This past week I had the pleasure of attending a writing retreat. For many reasons, the past year has taken a toll on my creativity and I have been partially blocked when it comes to getting the story down. It’s been grueling.
So, last November I contacted several writer friends that I’ve had retreats with before and knowing the vaccination was on its way, put in a reservation for a log cabin in the middle of Iowa. Then came some pretty major rejections of my middle-grade fantasy book. Though these publishers loved my characters and story world, there was just something missing. I’m not proud enough to say I didn’t shed some tears over a couple of them.
There were moments I wanted to quit writing altogether. I asked myself what was I doing? I could definitely live without another rejection. I took a deep breath and contacted a writing coach acquaintance of mine, Janeen Ippolito, who has edited my work before. She’s amazing and really gets to the guts of everything to show me what needs improvement. Poor Janeen got word vomited on pretty severely, and bless her awesome soul, she managed to talk me out of quitting. We made a plan of action, something at that point I was unable to do on my own. I wanted to kiss her. Good thing we were only connected via the computer or it might have gotten a bit embarrassing. And so, the writing retreat came at the best possible time.
I started working on that plan by finishing my young adult portal fantasy novel I’ve been working on for years while at the retreat. Janeen had helped me last year see the flaws in the second half of my story. It was hard accepting the work I’d done for months wasn’t what the story needed and had to be scrapped. I’d gotten through most of the last half, adding new storylines to the beginning, but I needed something to get my focus back.
I was blessed with four other authors, two of whom I haven’t seen in a few years, who shared the retreat with me. Shari Barr, Kathy Geary Anderson, Mary Connealy, Erica Vetch, and I spent hours brainstorming and writing in a little cabin without Wifi in the middle of the Iowa countryside. Though the no Wifi helped me to get words on the page without going down rabbit trails looking things up (Thesaurus is my best friend!), I have to say I will probably never do a retreat without it again. I’m just too used to information being at my fingertips.
By the end of the retreat, I had scrapped a couple of chapters and rewritten them, and tentatively finished my portal fantasy. Plot twist: it became a cliffhanger ending. I just simply couldn’t get everything in. Possibly, I might change that by adding more content. But for right now, the story feels too big for one book. And I was quite pleased with where I ended it. When a story surprises the author, I have to hope it will surprise the reader as well.
Fingers crossed as I go back and reread everything I dashed down, that it will all be cohesive and intriguing. Here is a sample portion of the first chapter so you can have a taste of what the story is all about. Mind you, it’s a working chapter and title and not the finished product.
THE GIRL WITH STARS IN HER EYES
A brisk autumn wind pushes against the heavy manor door when I step outside for midday chores. The sky is stony and overcast, promising a coming storm.
Face to the sky, I smile slightly. I take a deep, crisp breath of the chilled air. One month left until my birthdate and I can almost taste the freedom it brings. No more winters being shackled to a wooden pole or grueling hours of thankless servitude. The end of my indentureship is near and I will at last be free and able to search for my long-lost father.
Wind whips by my face and my hood slips. I hurriedly clutch it to hide my hair that’s pulled in a tight bun. I didn’t have a chance to rub more coal dust in it this morn to darken my silver hair.
Little Nellie, the new maid, steps through with me, glancing at the forest that lies beyond the boundary of the Broodmoor Estate. “Tambrynn, is it true the forest is haunted?” Her eyes widen like brown saucers as she runs to stay beside me as we head to the barnyard.
My joy disappears like dried leaves darting about in the wind, and I press my lips together. “Who told you that nonsense?” I couldn’t tell her the truth. The forest isn’t haunted. I am. Haunted from my past and my curse. One only needs to glance in my eyes or hair to know I’m different. However, I’ve been careful to keep the hood over my head and not be noticed by most of the staff since arriving a week ago. Only Cook and Mrs. Calvin have seen me without my covering.
Cows bawl in the barn next to the chicken coop as we walk up to it. The wooden latch on the coop door always sticks, and a humming sensation that starts in my gut answers my unspoken call. The latch releases as if well-fitted instead of wedged too tight. It’s just a little nudge, not enough pull that Nellie would notice and not enough to sap my strength. Since coming here I’d learned how to call objects with more control, so the wood flips loose easily, though there’s a spark of blue static that travels between my hand and the door handle.
I shake my hand to get rid of the sting, confused. Though I haven’t always been able to control it, it’s never bitten back at me before.
Hens squawk and dart about, kicking up dirt as we enter. Though the sky is bleak, the dust sparkles in the air.
Nellie’s clasped hands are red and chapped from scrubbing the hearth earlier this morn. Knowing she’s a recent orphan, my heart twinges at her fate. I was the tender age of eight, Nellie’s age now, when Mother died and I first became indentured. It had taken me the eight years since, moving from place to place, to become tough enough to survive. I consider what to tell Nellie.
Glancing at the trees, I shiver, but not from the cold. “Nellie, there’s nothing haunting that forest. Whoever told you that wants to scare you so you don’t try running away.”
She looks up at me, her face alight with the trust only seen in the young and naive. I’m heartened when she doesn’t flinch as she looks into my eyes, something even adults cannot manage. Mother lovingly said I have stars in my eyes like it was magical. But then she’d been brutally murdered by wolves, and I realized Mother was the only one who thought my eyes and hair were acceptable. If only everyone could be as innocent and nonjudgmental as Nellie.
I touch her shoulder, longing to protect her as I had not been. “You’ll learn soon enough the tricks they use to keep us obedient.”
Stay tuned for updates on The Girl With Stars in Her Eyes!
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