A WIP or Two

Oh, gosh, this is probably the most writing I've finished in a long time because school is being really nasty while we wrap up the year. Plus, it's my favorite WIP of the moment. So here, have some quotes from The Influence of Random Fluctuations in the Space-Time Continuum, featuring Kendall Lubkeman and Mandarin Renault-Torres.

Warning: Spoilers ahead. 

Mandarin sips her frappuccino, and disappointment tugs at Kallie. Mandarin Torres, wicked queen of Buttonwillow, California, drinking something so mundane as a doe-eyed and miniskirt-clad good-girl iced coffee?

"You're looking at me funny, 'Rene." Mandarin says it mildly. 

Kallie flinches, bumping the table with one elbow and causing it to shudder. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I was thinking." 

Mandarin reaches out lazily and runs a peach-smooth finger down the crease of Kallie's forehead with casual intimacy. "You'll get wrinkles," she notes, a crooked grin tilting the corners of her mouth. "Much easier not to think if you don't have to. 'Nothing matters, but knowing nothing matters,'" she trills, the rhythm intermittent and most of the notes off-key. The skilled flutist across the table can't help but shudder. 

"I'm not trying now," Mandarin says defensively. 

Kallie shakes her head hurriedly, a nervous involuntary jerk. "Of course not. I sit across the aisle from you in chorus, you know? I know how well you can sing." 

Mandarin gives a kind of one-shoulder shrug and averts her eyes.

--The Influence

"'Rene?" 

Kallie barely responds, her fingers tapping an intermittent, metallic beat. She has never been called 'Rene before, and it makes her afraid to hear her name in those sleek, imperial tones. As if those four contracted letters are undeserving of taking up the space between Mandarin's glossy lips. In her apple-green dress and limp curls, Kallie doesn't feel like 'Rene, who would be someone as arrogant, enviable and delicately Machiavellian as Mandarin herself. Someone with red boots and nails like penknives. Someone who could spray her personality over yours like graffiti dotted across the high walls behind the railroad tracks. 

Kallie doesn't own red boots. 

--The Influence

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Updates on other WIPs:

Skylander? Pretty fabulous. I've established that Aradia does well as a Skylander, but Samkim in the Strix? Not so much. The main plotline will also involve a serious revolution and their two chosen guilds fighting opposite one another. 

Nobody of Night has diverged from a fantasy into a speculative-reality urban science fantasy, involving time travel, robots, parallel universes, sorcerers and monsters. Blackbird becomes deeper and deeper every day. I'm never sure what she'll do next. 

Hallelujah is still in plotting stages, though I've got the names and the basic plot down. To put it concisely, the universe is controlled by Father Chaos, Mother Universe and their children: Dream, War, Despair, Love, Delirium, Fate, and Death. None of these have immortal personifications; instead, they are hosted by a different human every generation. But this time, two Deaths are born, which throws everything into, well, chaos. 

Hopeless Regiment is now a story about familial bonds and unusual coincidences, aside from the blood-caste, ancient Roman-style sci-fi tale I began it as. I get to mess around with the army, delve into gang life, and then mix them all up in a surprisingly adorable, if violent, saga.

Niagara is going well. That's about all I can say for it. Well. The fact that I just revamped the entire plot is presenting some issues. Silver is far too huggable, as usual. Micah is more of a jerk than I wanted him to be, but perhaps that isn't a bad thing. Winslow is, to be honest, kind of unintelligent. I'm hoping her smarts will improve. 

Blackbird Over the Harvest Moon is tough because everything, every bit has to be genius -- that's how Teek and Magda talk. Nevertheless, it's moving along at a decent pace. 

Starship Peppermint is, as of now, a collection of disjointed scenes that not only resemble Firefly far too much but refuse to organize themselves into a collective story. I am hoping that they will eventually, or I shall force them to, and that will not turn out well and will result in much editing for me. 

Water's White, Girl of Green is purely delightful and a total joy to write, which I often don't find in my books. Petra is amusing, Tegan is confused, Lael is mysterious, Naiviv is vicious, and Valentine is a manipulative little witch. The complexities of the society and the unusual and surprising flora and fauna of the fairyland are fantastic.

Kairos. Beloved Kairos. What can I say? If I lived in Night Vale, this would be my autobiography. But I don't, so the next best thing is to dump dear Mime Vega into a bizarre and at times horrific American town and watch the fireworks.

Sioa still has very little plot, aside from me going "What rules? Norse myth reboots. Psychological thrillers. Tear-jerking ghost stories. Apocalypses. Revolutions. Shipwrecks. Quests. Crack-shot, computer-hacking, plane-flying heroines. A protagonist named after my pet bird," and shoving that-all in the oven to bake. Unfortunately, the timer still hasn't gone off. If any of you have decent ideas for a book involving a Japanese college student who can see ghosts, a former novice detective who's a returned ghost herself, nine modern valkyries who use Twitter, a Swedish reporter who's the ex-husband of one valkyrie and father of another, and Ragnarok, let me know. Seriously, please do.

Medusa is marvelous. How could a futuristic police procedural starring a hallucinatory, manipulative teenage assassin and her partner, a mega-genius librarian, archaeologist and soldier turned cop detective be anything less?