Wording Wednesday - a Ferals short story

Dirk stops short at the edge of the alleyway and glances over at Shepherd. "Did you hear that?" His voice is tinny, high despite being almost old enough to get into the agency program. He considers himself an adult now, with his birthday only two months away.

Shepherd takes a long look down the dark alley. No lights, the partial moon covered by clouds, nothing to see by. He cranks the flashlight in his hand and sweeps it across the shadows. Four pairs of eyes light up, staring straight back at them. Shepherd jumps back, fumbling with the flashlight and nearly dropping it.

Dirk stares, brown eyes wide with terror.

"What day is it?" Shepherd whispers, his fingers shaking around the flashlight as he turns the beam back up toward the eyes. The two pairs glow in the light, still looking straight down at the boys from their perch on top of the garbage containers.

"Two days," Dirk states. He shows his watch to prove the point; though, neither boy can see the face of it in the dark.

Dirk got lucky after the Spread. He managed to be one of the few people who came across a watch that wound whenever he took a step. An ongoing, perfect watch for a place without much, if any, electricity or access to batteries. Best yet, his shows the cycles of the moon. A daily reminder of how much danger he is in, or is not. Two days should be plenty of time.

The taller boy lets out a long, slow breath. "Okay, then. We're fine, right?"

"We're fine," Dirk echoes. He can't peel his gaze away from the creatures.

One of them has long fur, off-white with a dark patch on its chest. After a moment of watching at the boys, it licks its paw and rubs it along its face. As if it weren't one of the deadliest creatures in the world, as if it were nothing but a ... "House cat." The thought escapes Dirk's lips on a whisper, almost like a dare. He's an adult now, and he should be able to call them like they are. Cats.

Except they aren't. They haven't been cats for a long time.

"Whatever, man. Let's go." The flashlight turns off for a second, and the sound of the mechanical hand crank fills the silence between them.

"Do you think their inoculated?"

"You want to stay and find out?" The beam comes back on, and Shepherd aims it at Dirk.

"No." Dirk puts his hand up, shielding his eyes from the light. "But if they aren't, then—"

"Then the TNR Agents will deal with them."

Dirk stands up straighter. "We could bring them in."

Shepherd aims the light back down the alley. Only one set of eyes gazes at them now, the off-white one missing from the scene. "You want to try to catch it? Be my guest."

Taking one step forward, the boy shakes with nervous, giddy energy. Dirk glances around the opening to the narrow path. He freezes when he sees more eyes appearing out of the darkness, blinking into existence from out of oblivion. He gulps down a breath, stumbling backwards. "A pride."

"Not just a pride." Shepherd's voice dissolves. "A colony."

The boys take three steps back, then four, both almost tripping over their own two feet.

"It's not the full moon," Dirk whispers, voice whimpering with disbelief and fright.

The beam of light winks out again, and with their hearts pounding, the boys turn and run as fast as they can. Their feet launch off the pavement, and they sprint. Faster than they did in survival class, faster than they did during their exams, faster than they ever have run before. They run so fast, they feel like they are flying.

But that's the thing about Ferals; no matter how fast, no human has ever outrun them.

- - - - -

I rarely write in third person, let alone present tense, but I've been writing a few stories in present tense as of late and wanted to try third person. I figure if I'm trying new things, it should probably be during writing prompts. This prompt is curated by Andy Brokaw, a lovely YA writer, and she used "The Cats' Rendezvous" by Édouard Manet to inspire our first piece for Wording Wednesday, a writing group on MeWe.

If anyone else is on MeWe, feel free to add me! mewe.com/i/racheldesilets

Powering Through

Being creative is hard work. It takes effort, commitment, time, dedication, and tenacity. I've seen artists become successful on a local level, but I also know how many years it took them to get there. Writing and editing are no different from other forms of art.

Writing for me comes naturally. My first drafts are messy, convoluted, and sometimes need a huge overhaul, because I do a little bit of outlining and a bunch of pantsing. I go into writing with vague ideas that end up getting fleshed out halfway through, which means I always have to go back. Rewrites are a big part of my writing process, and they are also more time consuming than writing.

There's something about re-reading the first words I've put down that makes me a bit disheartened. I think in my head, "This isn't good." I second guess myself and my art. It pushes me to the edge of wanting to give up, because the words didn't flow the way I wanted them to.

Rewriting is where I get stuck. It's the part of the process where I have to power through and just "do it." The only person holding me back is the inner editor inside me that dislikes (hate is too strong of a word) my first draft.

Drafts are not supposed to be this shiny, perfect thing that you can push out into the world. Drafts are for shaping and folding, mending into the story you want it to become. This part of the process should be fun (at least on some level). I have this novel in my hands that I created, and now I just have to make it better. I should look at this as enhancement, but I always struggle to get through.

All writers struggle with some part of the process, and despite the struggle, you should never give up.

Being creative takes time and dedication. You have to forgive yourself if it's not perfect, and then you have to work on making it better. I could throw this book aside and say, "Eh, I'll get to that later." But if I stop now, I'll lose momentum. I'll, essentially, give up.

What is your reason for powering through when you are struggling creatively?

Mine is the characters I create. I know they have a story worth sharing, which makes me want to finish what I've started. Even if the story is over, the characters never really leave me.

New Year, New Planner

I'm a saver, not a spender, and as such, I hardly ever buy things for myself. Sure, sometimes I splurge with this "I really need this," but I have to justify it to myself, much like a child would a parent. I have to explain to myself how vitally important this item is.

