Agent Kit // so many WIP projects

I did a WIP post on A Sprig of Green less than a month ago. Is that enough?

NO. NO, IT ISN'T.

Because, see, I have a new WIP. My novella is finished (though edits shall still happen) and I've moved on to a new project. Or rather, an old project that shall be rewritten.

Hahahaaaa no way. My pictures are never totally random. Ever. *cough*

Agent Kit was my NaNo novel last year. I finished it on day 22 at exactly 89,978 words. I flailed and the flopped and took several weeks to recover back to my normal self. (don't do this guys, look after yourself as well as write. DO NOT FOLLOW MY EXAMPLE. xP)

Since then, I rewrote book #1, Rogue Escarlate, in January-February, edited it in march + plotted book #3. April I wrote Operation Flint (aforementioned #3), then May was back editing #1. June I finished my edits and sent it to some wonderful alpha readers. *throws confetti on them*

AND WOW. That was a lot of stuff.

With all of that, I never really got much time to look at book #2 - Agent Kit. But now that I've taken my dystopian break and written A Sprig of Green I'm diving back in. Currently I'm trying to work out one factor.

One word, guys. One important word:

p l o t

Yeah. I need a plot. I meant to be a lot further through plotting by today, but ehh. Plotting is hard sometimes and it doesn't always do what I want it to. I have to work out a plot that fits nicely with book one, preferably book three as well, but I'm already going to have to majorly edit/loosely rewrite that. (I fail at romance. Don't ask.) It's just a bit more bothersome than I was expecting.

But it's still fun at the same time, and it's going along slowly but surely. I'm also quite excited about some ideas that I've had, like bringing in characters that I originally...completely forgot about. Oops. But they actually come into this draft and we've got a whole gang thing going on. Plus some Russian Mafia involvement, a bit of kidnapping, some Ben-doesn't-like-soup-ing, and some more character development that it didn't have before. I'm looking forward to seeing how the rest of this plot stuff unfolds. *rubs hand eagerly*

Anyways. I have some random stuff for you today. Like...completely random. I don't know what to tell you about this WIP? So hopefully what I've got here will suffice. 

Musics

So after the question that came up in the Rising Authors Tag I was curious to see whether I could find any songs that fitted with Agent Kit specifically. I haven't come across anything that just hits perfectly and I know instantly that it's right, but I've discovered that For King and Country has a few that fit reasonably well. I like 'To the Dreamers' and 'Ceasefire' best. Also 'Take this City' by Everfound has a sort of Agent Kit-ish feel?
(Stalk my five-song playlist (to be expanded over time) here)

Aesthetics/collages

BASICALLY I JUST LIKE MAKING PICTURES, OKAY? :P

Will and Ben <33

the main cast of characters that hang around for the whole book. LOOK AT ALL THOSE BROODING EXPRESSIONS.

Aaand if you missed the ones from last Monday, click here to stalk them allll.

Snippets

And I got asked for snippets. Again. Because apparently you all like that?? So strange. :P I don't really have a lot, and I'd have a lot less but for the fact that I'm kind of (*cough*extremely*coughcough*) competitive and the OYAN forum had/have their annual Olympics. So I had to write something. (I came out with the highest word count for week number one, in case you wondered. The overall results haven't come in yet, but soooon they shall. *crosses fingers*)
(also I'm doing a test. All my posts with the word 'snippet' in the title have rather high page views and I'm curious to see if it's just because of the title, not the content. Because here's snippets and I didn't even warn you in the title. xD)


A high pitched buzz shot through the suffocating dullness. Just the shrill squeal and the pounding throb of his heartbeat.

Jeez what was wrong with his ears?

Ben forced his eyes open, squinting against the bright spots across his vision. Everything wobbled, warping in confusing waves.

Welp. The world had gone mad.

“Ben!” The sound of his name burst through the bubble of fogginess and the high pitched squeal stopped and sound exploded out on him. Falling metal, groaning and grating, and the snap of flames.

Will’s figure gestured frantically from the other side of the smashed windscreen. The entire vehicle shifted backward. Back toward the ground. “Ben, get out!”

Oh yes. Avoiding death would be nice.

