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To find a routine, that is. During the warmer months, when it’s actually light outside before 7 am, I have no trouble getting up at 5:30 to write. I actually like it, if you can believe that –it’s perfectly quiet inside my head and outside of it, I know the phone win’t ring, my friends likely won’t be online, and coffee tastes particularly good when you still have sleep sand in the corners of your eyes, for some reason. It’s a good time to write. But there must be some seasonal trigger hiding in my brain, because it happens without fail every autumn: trees lose their leaves, squirrels waddle around glassy-eyed and lumpy-cheeked, and writers sleep in late.

Sadly, most of my best ideas come in the morning –right now, pretty much, about 20 minutes before I leave for work.

So, I’m working in it. Right now I write over lunch during the week and after work on the days when I don’t have something else going on –internet prime-time, unfortunately, so procrastination is like a pissed-off toddler bellowing noooo, mommmy, I want thaaaaat! in my ear the whole time. But I guess that’s good for self-discipline, right?

Anyway. Since I’m trying to be a good little blogger, and since it’s Tuesday and I could use something to keep my distractable self in line, here’s a teaser from the current WIP. Happy writing, peoples.


Unable to sit still for another second, Willa flung herself to her feet and stomped into the kitchen. “Willa!” Audrey yelped in pure outrage.

“I’m just getting drinks!” she hollered back, and leaned against the fridge for a moment. There were so many feelings trying to shove their unruly way out of her right now she could barely see straight. She knew she had no right to be angry at Audrey, who was just trying to help. And even less right to be angry at Perrin, who probably thought she was Darktown’s biggest freak now.

He didn’t know the half of it.

She spun, threw open the fridge and, on an impulse she didn’t feel like questioning, grabbed the six pack that had been sitting on the bottom shelf for the last few weeks.

Audrey’s eyes got huge when she brought that back into the living room.

“Okay, Willa, this is more serious than I thought.”

“Hey, Gritty’s” Perrin said happily, not a bit fazed by the sudden appearance of alcohol.

“It was Dan’s,” Willa said to Audrey’s raised eyebrows. “I can’t stand looking at it anymore.”

“Oh.” Audrey frowned at the beer like it might be hiding something. “Is it still good? That was weeks ago.”

Perrin was already tipping his bottle back, perfectly comfortable with the whole underage drinking scene, apparently. “It’s fine,” he said around it. “Beer takes a long time to go bad as long as you keep it cold.”

Audrey heaved a sigh and took a bottle, her forehead crumpled. Willa grabbed another one, trying to quell the little voice in her head screaming that she was going to get in trouble.

It wasn’t like Aunt Claudia was about to come downstairs and stop them, was it?

“Ugh,” she said a second later. “Now I know why I don’t drink.”

“This tastes like ass,” Audrey agreed, but she took another swallow. Willa smiled grimly and did the same. How did people learn how to like this taste? It was like moldy bread in liquid form. The bubbles were almost insulting.

Audrey pointed at her, eyes narrowed. “And now, Willa Presraka will start talking. Or I am going to dump this beer over her head.”

“It’s supposed to be good for your hair,” Perrin said helpfully.