Sunday, March 30, 2008

A Preview



I spoke too soon yesterday. Only one of my tv's was functioning properly. I know, what does someone who rarely watches to begin with need with two? I just do. In case I have tv-watching company or something. Anyway, I called, expecting Tweedledee or Tweedledum to reappear. Instead I got Macguyver. Attached a little gizmo that had everything fixed and working perfectly within 37 seconds. Gotta love a man who knows what he's doing!

Yesterday I mentioned that I just submitted my new story, Beyond Meddling. Here's a peek at the beginning. Please keep your fingers crossed for me. I actually like this one now that it's finished which isn't something I say very often, just ask the friends I let pre-read things.

Excerpt:

“Boy, you’re a damn fool.”
Evan Wilton sat upright in bed, scanning the room for the source of the voice that awakened him. He saw no one. Of course he wouldn’t. His grandfather, the man he thought he’d just heard was dead. He died over three months ago. It was merely a dream. He flopped onto his back and draped his arm over his eyes. His grandfather was dead. When would he just know that and not need to continually remind himself of the fact? How long would it take?
“I’m speaking to you, boy. The least you could do is pay attention.”
“Pop?” Evan asked aloud, feeling the fool for doing so as he cautiously removed his arm.
“Of course it’s me. You think after all these years you’d recognize my voice.”
“But you’re dead,” he stated.
“So? What’s your point?”
“I’m dreaming. That’s it. I have to be. It’s just because I miss the old coot so much that I think I can still hear him.”
“Old coot? Who you calling an old coot, boy?”
Evan shook his head. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room again. This time he saw his grandfather leaning against the doorjamb. He jumped out of bed. “Pop? What the fuck?”
“Put some pants on, boy. It’s too early in the morning to be waving that around like that. And watch your mouth.”
Evan pulled on some shorts and sat on the edge of the bed. “Pop?”
“Jeez, would you get with it already, boy? You act like I’ve never visited before.”
“It’s not that, Pop. It’s just that you’re dead. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Harrumph. You should’ve been. Someone has to knock some sense into that fool head of yours.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? What. Do. I. Mean? The girl, you idiot. The girl. Be. You’re going to lose her if you don’t get your head out of your arse.”

4 comments:

Amarinda Jones said...

I really liked the snippet - and I expect to hear any day now that you have a contract - and yeah, I love MacGyver type men

Brynn Paulin said...

Good luck on the new submission!

Molly Daniels said...

I can hardly wait to read the rest!

J.J. Hebert said...

Keep it coming...