Sunday, December 23, 2012

november and december snippets

There are quite a few long snippets this time around. My excuse is that most of them are from Copper Blood, and I just love this story beyond all reason. So yes.

“You’re from 001,” the ambassador said softly, his voice matter-of-fact. The sounds of fighting from across the room had cut out, and Nate wasn’t at all sure who had won. For all he knew, he was about to get grabbed just like Brittany had been. But he had to focus on this, on pulling the trigger, on fulfilling his mission. 
There were two bullets in the gun. His life didn’t matter, only this did, the mission, he must he must he must he must 

He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, to excuse himself, to apologize. The man’s face creased in a slow, sad smile, lines appearing by his eyes. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry. How old are you, nineteen? Twenty? It takes ‘em young.” The man stepped closer to him, pressing the barrel of the gun into his chest. The smile was gone, and only the sadness remained. “It was a mistake, all of this. Your creation. That thing’s creation. And I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m sorry. Do what you must.” 

 Nate dropped the gun. “I can’t,” he said. “Go home. Go home and love that daughter of yours, because by God I can’t shoot you.”
- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

Nate wasn’t prepared for the pain when it came. This time around, it shut out all thought, every impulse that was not of itself. The bite of the cuffs paled, and disappeared completely, lost amid the roaring beast. It tore through his mind, poured itself into his veins, a thing of molten fire that set his blood to boiling, so violent that the atoms seemed to split, reforming into chunks of iron and copper, crystallized remains of what had once fed him life. Pain tore at him from the inside, his whole body jerking against it.
- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

“I guess you’re not a travelling person?” Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

 She gave him a withering look. “That is putting it mildly,” she said. “Particularly when you have a hyperactive tribble and Agent K to keep you company, not to mention the ignoramus hunk of muscle that keeps trying to get away. She’s already kicked out our taillight and Nathaniel whatever-your-last-name-is, I swear to you, I am going to make you pay if she gets me stopped by the cops.”
- Copper Blood, NaNo 2012

There was no one about when he coasted into a courtyard, nearly crashing into a statue he hadn’t remembered being there. This landing was even worse than his last; he fetched up against a pillar, Jo half-cradled against him. No outcry had been made, no alarm sounded. Stupid Frey, was his last thought before he Shifted, falling onto the stones with one bare arm still draped over Jo. Stupid, stupid Frey.
- Caste, novel in progress

 - Kyla Denae

Saturday, December 22, 2012

this queer empty feeling

Do you ever get this feeling after you finish reading a book or watching a movie, of being absolutely aimless? I get it a lot, and I can't say that I particularly enjoy it. I went to see The Hobbit last weekend (lordy, it's already been a week), and I had that feeling for several days.

Still do, actually.

It's not that my life isn't a nice one. It isn't that I'm particularly unsatisfied with the way my life is. It's simply that works of art like Tolkien's stories speak to me on some deep, primal level that even I can't access at will. And that is sort of amazing. Art--music, the written word, paintings--can speak to a person's soul far beyond anything else.

And that just makes me feel sort of awesome about being a writer. So I relish that queer, empty feeling deep inside. Because it means I have the oh-so-human ability to be moved by something beautiful, and makes me feel that perhaps, someday, I could move someone else in the same way.

- Kyla Denae