{Writing Process #4898} How I hate thee, let me count the ways



Hello boils and ghouls,  your creepy neighborhood writer here back from a self loathing rant and miserable week to bring you… CRAP! No, just kidding.

I have been painstakingly rewriting my original manuscript, I had to change the name thanks to Lauren Kate. Love you but STOLE THE TITLE I WANTED…. that’s ok though, just can’t think of a better one yet. Any who I know when you write, you finish the first draft first and then edit. Well… yeah didn’t happen I am about a quarter of the way through the book I have been writing for 10 years!!! Yeah I suck big time. But I wrote myself into years of writer’s block and no plot galore so a fresh start is what I believe I needed. So I decided to write two versions of the same book because I can’t decide which point of view to write it in. Isn’t that silly, and to make my old editor proud I… {holding back tears} Cut my beloved prologue that made no sense pacing wise what so ever and moved it to chapter one.

So now I have two manuscripts going one in first person pov and the other third limited. I like the amount of detail I can add with 3rd but love the insider track of the main character in 1st. Decisions… decisions.  I also have come to the conclusion I am a boring writer after the first 10 pages…. I need to keep up the activity and plot driving but as of right now, still don’t have a plot and have other story ideas dancing around my brain that I still need to put onto paper.

ab5953e4878243e3d3ce389237757992So which pov do you all prefer reading?

And to share my attempt at redoing my prologue here it is in all it’s rough form and my first true attempt at writing in 1st.



  Trapped in a realm of Nightmares, Dreams are what can awaken her.

Southern Belle, Faith Rue’lle is haunted by nightmares of another time and place. The tormenting visions condemning her to a fate worse than death each time she dares to shut her eyes. But when she returns home on summer break from college her realm of terror begins to clash with her waking home in a struggle for not only her mind but her soul.


The freezing stone bit into my bare feet as I ran, glancing back every few moments, each time a split second of pure terror. Torches flickered, barely illuminating the halls of the damp castle. The burning in my lungs forced me to slow my frantic pace as I reached an obscured antechamber. Every sound launching my heart deep into my throat. Gently I grazed my fingers against the stones as I transversed the maze of winding hallways and corridors, seeking a way out.

     Suddenly voices began to cry out in the distance. Scuffling of boots sounded as the clank of metal against metal rang throughout the passage.  Without a thought my dagger now laid to rest in my palm, ready, willing to strike.

Out of the utter darkness fingers gripped my shoulder yanking me into a nearby alcove. My knuckles white around the dagger hilt.

“Look at me before ye stab me,” came a familiar voice.

The breath I didn’t know I had been holding released as I turned to face him.

“I thought you were dead,” I growled.

“I know, I’m sorry. I couldna tell ye otherwise,” he sighed, his Irish accent thick with weariness.

      As I opened my mouth to respond his hand clamped tightly over my jaw, his finger going to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet.  Seething anger emerged at his touch, melting away the fear that I had been pushing down for hours.

Instantly it fused with horror as the moonlight illuminated his face. A fresh jagged slash laid just beneath his right eye and stretched to his jaw, his features tired and caked with blood.

The longer I stood facing the ghost from my past the more the walls seemed to cave in.

“We need to get out of here.” I growled.

He nodded, pushing me behind him as he peeked around the corner, making sure the coast was clear. With a single jerk of his head I raced after him through almost pitch black corridors, down the bone chilling staircases deep into the bowels of the castle; and after what seemed like hours, through a forgotten doorway by the servants quarters.

Careful of the night patrols we checked the area one last time before we darted for the forest and its covering; avoiding the pools of moonlight that threatened to betray our position to enemies unknown.

Gnarled branches and underbrush latched onto me, the harder I tried to run the more painful the journey became.  We trekked barely taking time to breathe until a gigantic silvery tree appeared in the distance. I couldn’t help but slam into the bark, desperately gasping for air. Moments later joined by my companion.

“Godric agreed to meet me here with horses before dawn,” he tried to reassure me as he tore a piece of cloth from his shirt, wrapping it around a deep scratch that was trickling blood down my arm.

   Nodding, I stared off into the distance, refusing to look him in the eye.

As he continued to speak, the metallic hiss of swords being withdrawn from their sheaths rung out. He looked up, drawing his in one fluid motion, I clasped my dagger and held it tightly in my fist, wishing I also had a sword. Heavy movement in the brush inched towards us, moments later we were surrounded by royal guards, their snickering fuel to the rage burning furiously inside of me.

The King had found us!

I know it’s rough so is the blurb. WIP!! Lol. Back to the old writers block.





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