My Book - Tumblr Posts
y'alllllllllll i just accidentally foreshadowed smth in my book and it's going harddddddd
oh my gosh guys im almost to 16k words!!!!!
“This is the main juawim, which is the market,” I tell him. I glance over to see that he’s not looking at anything in the market. He’s looking at me. I feel my face get hot. “What?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
He shakes his head, trying to hold back a smile. “Nothing. Just listening to you talk.”
the chemistry she has with his dude who isn't who she's even gonna get with is crazy. why did i write them like this? (i know exactly why, i'm just playing innocent)
Oh wow, look at these very pretty apples. How pretty. Super pretty. Let’s focus on that and not the fact that I’m pretty sure he’s trying to flirt with me.
honestly so relatable
“I hope you realize, Queen Moriah, I am only doing this because my people are now mixed with your citizens and I have sworn to protect them until my last breath. That is the only reason.”
“I expect nothing less from you, Kazen. You’re doing your people and mine a great service.”
“Don’t mistake it for doing you a service,” I warn. I turn on my heel and, just before I exit the throne room, I glance over my shoulder. “I want a memorial service for my people. So they can mourn those you killed.”
“I did not kill them,” comes the Queen’s tight response.
Furious, I turn. “Maybe not personally, but you were the one to give the order. Not the General, certainly not Lord Deleon. You. Give me and my people a memorial service or I will personally ensure your entire kingdom turns their backs on you,” I snarl.
The Queen stands. “Is that a threat?” she demands.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
With that, I leave the throne room.
this scene>>>>>>>
maybe i'm laying it on too thick. maybe (it'd be kinda funny) my readers are just gonna be like "*eye roll* this dude is such a suck up" idk. *i* know hes a suck up, but will my readers? i hope not. idk
that sounds soooo dead opposite. i hope they can't tell he's a suck up but they might be able to bc i may be laying it on too thick.
Y'ALL SHOULD I ADD GHOSTS TO MY STORY?
like not "you can see me?" kinda ghosts. the kinds that can like- blow out a candle to lyk they're there. the kind that everyone talks about having. no, you can't see them, but yk they're there
Jiro looks at me and coughs. “What- what, uh… happened to you?”
“My mother says I ‘look like the Prince I was born to be.’”
“You look like a swollen grape,” he snorts.
with or without context, this is still funny and iconic idc what you say
I have finished Part One of the second draft!!!!!!! we are just shy of 18k and going into Part Two
guys omg omg omg
i just found my first draft (it's hand written) and where i'm at in the second draft at SEVENTY pages, is where page TWENTY-EIGHT was in my first draft
just found this gem in my first draft and i'm sitting here with my mouth hanging open.
"Why are you the Heir?"
I don't have to ask what she means. "The first born of the Queen is the Heir, be it a bastard or retard."
LIKE WHAT. I DON'T REMEMBER SLIPPING THAT IN THERE AT ALL
having beta readers is so fun bc you're basically getting a view of how they would annotate your book
I shake my head. “I… don’t know. My friend Toro said he heard about our engagement and wanted to extend his congratulations.”
He looks alarmed. “Are we engaged? Did I propose without knowing?”
I find Wren in the training room. “Um, so we are getting married.”
She stops hacking at a dummy and looks at me. “I’m getting married,” she says blandly.
“To me,” I nod.
“I don’t want to get married. Not to you, not to anyone. We’re nineteen. Why does everyone else on the planet get to choose who they marry and get to marry for love while, because we’re Royalty, we have arranged marriages for power, not love?”
“You were at least raised knowing this was how it was going to be. I was raised for seventeen years thinking I had a choice on who I marry only for it to be taken away. I was in love and I never got to tell her because Moriah took her away from me. These past two years have simply been my mother shaking and completely taking away every foundation of my life. I have no more constants. My father: dead. The girl I loved: dead. Inasvale: gone. My choices: taken. And I honestly can’t even be mad at anyone but me because it’s all my fault.”
I'm sorry but this rocked me to my core and i needed to share it.
@glorious-destruction @orphicpoieses
i'm evilly excited to write this next scene in my book that i have to take a short break. when i say EVILLY excited i mean i have a maniacal grin on my face.
nothing good is about to happen
@glorious-destruction @orphicpoieses
Moriah makes her way to the front of the crowd.
“What is the meaning of this?” She’s furious. “You dare insult my husband and I in our own Palace by attacking the Crown Prince and his betrothed?”
may i present my favorite notes from my only beta reader @glorious-destruction:
[scene is my mmc fighting a couple guys] note: kaz is the kind of guy that would break your nose and then be like "got your nose"
[scene is kaz and his bestie talking about how jiro is the 'ugly' one] note: they always say there ain't no such thing as two pretty best friends. sorry kaz you're the ugly one :(
["I won’t bite, I swear to you.”] note: it would be really funny if he did though. think of the shock factor
[people dying] note: WHY IS EVERYONE DYING ON ME
i think english is so stupid. why do we spell 'colonel' like that when it's pronounced ker-nl???
“I’m not glass, you know.”
I look over at him and he’s staring at me. I feel my face heat up, “What?”
“I’m not glass,” he repeats.
“I know that.”
He holds out his arm. “Then you know that you can c’mere.” Hesitantly, I scoot closer until I’m flush against his body and his arm is around me.
“I missed you,” I say softly.
I can feel him look down at me. “Yeah?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah.”
An Excerpt From My WIP
It hits me then, as soon as the twins leave me alone in this quiet, foreign room, that all I’m doing by coming here is running. Running from the cold stares of Astra. Running from the disbelieving looks from Silas. Running from the silence Mom and Dad are subjecting me to, punishing me with. For all that my being here, under the guise of helping my sister plan her wedding, is, it’s really just me running from reality.
The guilt of what I did- or rather, didn't do- is nearly crushing now. Now that I’m alone, in a place I do not know, with people I am not familiar with and are not familiar with me.
My fault.
The thought echoes through my mind, unbidden.
My fault.
The breath is knocked from my chest like a punch.
My. Fault.
Suddenly, being confined in this unfamiliar room in this unfamiliar place is too much, too much. I run out of the room, ignoring questioning glances from passersby in the corridors.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I find what looks like a chapel. Not so grand as to be considered a cathedral or even a church. It’s a simple, white thing, this chapel. With beautiful stained glass windows and small wooden pews.
Walking down the aisle, looking down the rows at each one I pass, I make my way to the steps to the altar. Kneeling down and resting my weight on my knees and feet, I stare up at the ceiling and the rafters above my head.
“What do I do? How can I right this unforgivable wrong? How will she ever forgive me? Will she ever forgive me? Will she and I ever be able to go back to normal?” I ask, my voice just loud enough to echo slightly through the room.
“Well, I don’t know what’s wrong, or what you did to be praying like this,” says a voice that startles me so badly that I almost fall over. I turn around to face the owner of the voice. “But maybe I can help you figure it out, the answer you’re looking for.” The man walking towards me is older, clothed in white robes with his hands clasped together in front of him as he walks.
“Who are you?”
“I’m here to help you find your way,” says the old man. “I’m the preacher of this particular chapel,” he adds helpfully.
Inclining my head, I watch as he resumes his approach. He lowers himself down onto the step next to where I’m kneeling with no amount of ease. “What is troubling you, my child?”
My child. Two simple words that shouldn’t mean anything but mean everything instead. Two simple words are all it takes for the dam inside me to break. My throat tightens and my lip trembles and my eyes flood with tears that don’t fall. Tears that refuse to fall.