Welcome to the Weekend Writing Warriors post.
The idea is to sign up on their site and share 8 sentences of your writing, published or unpublished, to go live between midday Saturday and 9am Sunday. Then anyone can comment (critiques welcome!) on the section posted.
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My 8 sentences today, again, come from the first draft of Seven Sisters, Chapter Three. This is a bit more back-story to last week’s snippet, though it comes a few scenes later.
Stumbling into his apartment, Rogan slammed the door and collapsed onto the sofa. He’d been drinking a little too often lately; with the anniversary of his first love being this week.
He covered his face with his palms, brushing his shoulder-length brown hair behind his ears. Blue eyes fixed on the ceiling and his left arm dropped to the floor, his fist grasping around for a bottle of gin and his book.
Why he read so many romances, Rogan couldn’t explain. Perhaps, against the coldness of his daily routine, in these moment with Nora Roberts, he could shed tears over the women who’d held his heart. Every waking moment she was in his mind; the person who’d destroyed his happiness. He knew she was there, hiding around every corner, and laughing at his pitiful attempts to find her.
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Did you miss last week’s entry? Check out the excerpts page to see other examples of my work.
You can visit other participants on the list by clicking the image below, and spread the word using twitter hashtag #8sunday.
