Saturday, June 28, 2014

Story Saturdays

It's the half point in the year, so I've reassessed my goal for the year, as well as the direction I'm heading in. After releasing story number nineteen this year, I penned an article for the GNFA blog - FIVE TROUBLES OF BEING A PROLIFIC WRITER. I encourage you to go read it, as it contains some of my thoughts. But, along that same line, I've decided to concentrating on loving what I do.

I do love it, but I look at the number of unfinished stories sometimes and get discouraged. Weighing me down further are the book covers I've done (for unreleased stories) that I've seen inadvertently duplicated by other independent authors. Great minds think alike, I guess. We encounter the same stock photography and have the same ideas. But my point is ... I'm such a visual person, that I've found it hard to finish stories with covers like someone else's.

As I said in my recent devotional, I'm going to HMO, highlight and move on. The stories are all viable, and who knows what God will have me do with them in the future? All writing is good exercise, a verbal flexing of my craft.

My rambling done, I have a new series and an additional single story, I'm working on. These have taken precedence in my mind over the others. Also, don't forget the final book in The Italian Series has been released, PLAY IT FOR ME. All the characters return in some fashion. You won't want to miss it.

Links to my other new releases - GIVE ME CHOCOLATE (AND JORDAN), THE GIRL IN THE PINK BIKINI, and IT DONT' RAIN IN TEXAS - as well as a slew of other stories from this year, can all be found on my blog.

This new series, so far in my head, is two books. It's historical fiction set in the late 1880s. Book 1 tells the story of Genevieve Nichols, a girl running from her past. Book 2 has the same characters, but introduces a girl who doesn't know she's beautiful.

In this scene, Genevieve, dressed like a boy, is trying to steal from the general store:

“No, now, I don’t know how your mama raised you, but mine taught me what the Good Book says about stealing. You owe Mrs. Dresslin one jar of preserves. I imagine she can find you some work …”

No sooner had the words left his lips, than the boy raised one foot, bringing the heel down on Virgil’s toe. An unbidden oath left his lips. His grasp tightening, he twisted around, slinging the boy against the back wall of the store, and in that moment, the boy’s hat fell off.

He stared wide-eyed at the vision before him.

A woman. This wasn’t a boy, but a beautiful, young woman. Blonde hair framed clear skin lightly dusted red from the sun. The woman lifted her chin and glared at him.


THIS NEXT STORY, came to me in a dream. At least, chapter 1 did. It's a romantic suspense with enough twists and turns to keep you guessing. Detective Irina Fausett is trying to arrest a serial killer for good. Problem is, he has a good attorney - her father. Twist #1. Seeing said killer walk out of her precinct again sends her out for the evening to blow off some steam. But a bad decision and a lot of body heat turns into a one night stand that she thought would mean nothing, especially since she has no idea who the guy was. Except ... Twist #2 ... her unknown man walks back into the story in spectacular fashion.

In this scene, she's arguing with herself over giving in.

Her cop-side kicked in. He’d paid cash for the room, used the name John Smith, and she’d known that wasn’t true. In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t cared. She should have cared, should have stopped her behavior when he’d whispered the suggestion in her ear.

Let’s leave.

The piece of her brain still functioning had said no, but the rest of her had screamed yes. That easily, she’d thrown aside all the things she’d learned in church, all the reasons she’d been taught it was wrong, simply to forget Damon Levin.

She hadn’t forgotten him at all. He was still out there, plotting his next move, and now she’d have to live with the fact she’d slept with a guy she didn’t know his name and probably wouldn’t see again.

Definitely wouldn’t see again, because she wasn’t returning to that club. Ever. If he went back there, he wouldn’t find her. A one-night stand wasn’t a relationship and wouldn’t do anything for her in the future. It served only as a reminder of how low she could fall.

Plus, it had been incredibly dangerous. He could have been anyone. He could have been exactly like Levin, and she could be laying in a ditch somewhere, a corpse. She knew better.

Suzanne D. Williams
Suzanne Williams Photography 
Florida, USA

Suzanne Williams is a native Floridian, wife, and mother, with a penchant for spelling anything, who happens to love photography.

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