For the uninitiated, WIP is 'work in progress'. Us writing types use terms like that so we can sound, you know, cool. "Hey, see my WIP? How's your WIP coming? When's your WIP coming out?" See what I mean. Oh well, every field needs its own lingo.
I am currently working on the second book of the Last Elf Prophecy series. The first book is Sands of Nevertime. It was released at the end of last summer. Number two, has been more of a struggle. While I knew where the storyline was, or should be taking me, I wasn't quite happy with it. So, like any good craftsman, I had to go back and revamp it some. I was several chapters ahead when I finally made the decision to add a secondary plot string.
The following is an excerpt from the newly revised chapter four. I have a working title, but I think I'll keep that to myself, at least for a little while longer.
- - -
The scene introduces a new character and plot line that will merge run concurrently with the original plot structure.
The specks of grizzled white that littering the dark table, streamed
through the opening as the hot breezes flowed into the upper chambers.
The turret’s black outer walls, pitted and worn from years of
sand-blasted abuse bled the heat of the day back into the clear night
sky. The stars were sprinkled across the blackness of the heavens as
were the grains of sand upon the dark table. Pushed by the evening
winds, they slid to a stop at the lip of the tortured black cover.
The dusty pages, thin and faded, sat undisturbed for years, the sand
covering nearly every printed line. Yet, it held a place reserved above
all others, in the center of the chamber. The walls, as dark as the
outside stone, held their own world; a world of dark magics, a world of
manuscripts and tattered volumes that stretched a hundred generations or
more back in time.
The night wind fell quiet and the grains aloft floated gently to the
grounds below, yet the sands that layered the lone volume began their
dance. As if shaken by thunder, they shifted, flowing like a wave across
a sullen dune. The ivory pages burst into motion, rolling briskly,
their torn edges humming in the stillness before falling silent. Where
they lay open, a single rune hovered in the darkness, turning slowly
above the ancient scripts.
The sound of dangling keys, the rattle of metal on metal scraping
against the door plate echoed into the chamber. A single slide and clunk
signaled entry into the library as the lock cylinder dropped away. The
rusty hinges moved silently, the heavy, wooden door swinging freely in
the stillness. The ring was easily removed from the lock, and the keys
placed on their iron hook by the door, which was summarily closed
- - -
I hope that wets your appetite for what is to come. If you like that, I hope you pick up a copy of Sands of Nevertime, or one of my other books.
Thanks for following along.