Why, she tries to be a professional writer and writes 90 pages of a new book. Yes, I think I've truly become insane . . . or driven . . . or something, I'm not quite sure what.
I just got the first crit back this morning, but the last few days, while on hiatus (ha, ha!) from the revisions that need to be done by this weekend, I cleaned up the first 90 pages of a brand new project: A YA Victorian Paranormal thriller thing.
I'm going to be brave and post a Tuesday Teaser Opening:
Kimberley Griffiths Little
Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 2 was giving me a mild case of insanity.
My sweaty fingers slipped on the keys like they had a mind of their own. The extraordinary April heat wave had made us all feel like limp rags tossed into the bin, ready for darning. Truly, I wanted to darn the damn ivories to the tips of my fingers!
Uncle Stuart would probably prefer a set of stitches than me ripping the keys off the pianoforte and throwing them out the window. Ironically, the very same window Mary, Queen of Scots had dangled from on a rope three hundred years ago to escape the thousand Scottish nobles surrounding Castle Hall to arrest her.
The open window now called to me like a mermaid’s siren.
Instead I tried to pretend I was having a flawless performance even though my corset was so tight—owing to the lacing Francesca had tortured me with earlier—I was numb clear down to my elbows.
My daddy's years of warnings also sounded in my ears. Ever since he found my thirteen-year-old self floating to the ceiling of my bedroom to swing from the chandelier.