to grab it and pull up. Even though she had always been awed by these people and had wanted to see them in action, she hesitated before taking the Sand-Wizard’s hand. She stood up and gasped as a fresh spasm of pain burst in her ankle.

“Come with me.” The man put one arm around Claire’s shoulders to steady her. She put an arm around his shoulders as best as she could; he was about a foot taller than her. With his help, Claire limped toward a building.

As they walked, Claire noticed that there wasn’t any sand blowing around them. She looked up at the Sand-Wizard. He must be the reason the sand stopped, he was controlling it. The man glanced at her and their eyes met. She blushed and turned away.


Claire’s parents had hidden her from the Ministry. They didn’t believe in the Hingut religion, but to say so or to try to leave the cult was almost asking to be tortured and possibly executed. No one could leave. No one could doubt. Anyone who tried was made an example. Claire’s parents were considered lucky that all that had happened to them for hiding her was that she was just given to the Ministry.

Lucky? To have their daughter taken from them forever?


“But Claire Mariel,” the High Priest smiled again, “This is an honor— the biggest honor a novice can ever hope to receive. Why wouldn’t you want to do this?”

“Because I’ll die. Please, is there no way someone else can do this or that I can buy my way out?”

“We all die eventually. This is just an honorable way.”

“With all due respect,” a hint of iciness edged into her voice, “this is still a death sentence, no matter how you try to hide it in all your talk of honor. The Chosen still dies, no matter how you dress it up and gloss over it.”


Claudius stood in front of her, arms crossed and a frown on his face. This was her first chance to get a good look at him. His hair was dark brown, a striking contrast to her blond. They both had gray-blue eyes, but hers were merely overcast skies while his eyes were already infused with the storm. His face was angular and his shoulders broad. The impression he gave Claire was strength.

And irritation. Claudius was definitely irritated with her.