It’s early to tell yet, but I may just be finally gaining momentum on MAGE STORM.
Not that I won’t still have to go back and fix the beginning, but I may have made enough notes about that in the manuscript to make it possible to move forward.
What turned the tide (if it has turned)? Well, it’s strange what will work. In this case, sharing a short excerpt on social media and garnering some interest in it.
At the flicker of green light, Rell blinked and lowered the clay jug to glance across the open plains. He shrugged. Maybe it was nothing, just a trick of the light or a reflection. Everything was some shade of green or yellow in that direction except the line of clouds on the horizon. “Looks like there’ll be a storm, later.”
Da didn’t even look up from his weeding. “All the more reason to get this done earlier. Quit your daydreaming, Rell. Back to work.”
Rell sighed and knelt next to the row of three-inch-high corn he was supposed to be weeding. From the corner of his eye he saw the lightning fork down from the distant clouds. He froze, half bent to his work. That bolt had been red! He would swear to it. There were a lot fewer things on the plains at this time of year that could be that color. He jumped to his feet, brushing the heavy clay soil from his hands and tossing his head to get the unruly brown hair out of his eyes.
A bolt of orange lightning forked down as Rell watched. No thunder followed the flash. No thunder had followed any of them. Silent lightning made Rell’s skin crawl as much as the weird colors. The towering clouds loomed a lot nearer, scudding across the sky with unnatural speed. The underside of the thunderheads flashed with shifting colors—white, red, green, blue, yellow. Rell silently cursed every one of the seven gods. He’d only seen this twice before that he remembered, but there was no mistaking it.
“Mage storm!” Rell shouted.
Meredith Mansfield, Author 