Sins of Our Mothers

This is my fifth year to participate in NaNoWriMo! Am i prepared? Not really. Am I confident? I wasn’t until this morning. Until then I had no idea what I planned to write. I knew what I “should” write and if all goes well I will do that too.

Story ideas are like falling autumn leaves–beautiful to watch as they spin a meandering path to the ground, but hell to catch. I watched a beautiful one float down this morning as I showered. It moved so slowly, I think I might have caught it! We’ll see! Working title is: “Mismatched Irregulars and Seconds” and the brief description I posted at the NaNo site is:

Griffin, a socially inept “nice guy”, is a match-making agency’s worst nightmare. As members near the ends of their contracts, they are transferred to the “Outlet”, a division of last ditch commando love gurus. Lucy has never failed to match a client…but Griffin might just be the one to break her record.

Alternatively, I’m kind of stoked to maybe, finally, finish Sins of Our Mothers. For the first time since I started it in 2010, I actually let someone read a few chapters. My toe-dipping beta reader gave me the most encouraging feedback. I want to finish Sins. I think I may be skilled enough, finally, to do it justice.

I hope so.

In the meantime, here’s a few NaNo graphics. The word counts auto-update as I log in my word count at the NaNo site:

Green means I hit my min daily quota, red means I missed it.

Welcome to “Six Sentence Sunday”. Thank you for visiting and especially for any comments you might feel inclined to offer.

This six comes from my story in Tidal Whispers, an ocean creature themed anthology that releases tomorrow from J. Taylor Publishing. My story is called “The Sweetest Song” and features a siren, Circe, and the captain of the only fishing vessel ever to have eluded her destructive clutches, not once but three times.

In this scene, Circe is trying to leave Otis because she realizes he may be more dangerous to her heart than she could ever be to his fishing boat.

The rain had stopped, and twilight had rolled in, though it would not get dark, not for a few more moon cycles.

Otis didn’t say a word but caught hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. She stepped closer, close enough for him to slide his other hand around her waist and draw her near. His lips descended to drop a light kiss on hers.

It wasn’t enough. One kiss would never be enough.