Well, I officially have a roommate for WorldCon! You’ll never guess who it is.
My sister! :D
Rewind to me adding people to Nathan’s Facebook group for Utahn WorldCon goers and realizing, “Oh. My sister writes. I should invite her. …I should force her to come to Reno with me!”
Fortunately there wasn’t much forcing to be done, I didn’t even have to persuade her. Danny (AKA sister—yes, we all have boy names) is working on a YA novel right now that I think has a great premise. But if you want to hear about it, you’ll have to ask her. IN RENO.
In the meantime, I actually participated in a writing exercise promoted by Sanderson and Writing Excuses. It’s an exercise in dialogue, and was kind of fun, albeit I don’t think my submission is anything to brag about. At all. And for some reason it came out as science fiction. If, somehow, you get insanely bored and literally have nothing better to do, you can read my submission and others here. If you’re really smart you’ll figure out which screen name is mine.
Also, for kicks and giggles, y’all should visit isitchristmas.com. Yeah, no link. It’s more fun if you type it into the search bar yourself, methinks. :D
Le excerpt a la today:
The Sun’s temple was a beautiful work of architecture, built long before Scire’s time. In the light of day its beauty was astonishing—the open roof allowed sunlight to flood every crack and crevice, illuminating white marble and glistening off the silver leaf. It was as though the power of the Sun itself resided within the temple’s walls, welcoming its blessed Brights.
At night, however, the building grew eerie. Shadows lingered behind the pillars. Flickering lanterns and torches gave the appearance of movement, and Scire always found himself studying the shadows from the corner of his eye, half expecting some forsaken creature to leap from the darkness. The altar glowed amber in the firelight, almost the color of blood, though its marble was always thoroughly cleaned after every sacrifice. The stems and leaves of various potted plants along the walkways looked like starved and deformed hands, reaching outward to grab any who came too close.
Weirs, chapter 8*
*Chapter 8 and I aren’t getting along super-great, in case you were wondering.