Ooops. Somehow I’ve managed to blow this before I even get started!
Lemme splain: last week I caught a tweet by writing buddy Shannyn Schroeder about signing up for something called 8SentenceSunday. Intrigued, I poked around to learn more. My poking (more clicking, actually) led me to the Weekend Writing Warriors website – a fresh social sharing writers’ project that launches, well – today.
Inspired by Six Sentence Sunday (who recently closed their virtual doors), the concept is simple, each week you want to participate, you sign your website/blog up on their Linky List. Then, come Sunday, you post eight sentences from one of your manuscripts. Anything pretty much goes, as the admins of WeWriWa say, “post eight sentences from something you’ve written, or something you’re writing, published or unpublished.” The only thing is it must be your own writing, and you must stick to only 8 sentences.
Oh, and there’s one other thing – you must post your sentences by 9am Sunday morning. And this is the part I screwed up. Today was one of those rare, glorious Sundays I actually stayed in bed til 9! (Well, I was up at 5:45 am to let the dog out, but I got to go back to bed – and stay there for more than five seconds – which is what counts.)
So here I am, late to the party, but promising to be on time next week. (I’ll just tell myself I have to have my “8 posted by 8.” It will be like setting my alarm clock earlier than I need to) Actually, it won’t be early, as the 9am requirement is in Eastern time…so I DO need to get ‘er done and up by 8. Thank goodness I have a dog who needs to pee before the crack of dawn.
The following eight are from my paranormal romance, To Catch A Fetch. Ghost hunter Ronan Evans is supposed to be working on convincing Devyn Cartwright – a woman with the ability to see ghosts – to join his team of supernatural researchers. Problem is, all he wants to do is convince Devyn to get in his bed. When fellow team member Claudia shows up to check on his progress, she calls him out for his lack of focus:
The smile disappeared and Claudia tapped her chin with a scarlet-tipped finger, the same shade as her lips.
Did women buy their make-up to match the same as they did with their bras and panties? Ronan had no idea where that errant thought came from, but once in his brain, all he could think about was the creamy lace of Devyn’s panties as he slipped one finger under the soft fabric to feel the softer skin beneath. He recalled the feel of her bra through her sweater, and his mouth went dry as he imagined the same pale shade of lace cupping her breasts.
Claudia kicked him in the shin. “Come back to earth, buddy.”
He blinked. “Am I that easy to read?”
Feel free to comment with your opinions and suggestions…and if you are interested in checking out what the other 50 or so writers participating today have posted, their links are available HERE.
Melonie Johnson 