Nightsong

Happy Wednesday! I’m three days into parenting a teenager, and it feels remarkably like parenting him when he was still twelve. 🙂 Actually, I’m very proud of my big kid. Up next: My daughter turns 11 on Saturday! She’s getting her first phone, and boy is she excited that she can now text us the way her brother can. I think I feel pretty special that the kids are as excited to message us as they are to message their friends. I have always loved and liked my kids, but as they grow, it feels like our relationship is stretching and growing too, in good ways. I really am lucky to have them.

Enough sappiness; time for the WIPpet. Here’s a little more about Izzy. I decided to post this little bit first, but next week I’ll share a moment with his moms. (Side note: While many marathons can be entered just because you want to, with the Boston you have to qualify based on a previous marathon time.)

WIPmath: 10 sentences for the 10th.

When Izzy finally returned home after his shift, he made a beeline for the shower, half-stripping on his way and throwing everything into the hallway hamper. He adjusted the water and stepped under the spray, not muffling a drawn-out groan of relief as the spray hit his back. He thought thirty-six was far too young for his body to protest like this after every shift, desperately needing the hot water and the pounding of the massage setting on the shower head to quell the spasms in his lower back.

It had been happening all too frequently lately, both in his back and legs, and it bothered him. Not enough to have it looked at, but enough that he decided he had to get into better shape. He’d qualified for the Boston marathon and had signed up the day registration opened, and he needed to keep himself fit. He figured all the stiffness was his body’s way of saying he hadn’t run enough lately. It was true; he’d been working so many hours and had become a regular at Switch Hitter over the summer as well. He sighed at the thought of having to go back to being an occasional performer.

If he didn’t whip his body back into shape, he wouldn’t be able to dance in those heels, and even more than running the marathon, he couldn’t bear the thought of giving up his night life.

Like what you read? Be sure to check out the other entries and add your own. Just post a bit of your WIP, connect it to the date, and link up with us. Many thanks to Emily Witt for giving us this space. Happy reading and writing!

Happy Wednesday! We’re off for vacation tomorrow, and right after we come back, I will officially have a teenager. I would say it feels like 5 minutes ago that I was holding him for the first time, but that’s not really true. I’ve had almost 13 wonderful years of watching him grow and mature. I feel pretty lucky to be his mom.

On to the WIPpet. This week’s snippet is about Izzy, the other main character. He’s an EMT who moonlights as a drag queen at Switch Hitter, an LGBT+ bar. This scene is based on a real-life situation. My father-in-law was an EMT for many years, and he once had to transport a mummy to the hospital so they could do scans on it. I changed the details, but it’s not as far-fetched as it sounds.

WIPmath: No math. It’s the first of the month, and these are the first lines of chapter 2.

Israel “Izzy” Kaplan turned away from the radio and hollered over his shoulder, “Morales! Morales, get in here!”

A petite, dark-haired woman poked her head around the corner. “Yeah?”

“You’re not going to believe this.” Izzy shook his head, chuckling. He couldn’t hold back, and deep belly laughs rolled out of him.

“Kaplan, get it together.” Valeria poked him in the side.

He composed himself, trying to keep a straight face despite the snicker filtering through. “We have a patient to pick up.”

“And you’re still sitting here because…?” She waved her hand at him.

“It’s not an emergency.”

“It’s not like you to mock the homeless guy who keeps calling.” Val’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Izzy clammed up then cleared his throat. “Sorry. Not the homeless guy, either. You know I wouldn’t make fun if it were. When haven’t we gone to take care of him? It’s something else.”

Val huffed. “Yeah, okay. Get to the point already.”

“We’re supposed to go”—he laughed again—“pick up”—another snort—“a skeleton.”

Val’s face registered confusion. “Someone’s been dead a long time.”

“A real long time,” Izzy agreed. “On the order of millions of years.”

“Uh…”

He guffawed again. “We have to transport a dinosaur. That’s not a metaphor.”

Like what you read? Be sure to check out the other entries and add your own. Just post a bit of your WIP, connect it to the date, and link up with us. Many thanks to Emily Witt for giving us this space. Happy reading and writing!

Happy Wednesday! Busy day—the kids had a big track event at camp, which I went to watch. Sadly, that meant no writing or editing or beta reading today, at least not so far. I got extra done on Monday, but I’ve now lost two days’ worth of work due to post-activity fatigue. I’m hoping to make up for it tomorrow.

On to the WIPpet. Directly after last week’s, and Nate…well, his heart is in the right place, but he doesn’t always have a lot of tact. Plus he can’t seem to decide if Jamie is a delicate butterfly in need of freeing or if he’s simply choosing poorly. (Note: he’s referencing something which happened in Anthem, but it’s not vital to the main plot of either story.)

