Word Paint Blogfest

The frawesome Dawn Embers brings us today's blogfest: Word Paint Blogfest. Here's the deets, as well as links to the others. Check them out - some beautiful descriptions by lovely writers.

Here's the gist of the blogfest:

The book is Word Paint: A Guide to Writing More Descriptively by Rebecca McClanahan. According to the book:

"Like painters, writers are the receptors of sensations from the real world and the world of the imagination, and effective description demands we sharpen our instruments of perception."

"Description is an attempt to present as directly as possible the qualities of a person, place, object or event. When we describe, we make impressions, attempting through language to represent reality. Description is, in effect, word painting."

So...my scene. This was written very early in the process of creating Promise and Purpose, from when it was one book. This is the first half of a preface that was deleted and never really looked at since (so I apologize for its roughness). I might one day post the whole thing as a teaser. :-) I don't know if it qualifies as word painting, but it's pretty descriptive.

The speedboat couldn’t reach the island fast enough for Sophia. She stood at the bow, watching with impatience as the island slowly grew larger in the darkness. The wind whipped her dark auburn hair against her face but she didn’t notice the stings on her skin. She was focused on getting there, the upcoming conversation and getting back. She had very little time.

She had told her daughter she would only be gone for the weekend. She hated leaving her there alone with him. She didn’t know if she could trust him and prayed that she hadn’t put her daughter’s life at risk. But that was why she had to come.

She could have made a simple phone call, but she didn’t want just verbal answers. She wanted to feel the responses, to know the truth in them. And that could only be accomplished in person.

She could flash only about a hundred miles at a time, forcing her to the confines and time restrictions of an airplane, just like everyone else. It was frustratingly slow. Each one-way flight was fourteen hours. That didn’t leave her much time to get the information she needed to calm her fears…or to change their minds.

As the driver approached, Sophia could already feel the magic of the island. She felt her body automatically shedding the years of intense control, as if a second skin was falling off of her and slipping into the water. After so many years of being on guard, she could just let go and be herself. She had forgotten the exhilarating feeling. Too anxious to wait, she jumped from the slowing boat and easily cleared the ten feet to the dock.

Although she had such little time and she could have been at the door in the blink of an eye, she strode up the path to the mansion. It was a hurried walk for the average person, but slow enough for her that she could pull her thoughts together one more time.

She hadn’t been to the island since her daughter was just an infant. It hadn’t changed. The tall Cyprus trees lined the uphill path, leading to a walkway framed with stone arches, which had at one time intimidated her with their ancient history. She barely noticed them now. She focused on the primordial stone mansion that glowed white in the darkness, reflecting the moon’s light. She could see dim, flickering lights in the deep windows.

A familiar, lanky man opened the heavy, wood front door for her.

“Good evening, Ms. Sophia,” he said politely. “Ms. Katerina is expecting you.”

Of course she was. It was virtually impossible to surprise Rina, but at least, Sophia planned it so there was not enough time for Rina to call a counsel. As their matriarch, Rina was fully capable of providing the answers Sophia sought. And Sophia wanted straight answers, directly from Rina, not contrived ones from the council.

“Hello, my beloved,” said a soft, feminine voice. The stunning woman seemed to float down the massive stone stairs in a long, silver, satiny gown. Even in the immense, dark foyer, lit only by the flames in the wall sconces, her beauty was remarkable. The resemblance between Rina and Sophia was striking. The average human, with their average eyes, would believe them to be sisters, possibly twins. Sophia’s face was a little softer, though, the angles not as sharp. Although it had been eighteen years since they had seen each other, neither had changed.

Rina wrapped her arms around Sophia. “I have missed you so.”

“Hello, Mother.” Sophia stiffly returned the hug.

Share Your Darlings Blogfest

It's another blogfest! Yay!!! I love these, if you haven't noticed. They're fun to participate in, you get to know other writers and I always find it interesting how so many writers can tackle the same theme in so many different ways.

Of course, this one isn't written around a theme. It's simply about sharing those scenes we love but had to cut from our stories because they didn't pull their weight in moving things along. This is from Promise (which comes out in July, by the way...and you can pre-order here... Oops! Sorry! But it's my blog so I can throw in a little self-promo if I want. Haha). Anywaaaayyyy...onto the set-up.

