Announcements · Windswept

NaNoWriMo Day 26

Hey y’all! It’s day 26 and for many writers it’s that final push to finish the novel in a month challenge. Some lucky souls have already finished and I congratulate you! Woohoo!!! Now to business…

Firstly, apologies! I got hit with the flu. The actual can’t eat, can’t move, just sleep all day flu!

It was basically awful and needless to say I didn’t get much writing done. Then it was hubby’s birthday and we went on vacation (he is 37 years young.) Excuses aside, I shouldn’t have abandoned y’all for so long, I’ll try to do better!

So while I haven’t been writing at the frenzied post I’d hoped for, I MIGHT still be a possible contender to win NaNo. Here is an excerpt from Windswept (raw & unedited nano style) for y’all to check out:

In this scene, Beshar has just left the Glass Palace in the company of a bossy Shadow Dancer. Spoilers if you haven’t read the series, duh 🙂

“And what are the plans? I know, I know. I’m to find Jura and then wait for further instruction but surely you can tell me what your queen’s expectations may be? I haven’t got any influence over the Daughter of the First or her father so I can’t imagine how I can be of any help to a woman capable of blacking out an entire city.” Beshar mentally begged the man to give him something to work with but the Shadow Dancer remained stubbornly silent.

            “Unless…she’s not responsible for the blackout?” It was a gamble but this time at least Beshar was able to read the man’s expression. He watched the slight widening of the eyes, the subtle twitch to his lips before he pulled them into a thin line.

            “As I’ve said before, it is not for one such as me to question my queen’s motives. If I were, believe that I would question why my queen sees any value in the likes of you.” The Shadow Dancer sneered at him. “Now try to keep up.”

            Beshar blinked. He was unaccustomed to people speaking to him in such a manner. He wiped at his face, feeling grains of sand cut into his skin and wondered if he had left a streak of dirt on his face. Not that it mattered at this point when he so desperately needed to wash himself. Not when he had already been reduced to nothing. No longer Ninth of the Thirteen, what was he now? Other than a sweaty, stinking mess?

P.S. Wash your hands! Get a flu shot if you believe in that sort of thing and stay healthy 🙂

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