WIPmath: 7/27/2016 = 2 + 7 + 2 + 0 + 1 + 6 – 7 = 11 paragraphs

Jamie relaxed visibly and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” he said.

“He’s an ass,” Nate remarked.

“Please don’t,” Jamie snapped, his posture abruptly changing. “You don’t understand.”

“Understand what? I have no idea what you were arguing about, but damn it, Jamie, it gets old.”

“Oh? I’m sorry my life is ruining yours.” Jamie pushed past Nate and took off down the hallway to his room. He slammed the door, leaving Nate alone in the kitchen.

Nate closed his eyes and breathed slowly. Great. Another friendship on the verge of collapse because he simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He thought about Trevor and the mess he’d created there by accidentally-on-purpose outing him in a public and humiliating way. It had worked itself out, but it would be a long time before he could reconstruct their trust again. Now here he was, hurting Jamie too.

He smacked his hand on the counter. Enough was enough. He wouldn’t lose someone else because of his overdeveloped sense of what was right. Nate went to Jamie’s room and knocked on the door.

“What do you want?” Jamie asked.

“I want to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry I was a jerk just now.”

A moment later, Jamie opened the door. They stood there, Jamie craning his neck to look up at Nate, who was a good ten inches taller. Jamie’s eyes were red-rimmed. Nate put a hand on Jamie’s arm and squeezed gently. He let go, and with a nod, Jamie stepped back into his room and closed the door with a soft click. If Nate’s eyes misted over too, no one else needed to know.

Like what you read? Be sure to check out the other entries and add your own. Just post a bit of your WIP, connect it to the date, and link up with us. Many thanks to Emily Witt for giving us this space. Happy reading and writing!

Happy Wednesday! Late again, this time because I nearly forgot. I don’t even have a good excuse this time.

Progress is now steady on the novel. I’m just past the halfway mark, so I’m on track to finish up by the end of next week with the first draft. After that, I’ll be editing and sending chapters to betas. Once I have that going, it will be time to start on my next project, which I’m pretty excited about. It’s quite a departure from what I’ve been writing.

On to the WIPpet. Once again, it’s directly after last week’s. The Boyfriend went from argumentative to “sweetly” persuasive. Now he’s moved on to strategy #3. Some non-consensual touching and an ignored “no” this time, but it doesn’t go any farther than that.

WIPmath: 7/20/2016 = 7 + 2 + 0 + 2 + 0 + 1 + 6 = 18 paragraphs

He moved one hand down to Jamie’s hip then slowly inched his fingers farther in until they rested on Jamie’s crotch. Jamie flinched, but his muttered, “Stop it” went unheeded.

Nate hated getting in the middle, but once Jamie’s no had been disrespected, he couldn’t help it. “Hey, Jay?” he called, moving closer to them.

The other two fell silent. Jamie cleared his throat and responded, “Yeah?” as he turned toward Nate.

“Want to come help me in the kitchen for a sec?”

Jamie started to step out of the hallway, but The Boyfriend caught his arm. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done.”

“I’m going to help Nate like he asked.” Jamie jerked his arm away.

He entered the kitchen and wiped his face on his sleeve. His cheeks were blotchy and his eyes were bright, but he looked all right otherwise. Nate wouldn’t have put it past The Boyfriend to hit Jamie, though he hadn’t seen him do it yet. He held out the bag of groceries and leaned in as though he were discussing the cream cheese.

“Are you all right?” he asked, low.

“Yeah.”

“Jamie.”

“It’s nothing, okay?” Jamie sighed. “But thanks for getting me out of there.”

“Want to tell me what that was about?”

Jamie shrugged and stepped around Nate to open the fridge. He glanced over his shoulder and leaned closer. “Not now.”

Nate nodded and put the last few items away. He tossed the reusable bag into a drawer and stalked over to The Boyfriend. Nate towered over him, and he wasn’t afraid to use his height to his advantage in this situation. The Boyfriend shrank back a bit, though he was still scowling.

“Probably a good idea to leave,” Nate said.

“Not without him.” The Boyfriend nodded at Jamie. “He’s coming with me like he promised.”

“Hell, no,” Nate told him. “Didn’t sound like he promised you anything.” He crossed his arms and stared down at The Boyfriend.

The Boyfriend gave a whining huff and flounced out, pulling the door shut with force behind him.

Like what you read? Be sure to check out the other entries and add your own. Just post a bit of your WIP, connect it to the date, and link up with us. Many thanks to Emily Witt for giving us this space. Happy reading and writing!