In the first two chapters (found here), you meet Alexis and she meets Tristan, who is seemingly perfect in every way (on the surface, anyway). For a variety of reasons, Alexis has a hard time trusting anyone, but she really wants to trust Tristan...even when her mother doesn't. When mom goes out of town for a weekend, things start heating up between Alexis and Tristan. I wrote this whole glorious weekend they spent together - sweet and lovely and a dream-come-true for Alexis.

It gave some character insight, but, alas, this part, in particular, just didn't do enough. There's a little of it still in the book, but not the whole, sweet thing. This scene takes place on Sunday, the last day of their time without mom breathing down her back. Tristan is about to take her on a motorcycle ride - until now, she'd only been on the bike for a couple blocks at a time.

“You’ll want to put on jeans and real shoes. No flip-flops for this ride,” he said to me. I hurriedly changed and pulled my hair back.

We cruised the streets of Cape Heron, and then headed for I-75. Holy crap! What am I thinking? I momentarily panicked as I realized I had absolutely no control over my situation. I had put my life into his hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and held on tightly, my muscles tense like a taut rubber band as the wind rushed against my face and the sounds of cars and trucks seemed way too close. Exhaust fumes and the faint smell of hot rubber filled my nose. My knuckles were white by the time we exited the highway and I breathed a sigh of relief that we survived.

Now that it felt safe to keep my eyes open, I noticed we were headed to a barrier island. At the slower speed and with less traffic, the ride was spectacular, especially once on the island. The sun shone brightly in the clear October sky and I could smell the oily warmth rising off the pavement, as well as the salty sea air and meat on the grill from a distant restaurant. I leaned over and held onto Tristan, resting my head against his shoulder, as we cruised parallel to the Gulf of Mexico, enjoying the view. He stopped the bike in a small beach parking lot and we sat there, looking over the sugary sand and steel-blue water, watching as pelicans dive-bombed for their food. A couple of dolphins jumped and twisted in the air, playing with each other.

“Nice, huh?” Tristan asked.

“Perfect,” I breathed. I was still close against him, my arms wrapped around his waist. He held my hands in front of him.

“Let’s take a walk and stretch our legs, then I’ll take you to dinner at a cool little place I found a couple weeks ago.”

We held hands as we walked along the beach and I couldn’t help the smile that was pasted on my face. Every time I looked at Tristan, he, too, was grinning.

“You like it here, don’t you?” I asked.

He looked down at me. “I like being with you. It makes me…happy.”

“Me, too.”

He squeezed my hand. “Hungry?”

I shrugged. I could be whatever he wanted me to be at that moment. As long as it meant more time with him. “Sure.”

He took me to a little hole-in-the-wall tiki bar and grill for dinner. It literally had a big hole in the wall – one side was open to the outside. When we walked in, several people – employees and customers alike – gave us a warm hello, like we were old friends. A couple of TVs silently displayed news and sports, while Jimmy Buffet sang “Margaritaville” from a boom box. Painted oars, lobster baskets and other boating and beach paraphernalia decorated the three solid walls. Tristan led me to a faded wooden booth by the wide opening, holding his hand out for me to take a seat. He slid in next to me, instead of sitting on the other side, and put his arm around me, holding me close. I warmed inside, totally content. From where we sat, we could see a canal outside the restaurant lead west about two hundred yards to the Gulf. A couple of boats pulled up, their owners and mates coming for drinks and dinner.

“Know what you want?” Tristan asked after we studied the stained paper menu for a few minutes.

“Hmm…I think the shrimp combo.”

He stood up to place our order at the bar and I took the opportunity to use the bathroom. When I came back to the table, I had to stifle a giggle. He held a purple crayon in his hand, drawing something on the white paper tablecloth, like a little kid. When I looked, I realized it was me, drawn from memory.

“Nice,” I murmured.

“Yeah, well, sorry you’re purple.” He chuckled.

I glanced at the two other crayons on the table.

“At least I’m not green.”

He laughed.

“Purple’s good. It’s my favorite color,” I added.

“Ah. Good to know.”

I drew him next – a stick figure. It was the best I could do, I told him. He laughed and hugged me, apparently forgiving the fact that I wasn’t multi-talented like him. We played a few games of tic-tac-toe and hangman – he beat me at the first and I beat him at the latter – while we waited for our dinner. The bartender brought our food to us.

