Tuesday, August 7, 2012


Crap in a sack, Stephanie Diaz tagged me in a new game and I had the misfortune to see it. Okay, so maybe I was proud to be included. 


If you are tagged, do a search for the word "look" in your work in progress. Copy that paragraph, along with surrounding paragraphs, to your blog, to keep the game afloat. Don't forget to tag others. 

"Look" shows up in the first paragraph of my WIP, Dodge the Sun:

The anklet jangled up and down against Little Bit’s leg with every other step. An itch she couldn’t scratch at the moment. The basket, filled with a heaping pile of laundry, occupied one hand while the other gripped the railing. She climbed the wooden stair which wound in a spiral around the outside of the tower. The wicker handle of the laundry basket balanced against her right hip, digging in with each stride. The staircase creaked and shifted. She shuddered and kept her eyes fixed on each tread, careful not to look at the height of the drop through the gaps.
Ralph promised again and again to block in the open spaces, but his promises flitted around like blueflies, impossible to pin down. He worked on his own leisurely time schedule, and no amount of pleading on her part moved him to improve the stairs.
Movement down in the garden caught her attention—Tabitha was bent over, doing the weeding. The yard of short-cut meadow grass containing the outbuildings, the trout pond, the empty coney hatch, and the garden spread out before her. Why did the tower have to be so high? Little Bit gulped, feeling dizzy. She fixed her gaze back on the climb and plodded on.
At last, she reached a square landing of wooden planks built against the upper entrance. Hidden from prying eyes by the tower, she set down the basket. She squatted to hike her cotton skirt embroidered with clover and their purple blossoms up to her knees. A wink of gold glittered in the morning sun. The chain of delicate gold links clasped around her ankle mocked her with its fragile appearance. Little Bit reached for the anklet, then chewed her lip. Like a sore tooth, she couldn’t resist probing it.
She squared her shoulders before taking an end of the chain in either hand. Her fingers began to burn with a strange heat. The sting like a thousand nettles increased with each pulse of her heart. She continued to pull despite the rising pain. 
I'll tag: Angie Sandro, Calista Taylor, and Jean Oram. Sneaky but they are most likely to see this because Cali has a guest post tomorrow.

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