The Hollowing is going to a publisher!
I've just had word The Hollowing is about to be published! This is very exciting news, and I'm thrilled.
In Flames is under consideration, as are BloodWorks and Relic. Cross your fingers!
I'm attempting to finish up Glass Works. I finished Of Dragons two weeks ago.
Other plans: see if I can find publishers for the rest, and finish up the last two books on my desktop, then write one for TLC, one for an EC continuity series, and finish up my Grave Images Series.
Phew!
An excerpt: from Trolls, presently at Fictionwise
Zeb had been in such a panic he had no idea how far he’d come, or how deep underground he was. He’d fled into tiny holes (by Troll standards) and toppled, more than once, onto hard rock. All the Trolls would have had to do to find him was sniff him out. As fast as he healed—and, surprisingly, the Trolls’ poultices had helped him—he’d reopened some nasty slices in his shoulder and chest. There’d be splodges of blood trail he’d left behind. Wa-ay behind, he hoped. But, his gut was feeling better. He had vague memories of some liquid being forced down his throat. It had made his insides feel as though he’d immersed them in the spatter from a bacon fry, but in retrospect the pain was worth it. It had cauterised, superglued, or stapled his insides together, so that he was beginning to feel whole once more. And, as the pain lessened, and his brain could work on levels other than “panic and run”, he began to wonder how the Trolls could possibly have known how to fix him. Was their medicine that advanced, or was this something they’d stolen off the Elves? He would hardly have credited the Trolls with the kind of sensitivity it would have taken to diagnose an ailment. Maybe this is a universal anecdote they use for everything, much as we use a universal solvent for dissolving nasty substances. If it works, fine; if it doesn’t, fine... He’d been avoiding looking at the rock surrounding him; afraid to see it dance again. Now, it came to him: the drug was a hallucinogen. It was saving his life, but screwing with his head... The first of the roars trembled the rock within its foundations, and his eyes shot open. He was peering into equal panic in the rock, where wide-mouthed distress topped anxious jumps and shudders by rockhewn figurines. Above him, in the narrow space, small stalactites shivered and fell. Zeb was pelted by three sharp spires and he rolled to one side, only to find a cascade of rock had confined his movements. Cave-in. If I don’t get out, I’ll be stuck in here forever...! He wriggled toward a glittering light in the distance. He realised what an idiot he’d been, creeping through holes with no assurance of an exit. Had he really thought he could back his way out of here, if he were to get stuck? Or did he think he’d somehow melt the rock enough to let himself go through once more? Dumbshit, dumbass, fool, stooge, moron, cretin... His litany went on and on as he wriggled toward that distant light. He’d never been so frightened in his life, and claustrophobia was bringing on more panic. Meanwhile, the roars and pounding went on, the rock shook, and the stone beneath Zeb trembled. Dust filled his eyes, ears, and nose, and he was choking on it, eating it. Instead of moving away from the source, though, Zeb headed that way. If he was stuck—locked in the rock—the Trolls would want him. They’d find a way to break him free. Free, at this point, seemed the most desirable thing in the world. Worth confronting a Troll for. The glints of light were closer now, but it was harder to see through the dust filling his eyes. Zeb’s head had pushed through into a cascade of sandy refuse before he realised he was clear. He froze there, sand and dirt spilling across his neck and ears, and blinked, so he could see more clearly. Below him, there was a battle going on. Trolls. Five of them. Their adversaries? They could only be Kaituku. Worm-eaten. Gnawed away from the inside out. Hungry, with the kind of insatiable hunger which did little to distinguish between friend or foe. The Kaituku would eat them all... Zeb estimated the winged creatures’ height as close to his own. Their bones were laced together with sinewy tendons, all encased within a thin, wrinkled, leathery skin. With talons that could impale with a single strike, and eyes that glittered a volcanic red, their one claim to beauty lay in their wings. Delicate, membranous, elegant—until you noticed the spiny junctions of bone to bone. Noticed the way that elegance was turned against their victims, to scrape and slice. No delicacy in their use. It was all an illusion. As were any doubts about the fiends’ intelligence. There was cunning in those hollow expressions; malicious glee in the glowing red eyes. They’d come here deliberately—on a hunt. And they were planning Troll for dinner. It was the first time Zeb had felt pity for the Trolls. Until he realised the Trolls might not be all the Kaituku were hunting. One of them tilted its head and sniffed the air, its wingbeat increasing eagerly. The next moment it was heading Zeb’s way. Zeb squirmed backwards, while his heart pounded in his ears. All the fallen rock he’d been so eager to escape now seemed his only hope. He propelled himself back, getting stuck time and again. The rock, which had latched onto him so readily just moments before, was now reluctant to re-admit him—and Zeb wasn’t equipped for backwards burrowing. The first of the talons scrabbled at the rock, practically in his face. In the background, the youngest Troll screamed in agony. Piecemeal. The Trolls were too big, so the Kaituku would take what they could—in chunks. Zeb gagged, inhaling just as more grit was flung in his face by those devilishly eager claws. And, suddenly, Zeb had had enough. Enough hiding, enough running. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life scurrying from hole to hole, like some terrified rodent. The memory of that last night on Earth, when red lights had flashed, guns had fired; the screams, the yells, the impossible numbers come to claim him back... He had nowhere to run. No home. Not Earth.Only here. Oh, God...
Cheers,
ND/Melody