“Oh, now, hold on a minute. We can’t ruin that,” she said when she saw Tristan’s crayon drawing of me. She put our food down on the next table and quickly replaced the paper tablecloth with a blank slate. She took our old one and disappeared with it. She brought back my drawing, cut out in an oval from the rest of the tablecloth, and handed it to me, her eyes crinkling at the sides with a smile. “Here you go, hon.”

The people there were quite a bit older than us, but friendly with everyone who walked in. It was apparently a popular gathering place for the locals. When Tristan told them we’d recently moved to the area, they told us about good and bad beaches and restaurants and the best places to go on a boat or a motorcycle. Their stories were humorous and we laughed a lot.

That evening I learned what it was like to feel normal. In fact, I forgot for a while that I even had any weird quirks. Nobody treated me like an outsider and I didn’t feel the need to make myself blend into the scenery. I didn’t worry about my wall or who I couldn’t trust. For once, I was completely at ease.

After we finished eating the best seafood I’d had since moving there, Tristan moved over to the other side of the table so he could have clean, blank paper. He went to work with a red crayon and drew a portrait of the bartender/waitress. When he was done, he threw some money on the table and held his hand out for me to go. I quickly wrote “Thank you!” by his drawing, then walked out with him, arms around each other’s waists. I felt like the heroine in a movie…with a “happily-ever-after” ending, of course. I ignored the poke in the back of my mind – the one that wanted to tell me that my ending could never be happy.

Beach Scene Blogfest

Yay! Another blogfest! This is Rachel Bateman's Beach Scene Blogfest.

I loooooove the beach....the scenery, the sounds, the smells... It's my favorite place to be. So I couldn't pass up this blogfest. Although Promise has lots of beach scenes, this one is from a Top Sekrit Project earlier this year. A project that never went anywhere, so I thought, well, at least I can use it for something. It's not great stuff, but it is one of my fave beach scenes that I've written. (Be sure to check out all the other great scenes. The list is on Rachel's site.)

I ran straight west, to the beach at the end of the road, the sun baking me the whole way. As I ran onto the sand, I felt no better than when I’d left the gym, but now I was angry at myself for such stupid behavior.

“What was I thinking?” I growled aloud.

“I was wondering the same thing,” Jerrick said as he walked toward me.

“What are you doing here? Why are you always showing up everywhere?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He flashed my favorite smile. “And because I like being around you.”

“What? Why?!” I didn’t understand him. Why me?

“Do you want me to leave?” He hitched his thumb back toward the street.

“Yes!” I blurted and something flickered in his eyes. “I mean, no. I mean…I don’t know! Just give me a minute. I need to cool down.”

He gave me exactly a minute. “Are you cooled down?”

“No!"

And the next thing I knew, I stared at the ground, hanging over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He gripped me tightly as he pulled off my shoes while striding toward the water. I squirmed and beat my fists against his back while he kicked his own shoes off, but I may as well have been fighting a robot. He plowed through the water, out to where the shelf dropped several feet. By then I shrieked and giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Don’t you dare!” I squealed and he let go of me.

I plunged under the cool water and realized when I touched the ground, the water was a couple inches over my head. I pushed up and tread water as Jerrick just stood there, the water chest-deep on him.

“Are you cooled off now?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” I splashed him. He ducked under the water.

He smiled when he came up right in front of me. “You can’t stand, can you?”

“No.”

He pulled me into one arm so our heads were level, pressing me against him, our faces only inches apart. His body felt warm, even in the cool water. His eyes locked onto mine and I wondered if he was about to kiss me. And this time, I wanted him to. In fact, as a water droplet slid over his nose, through the groove and onto his lips, I had to fight the urge to catch it with my tongue.

Then a breeze stirred against my wet skin, raising goose bumps and making me nipply against his chest. He groaned as he bent his head closer to mine. I closed my eyes and savored the moment - his smell, the warm breath on my cheek, the heat of his body against mine.

His lips lightly brushed across my cheek, then he whispered in my ear, “You are sometimes too much for me."

He strode easily through the water and let me go as soon as it was shallow enough for me to stand. I just stood there, staring after him in shock, as the low waves whooshed against and around my calves.

"What does that mean?" I asked with bewilderment.

