Tag: Harbinger
-
Writing Prompt: “So it has come to this.”
“So it has come to this.” His voice was implacable. “You must choose. I will not accept your divided loyalties; they work against my plans. This is your choice: abandon your other masters, or die.” Dennis grinned, a feral thing that should have made Iago flinch, but didn’t. It appeared the pup had grown up.…
-
Writing Prompt: You See a Shooting Star
He sat out on the balcony, watching the night sky for the fleeting stab of the falling stars. Normally, this was his favorite time of year, watching the heavens put on their show, but tonight he felt nothing but bitterness at each brief, flaring light. Brief. So brief, just like his life would be, now…
-
Character Sketch: A Weak King
The Cooling was being refreshed hourly, but it wasn’t enough. A trickle of sweat tickled through his hairline. The drop wasn’t large — tiny, in fact — but it was enough. The words swam on the page as the memory engulfed him. That fluttery, heavy feeling in his chest — needing to breathe, to gasp,…
-
Revising Is Hard, Y’all
I thought finishing my first draft of Harbinger was hard. And it was! I spent years dreaming, drafting, ignoring the insane urge to spend more time copy-editing than writing … but I persevered and finally — FINALLY — got to that finished first draft. Woo-hoo! I was on to the revising portion. I knew this…
-
Slow but Steady …
In April of 2017, I started writing a YA fantasy novel (Harbinger). In December of 2018, I finished my first draft — all 75,538 words of it. Today, looking down the barrel of December 2019, my first revision is 97,307 words long, and I’m beginning to chisel my way into an almost-final version. Back in…
-
Power
“I am tired of being used!” she cried, almost stamping her foot in frustration. Tristian just looked at her, his expression faintly disdainful. “Then learn to use your power, girl,” his voice was cold. “The strong prey upon the weak, the powerless. That is the way of the world. If you don’t want to be…
-
Knowledge
“What do you know of killing?” The question had been asked in jest, but the boy’s answer had sobered them all. His face had blanched so white at the question, his bones had nearly shone through. Dead in eye, he said flatly, “It’s messy.” If the lad hadn’t killed someone with his own two hands,…
Sarah Z. Creates 