One recent purchase was The Simple Elephant Planner. I tried doing the bullet journal thing last year, but I found the page set up to be tedious. I wanted my planner to look cool with awesome spreads, and I spent so much time making each calendar month look great, that I spent less time actually doing the items on my list.

This year, I decided to try The Simple Elephant, and so far so good. It's simple and goal-oriented. It has to list the five most important goals for you to do this year, and it comes with a few easy instruction guides to give you advice on how to set up your goals.

Mine are:

1. Shop Dissimulate to 50 Agents
2. Publish two additional works
3. Better Overall Health: Mental breaks, meditation, and lowering waist size
4. Read 50 books
5. Take a Vacation

Ideally, I won't reach 50 agents with Dissimulate, but since "get an agent" isn't a quantifiable goal, because it depends on the agents I shop to. So, I've decided on something more straightforward and gave myself a number to shop by the end of the year. Dissimulate has a lot in it though: a futuristic sci-fi theme, existential discussions, and a GLBT main character. This one will find a home.

I wrote most of it for NaNoWriMo, took December off to get Overwatch loot boxes (I'm a bit obsessed with opening shiny treasure boxes in that game), and I'm finishing up the book now. I'm at 64,000 words and approaching the end. My rough drafts always skimp on description, so the rewrite usually adds 10k in story and descriptions.

While it is only January 4, I feel really great about the simplicity of setting up this notebook. It breaks down overall goals into monthly goals, breaks down monthly goals into weekly ones. Then, it helps recap your week with successes as well as what can be done better.

Now, I know I have to have Dissimulate done by March for shopping. Now, I know once that's finished I can pursue the other two titles I wish to publish this year. I expect big things from myself in 2018, and you should expect big things from yourself, too.

What are your plans for the new year? Any big goals? What are you using to track your progress?

How I feel when I write a novel ...

Some people ask me: What is it like to be a writer? What does it feel like writing a novel?

Well, there's a lot of heart and soul that goes into writing a book. And sometimes, you lose yourself a little bit in the characters and the story and the drama.

So what does it feel like to write a novel? A little bit of everything. The proof is in the video.

Happy reading and writing!

YA Gets Real: Sacrifice

The four of us watched in horror as green light exploded from the tip of the witch's wand straight into Madison Patrick. Madison's eyes rolled back into her head, her body shuddered once, and she collapsed onto the ground.

Josephine, Carlyle, and Trevor gasped behind me.

The witch, who I thought would be ecstatic to have just ended Madison's life, glanced at the end of her wand. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned.

"Why did you not save her?" Her voice came out tinny and hollow.

There was a long, outstretched moment of silence. I gazed at the charred clothes on top of Madison's chest. I swallowed back a bit of bile from the smell filling the stone-walled space.

"We tried. We just got here too late," I said.

"No, Lex, we were here just in time," Josephine squeaked.

I narrowed my eyes and took a step away from my friends, the people I had spent ages on this journey with. We had come all this way to subdue the witch and save Madison's life. We had arrived at the tower too late, and there was nothing we could have done to save her. The witch had been casting her spell before we entered the room.

"We were too late," I said again.

Trevor shook his head and glanced down at his sword. "We could have saved her."

"No, we didn't have the time," I said.

"You could have," the witch said, eyeing me.

Finally, it clicked into place. I blinked at my friends and swept my eyes over the sullen looking witch. She had used all her magic on that last spell. She hadn't wanted to kill Madison at all. She had wanted to kill me.

"Whoa. Wait a second." I stepped back from all of them, holding my hands up. "You had expected me to travel across the continent, defeat the wraith, drain the swamp with the formi inside, and beat the harnessed rider to what ... to sacrifice myself for Madison Patrick?!"

None of them could look me in the eyes.

"I barely knew her! You barely knew her!" I pointed out to my so-called friends. "Sure, I was trying to save her life, but I wasn't prepared to die for her." The words were true, and I'm not sure what kind of person that made me. While I had failed to save her, so had they. No one stepped up on this one.

"You have the amulet," Carlyle finally said, eyes sullen and lips taut. "It would have brought you back."

"How was I supposed to know?" My voice rose, panic bubbling into my throat. "You guys never told me that!"

"They couldn't," the witch said. "It would have only worked if your intentions had been pure, if you were actually willing to sacrifice yourself for her." She shook her head, looking at me with disappointment. "I can't believe I planned all of this just to get to you." With that, she turned and marched out of her tower.

I stood there, jaw open, stunned.

"You weren't the person we thought you were," Trevor said.

"No one had to die today." Tears welled in Josephine's eyes.

"So are we letting the witch go?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "Because she's, you know, a murderer now."

As if in a trance, the three of them repeated, "No one had to die today."

"You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing!" I slammed my foot down, hoping to break them out of whatever had just happened. This wasn't all on me. This wasn't all my fault, but they were making me feel like it was.

They continued repeating the sentence over and over again, "No one had to die today." Slowly, my companions shuffled out of the room, leaving me behind with the body of Madison Patrick.

- - -

Thanks for reading the parody series YA Gets Real! It's a parody series of shorts that make fun of the tropes we know and love in Young Adult literature. There are quite a few books where the main character does sacrifice themselves for the sake of others. I won't give any recommendations for this one, because that would give away too many endings. ;)

Cheers! Another YA Gets Real will be posted in two weeks! Stay tuned!