Five for Friday

Blogfests! They're all over the place this month! So this week's Five for Friday is all about blogfests. What I'll be doing this month (I hope you'll join the fun!):

1. Amalia T's Dream Sequence Blogfest - Today, June 4
2. Rachel Bateman's Beach Scene Blogfest - Saturday, June 5
3. Sangu Mandanna's Character Interview Blogfest - Tuesday, June 15
4. Michelle Gregory's Share Your Darlings Blogfest - Thursday, July 1

That's only 4, you say? Of course, this is Five for Friday. Not Four for Friday! What's number 5? My entry for the Dream Sequence Blogfest!

I wrote this sometime last year and it was at one time on my website. This is a dream Alexis had the night she met Tristan. You can read that night over at the Promise excerpts at www.IHavePromise.com. The dream means nothing. Seriously. Don't go reading anything into it. It's just her fascination with "mythical" creatures getting the best of her.

Warning: It's not really that good. I read it now and wonder what the heck I was on while writing it. But I realized all my other dreams give too much away. So here you go...

We sat on the beach by Mom’s cottage at sunset, but neither of us paid attention to the vivid colors in the sky or the whispering waves of the Gulf of Mexico quietly sliding over the sand. Our eyes were on each other. His were sparkling as he smiled slightly, seductively. He lifted his hand to my face and stroked his fingertips across my cheek. I shivered, though all I could feel was warmth spreading over my skin.

“Beautiful,” he murmured in his low, sexy voice.

And I was beautiful in my dream. Not my normal, ordinary self. Chestnut hair, striking mahogany eyes, perfect features…I was as beautiful as my stunning (and somehow forever young) mother. But I was definitely me – my pounding heart and shallow breathing confirmed that.

He leaned in and his mouth pressed against mine, kissing me gently at first, his satiny lips sliding so softly against mine. But as the heat built, the kisses became longing and searching. I opened my mouth slightly and he tasted even more delightful than I expected, like his scent, but intensified. It filled my mouth, coating the back of my throat and I couldn’t get enough of it. I kissed him hungrily, my hands caressing his face and sliding back into his hair, pulling his hard body against me.

We were abruptly lying in the sand. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Tristan's. As he kissed me, his hand slowly, lightly trailed down my side to my waist, then slid under me at the small of my back, pressing me against him. His mouth moved over my chin…along my jaw…down to my throat…kissing and tasting and sucking.

He looked up at me, his eyes smoldering. And that’s when I noticed the fangs. They made perfect sense to my dream-self. He was too beautiful, too perfect to be human, after all.

I smiled to show him I wasn’t scared. His eyes glinted before he bent his head again, his mouth at my throat. My body trembled with anticipation. I wanted him to bite me. Then I felt the pierce and a small sound, a mixture of pain and pleasure, escaped my lips.

He looked up again at my reaction. I could feel the wound already healing – that’s what my body did, healed itself. His eyes sparked as they caught mine, then they darted to the disappearing bite mark on my throat. The fangs disappeared. He was just Tristan again, the Tristan I met in class that night, though saying he was just Tristan was like saying Brad Pitt was just Brad Pitt. But now Tristan’s inhumanly beautiful face was filled with disgust at what my body did. Then suddenly he was gone.

And the pain of loss and betrayal ripped through my body.

“No!” I awoke with a start, disoriented for just a moment.

Of course, I thought as my heart settled down. What else could I expect? Guys like Tristan and girls (freaks) like me just didn’t happen. I just needed to forget about him.

If he would only let me…

Last Lines Blogfest

Today is the Last Lines Blogfest! Check out the others over here at Lilah Pierce's blog. Thanks, Lilah, for hosting this!

Edited to add: Charity Bradford is hosting a 50 Followers Blogfest today, too. I didn't think I really had anything good to contribute to her theme of baking, but, hey, my characters below do discuss eating. It's just that the steaks end up in the fridge for the following night. If anything, I just wanted to give a little shout-out to Charity's Blogfest and help a friend out. ;-)

This was really hard to choose what to post. Some of my best last lines gave too much away. But I finally decided on this, an excerpt from PURPOSE, book two of my series.

“Wow, you look…” Owen was caught off guard when I called for him. I flashed him my best smile. He narrowed his eyes and said flatly, “You’re not going anywhere.”

I tried to act casual. “Of course not. I was just tired of looking like a frump. I feel good. I finished the book.”

He smiled. “Great! Now we wait for it to be published and let it do its thing.”

“But we can celebrate now,” I said suggestively.

