Thought of the Moment

Since tomorrow I will be leaving for a week and can't guarantee I'll have much blogging time if any at all; I thought today would be a good time to share with you something that has been weighing heavily on my mind for several days now.

Though I haven't been sharing any of this particular project, I have been hard at work on a fantasy novel for some time now. If pressed to express my feelings on this novel, I would say it is my love child. While working on it there has been numerous ups and downs. There have been times where I just could not put my thoughts and ideas into words, and there have been times when the story wrote itself and felt like I was not creating, but merely dictating someone else's actions. I'm not sure if that's common for all writers, but it is certainly part of the writing experience for me. Rough waters or smooth sailing, I'm dedicated to finishing this novel.

Now, as some of you may know, Carrie Eckles very recently gave me a spot on her blog Prompt Romp where I gave some of my thoughts on writing prompts and shared a small scene of a science-fiction story that I had come up with after reading one of Carrie's prompts.

That prompt, and the small scene I wrote opened the door to an entire universe of story ideas I had never considered before. In fact, since writing that scene, I've come up with several different short story ideas for what could very well be an ongoing series with these characters and in this world.

I've been working on it everyday, and it's been a very enjoyable experience. However, I haven't spent one moment sitting down and actually writing my other novel. I feel like I am betraying myself and betraying my story.

Like an adulterer every time I sit down and work on this other series, no matter how smoothly it flows and natural it feels, I feel guilty. Which brings me to my questions:

How do we as writer's balance multiple projects? Am I really betraying one project for another? Is this guilt and self-loathing justified?

I want to finish both projects as soon as possible. I can divide brain power and spend time thinking about both stories, but unless I mutate and suddenly grow two brains and another pair of arms, however, I know it is physically impossible for me to work on both projects at once. Are my feelings of betrayal natural?

I don't have any answers of my own, but I'm really curious how other authors handle working on multiple projects. Am I alone in feeling like this? Do you just pick one project and dedicate yourself to it until completed, or do you flip from one project to the next as the muse strikes?

Original Work Update---Serious Attachment part 2

Hello, everyone, thanks for coming by. As always, call me nosey, but I really want to hear what everyone is thinking. So if you feel inclined please leave me some comments at the bottom of the posts.

Before I post the conclusion to "Serious Attachment" I just wanted to request that, if you haven't done so already, please read yesterdays blog. I had a small announcment there as well as a really great guest blogger sharing her opinions on character creation. Now, I've got some projects calling my name this morning so I won't waste anytime.

ORIGINAL WORK UPDATE



“. . .I’m telling you, Steve. It was really bizarre.” Rachael was laughing with one of her co-workers in the backroom of their store. “I mean I never even talked to this guy when we had class together, it’s really strange.”
Steve chuckled along with her. “What a dope. Still though, that’s kinda weird finding all those cigarette butts on your step like that.”
“Nah, not really. I’m unlisted, so it’s not like he looked up my address or anything. My neighbor’s a drunk, he does that kinda thing all the time, did I ever tell you about the time I found him asleep on my lawn one morning?”

The next day she had off of work so she slept in late. She had turned her phone off before going to bed and when she was ready casually began to check her messages.
“You have seventeen new messages.”
She raised an eyebrow as she sat on her couch listening.
“First message: *click*. Second message. *click*”
It went on and she just began to delete them, then a voice held her finger from the key.
“Hey, Rachael, it’s me, Josh. Not nice of you to turn your phone off on your boyfriend.” Laughter. “I’ll see you later, darling. Hugs ‘n’ kisses. *click*.”
“Message erased.”
She suppressed a shudder just as a knock on her door startled her to jump. Hastily she moved the curtain aside and glanced out the window. An unfamiliar car was parked in the street in front of her house.
She moved to the doorway and glanced through the peephole. Suddenly her blood ran cold. Goose bumps raised on her arms and legs. She nearly gasped. Standing in front of the door was none other than Josh, smiling. His dark hair, mottled and unwashed, was sticking about wildly. He pushed at his black framed glasses with a finger as he stood facing the door.
Rachael backed away slowly and crouched on her knees, hoping to be out of sight, her breath caught in her lungs. Just then her cell phone began to ring. Splitting the quiet, stillness of the air. She wanted to run for it to shut it up, but instead crept as quietly and as quickly towards it as she could. She silenced the ringer and hesitantly put it to her ear.
“Hello?” She whispered.
“Hey, love.” Came the familiar, pleasant sounding voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “Are you home, I was hoping to hang out today.”
She hesitated. She could feel her heart pumping in her chest,. She could hear it’s beats loudly and imagined them echoing through the walls. She wanted to silence it. Cowering in the corner behind the couch she found her voice, but only whispered.. “Uh, no. . . I’m not.” Her mind was racing. “A friend of mine came and picked me up.”
“Oh that’s too bad. I really wanted to see you today, feels like I haven’t seen my girlfriend in days.”
“Josh, I’m not your girlfriend. I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now. I don’t know what gave you this idea, but you seriously need to stop. It’s creeping me out. Don’t call me anymore, okay?”
He laughed off her words without missing a beat. “Don’t be silly. When do you think you’ll be home?”
“I am not being silly, damn-it!” She said still trying to remain quiet. You seriously need to stop. Good bye!” She hung up the phone and quickly shut off the ringer.
A shadow of a figure crept in front of her window, blanketed out by the curtains. She leaned further back into the corner, holding her breath. She touched the button to call her work.
“Ritger’s Hardware, this is Steve. How may I help you?”
“Steve, it’s Rachael.” She whispered.
“Heeeeeeeeey! What’s up girl?”
“Shh, not so loud. Steve, I need your help, that guy is lurking outside my house.”
He laughed. “What guy,” then remembered, “oh, are you serious?”
Another shadow crept along behind another window of the room.
“It’s not funny. I told him I wasn’t home, and now he’s outside, I dunno what he’s doing, walking around my house or something. Please, can you get here?”
“Nah, Rach, sorry, It’s just me and Jim right now, no way he’s letting me out. You better call the police or something. I gotta get back on the floor, we’re busy. I’ll come by when I get off. Things will be alright. Bye.”
Silence.
She waited a minute and then dialed three numbers.
“Hello. . . Police. . . Yes this is an emergency.”

They told her there was not any units available immediately, but to stay inside and they would send one within an hour. She sat for an hour and a half not daring to move. Cringing at the sounds of hands rustling at her windows, or tugging at her door. She prayed that all were locked. The shadow continued to dart from window to window and then it disappeared. She thought she heard the sound of a car driving away but she could not be certain over the sounds of her own breathing. Her knees were aching from where she had been crouched and her palms were sweaty as she tried to phone the police once more.
The unit was on it’s way. She sighed and waited a few more minutes. She had not seen or heard anything for awhile. Her legs were aching so badly. She choked down her fear, and gritting her teeth, stretched out her legs. She felt better knowing that the police were on their way and risked a quick glance out the front window. The car she had seen was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the curtain away to get a better look around. A hand stretched from the side of the window and slammed into the pane, making her jump back with a gasp. The phone fell from her hand.
“Hey, Rachael! Let me in! I wanna talk to you.” He began to beat on the window frantically. He moved to her doorway and began to beat on it repeatedly. She froze on the other side, afraid that he might break in. “Hey, come on!”
A car approached, she heard the brief flick of a siren.
Bwoop-Bwoop.
The beating stopped. She looked out the peephole, he was moving away from the door. She waited a moment and opened it slowly. He was approaching the officer his hands clasped behind his back.
“Young man, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you to leave.” The officer was saying.
Rachael thought she caught a glimpse of something flash in Josh’s hand, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch.
He spoke, but she could not hear what was said.
The officer’s response however, was loud and clear. “Then I’ll have to lead you out in cuffs, come along now.”
Josh turned around and smiled so brightly at Rachael that she froze.
“I love you.” He said, and turned upon the policeman.
A knife was in his hand, she saw it now. She tried to scream out a warning to tell him to stop, but everything formed on her tongue and died at once. All she could do was gasp and watch as the officer reacted quickly.
Two explosive sounds deafened her senses. Josh fell backwards with his glasses flying away from the twisted smile frozen upon his face. Rachael slumped to her knees. The two explosive sounds reverberated through her ears.
BAM!
BAM!
She stared ahead fixedly, but could barely see. The officer was down beside the body, doing something. He was speaking into the radio at his side, but the words were lost on her. She pressed her palms into her face harshly and pulled them away. There was wetness on her palms. Was she crying? She couldn’t tell. Her knees were knocking together so violently she thought she might fall. There were voices speaking, but all she could see was that twisted smile frozen behind the tears and obscuring her vision.

Personally, I think the conclusion isn't all that well written or exciting, but I learned a long time ago that I am usually pretty self-deprecating when it comes to my own writings so I've tried to turn that negative voices volume down. What did you think of the ending?

Carrie Eckles from Prompt Romp Guest Blog!!!!

Ah, another Monday. Where did this month go? Well, I’ve got a mix of good news and bad news for everyone today so we’ll start with the bad news.

I’ll be going away for a week this Thursday and it is likely, that I will not be doing much blogging until I return on July 9th. So, it’s probably not that terrible of news I just wanted to give you a heads up; I’m not going to be around much after Wednesday. And now here’s the good news:

Carrie Eckles of Prompt Romp and I have exchanged guest blogs for one another. For those of you that don’t know Carrie, much like myself, has just started up a new blog. Though I must admit, hers is much cooler a premise than mine.

What she has been doing for almost two months now is updating her blog regularly with writing prompts to help kick-start a writer’s brain and get away from that wicked devil we call writer’s block.

I just recently used one of her prompts to start a short story series that I can see myself working on for a long time to come. Be sure to head over to her blog Prompt Romp to check it out and read my thoughts on writing prompts.

Carrie is also the author of the delightfully amusing blog Artful Procrastination I hope everyone takes some time to check out her blogs and enjoys them even half as much as I do.

Below are Carries thoughts on character creation:


Character creation is one of the most frustrating aspects of fiction writing; it’s also one of the most fun and most rewarding. To some people, creating vivid and memorable characters comes naturally. To others, it’s a chore that they just want to get done so they can write their amazingly cool and totally awesome plot.

Creating characters doesn’t have to be a chore. When you understand what makes a good character, creating one is as simple as writing your own name.

Character Conception
Character conception is, obviously, the first phase of creating a character. The idea for the character might just randomly pop into your head one day and the character might be so compelling that they necessitate the need for a good plot and story; on the other hand, you might have a really good story to tell and need to create a character to drive it. Whatever the reason, you conceive your character idea.

During the conception phase, you should know a few basics about your character. You don’t necessarily have to know their name, but you do have to know their function in the story. What role do they play to help the story progress? Knowing the answer to that is the key for continuing to develop your character.

Once you have the basic function of the character mapped out, it’s time for the really fun stuff.

Naming a Character
To me, naming the character is one of the most exciting parts of the process. More often than not, I scour etymology websites until I find a name that suits my character. That may seem like a lack of creativity, but really, I believe a name is one of the most important things about a character.

Basically, your character has to have a memorable sounding name. If they don’t, your readers will never remember it. Think of the most famous names in literature: Dorian Gray, Albus Dumbledore, Frodo Baggins, and Elizabeth Bennett. What do all of these names have in common? A) They fit their characters and B) they fit the world their characters live in.

Take Dorian Gray, for example. His world is meant to portray that excess of aestheticism; therefore, he must have a name that has the flourish of the aesthetic movement. It’s commonly accepted that Oscar Wilde took the name from the Dorians, who were a tribe of ancient Greece. The surname Gray could be seen as a hint, alluding to the moral grayness of excess: how much is too much? And when does it all become ridiculous?

A name that fits the character, and compliments them, is very important for crafting a name that’s memorable and important.

Character Relevance
One of the most important things to ask yourself is this: Is my character relevant to the story? Examine that question and understand what it truly means before you answer that. Basically, what I’m telling you to ask yourself is: Does my character matter? Do they add to the story? Is there a reason readers should care about them?

If you’ve answered yes to all of those questions, you’re well on your way to crafting a memorable character. That is, you are only if you answered truthfully. This is the part of the character creation process where you have to be honest with yourself. By being honest, you can see your characters the way your readers (and publishers) most likely will.

If you answered no to any of those questions, revise your character (or your story) until they go hand in hand and complement each other. In the end, you may have to make a choice: save your character or save your story. Personally, I’d go for the former. Good story ideas fall down like rain; good characters come once in a blue moon.


Thank you very much Carrie; that was very well said and insightful! I particularly liked your thoughts on naming, for me personally naming a character was always the hardest part. Often I just throw letters together and hope it sounds okay, I’m a little embarrassed to admit.

I’m curious what are some ways that everyone else fleshes out their characters?

Be sure to check back in here tomorrow for the conclusion to my "Serious Attachment" story.

Original Work Update---Serious Attachment part 1

Today for the original work update, I'm switching gears a little bit. The following is the first half of a short story that I have written. I'll be following this up with the second half next Tuesday. Thanks to all the newcomers for stopping by, I hope you enjoy the blog and please feel free to leave your comments, I really enjoy reading and responding to them all.


Rachael was staring at the puddle of blood and white chalk outline at the foot of her driveway. Her hands were open at her sides and shaking so violently she was forced to wring them together and clasp the folds of her skirt tightly between her fingers. Her eyes were wide open raining down silent tears. Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but not a sound escaped her lips. She heard the sounds of the men moving at the edge of her vision. Her eyes widened as her attention turned upon them and she heard the sound of the body bag being zippered closed. The men pushed their load into the back of the ambulance and slowly headed away on quietly weeping tires.
Rachael’s eyes stared fixedly at the dark red puddle thinking of how empty she felt inside. There was a voice addressing her, but she did not respond. Her eyes were fixed within her skull, fixed upon the puddle at the bottom of her driveway, on the life spilled upon the curb.
“I’m truly sorry Ma’am.”
The voice finally succeeded in pulling her attention away and slowly she turned her head and her wide, dark eyes to the man in front of her.
“I am sorry, but we’ll need to get a statement from you as soon as possible.”
Rachael opened her mouth to speak and coughed, the words catching in her throat. She was no longer able to hold the officer’s gaze and she dropped her head down to tare at her feet.
Seeing her disposition the man hurriedly continued to speak calmly and softly. “Perhaps you should sit down, miss. Take your time.” He put his hand gently on her shoulder and tried to guide her to the bench on her lawn, but she made no response.
His hand went to the radio at his side, but as he went to retrieve it she looked up, drew a deep breath and with her shaking hands wiped at her face. “No.” She said firmly as the color slowly came back to her complexion. “I’m fine. I’m ready. What should I tell you?”
“Tell me how it started.” The man replied readying his clipboard and pencil.
How did it start? She tried to remember. It started with a phone call. No, that was not right. It started before that. “Well, I guess it started a couple weeks back.” She said quietly. “No, several actually. It was the beginning of the month. I was at the mall with my aunt. We were doing some shopping when I ran into him.” Her eyes were distant, vacant and glazed.
“Slow damn, ma’am.” The officer said calmly. “I need you to go back to the beginning. Please, tell me who he is.”

Her phone was ringing. It had been ringing, she realized slowly, as it pulled her from her sleep. Then it silenced. Rolling over she shut her eyes and pulled the covers back over her head. It rang again. Sighing she rolled out of bed and groped around in the darkness for several minutes before she grasped the phone, flung it open, and squinted her eyes away from it’s light. She sat down on the edge of her bead.
“Hullo?” She spoke into the receiver, the words grating in her throat.
“Hey Rachael, how are ya? It was really nice running into you today at the mall.” The voice was loud and chipper on the other end and she pulled the phone away from her ear frowning.
She took a moment to process the information. “. . . Josh?”
“Of course, who else?”
“Josh, I dunno, how you got my number but--”
“You gave it to me, silly.” He laughed. “You must be sleepy, sorry if I woke you.”
“BUT,” She interceded. “It’s. . .” She glanced at her clock. “It’s three in the morning, Josh. And I didn’t give you my number!”
“Of course you did.” He said with a hint of playful laughter behind his voice.
Sighing, she fell onto her back and fluffed the pillows around her.
“Whatever.” She snipped. “What the hell do you want?”
“I was just missing you, that’s all. I wanted to call and tell you how glad I was to see you today, I mean, I haven’t seen you since classes got out for the winter.”
She sighed again, very loudly, into the phone. “That’s sweet, Josh. Thanks. I really appreciate you waking me up at three a.m. to tell me so. Look, I gotta get up for work in a few hours and--”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then, good night.” He quickly hung up the phone and she was left listening to the sound of the dial tone buzzing in her ear.
“What the hell?” She muttered and dropped the phone from the side of her bed. Tossing and turning it was long moments before she returned to sleep.

That morning the strange phone call was long forgotten by the time Rachael had readied herself for work. She grabbed her purse and opened the door, locking it closed behind her. She froze in mid-step, her eyes drawn to the pavement. There, on her front step, lay in a neat, little pile easily a dozen stubbed out cigarette butts and tiny pieces of burnt paper. She stared at them for a minute before looking around. Seeing nothing, she kicked the butts into the shrubs and hurriedly got into her car.

Guest Blog!

As the headline states today’s update is my much talked about Guest Blog. Rebecca Emrich, the mastermind behind the great blog Living a Life of Writing, and I recently exchanged posts for one another’s blogs.
As some of you may have seen she has been doing several different inspirational series and currently she has been tackling the topic of Writing Retreats and Mentoring. Be sure to head over there and check out her stuff, personally, I’ve found the things she has to say to be really inspirational. It was such a good experience for me to contribute to her blog, and I am really quite thankful that she took the time to contribute to mine as well.
For those that have been following, I have not been keeping any set structure to this blog, so when Rebecca asked what I wanted her to talk about my answer was simple: anything.
Imagine my surprise when she picked a topic that I myself am very guilty of more often than I want to admit. Procrastination
So without further ado I present Rebecca Emrich:


What's challenging when you write?

That's the question I've always had to ask myself, how does one person get about 3,000 words done in a day and I'm happy if I get 750? It wasn't until recently that I looked over my answer. Because I'm happy?? no, no I'm not! but that doesn't make me want to write more.

For me it's the art of procrastination, the fine art, which I'm sure everyone has. You can plan and plan and dream out what you’re going to do. Really all this means is that you're thinking. While thinking and planning are good, and I do this often, the commitment part is harder. It's not as if we can't, but we make excuses. One of my friends, over an evening of discussing writing, (This is a guy thing... so the effect didn't work as well on me) said to drop the "pro" "ination" add a couple of letters and you get: Castrate.

Every guy in the room looked sick. The point is that when you're happy with "just" you are doing exactly that. I think it's because we want to do better that we get angry at the ones who won't let anything get in their way. Yes, I know, you have kids, you only have twenty-four hours in a day, you need to work, you need... Do you need to write?

Gotcha. See, many of us find a million excuses not to write, or edit or do something we all dislike. But we in the end lose; it's not easy to think of what we can do, when we're finding things not to do. I love writing, and it comes first, well second, I have two girls under the age of five. I still find time to work around this. Coffee is great. So is not going to the latest movie, or reading the new bestseller. I have work to do. Each day I'll work about 6 hours on my book. It's in the second edit. Still it should be done soon. My editor also thinks like a reader, and thank goodness for that.

Writing can be challenging, but it's also fun. There are ups and downs, but if you're committed to being a writer, this will be the most important thing you can do for yourself. Commit to write.

I'll need to say thanks to Andrew for allowing me to guest blog here. I hope to see you on my blog. Enjoy Andrew's as well.
-----
Thank you, Rebecca, for such a thought provoking post! There is just no easy way around it, no matter how you want to excuse not writing; by procrastinating we all are really castrating our work. I know when I take too long away from a project it can be very difficult to get back into it, to get back into my characters heads and remember the way it is that they think.
How many projects have we all set aside unfinished? Personally, I can’t even answer that question there has been so many, but as Rebecca said the key is to stay committed.
Please take a moment to share your thoughts on this topic. Although we have been discussing writing specifically it really applies to everyone, even people outside of the artistic fields. How often do we find it a lot easier to set aside what we really want to accomplish for a simple and short lived distraction?

Original Work Update---Jaccen's Story part 3

So it's Tuesday, and as promised for the original work update I'm continuing with the next scene in the installment I have been sharing. If you missed the first two parts and want to catch up check my blog archive and you'll find them under the name Jaccen's Story. This might be the last one of this story I post for a little while, I'd love to know what you guys think. So as always, please leave comments.


On a different note, something that may be old news to some of you, but is totally worth another mention for me tomorrow morning I will be posting up a guest blog by Rebecca Emrich from the blog Living a Life of Writing. www.rebeccasbook.blogspot.com Be sure to check out her blog when you have the time she has alot of great things to say.

And now for the (drum roll please) ORIGINAL WORK UPDATE!


It was only sometime later, after the room had been more or less abandoned, that Jaccen felt like he could move again. He had listened to the heavy footfalls of the giant returning and his loud snores overpowering the woman’s soft breaths beside him long enough. He forced his eyes open.
“How do you feel?” Kathraan purred beside him.
He looked down at his stomach and watched as the last traces of his wounds disappeared before his eyes. Even the black substance marring his pants began to vanish.
“Lost.” He said at length. He fumbled in his pants and found the pack of cigarettes that he had been carrying. Taking one he put it to his lips and searched for the lighter. “And I’m getting really damn sick of passing out.” he added.
“The transition is hard.” She said, and placed her finger to the end of the cigarette as he was bringing the lighter from his pocket. He froze as the end suddenly flared beneath her finger. “It gets easier though. It really does.”
“I wish I knew what the hell you were talking about.” He said, turning his wide blue eyes to stare at her. He coughed as he breathed in the toxic fumes.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “You’ll get your answers.” She stood up, leaned over him, and kissed him hard upon his lips. He felt his hand reaching to her side, but she pulled away just as his fingers met the thin fabric of her shirt. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.” With that, she began to walk away. “Hey,” she said stopping and looking back, “I don’t know what to call you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He muttered.
She shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.
Jaccen sat back and turned to his left where the giant was snoring loudly on the other couch. He sighed, dropped the cigarette on the floor and crushed it beneath his bare foot without thinking. Grimacing he reached for his socks and shoes with the idea of leaving clearly in his mind and every intention to do so. It was when he moved, however, that he realized just how tired his body was. He stretched out and lay back on the couch. His body crumbled, his eyes closed, and his mind became more restless than the rain beating upon the roof.

“WAKE UP!” The sense of urgency behind the male’s voice snapped Jaccen to attention.
I’m awake. He thought, then, I’ve been awake. He realized that he had not gotten even a moment of sleep, since his body collapsed his mind was traveling the rainy streets of the night, tirelessly.
“Get everybody in here. NOW!”
Jaccen’s eyes shot open. The woman was gliding down the hallway quickly. Her eyes locked with his briefly, and he watched as she dropped her gaze and shook her head with a slight sigh. He wondered what that look was for.
“What’s going on?” Kathraan asked.
“Dunno, yet.” Grim was standing by the wall next to the window. His hand grasped the heavy, black curtain and he pulled it slightly to the side. Bright light flooded into Jaccen’s eyes and he blinked to adjust them while standing up. “Summin’s goin’ on out dere. Thas fir shir.” He dropped the curtain.
Jaccen decided now would be a good time to don his clothing. As he did so, he noticed Fritz’s eyes intensely upon him.
Hedrick appeared in the room and Rithain came out from down the hallway, straightening his black hair with a hand. “The Rabanaur’s?” He asked. “Looking for some vengeance, perhaps?”
“I doubt that.” Hedrick said. “What can you see, Grim?”
“Bloody-damned-nuffin’s wud Uh see, boss.”
Everyone turned and looked at Hedrick, Jaccen felt himself included. Just then a piercing note split the air persistently like the highest note of an organ whose musician fell asleep with his finger to the key.
“What did I tell you?!” Fritz snapped facing Hedrick. “It’s them!”
“Be quiet.” Hedrick said quickly. “We have no choice but to vanish.”
“And I was starting to get acquainted with this dump too.” Rithain said.
Hedrick ignored him. “Grim, can you provide a distraction and not get carried away?”
“Shir thing, boss.”
The next few seconds flashed so quickly Jaccen had a hard time following. At the same moment he heard Kathraan’s voice speaking, “Alright, people, we’re goin’ underground.” Grim vanished and the front door was sent flying into a thousand splinters of wood. His eyes were drawn outside the vacant opening to the three figures standing in a perfect triangle on the lawn. They were tall, humanoid figures, as tall as Grim, and their faces were lost in the light that seemed to radiate from them. In each of their hands they clasped a flame that flickered and danced and came to a point as sharp as a sword. He noticed the pure white, wings protruding from each of the three’s backs, like shards of glass. It seemed that in the very instant the door had shattered Grim was attacking the nearest one as the other two swarmed around him. Everyone was shouting in a mad sea of voices.
“Those are Thrones!”
“This is his fault! He brought them on us!”
“Grim, get outta there!”
“Look at how many there are!”
“He’s going down.”
“They’re gonna kill him.”
“Forget it, just run!”
Everyone was out the door as the three figures converged upon Grim bearing their weapons of flame. As Jaccen found himself on the lawn he could see at least a dozen nondescript shapes of light circling around them. The giant that wanted to kill him the night before was in a fight for his life against three figures that seemed to have no intention of losing. He could not fathom why he cared and before he knew what he was doing, Jaccen stepped into the fray to try and drive the winged creatures back.
Driven on instinct alone he dashed forward, struck one in the back with his knee, and leapt over its flailing wings to kick it into one of the others. Grim was face down in the grass. A flame came towards his legs, without a thought he kicked at it and was surprised to see, from the corner of his eye, it sail through the air, and dissipate into nothing. He noticed Kathraan was getting Grim to his feet as another figure attacked from behind; he spun, grabbed its arms and, ignoring a searing pain that shot through his hands, tossed it away. The things were relentless. Two more were beside him and he kicked, swiped and danced, just to keep them away. Somehow he managed to notice that Hedrick, Fritz, and Rithain were doing something to keep some circular balls of light at bay at the edge of the lawn. He felt like he was dreaming. Kathraan and Grim were reaching them. Then he heard her voice shouting towards him.
“C’MON!”
Something pierced his sides and he found one of the creatures had dug both of his hands into him. Shaking violently he broke free and tossed it into one of the others, then, as quickly as he could manage, which was actually much faster than he could imagine, he joined the others and together the six ran behind the house and through an alley.
They jumped walls and twisted through back streets never once bothering to look behind them at the bright figures in constant pursuit.
“Fritz, get us underground. We need a portal now.” Hedrick hissed as they continued to run.
“I’ve been trying, but I can’t here.” He said never breaking step. “Just keep running.”
Jaccen felt as if he would collapse at any moment. His sides were gasping in pain. Determination kept him just behind Grim and Kathraan who, helping each other, were a just little faster than he could manage. It was obvious, though, even in their flight, that Grim was having a hard time. Just then Fritz stopped suddenly drawing Jaccen to a panting halt. Fritz, leaning over to one side, spread his arms as wide as he could and between his open hands sprouted a thick dark substance impenetrable by any light. It look like an oil spill floating in the air.
“Everybody in.” Fritz shouted. Hedrick and Rithain ran straight into it and disappeared without ever slowing. Grim and Kathraan followed. Jaccen took a step forward naturally.
“Forget it, kid,” He said his face set in a hard scowl. He straightened himself and pulled the pitch-black, ovular mass behind him. “But this is as far as you go.” Without waiting for a response he stepped into it and instantly both he and the portal vanished leaving Jaccen alone in the alley with the flaming-white creatures closing in.

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I guess my big question is, as readers do you feel like you relate enough to Jaccen in that short period to be concerned about the cliffhanger he was left at? Or is more development needed prior to that? Of course if you want to comment about something else entirely, that's always good too. See you all tomorrow!

The Picture is back!

All is right with the world... so, let me try again now that everything seems to be working... Does anyone like this picture as much as I do?