What are you Writing? (Sunday Fiction Post-up: Vol. 11)

Time for the Sunday Fiction Post-up! Come share your current work-in-progress here. I’ve really been pushing myself on this novella and hope to be finished with it in two weeks, I’ve already laid down 14k in thirteen days. Boom! I’m on a mission 🙂

Behind the bar in Bailey (this reminded me of the setting of today's excerpt) public domain via pixabay

Behind the bar in Bailey (this reminded me of the setting of today’s excerpt)
public domain via pixabay

I invite you to post your title, genre/sub-genre and the second half of page 12 of your current work-in-progress. Let’s go crazy today and put in a nice chunk. No need for critique, just a little writer love.

Here’s mine:

“Want to talk about it?” DJ asked, taking a long drag off his cigarette. He’d never cared in the past to hear women talk about their problems. With Autumn it was different. He didn’t know why, but he did know it had nothing to do with the blood rushing below his belt. The feeling was more than that, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it.

“Not really,” Autumn said. He watched her silhouette shift in the shadows. The urge to pull her closer so he could see her better was strong. “Dean…”

“She told you.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice barely audible beneath the sound of the music coming from the bar. “Why did you pretend you didn’t know who I was?”

Because you wouldn’t talk to me then. That’s what DJ wanted to say, but in his head it sounded weak. They hadn’t seen each other since high school, why should he care what she thought of him? But he did. Like he couldn’t escape his past.

Have a great Sunday! And Write on!


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6 Responses to What are you Writing? (Sunday Fiction Post-up: Vol. 11)

  1. I love the name Autumn! And the intense connection you can feel in this excerpt. Very romantic.

    I figured I’d mix things up and post one from Act 2 of Dark City.

    The August air, heavy with wet heat, hangs over the mourners in solemn black, gathered around an ornate, if empty, coffin. A priest is saying something to the small crowd, their heads bowed in solemn contemplation. A few lift their chins to look me over as I approach. Late, and in a short, blood-red dress, lipstick and rubies to match.

    I meet their eyes, a haughty tilt to my head. Not one of them knew him like I did. Loved him like I did.

    The priest continues to drone on, a vaguely religious monologue. The tombstone beside him is a sheer obelisk of solid black marble.

    After they lower the coffin, I throw a bouquet of red roses into the grave and watch as the crimson blossoms disappear beneath shovelfuls of crumbling dirt.

    I wait, as the crowd diffuses, drifting away from the empty grave, until I’m the only one left standing sentry over it.

    ‘I love you,’ I whisper silently to him.

    ‘I know.’ The memory of his voice, dark as shadow, warm as summer. ‘I love you too.’

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thanks for the opportunity to share a piece of my current project, Rannigan’s Redemption (https://rannigansredemption.wordpress.com/). Here’s part of Part 12:

    She arrived about half an hour early the next morning having procured coffee and pastries from a bakery a few blocks from the office. There were bagels in five varieties, danishes, and coffee cakes in addition to espresso and dark roast with hazelnut creamer. She was arranging pastries on plastic platters when Michael entered the conference room. “Morning, Mags.”

    “Hi Michael,” she smiled genuinely, handing him the cup she’d just poured. “Have some coffee. This is from Two Little Red Hens on 2nd. Tell me this doesn’t beat the shit…crap…out of Starbucks.”

    “I’m not the one you have to convince, Norma Rae,” Michael quipped.

    Maggie stuck out her tongue at him. The others began to file into the room. Standifer was one of the last to come in.
    “What the fuck it this?” she whined. “Where is my soy mocha latte?”

    “Alright, people, let’s get started this morning,” Michael began. Everyone settled into chairs around the conference table. “We’ve got the Lisa Donovan case today. Standifer and Hodges will be going with me. What else are we working on?”

    The others chimed in with their current cases and their next steps. Finally Michael said, “Maggie Flynn joined us yesterday. She’ll be taking lunch orders until further notice. She picks the restaurant. If you don’t like it, order for yourself. Everybody keep me up to date on what you’re doing. Any other concerns?”

    The meeting ended quickly. Maggie hurried off to begin her other tasks. Michael caught up with her at the door to her office. “Coffee was great today, by the way,” he said.

    Maggie flashed him a satisfied smile. “Glad you liked it,” she answered. “I told you.”

    He smiled ruefully. “Yes, you did. I’m heading to court now. I probably won’t be back all day. Text me if there’s anything important.”

    “Will do,” Maggie nodded.

    Liked by 1 person

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