He looked surprised, the sapphire eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “You and me?”

“That’s all we have right now, right? Why not? If you get some steaks and the trimmings, I’ll cook. And we need some wine, of course.”

He frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to be completely alert.”

I pretended to pout. “Just a glass. Just for a toast to the Amadis and whatever it is they have planned.”

He studied my face. I really wasn’t trying to seduce him. Honestly. I just needed him to disappear for a while…just long enough. I smiled warmly at him.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “You stay here. I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes.”

I followed him out the door and watched him walk down the driveway, into the brush and disappear. As soon as he was gone, I jumped into the Ferrari and took off, my heart pounding with anxiety and fear. I’d left the keys in there earlier, knowing I needed every second I could get when the opportunity arose. I sped down the highway, clearing as much distance as possible before Owen returned and found me gone. Guilt pierced my conscience when I thought of him searching for me. But I had to do it. At least he wouldn’t be left heartbroken and helpless like I had been. I just hoped he wouldn’t immediately guess where I headed, but would think I went after my family. Because once he knew, he would be there in a flash.

Five for Friday

Don't forget to enter the 50 to 100 Giveaway!

Geez...Friday is over in an hour already and I haven't posted Five for Friday. So, here we go.

Five websites (mostly for writers, but non-writers may enjoy, too):

1. http://www.behindthename.com/ - Don't just get meanings for names, but get names for meanings.
2. http://surnames.behindthename.com/ - Same as above, but for surnames
3. http://absolutewrite.com/ - Great community!
4. http://bittenbybooks.ning.com/ - Supernatural, paranormal, urban fantasy, dark fantasy...you name it.
5. http://howpublishingreallyworks.blogspot.com/ - Get the real scoop.

Tomorrow brings a bonus post: BLOGFEST!!! Woohoo! I love blogfests. They're a lot of fun and there's much to learn and gain from them. So come back and check out the Last Lines Blogfest, hosted by Lilah Pierce at The Good Grief Writer. Go here to see everyone else's great Last Lines.

First Page Blog Fest

I’ve been a very bad blogger lately. I try to get at least one post up per week, am happy if I can get two and it’s been two weeks since my last one! Blogger fail. But I have been holed up, finalizing edits for my first book. Important announcements will be made this week!

For now, just a couple things. First, as you can see, I've made some changes. Instead of managing a website and a blog, I've combined them into one. So you can now get here through www.KristieCook.com and you can also see other information about me and my books. Soon, I'll have links to the web site for the first book. Very soon. ;-)

Second, my friend Eisley Jacobs, a fabulous writer, is preparing to go to Ethiopia on a mission trip. Her story will give you goose bumps. Please visit her blog and if you can, help her out. Even just a little bit, as you’ll see in the story, will help her reach her goal.

Third…OMG, The Hunger Games and Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins!!! If you haven’t read these yet, I don’t care your age, you MUST. Great characters and a suspenseful story line that keeps you on the edge of your seat. I could not put these down. I’ve read them both twice in 8 days (I went through them so quickly the first time, I was afraid I missed important details). I know I’ll read them at least one more time before the third and final book comes out in August. Some people may not like Katniss, the main character, in the first couple pages but you can’t help but feel for her by the end of the second chapter. If you have a heart, anyway. So go read them! You won’t be sorry! And I hope the rumors are true that they’re making these into movies. I can’t wait!


Finally, I signed up for a First Page Blog Fest for April 2nd. With the holiday weekend, I completely forgot about it. Oops. For more First Pages, start here for all the links.

Here is my delayed entry, my first page of my first book releasing this summer. These first 25 lines have been so hard for me. In fact, they used to be completely different. I still don’t know if I like this as the opening. So your feedback would be wonderful.

Does it grab your attention? Enough to keep reading? If you read these lines in a bookstore, would you buy the book? Or at least read another page or so before making a decision?

Here it is…

9 Years Ago

The sensation of being watched clung to me like a spider web, invisible threads bristling the back of my neck and down my spine. I brushed my fingers across my shoulders, like I could drag the feeling off and flick it away.

It was ridiculous, of course. Not just ridiculous to think I could pull it off so easily, as if it really were strands of a web, but it was even more absurd to feel it in the first place. Sometimes people stared with curiosity when they picked me up on their “weird radars,” but usually they just ignored me. No one watched so intensely.