- - -

Ben crouched in the deep window frame, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his knee. “To be entirely honest, I kind of imagined Russia to be a little bit more grey and gloomy colours.” He tipped his head sideways. “Not really expecting the cream and pastel buildings.”

A rustle came from behind and Will leaned sideways against the edge of the sill. “It’s ugly.”

“Hey!” Ben twisted around, furrowing his brow at Will. “What do you mean? These are no where near ugly compared to London. Though London does have it’s own charm.”

Will grunted. “Do you always admire a country’s architecture?”

Good question. Ben glanced back out at the coloured buildings. If he studied it, the paint did look a little dull, but a pastel sort of dull. “Not really.” He shrugged and swivelled back to the room, looking around. “But honestly—”

“It’s just a painted building.”

“A city-full of painted buildings. It’s cool.”

“Okay, whatever you say.”

- - -

“Don’t look in the mirror—” Will warned, but Ben flicked his gaze upward just a little.

The mirror showed the room around him, small and pale and dirty. A utilitarian bathroom with one sink, one mirror and one toilet in a small cubicle. But mostly what Ben noticed was himself.

His jacket was burnt.

No fair. He liked this jacket.


And considering I have no plot, I think three snippets is enough for now. xD You can thank the oyan olympics for that.

Also - on the topic of snippets I thought it would be interesting to see the new snippet vs the old snippet just so you can compare, because it's cool. *nods*


Product of NaNo Insanity:

Grabbing Ben’s gun from the floor, Will dragged him forward. “Out.” He shook his shoulders. “Remember, we’ve got to get out.”

Ben blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes. A dull numbness surrounded his entire body. He started to look down.

“Don’t,” Will said, grabbing his chin and stopping the movement. “Whatever you do, don’t look at yourself. Save that for later.”

Ben took his gun from Will’s offered hand. “Is it really that bad?” he asked blearily.

Will didn’t reply, turning on his heel and kicking forward through the debris. The wailing of police sirens made Ben follow him with a lurch.


AND BLAH BLAH. You don't need to see any more. xD

Rough Rewritten Scene:

Will’s lips drew into the flat line of worry that had become all too familiar. “I can’t help you here. We have to get out first, then you can rest.”

“But what’s wrong with me?” Ben shook his head, but that didn’t make anything any clearer. “All I did was crash the car.” He tilted his gaze downward to look at himself.

Will caught his chin, gently pushing his head back up. “Look at yourself later. I can’t have you fainting on me now.”

“I don’t faint, I’m more manly than that—wait.” Ben closed his eyes, trying to think over what Will had just said. “Why would I faint if I looked at myself?”

Will lifted Ben’s arm over his shoulders, standing up and half lifting Ben with him. Ben fumbled for footing and gritted his teeth. He could walk. Whatever was wrong with him would just have to wait.


I THINK IT'S PRETTY SAFE TO SAY I'VE IMPROVED A BIT?? I hope so anyway. (also LOOK AT THAT you get four snippets actually xD) I'm honestly having so much fun writing little snippets and playing with Will and Ben and their relationship. Will is like a big brother trying to learn what big brothers are meant to do, and Ben always forgives him for anything as long as he gets lunch on time (and usually when he doesn't as well). 

Aaaaand I think that's all for now. Or did I miss anything?? *squints at blog post* *squints at novel document* *shrugs*


What's your WIP about?
Is there anything else about Agent Kit that I forgot to satisfy your curiosity on?
(I'll answer in the comments if there is *fingerguns*)

Of Rising Authors and the Number 777

Hey look. Here's another tag! This one's about Rising Authors, and there were some interesting questions so I figured I may as well do it. And I also thought that I could do the 777 challenge for Monsieur Scattlocke just for fun. (I've also got another tag (the Describe Tag) coming up next Monday, so be ready)

So thanks Savannah for the unofficial tags and stuff! 

First off I'm doing the Rising Authors, and then the 777 tag.

*sigh* Rules. How come there are always rules to follow? Not that I ever do...

Go and write a post thanking the person who tagged you, include the tag,  the 11 questions the person who tagged you asked, your answers and in reply to the request of a small piece of poetry or writing, write a brief 150 word story. 

