Favorite lines you've written

[Wayne K]

My favorite line of the first chapter

They say freedom can exist inside you, but for me, that wasn’t going on. I lost it as my memories of freedom waned, and I looked closer at the ties that bind.

[milly]

From my first completed women's fiction novel, THOSE WHO WANT

I thought about how Dannon, before he’d let me see him completely naked, had recited lines from his favorite Shakespeare soliloquy onto my back, his full lips grazing my skin so that I could feel the words as he left them with me to guess at their origin; I had gotten it right after seven tries (though I knew the answer after just one), “to be or not to be,” a no brainer that Dannon would choose Hamlet.

[milly]

Opening line to current WIP of women's fiction...no title as of yet...thinking of calling it "touch-me-nots" (yes...I think I've figured out that flowers are my inspiration)

My cat was licking its gray paw and sitting on my bare stomach when I noticed a fresh tattoo of a bloated toad throbbing next to my navel just above a healing caesarian scar.

[som1luvsmi]

From the first chapter of my romantic suspense WIP.

"Considering that men make up half the population, I think it's safe to say that we've only met a small percentage." She paused to sip her lemonade. "We're bound to come across some of the good ones, soon."

Tess knew better, though. The MomN had made sure that she had learned that lesson well. And he had just been the icing on the cake of loser boyfriends that the two sisters had racked up between them.

The fundamental difference was in their outlooks on past relationships. Kris had ways taken the glass-half-full approach: just one Mr. Wrong closer to Mr. Right. Tess's approach was more of I-may-not-know-how-full-my-glass-is-but-I'm-pretty-sure-the-Universe-spit-in-it. She wasn't a pessimist, exactly. She preferred to think of it as going through life with both eyes wide open.

"Sweetie, look. I know how much you want to believe that there are guys out there who encompass all those traits in your novels, but they just don't exist anymore. If they ever did. There's a reason those books are shelved under fiction. Chivalry is dead. Romance keeled over at the funeral, and Honor took look one look at the carnage and ran for the hills."

[slcboston]

Originally Posted by som1luvsmi

I-may-not-know-how-full-my-glass-is-but-I'm-pretty-sure-the-Universe-spit-in-it.

ooh, I've had days like this...

[slcboston]

From the current WIP:

One of those small towns with more churches than stop-lights.

[laurie17]

A Single World to Change:

“A...” I jumped as Hazel spoke suddenly. “A man with... wings?”
My heart hammered in my chest as I saw a spark of recognition in her eyes. Did she remember him from the dreams?
“Um...” My thoughts whirled wildly as I tried to come up with an explanation. “Yes, he's a, uh...” My brain ached. “A serial killer.” I said brilliantly. “He's been wandering around dressed up for a couple of days saying he's going to 'purify the world of humanity'. This is his cohort.” I gestured to Killer who glowered at me.
“R-really?” Hazel's gaze cleared. I exhaled with relief.
“What are you on about?” Killer muttered, but quickly quietened when I raised the chair leg aggressively.

Because the fate of the world can be changed with a chair leg

[slcboston]

Like hospitals, motels all smell the same. Hovering somewhere between disinfectant and stale humanity

via a different muse, but I think earning a place in the WIP

[RosemaryWells]

From WIP

I’m a firm believer in you reap what you sow, and my fields are full of heroin poppies.

[D.C. McLaughlin]

From my vampire novel from the mother MC to her teen-aged daughter whose suddenly decided to go on an all meat diet accompanied by snide remarks,

"Shut up and eat your bloody cow!"

D.C.

[reiver33]

He was all bull-necked brutality; slow-witted but quick enough with his fists when need be.

[Wayne K]

You guys really, rock. Good stuff

[dgrintalis]

Again, from the WIP I'm editing:

Until a month ago, the building housed an art gallery; not the sort with champagne openings for brilliant young artists selling work for six figures, but the type featuring art heavy with barbed wire and faces twisted in misery and torment. All prices negotiable, of course.

[Stew21]

trying to introduce a character without describing her physical appearance: (I'd love to have feedback...I'm not sure if this gives a picture or not)


If Jane Langston had her way, tulips would bloom all year, chocolate would be calorie-free and still taste good, and pumpkin spice muffins would always be warm. Always. If Jane Langston had her way, her father and her son would not have a weird ahem condition which if discovered by women in her social circle could likely cause them to talk.
None of those things are her way though, so you can imagine that looking like a happy well-adjusted person takes a good deal of effort for Jane.

[Dr.Gonzo]

Two from a short story called 'Happy Fishing'.

If my mother were dead, she'd have been rolling in her government-issue coffin.

I buffered along my familiar zigzag route through the dusty city centre, getting closer to my rent-a-life apartment on the cheap side of town.

[Stew21]

It is the “someone is following me” shudder that seems to push me down the street. I see her clouded eye and hear the flat click. I want to run, but don’t. I want to turn around but wouldn’t dare. I feel her following me, “clickety-clack clickety-clack. Don’t look back, Charlie, don’t look back.”

ick.

