Six Sentence Sunday #16

Another snippet from my weird-ass work-in-progress. I'm currently at 93,000 words and praying I can wrap this beastie up within the week. Here's the book's anti-heroine explaining the vigilante anti-hero, Boston's bicycle-riding, paintball gun-wielding, bargain basement-quality Batman.

The Badger fights violence with violence. If you ding a pedestrian or cyclist with your car, he’ll smash your mirrors off with his U-lock. But if it’s something less heinous, you just get balled—run a red light or splash somebody with dirty puddle water, and he’ll nail your window with a white pellet shot from a Glock-style paintball pistol. Harass or intimidate somebody on the street, or generally be a dick in any way to your fellow man and get caught—thwack! big white bird-shitty splatter all over your nice new coat.

Given what a career coward I am, you can see why I’d find the Badger both terrifying and hugely compelling; I hate a scene, and he’s a human scene. He’s everything I’m not and can’t ever be, not outside of painkiller withdrawal.

Thanks for swinging by, everyone! Now head here to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts this week.

Six Sentence Sunday #15

A bit more from the anti-heroine of my weird-ass work-in-progress this week. I'm determined to finish the first draft of this sucker in the next couple weeks. Just 15,000 words to go.

The only time in my life when I could have been described as anything resembling brave would’ve been the not-quite two years I spent addicted to Vicodin. For the second half of that period I moved back in with my parents, so they could “keep an eye on me”. Or keep an eye on the wild animal they’d invited to inhabit their house, sleep-walking through her days, hungry and snarling when the fleeting pacifism of chemical hibernation wore off. When I came down from those suckers and wanted more, I was ballsy. I was fearless and I was dumb as shit, and I’d steal anything that wasn’t nailed down.

Thanks for swinging by, everyone! Now head here to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts this week.

Six Sentence Sunday #14

Greetings once more, my sixy beasts! Something a bit different this week, from what I've been calling "the weird-ass work-in-progress." Not entirely sure what genre the thing even is. It's got a romance (a strange one) and explicit sex, but it's not romance or erotica… Anyhow, it's weird. Enjoy!

Amanda and I are fraternal twins, and our eggs were as different as scrambled and Fabergé. Amanda is perky, fair, pink-cheeked, with irises like gems cut out of the pure blue sky, whereas I’m thin and dark, with what my mother calls “gypsy eyes”, probably to try to make me feel mysterious or interesting. Hangover eyes, a bit squinty, their edges the color of a ripe bruise.

I was a deferring pregnancy, a wispy shadow hiding behind Amanda’s robust fetus that my parents didn’t even realize was a second daughter until nearly the third trimester. A uterine wallflower, that was me. Amanda burst forth screaming and vibrant, and I slipped quietly into the world behind her, never one to want a fuss made.

Thanks for swinging by, everyone! Now head here to check out all the other Six Sentence Sunday excerpts this week.