Then, at the end of the post make up 11 new questions, request a brief 150 word story from the people you tagged, and then, write a list of at least one person you tag with a link to their blog,

and then, post it!

If anyone actually understood all that, congratulations, you're one step ahead of me

So to paraphrase:

Thank the random who tagged you

Do the post

Answer the questions

Tag other randoms

Give 'em another 11 questions

Write a short story

or do the 777 challenge thing instead just to break the rules.

Do you have one character you've written that you're especially attached to? 

(or a few characters?) 

EMIR! Oh yes, definitely Emir Salib. He's from Monsieur Scattlocke and is totally hilarious. I love him. So much. I have such brilliant plans with him.

What book are you reading right now?

Hmm, just one book? I'm reading a couple at the moment, but Do Hard Things is probably the best one. No, let me rephrase that, it is the best one. Very good.

What was the last book you finished and what did you think of it? 

Finished as in finished writing or finished reading? Technically I haven't officially finished writing any book completely so I'm assuming it's about books I've read. The last books was Tinker. And it was real good. I loved it completely.

Have you ever written a full first draft of a book? 

First draft? Yes. I've done the first draft of The Bridge of Anskar, and if you count serial blog stories you could say Dusty Red and If Adventure Comes Your Way too. And then there's Lando Erif...they're only short stories but I've finished five of them. And I think that's about it.

When did you first begin writing? 

(or, more specifically, writing with a purpose of getting published or something along those lines) 

Uh...a couple of years back, 2014 I believe. Though it was only recently that I've actually started thinking that maybe...one day...I will get published...maybe even one day soon. (IT IS THE COOLEST FEELING EVER!!!!!) At this stage, Lando Erif stories are the closest to...that. But Monsieur Scattlocke is basically the first ever actual long novel that I feel like could (and very hopefully will) go somewhere in the end.

What is the weirdest writer-ly thing you've ever done?

Weirdest? Ooh, hard choice. Weird like...y'know. I randomly can't think of anything at the moment. I've tied myself up in ropes just for practice and then discovered that I couldn't untie myself again...that's kinda weird I guess.

Which do you prefer, a hardcover book or a paperback? 

Personally I like paperback just 'cause it feels better to hold. And it's also cheaper, but I'll take either naturally.

Which series were you most sad to see end? (or a few series) 

Billabong (Mary Grant Bruce). I know, technically we haven't quite finished them yet. I think we've got the last one to read yet, but still! We started the series as a read aloud probably around when I was...six maybe? So aaagggges ago. And the characters are like friends. I've had dreams about them (that's not saying much though, I have dreams about books frequently).

What's better, pencils or pens? 

Well, it really depends what I'm doing. If I'm writing in a notebook my favourite blue pen is what I'm most likely to use. But then, if I'm working out my maths I'll use a pencil (probably so I can rub out my mistakes).

Is there a special spot where you do most of your writing? 

Yeah. My desk. At my computer. If I had a laptop I'd probably hide away in my bedroom, but I don't, so I'm kinda stuck in one place unless I feel like lugging around the whole computer.

What do you do when you get writer's block?

To be entirely honest there are two things. 1. Procrastinate on Pintrest. or 2. Leave that part of the story with a scowl and start writing from somewhere else. Invent a new character, do some research (aka procrastinate on Pintrest again), write a scene, write the end of the book (seriously, I had the end of Monsieur Scattlocke written before I even had 2k from the beginning). And if all else fails I go and moan to a friend, usually Sarah. She's good at being a sympathetic listener.


So now, rather than doing the short story thing I'm meant to be doing, I'm going to do the 777 challenge for Monsieur Scattlocke. For those that haven't heard of this thing, it's basically where you go to the seventh page of you WIP, count down the the seventh line and then get the next seven lines and put them in the post.

Because of Camp NaNo I've now actually written seven pages of Monsieur Scattlocke from the beginning (I'm such a good girl) so this is even going to work properly! And here it is:

“Though, if you go Sherwood direction you’ll find a bit of trouble with the outlaws,” the merchant added with a chuckle.

“Outlaws?” Something nudged in the back of Will's mind, two things that he couldn’t quite connect.