[DeleyanLee]

Just wrote this yesterday: She was as far from beauty as an earthworm is from the stars.

[Stew21]

I wrote mostly crap today...though i don't mind this


The concealment of a less than sparkly life takes practice and guidelines.

First, never announce when you are refilling your wine glass. For best results don’t let it ever get all the way empty; that way no one can keep count. When feeling your absolute worst, make sure to do more social appearances, not less. Absence raises questions. Smile at people you hate. Offer random tidbits of information and tell on yourself for minor offenses, so you appear to be sharing the most relevant things in your life; this is your barrier to prevent drawing attention to the real things in your life that are immeasurably fucked.

[dgrintalis]

And yet another from the WIP I'm editing:

Red flared inside her, a deep shade of crimson shot through with scarlet, and she tightened her hands into fists, hating the way the right curled in, misshapen and smaller than the left. The crimson turned vermilion, laced with sparks of garnet. So much red, swirling in and around, twisting her every cell into a grim reminder of what she had, what she remembered, and what she lost.

[slcboston]

Nothing like the sting of false accusations to take the joy out of lunch. Maybe I'd kill something after lunch and feel better. Preferably starting with the source of the accusations.

Wonder what the jail term is for beating a politician to death with your bare fists?

My MC is having an off life.

[Gabriele Campbell]

From A LAND UNCONQUERED

Varus spun his horse. Veranius knelt in the mud and supported a man in whose throat a quivering arrow stuck. Beside him stood Lucius Eggius, holding the pole with eagle and decorations of the Eighteenth. Raindrops rang down on the bronze, the sound mixed with the harsh, laboured breath of the dying man. It seemed unreal. Varus shook himself out of his stupor and noticed the lion skin that had fallen off the bloodied head. Fulvius Vespillo, the aquilifer? Oh no!

Fulvius cramped, blood spurting from his mouth and over Veranius' bare arm. With a hacked, wet cough, he fell back dead. Veranius drew the arrow from the wound and held it out to the general. "This was not fired by a Bructeri. It's a Cheruscian arrow." He swallowed. "Arminius fletches them like this."

[Gabriele Campbell]

Originally Posted by bglashbrooks

Did she actually flutter her lashes at him? Hell bit back a laugh. “Yes. Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. She was emblemized by a bow and arrow. She protected and provided for the weaker ones, including women, children, and slaves. And I bet she looked damned good in a stola.”

“Oooh. I like that image. Me protecting the weaker ones.” She cooed, bounced in her chair, shot him a look full of sex and sass. Hell choked back a laugh. “I can so totally see that.”

Now Hell understood the nickname Dennis the Menace.

Diana is often depicted with one boob bare. Maybe that image should be even more fun for poor Hell.

She also has a darker side and is connected with death. Not to mention what she did to poor Actaion who watched her bathing. Turned him into a stag and had him killed by his own dogs.

[LilliCray]

From the first three pages of Thirteenth Hell, which eventually will be converted into first person POV:

“Please can I shoot her?” Another gun jamming.

“Wait,” the man snapped, briefly killing his patient veneer.

“You don't know too much about romance, do you?” Jaina leaned forward. Sneakily. Or so she thought. But the gun followed her. Plan A for dodge-a-bullet failed. Implementing Plan B, check? “When you take a girl on a date, you should really give her your name.”

The man said nothing.

“I mean, how am I supposed to know what to call you?” She cocked her head to one side and tried to look naive. It came out more like a... a... well, she wasn't sure, but it felt more like a grimace. “May I call you Muffin?” She put special emphasis on the first word.

Polite society would've applauded.

Also from the above WIP, but after I switched to first person:

“Shoot her,” Muffin said.

What?

Before I could fully appreciate what those particular words meant, a bullet ripped through my hand and into the table beneath it.

In movies, as soon as somebody’s shot—assuming he or she isn’t already dead—he or she immediately begins screaming. Ladies and gentlemen, uncooperative hellwalkers do not scream immediately. They don’t even realize they’re in pain, because here they are, staring at the blood pouring out of this gaping wound, and all they can say is

“Ew.”

Huh. Thought that part was funnier. Meh. Oh, and this:

My blood was a really pretty shade of red. And sparkly. Don’t forget the sparkly.

I should probably quit before I post the whole ten pages. ^.^ I really love this character. She's a lot of fun to write.

[lachlan]

"A bullet dodged is a welcome bullet, for it tells you where your enemies are."

[lachlan]

From a different novel, as a priest looks for adoptive parents for a foundling:

There was a small but lovingly maintained cottage that stood near the top of the millstream. George and his young bride, married for five years but still childless. And not for lack of trying! They'd worked hard, proved their own land, watched infants for mothers and fathers who needed to work their own fields, and tithed far more than they could really afford.

The gossips talked about some secret vice that had turned God's face away from them, but I had heard their confessions and knew different. Two more loving and devout men, I couldn't imagine, and I realized that I'd go to Rome before I let the bakers have this child ahead of them.