bits of Cupcakes, Trinkets and Other Deadly Magic
I’m working my way through the 2nd draft of my new WIP, Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic. It’s an urban fantasy. Here are some of my favourite bits from this week’s writing (unedited and unproofed, FYI):
– from Monday:
I flung myself at the bus, attempting to not simply collapse on the stairs of the open door.
I couldn’t breathe. The driver didn’t find this particularly charming. I tried a smile, and got an answering one in return. Though I think he might have also just noticed my heaving chest. Good, maybe that would distract him from the fact that I had no fare.
“Hi … “ I managed to speak between gasps, but was becoming uncomfortably aware of the yawning darkness of the vampire-filled night behind me. “Thank you for stopping.” Okay, so it was just one vampire. He was one too many.
– from Tuesday:
“How did you know I lived here?”
The wolf shrugged. “Smells like you.”
“It smells like me?” I echoed, because, when surprised, I tended to be an idiot.
“Yes, your magic is tasty.” This time the wolf did show her teeth when she smiled. I thought that might indicate the conversation was moving in the wrong direction … the woman-eating direction, and not the good kind.
– from Wednesday:
I didn’t answer. The conversation had gotten too serious, too quickly for me. My guard was down. I was feeling soft and malleable after the terrifying evening and the yoga class. I was feeling like leaning on Hudson would be a terribly easy thing to do … right before he broke and probably ate my heart … though I think, according to my research, werewolves generally frowned upon man-eaters.
– from Thursday:
I’d protested the change of location but Sienna had insisted my living room wasn’t the right spot for an earth-based spell, and, countering my suggestion of a park, she laughed and murmured something about needing the protection of the wards.
I hated it when Sienna murmured about magic. A murmur had led to many a close call in our youth. I’d lost my hair at sixteen because of a murmured caveat. It took two months for the skin to grow back on my left hand when I was twenty, also due to a offhanded ‘foot note’ murmured by Sienna.
Why I kept following her into these situations was pure stupidity on my part, but it seemed she always caught me just at the right time — this time I was angry and needing to prove I wasn’t just worthless garbage to be left on the side of the road.
Hence the dirt that was now coating the ass and legs of my second favorite pair of jeans. The floor was actually hard packed, but still dirt rubbed off.
– from Friday:
Gah! I didn’t end up writing Friday. Boo.
What have you been working on?