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “You haven’t heard?” A smile broke out. “There’s many stories and rumours to hear across the country, and they get simply wilder the closer to Sherwood you get.”

“Outlaws in Sherwood,” Will said dumbly. “Like, Robin Hood and his Merry Men?”

So okay, that wasn't even too bad. It doesn't really make much sense out of context but...anyway. It probably made just as much sense to Will when it happened.


And there we go. A rather interesting tag really. Hope you enjoyed it! I'm done now right? *scrolls up to check* Oh.

I've still got to tag people and think up questions for them. Heh.

I tag...Sarah from Novus Papilio, for being such a good writing friend! And Clare - Clare's Spot - too, 'cause I haven't tagged you for something for ages...and you're a great writer sister.

(Note: you guys can either write the 150 word story or do 777 thingy, or just share a snippet. Take your pick, I don't really care.)

Now for 11 questions.

Are you a planner/plotter or a pantser? (if you don't know what that means, google it)

Do you write from beginning to end or are you okay with jumping around to wherever you feel inspired to write?

Do you like writing cliffhangers?

Are plot twists spontaneous for you, or do the require much deep thought?

Must the first draft be perfect and reread a thousand times, or do you just skim through it?

How many words is a good writing day for you?

When and where do new story ideas come upon you most frequently?

D'you prefer writing with epic soundtracks/music or without? 

Is there a specific person who helps you brainstorm ideas?

Do you have someone to tell all the spoilers to before they make you explode with excitement?

What is your favourite part of the writing process?


Phew, that wasn't actually as hard as I thought it might be! Well, if anyone else feels like doing this other than my tagged-persons, please feel free, I'd love to see your answers.

Fair Winds!

Jane Maree

If Adventure Comes Your Way - Fragment Thirteen

Howdy!

How was your week?
I did a couple of different things....one being a little bit of editing of 'The Bridge of Anskar'. So I'm now up to draft four. I also had this really cool idea that, if it works, will change the story quite a lot. If it works...which it quite possibly won't. But I'm going to try it out anyway.

I also went to a friend's house on Thursday so (oh horror) I had to write the story on Wednesday! So confusing... But it was definitely worth it. We watched about five Doctor Who episodes, swam in the dam, did some archery (my arms are sooo sore today from the maybe-60 pound draw weight) and I got a massive bruise. 

If you thought last time's fragment was depressing - just wait. This one (and next week's) gets even worse. Option one won (he he, I like saying that). I may have mentioned that every week I write this paragraph summary of what's going to happen in the Fragment. last week's was a little too long so I had to cut it in half, so I didn't have much trouble this week! 

Read on for the next (depressing) Fragment!

A lone set of footsteps entered and all the soldiers went silent. A cold, haughty voice echoed in the suddenly quiet room.

“Light the fire. May as well have lunch, it would be such a pity to waste the chickens.”

Maree leant her head back against the wall. Things were just getting worse and worse. Movement in the room below signalled that someone was obeying the order, and she looked down to see a bunch of sticks being tossed onto the already glowing embers.

There was nothing for it. Either she’d have to jump out now and surrender to the soldiers or climb the chimney. Maree looked up into the dark gloom above her, her mouth dry with fear.

The sticks crackled below her, responding to the urging of the soldier.

Maree reached up, pressing her hands against the wall above. She lifted her feet, moving them higher up the chimney.

Soot fell down into the fireplace, and the sticks caught alight.

Smoke swirled upwards, choking Maree as she climbed higher. She dared not cough lest the men below hear her. Black ash rained down but Maree kept going, struggling to find clear air to breathe.

I ‘ave t’ git back to the young ones, Maree thought to herself, dragging herself higher up the narrowing chimney. The smoke and darkness made it impossible to see as she struggled to continue.

Reaching up again, Maree encountered a rough ledge and she realised she’d reached the top. Her lungs aching for air, she pulled herself up, squeezing out of the last part. Maree collapsed on the roof, gulping for air.

After a few minutes she sat up, steadying herself. Crawling to the edge of the roof, she looked around, thankful that no soldiers had heard her noise, and if they had, none had come to investigate. When they did she would be long gone.

