Kate Warren

Welcome to this special Easter edition of Weekend Writing Warriors.  Don't know if I'll be getting my visits done today, may have to go into Monday.  No special Easter scene for you, so I'll use the random method again.  I'd like to take this moment to thank everyone who visits me each week and offers their support of my writing.  You guys rock!

This coming month, I'll be participating in Camp NaNoWriMo.  It's my hope that I can (finally) finish the first draft of The DeFord Chronicles, Part II during Camp.  This means I will not be posting for WeWriWa during the month of April, but I will be back after the event ends or I finish the draft--whichever comes first.

And now, on to the excerpt!  From Chapter 12...we join Queen Allyn of Frandia as she is contemplating what to do about her seventeen year old daughter's romantic distress.  

***SPOILER ALERT***  This excerpt covers part of the plot of The DeFord Chronicles, Part I  via the queen's remembrance of events that took place when she was her daughter Therese's age.


          "Had she been this much of a trial to her parents at ten and seven? She thought back to that year and realized that the answer might not be comforting.  That had been the year of the revolution.  The year she had forged friendships with Moreen DeFord and Isabelle St. Robert, though she had been Isabelle DuClerque at the time.  The year she had defied her father once to free those friends from wrongful imprisonment, sneaked away from the palace after dark to tell William DeFord of his son’s birth, and been reunited with the man to whom she had lost her heart months before in Paris.  The fact that her beloved was leading the rebellion had wounded her but when her errand into the rebels’ forest camp had been discovered she had refused to implicate him.  She had been confined to her chambers for her disobedience and feared a harsher punishment, but the battle had reached the palace that night and she had been set free only to witness her father’s murder by an angry nobleman who wished revenge for his own father’s death.
          Perhaps comparing Therese to herself was not the best idea."  


That's my eight for the week.  Hope you enjoyed it.  I'll be around the blogs this weekend, and will see you all again in May.

Kate
 

The lovely and talented, and also super sweet, J.M. Blackman has tagged me for the Super Sweet Blogging Award.

The process is quite simple.  Link back to the person who recommended you for the award, answer some questions about your favorite sweets, and tag a baker's dozen of other sweet bloggers.  Here are my answers to the decreed questions.

1. Cookies or Cake?   This is a hard one for me, but I'm going to have to go with cake.

2. Chocolate or Vanilla?  Usually chocolate.  Though I almost had a chocolate overload yesterday--a thing I did not think was possible before trying Culvers' Chocolate Oreo Volcano frozen custard.  The COV nearly had me convinced that there is indeed such a thing as too much chocolate.  Scary.  I shall avoid that flavor in the future.

3. Favorite sweet treat?  Um...other than chocolate in all its glorious forms?  Probably pie because there are so many variations.  And most are fruit-based, and fruit is good for me. :o)

4. When do you crave sweet things the most?  There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to it.  It really varies.  Except for a certain cyclical chocolate craving.  Regardless of what scientific experts say, that craving does exist, and it is triggered by hormones.

5. If you had a sweet nickname, what would it be?  Heck if I know!  I'm not very tall so maybe shortcake?  If anyone has any ideas of a good sweet nickname for me, please let me know. 

Questions answered.  Now it is time to nominate a baker's dozen (13, for those who don't know) of super sweet bloggers:

Teresa Cypher
Donna Cummings
Sara Barnard
Lauren Royal
Sarah Ballance
Emma Lai
Sandra Sookoo
Charmaine Gordon
Ann Swann
Carrie Crain
Joanne Stewart
Carrie-Anne Brownian
Kate Meader

That's it.  Now I must notify my nominees.  For this task I will use a combination of Twitter, blog comments, and Facebook.  Thank you for reading.  Please stop by again for a peek at my WIP The DeFord Chronicles, Part II for Weekend Writing Warriors on Saturday and/or Sunday.

Kate

My dear friends, as we gather together on the internet for another weekend, I wish to thank all of your for your kindness and encouragement.  It gladdens my heart to read your comments each week, and I very much enjoy making the rounds of the other WeWriWa posts.

This week we are back to my WIP The DeFord Chronicles, Part II.  I have used the random scrolling method and it has brought us to a couple I have not yet introduced to you all.  With all the lovey-doves flying around court, I have to say these two are refreshing in that their courtship is rather unconventional, far less flowery and poetic than many of the other couples in the story.

Ian Devereaux came to court only because he couldn't get out of it, but he found a purpose for being there the moment he set eyes on Sarah Milton.  He took a unique approach to wooing: he simply decided he would marry her and told her so.  She, being rather level-headed and not prone to the whims of others, has pretty much ignored his declaration.  Yet Ian persists in believing that they are to be wed.

Sarah finally gets angry enough to lose her temper while they are out riding, and the following occurs. (creative punctuation warning)


          “By God you are beautiful!”  It was not like Ian to say such things aloud but her eyes blazing, her cheeks flushed, and the look of angry determination on her face was an ironically perfect complement to her normally placid nature.
          She raised the hand holding her riding crop to strike him, but he was quicker than she.  He edged his mount beside hers, caught her hand and kissed her full on the mouth in broad daylight where anyone might see.
          Chest heaving, eyes still snapping, she stared at him and then did the unthinkable--she kissed him back.  
          “Be my wife,” he blurted out without thinking.
          She pulled her arm free of his grasp and dug her heels into the gelding.  “You shall have to catch me first.”


