Writing: Goal 2,000 words for the week. 1,200 so far. Behind on writing blog posts. Spent a lot of time doodling and talking before the plot resolution.
Community/Marketing: Got caught up on NOVELS-L on the Internet Writing Workshop (finally!). The reward? 8 truly helpful critiques of Rivers of Stone, Chapter 1, not the least being laying out the premises for the conflict in Chapter 1 (easier to do now that I know the underlying conflict that shapes the book).
Posted a giveaway for Book 2: Years of Stone on GoodReads and up to 105 entries! It's not too late to enter (ends August 4th). A lovely friend in Portland OR invited me down to visit her bookclub, the first for 2015 (had to plan around winter snows, really a chilling thought in hot July).
Weds WIPpet. Just a little excerpt built around the date, so July = 7 + 2 (from 2014) = 9 paragraphs from the WIP, Rivers of Stone.
Blurb: Hired by the Hudson's Bay Company from the Orkneys in 1842, Cat, disguised as a boy, has traveled with Dougal to the York Factory in Upper Manitoba, to build a new life.
“This one’s too scrawny to keep. Might as well sell him to the Indians. They’ll feed him dog and fatten him up.”
Cat was grabbed from behind and twirled up onto a wooden crate. “What am I gonna get for this hard working boy,” shouted a burly voyageur, his red hair caught up behind his head and decorated with feathers. A crowd gathered, and the men began to laugh.
“Jacques, that one just got off the boat. No fair,” cried another man with a bruised cheek and long straggly blonde hair, as he took a drink from a brown glass bottle. “Sacre bleu, he looks sweet enough to eat.”
Dougal turned around. “No rough housing with me brother.” He looked as if he were ready to fight. With his back to the wall of the store, he edged closer to Cat and lifted her off the crate. “I said to stay close, Cat.” He gave her another shake and turned away from the squabbling men, a roar of laughter following him.
Cat stomped beside him, her boots scrunching in a drift of snow on the north wall of the store. "Don't you shake me, Dougal. I didn't do anything wrong."
“Hush. Are you all right, love?” asked Dougal. “Did he hurt you?”
“Don’t be worrying about that. I’ll learn how to get along. Just don't be shoving me. It’s true I’m small. But I can work, and I can fight.”
“That’s my girl.” Dougal winced. “I mean I'll miss you, Cat.” He hugged her for a moment, then pushed her away. “I don’t know how I'm going to remember you're me brother and not me wife. I'll try to get you into my barracks."
Cat stared at Dougal as if she could memorize his face now covered with a thick, curly beard, his hair pulled back; his eyes, the same she'd always known, looked at her with concern. She wanted to stay in the circle of his arms forever. She shivered. “That would be good, but we'll manage. Can we get something to eat?”
|York Factory 1853 (Wikipedia)|
And that's all, folks. May your writing week go well. May the turn from July to August bring you good words.