It’s a bloghop!
Good morning, and welcome to today’s Weekend Writing Warriors installment. The rules are simple enough if you’d like to participate:
- Add your name and genre(s) to the most recent post on the WeWriWa site
- Post a link to the WeWriWa site on your blog/Sunday post (must be done before 9am EST)
- Keep your excerpt 10 sentences or less (8-10, no more!)
- Visit other WeWriWa authors and experience their work
(Find a complete set on the WeWriWa page as well as links to pages of all the authors involved. Check it out.)
Two weeks ago (I am only posting these excerpts every other week because life is cray-cray), I posted the second of my pieces from the new opening of Courting the Swan Song: Puddings. This piece follows directly on that.
“Our Lady Kessalan demanded I attend her to discuss tomorrow’s market visit. She asked me to send you to her to attend her as soon as we finish here.”
Despite her asking, Vissse had not listened, sure whatever Kiriina would say would annoy her more. Instead she smiled slightly, picturing how her brother would laugh his head off if he could see her now, seeing how easy it could be to get under her skin. Either of her brothers would have … once. Her smile faded. That wasn’t likely to happen as long as she was stuck here, learning the high art of being a scullery maid.
Kiriina cleared her throat, instantly drawing Visse back to present and what she had said.
“My aunt called for me?”.
Thank you for reading; I hope you enjoyed the snippet. Coming up for WIPpet Wednesday, please enjoy another sample from Courting the Swan Song or perhaps another of my Works In Progress.
This week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday comes to you from the letter O and C and an idea perpetuated by Linda G Hill. Additional support can be found at The Friday Reminder for SoCS, January 19.
Varieties of Oca from Pintrest
Oca is the “oc” first word my computer dictionary (Wordweb) gave me. Kind of obvious, really. What wasn’t obvious was that it was a traditional Andean food, though… when you say the word, it feels right.
What I found interesting was that Oca is a kind of wood sorrel, the same group of plants commonly sold as Shamrocks (not the same as a true shamrock, which is actually a clover). They do have pretty flowers, though the variety we find around here are very sour to the taste (from the oxalic acid in the plant, a mildly compound that can cause damage to the kidneys in high doses).
If you’re hungry though, it’s high in vitamin C and fiber and other nutrients. The tubers are starchy (they weren’t imported to Europe as a substitute to the potato without reason). Another common weed, like (the very tasty tubers of) nutsedge, that I explored for “survival foods” for a time when two of my characters must journey in the wilderness for a few years.
Oca… it’s an interesting word. It inspired a lot more thought than the first one that came to mind: occipital
Yeah… I think they did. That means it’s time for another bit of a recent Work In Progress from yours truly.
I don’t have a name for this piece yet. Unlike my recent pieces (from Courting The Swan Song), this is just something I whipped together from a brainstorming session I had last Thursday. I suspect, given the time period it’s cast in, this will follow in one of my sandbox pieces like the Was Long Variation, The Dots or even Phuque Yew. Right now, it’s more of a way to work on ‘Listii’s character, particularly ‘Listii when he is really off his game. Of course, most people would be in this situation.
I’m starting at the beginning (or at least where I started, with pretty much the raw text I wrote (edited for readability). Nine sentences for the month (January=1) and the date (1+7).
What was it with the nightmares lately?
Valistii looked woefully at the cup in front of him, wishing it held something stronger than coffee to help drive the last of the week’s exhaustion from him. He pushed it toward the middle of the table, as one of the trainees came by with a carafe. “Another half, if you would, darling.”
He didn’t try to smile, sure that any expression he tried to make right now would look like a snarl. He didn’t event try to meet the lass’ gaze at all.
Any normal day, he’d have been happy to stare. Today he wasn’t even sure he could call her a pretty thing. She just was prettier than most anyone else in the barrack’s mess, or she would be, if she didn’t look like his dead sister.
If you enjoyed that and would like to see more post of this type, head over to the WIPpet linky and visit some our other awesome members. We are hosted weekly by the delightful Emily Wrayburn.