Tag Archives: summer writing

Novel Sneak Peek #1–Introduction

15 Aug

Introduction

“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
― C.S. Lewis

Every day faded away just the same. Waking hours spent dodging mirrors, wringing hands, and keeping secrets melted into the dull shadows of night, and then sleep. Once she was asleep, her heart, mind, and soul sought out places that held no memories for her. Each new experience was a balm to soothe her past, and there was an all-encompassing presence of comfort that greeted and guided her time there. Upon waking, she always felt thankful for these respites, never questioning the nature of her dreams or the origin of that guiding presence. Breena always assumed it was God.

This is the introduction to my first novel, Acephalous, which is still in the editing/rewriting phase. Posting this for you all to read is a very exciting moment. It’s the first time anyone other than my husband is reading from the story. It’s a big deal. So, please, tell me what you think in the comments. I aim to post snippets weekly, but don’t worry; I won’t post anything that will give the ending away. As you see more of the story unfold, I’ll revise according to what you guys say works or does not work. Also, feel free to share this post via the share links below, but please do not delete information linking it to this page or claim the words as your own. This is my livelihood here.

Happy reading!

–Amanda Marsico

Editor, Proofreader, Red Ink Enthusiast

marsicoam@gmail.com

10 More Days!

15 Aug

There are just 10 more days to enter The Write Site’s first CONTEST! Enter your fiction of 5,000 words or less by midnight (EST) on Sunday, August 25, 2013 for your chance to win an editing/proofreading package for your choice of writing up to 30,000 words valued at $1,500 (USD).

Click the contest link above for full details and submission guidelines. Good luck and happy writing!

–Amanda Marsico

Editor, Proofreader, Red Ink Enthusiast

marsicoam@gmail.com

CONTEST and GIVEAWAY

3 Aug

The time for the first contest and giveaway has arrived. No entry fee!

Enter your fiction of 5,000 words or less for a chance to win one free editing/proofreading package for your choice of writing project (30,000 words or less).

Package includes: initial project meeting by virtual media of your preference (email, instant message, Skype, in person only if in the Metro-Richmond, VA area); editing/proofreading of text no longer than 30,000 words; and final project write-up with editing summary and suggestions. This is a prize worth $1,500* awarded to the contestant with the most engaging piece of fiction.

This is an open contest, meaning there is no theme. Your only restriction is that it must be fiction 5,000 words or less. I will score from 1-4 in each of 4 categories: engaging introduction (catch my attention, make me curious about what’s coming next), continuous forward momentum (includes climax–does your story peak too soon? too late?), lifelike characters (even if they are imaginary or not human), and well-crafted conclusion (wraps up the story or suspends the moment in an inventive, pleasing, or surprising way).

To submit, email your attached text in word document or PDF form to marsicoam@gmail.com with FICTION CONTEST in the subject line by SUNDAY, AUGUST 25, 2013. Entries without the proper subject line will not be opened and will likely go to the spam folder. Please also put your email address in the header of each page of your text so that I may contact the winner via the email address used to submit. If you would like to submit a cover letter with your story, that is fine, but it is by no means a requirement. I will not accept entries from those with whom I am personally acquainted.

Thanks for reading! It keeps this blog alive. Now, it’s my turn to give back 🙂

Happy writing and good luck.

 

*No cash given for prize. Value of prize based on price charged to clients for identical editing package.

Shorts Project Update

23 Jul

Since I’m behind in the Shorts Project anyway (due to my vacation) I’ve decided that now is the best time to put that endeavor aside and finally finish editing my manuscript. Expect to see snippets of chapters posted in place of shorts until the project is complete or Fall classes start back up at the end of September, whichever comes first.

Short Story #5

11 Jul

Personal Taste

“There’s always that moment, early in the morning, where I want nothing to do with the coming sun and everything to do with the blankets wrapped around me. I’m not an introvert. I’m not even depressed. I just like my own company that much. Narcissist? Nah. Well, maybe. I prefer, “Self-Expert,” or, “Curator of Personal Tastes.” I know. I know how buzz-wordy that sounds, but hey. Who can cater my likings better than, well, me? Some pricey girl that looks great on my arm, but can’t flip an omelet? No. Some less pricey personal chef who flips omelets with his eyes closed, but won’t do a photo op with me (and why would I want him on my arm?)? No. And don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean pricey like a whore. Excuse me. Prostitute. I simply meant high maintenance. I digress. My point is that I am my own best company, and in the dull blue of pre-dawn, I am my only company. After that, my corner of the world wakes up to join me in competing to find out who’s best at what. What they don’t realize is that I already know that I’m the best… They don’t know me. They don’t try to know me. They just assume what they’ve got is the best of that particular thing, or that what they think I should do is really what I should do. So, no, I am not a narcissist. I just know what I like, and it happens to be me.”

John straightened his tie and blinked at the now-speechless reporter. The camera men stopped filming and a few crew wandered off.

“Now what?”

“Wouldn’t you know best, John?” the reporter quipped.

Short #4

2 Jul

Worthwhile Travel

Smog, fog, rain—Ellen thought of it as her cozy blanket for years. It kept her delightfully secluded even when surrounded by people. “Alone together.” That’s how she’d described city life in one of her calls home. After she finally broke away from her childhood town, it never occurred to Ellen that there was any place else for her. Why would she leave the comforting urban canopy of carcinogens and clouds?

Apparently, “Because I said so,” still worked. When Ellen’s mother called to tell her that Pops passed, she preemptively refused all invitation home. Ellen found herself on a jet, a puddle jumper, and then a bus back Snoreville anyway. The bus stopped in front of the law office where Ellen was destined. The corner where the office and the pharmacy met the main road was the only bus stop. No special treatment.

The welcome from her family was stiff and forced.

As her family filed out of the office, the lawyer grabbed Ellen’s shoulder. “The will instructed me to give you this envelope privately. Go to his old place and open it somewhere peaceful.”

“Oh, Ok.” She stuffed it into her purse.

The bewildered look on her face must have been severe because the lawyer went out in a hurry.

In the breeze and sunshine of her grandfather’s land, she opened the envelope and read:

The address to my safety deposit box is on the back of this page with the password you’ll need to access it. Go. Get the money. It’s yours. You’ve got the courage and love the rest of this family is missing. That part of you always stays the same. Use the money for the rest of your surgeries. Ignore what the family says. It’s your body. I love you, Alvin. Ellen.

-Pops

Short #3

1 Jul

Necessary Attire

She was missing a glove. The young lady of the house was frantic, clutching at her naked arm. As petty as this might seem in summer months, it was actually quite the scandal. When the search began, the house maids scurried more like mice than ladies upending baskets of linens, disheveling neatly made beds, and tossing tasseled pillows into the floors of carriages. From the balcony of the manse, the man of the house, her father, shouted at the help to hurry their searching. After all, a lady without her glove may as well have been a pauper or a common whore. The lady could not leave without it—that pair passed down from lady to lady of the family through generations. Wearing them spoke of dignity, station, and propriety, and of a continuity of physical self that balanced the inconstancy of mind and spirit for which women were so known. As such, she just could not depart without that glove. Oh, and did I mention the hand, member of the glove’s safe, modest keeping, was also missing? From the wrist down to be exact…

%d bloggers like this: