Category Archives: YA Novels
Again this week I’m featuring my WIP, The Farm, for Six Sentence Sunday! Today my artist heroine Annmar meets another of Wellspring Collective’s farm workers—a girl who becomes her friend and confidant.
Once more Annmar shook hands and probably said the usual niceties, but her mind jumped to the hue of Mary Clare’s emerald eyes, her pale freckles and tiny little nose that would be fun to paint. And if Annmar made her ginger hair even longer than where it touched her shoulders, and loose from the ribbon binding it tightly back—it had to be curly with those puckering waves—she could draw twining flowers, or better yet, vines of some farm crop that would offset the canvas overalls and boots this girl wore. What a contrast the feminine and masculine elements would make—
“Are you well?” Mary Clare peered at her. “Miz Fertis, I think you better put her to bed as soon as possible.”
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Thanks for stopping by for Six Sentence Sunday! Please join my heroine Annmar on her first look at one of her new fellow workers on Wellspring Farm, in my WIP The Farm. Rivka is one interesting fellow, in her city-reared opinion.
Below Annmar’s window, Wellspring’s manager joined several farmworkers under the spreading tree. A tall skinny boy—or young man, as she should think of him—seemed to be reporting while others listened. He waved his hands in an animated way, his tufts of short tawny hair glinting gold and auburn highlights as he fluttered in the low afternoon sun.
Fluttered? Annmar bent her head, trying for a better angle against the glass to make out the exact movements of his side-stepping feet and flipping elbows, but he wasn’t moving. Had it been a trick of the lighting, or—her hand flew to her mouth—a knacker?
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Another week of edits on my WIP The Farm: When the farm owner leads the new artist through the outbuildings on a tour, Daeryn drops what he’s doing and follows along to meet her, instantly raising the hackles of his co-workers.
Jac flipped her hair over one shoulder. “Oh, please. Just because you’re lead now, you think you can ditch your chores to meet the new girl?”
The guys snickered.
Guess he had.
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In my WIP The Farm, a mystery pest is feeding on the fall crops that Daeryn and his team of nocturnal predators guard. They have run down one of the furry black animals, but lost it before getting a good look.
They all shifted and Jac led them a couple of hundred feet around a rock outcrop and down a dry ravine. To Daeryn’s nose, the burrow in the bank was exactly as she’d described: overwhelmingly rabbit, but a trace of the pest scent that lurked around the damaged crops and…something else.
Maraquin snorted the air from her nostrils, took another whiff, but shook her head. “I smell it, but have no idea.”
Zar backed from the small hole, looking the most puzzled. “This sounds stupid, but it reminds me of my old granny’s house.”
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I’m deep into edits of my WIP, The Farm, and thinking of little else, thus missed several Six Sentence Sundays. But my two machine excerpts have drawn the attention of the friend of a friend, who I understand is itching for more. Yes, I have more odd machines in the story! But first, I think it’s time to meet one of the guys—can’t say if he’s the hero!
Daeryn Darkcoat’s four tough paws carried him down a dirt road bisecting Wellspring Cooperative Farm. The moon, just past waxing, provided the bit of light his polecat eyes needed to see the acorn squash on the right and a late planting of bush beans on the left. Nothing amiss in the rows of plants his nocturnal sight discerned in sharp grays and blacks.
Flicking his round ears back and forth to the few stray calls above the rise and fall of the crickets, Dae trotted on. He reached an interior crossroad on a hummock and slowed, pacing a tight circle and finally stopping to peer westward up and down the treeline where only the autumn leaves stirred.
Where was that wolf bitch?
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