With a deep breath, Maree dropped to the ground, rolling to soften the impact. She stood up, blinking as stars swirled in her vision. A laugh from several meters away made her spin around.

A tall, broad shouldered man tipped his head back and laughed again. “It seems we’ve found a runaway.” Lord Hacaz.

Maree ran.

She dashed around the corner of the house, running faster than she ever had before. She had to get to the others. 

Soldiers poured out of the farm cottage, some running directly after her but others ran for horses.

Maree fled past the stables, but as she passed the door a figure jumped out at her, tackling her to the ground. She fought back, terror ripping through her. If she was caught there’d be no one to look after the others. She couldn’t let them down, not now that her parents had been murdered.

But Maree was weakened by shock and exertion, and her attacker was not. Maree found herself held down firmly as her hands were bound tightly behind her back.

A hand pulled her to her feet, and Maree looked into the eyes of the man who’d laughed.

“Running will get you nowhere girl,” he said in the same cold voice that had silenced the room of soldiers. “It did no good to your parents.”

Maree pulled against the soldier holding her but to no avail.

“What is your name?” the first question came with a scornful sneer.

Maree clenched her jaw, determined not to answer.

Lord Hacaz drew his broadsword casually, fingering the edge. “My sword does not take kindly to little girls ignoring it,” he said without looking up. “What is your name?”

“Maree,” came the savage answer. “Maree Freespirit.” Maree spat at his feet.

“Where is the rest of your family?” now the lord did look at her, his eyes boring into hers as if to extract the information without her speaking a word.

Maree shook her head. “Not here,” she said.

“I worked that much out,” Hacaz answered. “Where exactly?”

“In this country,” Maree returned. 

In a moment the sword tip rested on her throat. “You will tell me where they are.”

“I will not,” she countered.

The lord of Sean Iister sheathed his sword fluidly. He took a step closer to Maree. “Perhaps you do not realise just how much I can do to those children when I find them,” he hissed menacingly. “Even if you do not tell me – and it will be all the worse for them if you don’t – I will find them.” He leaned in close, “And I will save you for last.”

Maree kept her face a mask, hiding the agonising uncertainty within. 

Hacaz paused a while longer, looking scornfully at Maree, then he gestured to the soldiers. “Tie her up; we’ll camp here for the night.”

Maree tried to resist but the soldiers dragged her to the pig pen, tying her hands to a post of the fence. The afternoon sun glinted off something in the grass. Maree shifted her foot slightly to conceal it from the soldiers.

When she was alone Maree slowly drew her foot towards her, pulling the object as well. She uncovered it carefully. Her father’s small penknife reflected the sun’s rays. He must have had it when fixing the fence and it had fallen from his pocket. Maree felt the light pierce her heart like a sliver of hope.

After a while of struggling, manoeuvring her legs and body as much as she could, Maree managed to get the knife within reach of her hands. The cold steel felt reassuring in her hand.

*

Maree waited until the darkest part of the night before cutting herself free.

All the soldiers were camped around in the barn or next to the cottage. Five were posted as look outs. In an hour it would begin to grow lighter but now darkness lay across the land like a blanket.

Half of the soldiers had been sent off by Hacaz earlier but hadn’t returned. Maree hoped that they wouldn’t think to search Ma Greey’s farm before she could warn them.

Maree worked at the ropes with the knife, wincing as it cut into her wrist more than once in the process. 

The last fibres snapped easily and she dropped the penknife into her pocket, flexing her fingers to get back circulation.

Lowering herself flat on her stomach, Maree squirmed forward, crawling towards freedom. The guards paid no attention to the dark shadow that slid past.

Her heart in her mouth, Maree continued, inching her way along the ground, ignoring the sharp sticks and rocks and scratched her arms. She’d done this many times before, but always it had been playing Soldiers and Runaways with her siblings.

This was real life Soldiers and Runaways.

Seconds dragged out, but still no one noticed. Maree pressed on, heading for a small grove of trees behind which she would have shelter. 

She reached the trees and picked herself up slowly. Looking back over her shoulder Maree bade a whispered fare well to her parents. Then, squaring her shoulders, she looked ahead.

The others would be waiting.

