A few of you have been kind enough to send me notes, wondering when my next book is coming out. And the answer is, I still don’t know! I’m working on an entirely new story, the story I started for National Novel Writing Month. (Which, for me, turned into Abandon Your Writing and Re-Landscape Your Entire Yard Month. But more about that in another post!)
Anyway, that non-NaNoWriMo story, A Sky Full of Wishes, is so much fun to write. But it’s been a slow-brewing tale, meaning it took me ages to work out the plot, the characters, their motivations, trials, tribulations, etc. And yes, I do all that in advance. I am a planner with a capital P these days! (More about the reasons for that in another post as well!) I don’t quite know where it will end up in terms of being published. The only confidence I have at this point is that I really want to tell this story.
I’m also rewriting my proposal for Harlequin’s Heartwarming line. I got a lovely response from them on my Hope River proposal. But unfortunately, the underlying message was ‘rewrite everything and try again’.
It’s dawning on me, as I see my fellow Superromance authors announce new contracts, that I may end up with the honor of The Very Last Superromance Author to Find a New Gig. But hey, someone has to hold that title… I guess it may as well be me. Though it does sting a little. But the truth is, Real Life has taken up a lot of room lately, leaving very little space for Fictional Life. (See my previous Healthy Writer posts for more information on that!) So all I can do now is grab my invisible bootstraps, give a mighty pull, and keep trying.
Anyway, in honor of Tuesday, which writers on the Internet like to call #TeaserTuesday, here is a snippet from A Sky Full of Wishes, that I just wrote moments ago. I hope you enjoy it!
“Sunday, may I have a word?”
Sunny looked up from the fundraising form she’d been editing and tried to ignore the way her head throbbed every time she moved. Her dad using her given name like she was still a kid didn’t help the pain much either. “What’s up?”
Her father hitched at his shabby green cardigan and took the only other seat in the small church office. He leaned forward, clasped his hands, and his mouth tugged down in disapproval. Sunny’s stomach, still trying to recover from all that Southern Comfort, lurched a little.
“I know you’re a grown woman and you have your own life,” he started, clearly trying to be diplomatic for a minute or two before he listed her wrongdoings, “but you also work for this church. And I find it unsettling to discover that there are all kinds of rumors around town this morning. A few parishioners have phoned. They’re feeling a bit… disappointed.”
“By a few parishioners, I assume you mean Franny Owens?” That woman liked to stir trouble right along with the coffee she served up at the Harmony Café.
“Well, Franny was one of them.”
The walls of the stuffy little office seemed to be closing in, but Sunny tried to keep her voice calm. “I’m not quite sure how what I do in the evenings is Franny’s, or anyone else’s, business.”
“It’s a small town. I’m pastor of this church. And you work here. So unfortunately what we do becomes everyone’s business.” He gave a gravelly cough. “And if you didn’t want to be gossiped about, why go to the bar? Why ride down the main street on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle?”
He left out the part about her underwear glowing like a big white beacon, thanks-be-to-Jesus, but Sunny was pretty sure, from the red blotches on his cheeks, that he knew about that too.
© Claire McEwen, 2018