That's my eight for the week, though I had to squeeze it some.  I hope you enjoyed it.  I'll see you around the web.

Kate

Welcome to another beautiful edition of Weekend Writing Warriors.  Given that it's St. Patrick's Day weekend, I'd like to share eight sentences from my Irish novel.  Unfortunately I don't have an Irish novel, so it became a choice between my WIP and my latest finished novel. 

The former is set in the early 15th century and is thus closer to the time of St. Patrick.  The latter has a family names Pritchard, which is a derivation of ap Richard, a Welsh name and Wales isn't too far from Ireland.  I've heard it claimed before that Patrick himself was Welsh, but I have no idea whether or not that is true.

When faced with a decision like this, I always give it the solemn and careful consideration that it deserves.  Meaning of course that I flip a coin.  As St. Patrick once compared the shamrock to the Holy Trinity, I went for best out of three.  My contemporary novel Bridging The Gaps won.  But never fear historical fiction fans...my WIP will be back next weekend.

In Chapter 36 all is going well until Ellen gets a call from the high school.  Her son Matt masterminded a prank involving the Principal's car.  Doug (Matt's father and soon to be Ellen's ex) asked where Matt got the idea and everyone was surprised when the Vice Principal, Vince Gerard, answered:

          “[It was the] senior prank at my high school.”  He shifted his weight from one foot to another.  “Maybe I should have kept that story to myself.”
         [Principal Braymer] silently agreed.  “Nevertheless, I’m sure Matthew understood that he would be punished.”  He looked at his student expectantly.
          Matt answered with sheepish honesty.  “Well I didn’t plan on getting caught, sir.”  


Gotta love Matt!   Well that's my eight for the week.  I'll see you around the other WeWriWa authors' blogs.  Until next time...

Kate
 

Thank you to all who visited last week.  Many of you were very concerned about our poor poison victims and I'm sorry to tell you that I will not continue from there this week.  However, the virtue of the random scrolling method is that I can blame it, should anyone have a complaint. ;o)

This week I'm going way back to the first half of the draft.  Let's see where I end up.  All the way back in Chapter 8.  Royal marriages in the 15th century were not love matches by any means.  The bride and groom often met at the wedding mass, and it was understood by all that happiness was a luxury.  The point of the union was to forge an alliance and produce heirs.  Liking one another was unneccessary.  However, despite the realities of the times, some royal couples lucked out and ended up well-matched anyway.  I give you such a couple.


          Princess Sophie of Frandia leaned back happily upon numerous cushions. She thanked the Lord for her good fortune. The daughter of a powerful family, she had no illusions about her value to her elders: she was a pawn to further their ambitions.  She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that her marriage would be one not of her choosing, thus she had prayed for a husband who would be kind to her.  She had not thought to ask for more, and yet Nicholas of Frandia had far exceeded her expectations.
          Seeing him for the first time at their wedding, she had been struck by the beauty of his countenance, the strength apparent in his trim body, the warmth in his eyes.  The wedding night had been most pleasant. She had been well-prepared for rough-use, pain, and embarrassment, but apparently she had been misinformed. 


I think that counters last week's rather depressing excerpt rather nicely.  I have a meeting this afternoon but hopefully will be able to make all my regular visits before the end of Monday.  See you around the web my fellow Weekend Writing Warriors.

Kate

Hello fellow former Sixers!  Nice to see you again.  I'm going to post from my latest novel, Bridging The Gaps (now available in paperback as well as eBooks).

If you're here for my WeWriWa post, just scroll down.  I posted that one earlier.

We're in Chapter 30 as Ellen's ex-husband-to-be, Doug spots their youngest daughter out on a date.  Now as far as Doug is concerned, Melanie isn't allowed to date, and he's not above making a scene in a public place.  Even his fiancee Chloe gets annoyed and tells him to knock it off.  Chloe speaks first here.



          “Stop this right now!  You’re acting like a cave man.”
          Finally aware of the spectacle he’d created, he released Melanie and lowered his own voice accordingly.  “And just how am I supposed to act when I catch my daughter out on a date when she knows full well she’s not allowed to date until she’s sixteen?”
          Humiliated beyond belief, Melanie didn’t even think of the potential problems her defense would cause when she said those four inflammatory words: “Mom said I could.”



That's my six.  See you around the web as I make the rounds visiting the other Write Club authors.

Kate

Thank you to everyone who stopped by last weekend to read and to comment.  I love reading your words.  Now that February is over I shall go back to my random scrolling method of excerpt selection and back to the second half of my WIP The DeFord Chronicles, Part II.

After all that romance, I believe it's time for some drama.  From Chapter 22: the screams of a young lady have brought his majesty's castellan, Lord Hubert, to a particular bedchamber in the palace.  It is he who speaks.



          "You there,” he indicated a page standing within view.  “Go at once to the king, then to the queen and Lord and Lady St. Robert. Tell them to come as soon as they can but nothing more except that it is I who sent for them.”
          He knelt by one of the ladies on the floor and put his hand over her mouth and nose. She still breathed. He moved to the other, her breath was weaker but she lived yet. He rose again and motioned to one of the men he recognized. “Take a few men, locate every member of the royal family that you can, do it quietly." 



Lest anyone wonder, it's poison and one of the victims is a princess.  I actually haven't written much past this point and I'm hoping that posting it will give me renewed incentive to get back to work on the draft.   Now, off I go to visit my fellow Weekend Writing Warriors. 

Kate