Maree’s swift footsteps sounded evenly on the hard ground. The brown grass parted for her and a crushed track spread out behind her for a moment before the grass sprung back into its usual position.

The first predawn light grew faintly in the sky and Maree pressed herself harder. The darkness had made it hard to navigate and she couldn’t travel as fast as she liked. 

The Greey homestead appeared out of the gloom and Maree, her speed reduced to a exhausted stagger, headed for it.

The small light of a candle flickered through the window and Maree felt a reassurance at once. Surely Ma Greey wouldn’t do that if soldiers had come.

She stumbled to the door, pounding on it heavily. It opened almost instantly and Ma Greey appeared. Even in the dim light of dawn Maree could tell that something was terribly wrong.

Tear streaked down her face, leaving shimmering trails in their wake.

“Ma Greey?” Maree asked hesitantly.

“I’m so—so sorry,” Ma Greey sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

***

1. Arms grabbed Maree from behind, dragging her backwards off balance.

2. Ma Greey was pushed forward and a soldier filled the doorway. “What are you doing here? You’re meant to be at the camp.” 

3. Maree stepped forward, grabbing the woman’s shoulders. “Why? Why are ye sorry?” she demanded, her eyes wild.

***

I honestly am sorry about all the thing I'm doing to poor Maree (Just picture me in the place of Ma Greey and you've got it). I really do like her, but suffering makes for a stronger character. Using their pain to make power, it's quite a common tactic with writers. Don't forget to comment and vote for your favourite option.

Allons-y!

Cool books and Giveaways

No, sadly this is not a giveaway that I am doing. I may do one someday, but I don't know yet...
Anyway, this is about a giveaway from Kingdom Pen!

You may remember that my half-done novel, The Bridge of Anskar, was/is being written using the 'One Year Adventure Novel Curriculum'. Daniel Schwabauer (I dare you to try pronounce his name) invented that. I've also read two of his novels: "Runt the Brave" and "Runt the Hunted" and liked 'em both heaps. Naturally I really, really want to read "The Curse of the Seer" as it's the next book in the series.

So, since I follow the Kingdom Pen place, I came across this giveaway! Yay! And since I'm such a terribly nice person (and because it gets me more points) I decided to do a blog post about it. That way, all of you can find it and enter as well. Just to tempt you, here's the synopsis:

Everyone thinks Eli is afraid of the dark, and they’re right. But it’s not because he can’t see in the dark; it’s because he can. After his father is murdered by kingsguard mice, Eli is tortured and condemned to death.

With the help of Tira-Nor’s old seer, AlBaer, Eli escapes his executioners and discovers that his mother, who was sold into slavery in Cadrid years before, may still be alive. Finding and saving her becomes his passion, but can he survive slavery, cruel taskmasters, foreign armies, the hatred of his own people, and even death itself? AlBaer can’t—or won’t—protect him from the supernatural evil that stalks him, and Eli must try to unravel the seer’s curse alone.

Cool? I reckon it is. Mr. S (what we one year adventure novel-ists call Daniel Schwabauer, probably because we don't know how to pronounce his last name) also did an interview thing. If you click on the picture, or right here you can go to the Kingdom Pen site and read it. All writers should also follow it, because they have some really good posts.

Giveaways are always fun...maybe I should think about doing one...But for now, just go, have some fun and enter into the Kingdom Pen Giveaway!

Fare Thee Well!

The Bridge of Anskar

   I've finished the first draft of my novel! It took a lot of work and there were times when I was sure I must have been an idiot to even think of starting. But now The first bit is finished, but now here comes the editing....and the second draft...and the third draft....
   So far it has:
Pages: 121
Words: 39,967
Characters: (with spaces) 208,580 (without spaces) 169,503
Chapters: 12
Paragraphs: 1,250
Lines:3,531

Here's a link to my Pintrest board: The Bridge of Anskar.

I've written and re-written the synopsis so many times it's not funny but this is what I've ended up with:

When modern Australian girl, Anastasia Newbridge, accidentally stumbles into the land of Eirerandil in its time of greatest peril, she is plunged into the greatest adventure of her life.

With the King on his deathbed, the royals are in chaos as multiple deaths occur under suspicious circumstances. The Crown Prince, Azruen, disappears, and it is up to Ana and her friends to attempt the dangerous mission to rescue him and return him to his rightful position.

