Uggh! I HATE writing! (No, not really.)

Okay, so I just got a laptop! Yay, more writing!

However, the writing part of the writing is not going very well. I realized a few days ago that the novel was going in completely the wrong direction. Like, as in opposite direction. I know you're really not supposed to edit when you're trying to truck through your first draft, but it just could not go on like this; especially since I knew that it was all wrong. So (Okay, I know you're going to cringe 'cause I am) I sort of deleted six thousand words. *hides in corner out of shame.* And for the past week or so, I've been trying to decide what to replace it with. And a couple of days ago it came to me. Note: I do not recommend doing this! I just couldn't finish the book knowing that seventy-five percent of it was wrong.

But, on a slightly happier note, I will most likely be writing a bit more now that I have an entire computer to myself! I'm so ecstatic, can you tell?! =)

Here's a little piece from the novel. Hope you like it! However, please keep in mind that this is a first draft, people.

Chapter Five

Ulysses                                                                     #

            The gates to the Fuscus Regnum rose in front of me, tall, majestic and spider-like. They were draped in opaque, black smoke that wound themselves around the virtual iron like hungry vines.

I ran a hand through my thick, black hair, sighing. I had been waiting there for hours. The girl I was watching was an absolute mess, but she wasn’t to the stage of susceptibility just yet. I was a patient woman, and therefore the task was slightly easier than it would have been for any other of my kind, but still, the task needed to be completed quickly, and I was starting to get apprehensive.

            I watched the woman through the gates carefully. Being a Dark One, I could see strait through them, though she couldn’t, and would have no idea that I was waiting on the other side.

            Suddenly, the woman stirred and fell to her knees. Her shoulders moved up and down with her hysteria and she clawed at the earth with her bare hands, as if she could dig her lover from his grave. I could never understand it; why people loved. It was a pointless waste of precious time.

            The girl was ready.

            I morphed into a more suitable form – an old woman with kind eyes and a tattered shawl – and stepped through the gates. I set my hands on her shoulders, and flinched slightly. It was against my nature to show any sign of affection, a façade or not, and I would have liked to tear her apart limb by limb, but that could wait for later. The girl looked up, her tear stained eyes red against her glowing complexion. It took all my will-power not to retch at the sight of her flawless, vivacious face.

            “What is your name, child?” I asked, hoping I sounded friendly.

            The girl paused for a minute, and then sniffled. “Adriaal,”

            “You have lost the one you love most dear.” I tried to lace my words with sympathy, but I didn’t know how to do that, and it might have come out wrong. She didn’t seem to notice, though.

            “Yes . . . how did you know?” she wiped a tear from her eye.

            “Oh, I know lots of things about you, my dear. How you would like to avenge your beloved Victor by killing the Dark One responsible for the deed. How you blame the Ancients for the happening, and how you would do anything – even if it meant taking your own life – to get him back.”

            Adriaal looked aghast. She stepped back from me in fear.

            “No need to be afraid, darling.” I assured her. It was working; I could feel it, all the emotion writhing up inside her until she would come to the point when it would be out of control. I smiled.

            I quickly slammed my palm hard against her helmeted forehead, then, trying my best to ignore the searing pain flaring up on my skin from the Ethereal Gold, ripped out her soul and all human emotion with it. Adriaal screamed as the fire that I remembered so vividly spread through her, burning out any human or angelic nature that hadn’t been clinging to her soul.

            I morphed back into my regular from and grabbed her wrist. Then, with Adriaal screaming and changing at record rate, I dragged her into the Fuscus Regnum. I threw her onto the ground and stood there, waiting for the internal fire to run out of fuel.

            It took hours, what with all that emotion boiling inside her, but when it did stop, Adriaal coughed out a miniscule wisp of luminous smoke and stood up. Her eyes now swam with a million colors. Her pupils were slits, and her hair black as night. Of course she would still remember everything from her previous life; she just would give a damn.

            There was a sizzling sound coming from her skin: the Ethereal Gold. How had I been so careless? I threw the expressionless girl a gray robe and she quickly changed.

            “Now,” I said. “I have a job for you.” I opened a small hole in the fabric of the Regnums to gaze through. Inside was a boy of about seventeen, with platinum blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “I need you to kill the boy.”

            “But why me? What happened to the one you already sent out?”

            I felt a flare of hate rear up inside me. “He was disobedient, and his recklessness and lust could have cost us the entire operation. If you come across him, make sure he doesn’t come back alive. Leave him to the dogs.”

            She nodded.

            The image of the young man flickered, like there was a bad signal and the picture of a girl appeared in his place. She had brown hair and pale, green eyes.

            “No,” I gasped. “It can’t be.” She couldn’t be alive. . . .

            The image flickered again then turned back to the boy. Adriaal looked confused.

            “It is nothing,” I assured her. “Stick with the plan and assassinate the boy. I will await your return. Now go, I have nothing more to say to you.”

            I waved her away and she obeyed. I sealed up the fabric and stared at the spot where it had just vanished. No, it was a mistake and nothing more. I told myself. But I never made mistakes. I pushed it out of my mind and dwelt on it no more. But for the first time in millennium, I had felt uncertain.

Okay, book of the week. This week's book is one that is filled with awesomeness! Any guesses? No? All right.

Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson. I love this book! I'm currently on the second book (anyone seeing continuity?) in the trilogy: The Well of Ascension. The third book is: The Hero of Ages.

Follow this link if you want to see sample chapters et cetera. Go here to see a synopsis and reviews. I give this book twenty-five stars! I know, that's not technically legal, but guess who doesn't car? It's just that good!

For those who don't know Brandon Sanderson, he's an acclaimed Fantasy writer who lives in Provo, Utah (Ah, so close . . .). He is the author who was chosen to finish the Epic Fantasy series The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan. Which, by the way, I'm going to be reading soon and will probably appear on the blog in the next few months. His other books include Warbreaker, Elantris, and The Way of Kings. The Way of Kings is Brandon's large epic fantasy series, much like Lord of the Rings, The Wheel of Time et cetera. All of which I'll be reading. But be forewarned, and Matt can attest to this, The Way of Kings is astronomical. No joke. In softcover it reaches to nearly thirteen hundred pages. Ah! Can't wait!!!

You can also check out the podcast that Brandon Sanderson and a couple other authors do called Writing Excuses by going to the iTunes feed or visiting their website here.

And . . . inspirational song! Well, when it comes to intense writing scenes, anyway.

And this one just because I can't stop listening to it!

Okay, well, that's all for today, everyone!

See ya'!

~Jared