WIPpet Wednesday, hosted by K. L. Schwengel, is a link-up in which we post an excerpt somehow related to the day’s date.
I am so close to finishing Book 2. But I don’t know if I want to call it Elegy anymore. Somewhere in the process of writing, it became more about a song–specifically, the Windsong–and how such a song can save the world. I suppose I’m not in a hurry to name the second book just yet, so it isn’t a problem.
Yesterday, it surpassed Dissonance in length. By the time the first draft is finished, it might be twice as long. For now, though, I’m taking a break from noveling. The month of August will be dedicated to reading and–and poetry. I hate hearing the term dead art, and am determined to reverse that fate!
Since the sequel is nowhere near ready for sharing, I will give an excerpt from the chapter Raindrop Song in Dissonance. Eventually I can share Windsong with you!
Torrents of rain pounded on the roof, bouncing off windows and soothing her soul. It was an orchestra, thumping and splashing, filling the girl with positive adrenaline. Allie set her guitar on the ground and listened, heart racing.
One, down, two, down. Now it pounded harder in a wild, enthralling chorus. Breathe, in, breathe, out. This wasn’t Song, but a friendly melody rising to greet her, natural and real.
She listened to the pounding rain as word and sound merged together. It was impossible to discern one from the other. Soon the air resembled vocals joined in song that wouldn’t hurt her—rather, it healed selflessly, demanding no payment. Song once healed her but demanded a price. This music did no such thing.
Allie hugged her guitar for a moment, letting the music sink in, then steadied her grip and strummed a melody. When did she ever learn chords? She didn’t question it—and with no effort, melody became song.
Thinking wasn’t necessary: This song had been in her heart the whole time,overshadowed by Dark Music. Rainfall gave her a rhythm to build the melody filling her soul. Allie felt like she’d known it forever, but to others it was just another song.
She plucked for several heartbeats, strumming a rainfall. She started over and plucked the tune of rain slowing down, wondering if it should stop. It decided on no and resumed its hammering cry.