Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Sharing a bit from the manuscript.

I want to give you an unedited version of the prologue because of all of the support I have been receiving online for my writing. It couldn't wait any longer. The excerpt below is full of the honest mistakes of a rough manuscript. You rarely get such an intimate look into an author and her writing.
 If you like it then could I ask you a favor in return? Please share this with your friends?


“I have much important things to say but little time to say them.”
Turo sighed and looked down at the speaking stone in his hand. It was smooth and round like a large pebble, but it glowed from the inside with a gentle red light. Turo had only ever seen his master use the stone and he was not even sure whether it was working. He had been assured that there was plenty of blank space left on it for his purposes, though he had no idea what “blank space” meant. Should he hold the stone closer to his face? Speak louder? Should he use the Northern dialect that he had spoken his whole life, or should he try to muddle through in another language that more people might understand?
Turo lifted himself off the cold stone bench and tugged at the new clothes they had given him. The rough-spun pants and tunic were both too big for him. They hadn't even given him a rope to tie around his waist. He could guess why though.
Holding the stone, he walked aimlessly to a wall where a rectangular hole sliced into its stonework served as a window. His room was high in one of the many towers so he had a view of the river valley below. The sun was setting over a mountain range in the west. Turo remembered an argument he had with his master when they first caught sight of the magnificent city that lay at the end of the long winding canyon.
But that was months ago now; early in their travels. So much had changed since then. That conversation may as well have happened in another lifetime.
Now Turo watched the setting sun turn the landscape and the sky shades of gold, purple and flaming red. The river became a molten ribbon as it threaded through the canyon, so bright he could barely stand to look at it. Turo just shaded his eyes with his hands for he needed to watch. Soon it would all turn to grey, and then black, save for the lamplights twinkling below.
“I didn't set out for any of this to happen,” he said to the speaking stone in a mournful voice. Still in his hand the stone pulsed with its reassuring red light. “I supposed my father would say...” Turo's throat thickened with sudden emotion and he had to stop again. Thoughts of home would only slow him down now.
The sun was igniting thin bands of clouds as it sank closer to the mountains. “It looks like someone painted it”, his master might have said of the scene.
Turo took a deep breath and looked down at the stone. Perhaps this would be easier if he pretended he was talking to a person...?

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