But the evil Lady Morgal is powerful beyond belief and will stop at nothing to get what she wants.​ Against such odds can Ana fulfil the ancient prophecies and prove she is worthy of her name?

I've also drawn a map of my world, Eirerandil. I'm not an artist so it took a bit of convincing myself that I could actually do it, but I did. And it wasn't really that hard.

My oldest (positively ancient) sister, Clare, has read the whole thing and critiqued it for me, and I'm currently working on fixing all the random things I wrote...

It can be funny when Clare points out some random thing that doesn't hake sense but it can also be difficult. Apparently my people sleep to much.I must admit, they do. For example, they (MC and three friends) are being chased through a forest...then they get to the beach and - this is really crazy - they sit down and eat something...then the soldiers come along and disturb their picnic...

I'm just a little ashamed of that myself...it makes my characters look like hungry idiots! (They're not)

But aside from all that, it was very nice of Clare when she finished reading it to say that it was better then she had expected. Although if you thing about that comment it could be taken as an insult but it wasn't. Besides, we insult each other all the time (for fun of course, we're Aussies!). It could be interesting to know what a complete stranger thinks of us when Clare and I are walking around in the shops dodging packets of frozen potato chips that we are swiping at each other's heads. It's quite fun...you should try it!

But back to the point (or the future) I have finished the first draft, but that aint meanin' I'm finished, so to speak. There's a lot more work ahead but I'm looking forward to it.

Now, what am I going to write my next novel about?

~ Jane, Misty Maiden

Ana's Adventures

   I thought I could amuse you with a few funny bits from my novel so far (by the way, The main character's name is Ana, and it's from her point of view. And yes, I'll probably change the title to something more interesting than Ana's Adventures, that's just all I could think off at this stage)....

~

Leonora looked at me grinning. I frowned back, “What’s so funny?” I asked suspiciously.

She tried to hide her smile, “Oh, nothing, nothing at all.”

I glared at her then gave up; if she didn't want to tell me, she wouldn't. 

Then Leonora burst out laughing, “Your hair! It’s sticking up everywhere!”

~

When Leonora got a slice of bread she said, “I would give a toast to you, Ana, if only we had a fire to toast the bread on.” She grinned at her own wit.

Eumin sighed and rolled his eyes, “You just don’t get any better do you?” He said in mock despair.

Leonora raised her eyebrow at him then turned to me and said, “He has absolutely no sense of humour, he just doesn't appreciate it.”

Eumin replied with some spirit, “I have a very good sense of humour, I just know how to deal with people like you who don’t.”

Leonora shot him a challenging look, “Oh really? And just how do you know that?”

Eumin looked at her, a superior smiled on his face, “Well, it might have something to do with the fact that I have experience in dealing with blocks of wood.”

Leonora screwed up her face, “Are you comparing me to a block of wood?”

Eumin gave her a pitying look, “Yes.” He said.

~

“Yes indeed. We should get to my place before dark.”

I felt relieved; I didn't think this would be the most pleasant and welcoming place to be at night. 

Then Leonora added, “I'm not guaranteeing anything though.”

I glared at her, “Oh yes of course, get my hopes raised to the sky then drop them into the well.” I muttered under my breath.  Leonora turned away and started off down the path again. 

I followed her, and I am steadfastly sure that I heard her snickering.

~

So far I have 2,767 words in chapter one, 4,877 in chapter two and 2,578 in chapter three (which I haven't finished yet). The synopsis is going to be something like this:

Anastasia Newbridge lives in a modern Australian town. She has bad relationships with her family, and no way to love. When she accidentally falls into the land of Eireraendil, Ana must work with her new friends, Leonora and Eumin, to save the land for a deadly peril.

With the King on his deathbed, the power-hungry Lady Morgal is killing off all the nobles until she is the first in line to the throne. 

The Prince disappears, and it is up to Ana and her friends to rescue the Prince and return him to his rightful position. But with dangerous cliffs, soldiers at every turn and time running out, can they reach the Prince in time?​ 

Hope you enjoyed it!

~ Jane, Misty Maiden