Yet the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the feeling of eyes boring into me as I visited my favorite Washington, D.C., monument for likely the last time. I sat on the stone steps with the stately Thomas Jefferson behind me and gazed over the Potomac River tidal basin, enjoying the peace just before sunset. Well, trying to enjoy it anyway.

I blamed the feeling on my unruly imagination, with it being twilight and the sky looking so ominous. It was the perfect setting for one of my stories. The sun hung low—an eerie, orange ball glowing behind a shroud of clouds, a column of steel-blue rising around it, threatening to snuff it out. I envisioned something not-quite-human watching it from the shadows, waiting for the cover of darkness to begin its hunt.

That’s all it is, just my fascination with mythical creatures, I told myself. Uh-huh. Right.

Surrendering hope for a peaceful moment, I hurried to the closest Metro station. The feeling of being followed stuck with me on the train ride home, but at my stop in Arlington, I forgot the spooky sensation. Some kids from school stood near the top of the escalator as I stepped off.

“Hey, there’s the weird girl who heals,” one of them said loudly to the others. “It’s s’posed to be really freaky to watch.”

“Hey, freak, got any tricks to show us?” another called.

PG Love Scene Blog Fest

Is it possible to write a sex scene for middle-grade readers? I missed the original conversation, but you can catch the gist of it here and here . For those who don’t know what middle-grade is, it’s for 8- to 12-year-old readers. So, yeah, sex scenes are really just a no-no. That’s just wrong in so many ways. However, kids read “up” – about main characters who are a couple years older than them – so the main characters could be having sex. That is, unfortunately, a reality in today’s world.

So this is really just a writing challenge to see if we could write a sex (or love, call it what you want) scene for a young audience. Basically, no details, make it PG. I just learned about the challenge over the weekend and really didn’t plan to participate. But since I’m once again procrastinating on other things and really not feeling like writing the other blog post I planned to make, I decided to give it a shot. After all, it’s definitely a break from my writing style – the main character is male and young and yes, I do like to write hot and steamy scenes. So this is a good stepping-out-of-my-comfort-zone and stretching-my-writer’s-wings experience for me.

I just wrote it in the last hour, so it is what it is. Let me know what you think (unless it’s really horrible, then you can just lie).

***

My hands shook as I drove the old farm truck down the country lane to Chastity’s house. How ironic that’s her name. We’d just learned the vocabulary word “chastity” in Mrs. Long’s eighth-grade language arts class last week. This Chastity, my Chastity, rebelled against everything, including her name.

She’d had this planned for a while. It was her idea, her plan. She was the one who sneaked into the drug store. She was the one who called me last night to let me know her parents would be gone this evening. Of course, I wasn’t about to argue with her.

I’d been dreaming of this moment for far too long, except not with Chastity. At least, not until very recently. It had always been with Jessica Alba or Angelina Jolie or even Stifler’s mom. Or sometimes with the hot high-school cheerleader – the dark-haired brunette with the green eyes. A couple weeks ago, though, Chastity started talking about it.

“We’ve been going out seven months now,” she’d said.

That was probably a long time for kids our age in a bigger school, but when there aren’t many people to choose from, you hang on when you have a good one. If you let go, there’s a whole grade or two of others who’d pounce on the opportunity. So we hung onto each other.

I slowly turned onto the half-mile driveway from the gravel road to Chastity’s house, set back on her family’s forty-acre property. I was fourteen and had a farm permit, which allowed me to drive for farm business only. This was not farm business, but Dad let me drive anyway, as long as I stayed on country roads and didn’t drive too fast. If he knew what was about to happen, he’d probably not have let me. But you never know with my dad. He might have been all excited, ready for me to finally be the Man he’s always wanted out of me, forcing me to grow up in every other way since I was ten. Or he might have beat the crap out of me.

I crept up the driveway. I felt like the first time I stood in line for the Speed Demon, the tallest and fastest roller coaster at Crazy Sam's Fun World. I'd only been eight or nine then. Part of me couldn't wait to take on the Demon, but something in my stomach twisted and squeezed with excited fear.

If Chastity was nervous at all, she didn't show it. She impatiently paced the front porch, her blond ponytail bobbing behind her. She ran the last fifty yards and jumped into the truck.

“Hi,” she said with a bright-blue-eyed grin. “Let’s go by the pond.”

“I thought you said your parents were gone,” I said, knowing the pond was hidden from the house and road.

“Oh, they are. The pond’s just kind of romantic, don’t you think?” She moved across the bench seat, pressing her left thigh, bare from her short jean shorts, against my right one.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I never thought of romantic. I honestly wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. Flowers, candy, jewelry…that’s all I really knew. A pond, though? Girls are so weird.

I cajoled the old truck up the rugged path, through the trees and over the hill, to the pond at the very back of her family’s property. I cut the engine and sucked in a deep breath. Before I even let it out, Chastity climbed onto my lap. My hands trembled as if I’d chugged three energy drinks. She didn’t seem to notice.

"I love you, Tyler," she said, placing her hands on each side of my face.

"I love you, too, Chaz," I murmured. It was true. I thought. Who knew what love really was, though?

Chastity pulled her t-shirt over her head. Nothing was new to me, to either of us. We'd already done everything butthis. But in a strange way, it all felt new. And weird.

In all of the dreams over the last few years, it never went like this. I was smooth, knew what I was doing. This was awkward. My mind went numb, forgetting what to do, at the first touch of her always soft skin. But Chastity kept encouraging me, her voice soft. I could hear a faint tremble in her words, though. I think she cried at one point, although she smiled and nodded with more encouragement. Good thing, because it was too late for me now.

I was really doing this. This was really happening. And it was greater than plunging over that first hill of the Speed Demon. Greater than winning the all-county basketball tournament. Even greater than those hilarious teen movies made it out to be. This was real!

I fell against Chastity and she wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her lips against my ear.

“We did it,” she whispered and I could hear the triumph in her voice.

After we dressed, we sat on the lowered tailgate, staring at the glass-smooth pond reflecting the setting sun. Chastity pulled a cigarette out and waved it at me. I shook my head. She shrugged and lit it for herself. She wrapped her arm around my waist.

“We’ll be together forever, Tyler,” she said. “We’ll have a wedding right here by the pond and lots of kids running around. That’ll be fun, won’t it? Together forever.”

I kissed the top of her head and grunted some kind of noise she took for agreement. The next four years…perhaps. It’s not like I had many other choices. But if little, young Chastity from this tiny town could do that to me…what could those city girls do? I suddenly couldn’t wait to get through high school and out of this po-dunk place.

Blog Love

Caught up in rewrites and edits, I forgot to post this blog! Shame on me! This one will be a quickie because there will be another to follow later today. I’ll explain in a minute. First, this post is all about love for other blogs and bloggers. I have learned and laughed from so many other bloggers and in the past couple weeks, I’ve also won a couple things! Woot! So here’s my shout-out and thanks, plus an announcement about a fun blog-fest that’s already started and ends midnight tomorrow night (2/2).

Thank you to Eisley Jacobs and her blog, Eisley’s Ellipses (http://eisleyjacobs.com/) for the great prize, THE 39 CLUES. This was a random drawing Eisley held for her blog readers and I was chosen. Speaking of random…when we participate in social media, we meet all kinds of random people. Many are quite scary, but sometimes we get lucky and meet a few lovely peeps. Eisley is one of those. I met her on Twitter and she is one of the loveliest people I know-but-don’t-know. Follow her blog for another perspective on the life of an aspiring writer.

Another Thank You to Cornell Deville (http://cornelldeville.blogspot.com) for hosting the contest “Openings.” PURPOSE won the contest for the best first paragraph of 50 entries. Thanks to all my voters, too, for your support, and to the commenters for helping me make it even better. Cornell Deville is a new blog, but, dude, they are busy, busy. There’s already another contest posted for best query letter, judged by a literary agent. There is also great information provided on the site, so if you’re a writer, you need to check it out.

Finally…it’s Blog Fest time. I’m participating in my first ever fest, which is a Fight Scene Blog Fest. Bloggers will be posting fight scenes, either from their own books (published and not) or from other books and movies. It should be a lot of fun. Check out those participating here: http://networkedblogs.com/p26373748. Since this is my first time, I’ll be sneaking a peek at what others posted before posting my own scene later today, but it will be something only a few people have ever read…or maybe something out of my newest WIP (work in progress) that only ONE person has read so far. So get a sneak peek into PURPOSE or the next book coming later today.

That’s all for now! I need to go figure out which scene I’m going to post and will be back later…