Favorite lines you've written

Emily Patrice said:

This is my favorite (from towards the end of my book) - not because it's great writing or anything, I just love the sentiment. Brother giving advice to little sister after acknowledging the failures of other family members (he's passing along his own older brother's advice):

"People can only give as much as they’re capable of. It won’t always be as much as you need."

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I love the sentiment too (and the sibling context)! Very beautiful

Amy again:

"There's nothing deadlier to you than a dull sword in your own hand."

"A sword is only as sharp as the swordsman who sharpens it."

"When you keep eating shit from people, you get bad breath."
-MC Nadir when his bestie acts all shocked about his new use of profanity.

I love the sentiment too (and the sibling context)! Very beautiful

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Thanks! It's actually based on something my husband once said to me (again, regarding failures of other family members). Easy enough to say "S/he'll never change", but hard to accept it - this is the sentiment that helps me accept it.

My mom was calling me on the phone while I had a male prostitute in my bed and I was buck naked and suffering from impotence issues. Freud himself couldn’t have created a more perfect nightmare.- Warren Michael Cowell, the protagonist of my 2nd manuscript

Very nice quote, and very true! It kind of reminds me of the quote from "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" for some reason; 'we accept the love we think we deserve.'

Ravioli said:

"When you keep eating shit from people, you get bad breath."
-MC Nadir when his bestie acts all shocked about his new use of profanity.

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Nice!

There are no Gods other than those we create in our own image.

She was beautiful in the way an old photograph was beautiful—sure of herself and world weary at a glance, but with an innocence buried beneath the surface.

Not from my current project, but - "If he had to make himself vulnerable, at least he could trust (name) not to go for his throat." has stuck with me for a while now.

This is a bit further on in the scene I posted earlier, showing Aelfinn's unorthodox methods of human resource management:

***

“I’d like you to stay on as long as you’d like. Please. I don’t know how to hire anyone to replace you.” Should I reach out and pat her arm? No, too much. “And Merinh would come and haunt me if I didn’t take care of you.”

“He were a good man.” Tenirra’s voice is half-strangled by the apron ground into her eyes.

“He was. And he was so fond of you.”

Tenirra’s sobs intensify.

May as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. “He told me how he couldn’t have coped without you. How you made him feel he had a home here.”

Tenirra drops her apron, and to my horror flings herself at me. Her bony arms wrap around me and she presses her damp face against my shoulder. It’s an odd sensation that makes a memory tickle the back of my mind. Myself as a toddler. My mother squeezing me in a hug after I’d fallen and bruised myself.

I don’t think any woman has embraced me since.

“Did he? Truly?” Tenirra’s voice is muffled by my tunic. She trembles, her spare body fragile as a sparrow caught in the hand.

Not truly. But I saw Merinh’s anxiety decrease whenever she came near him. His terror in the night ease when she took his arm. A man can say something without actually saying it. And I’m sure he’d like me to give Tenirra whatever comfort I can.

“Yes, truly.” I raise my arms to embrace her back, but it breaks her mood. She pushes away and turns to the stew pot.

“So, you’ll be wanting me to stay for a while?”

“Of course. If you’re willing.”

She nods. “Good. Can’t bear my sister anyway.”

C.Harmon said:

She was beautiful in the way an old photograph was beautiful—sure of herself and world weary at a glance, but with an innocence buried beneath the surface.

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I like the layers to this. Nice.

Just popped in for a little inspiration. As usual, I wasn't disappointed.

His father stood, came around the table, and extended his hand. “I know. It was tough for me too. A man does what he has to far more than what he wants to.”

From my just published novel Cuttin' Heads. This one always gives me a nasty internal chuckle...

Aldo was pretty good at making his guitar gently weep, but Gappa Bale made that old violin of his scream like a gang rape victim.

My novel Straight Jacket was published in 2013 and had lots of positive reviews. Several of them extracted the following exchange between the two main characters who are about to commence an affair. Clair has just called Morgen at work:

'I'm very flattered Clair...but I guess my first question is: why me? You hardly know me.'

'I know a great deal about you,' she said, the confidence returning to her voice. 'You're a legal executive, quite wealthy...you like expensive sauvignon blanc and high grade coke...you dress impeccably, drive a Jag and are completely devoid of morals.'

'Not completely.'

'Let's look at it objectively, shall we? You walk into an old schoolmate's house...insult him, take drugs and screw his wife in the marital bedroom while he's playing outside with the children...'

'And you find that attractive do you?'

'I wouldn't have thought so...but here we are.'

My m/c in a current WIP is a viet nam vet, this scene takes place twelve years after he returns home... it is true that you can only write about what you know. It's hard to wake up like this.

A loud banging on the front door was loud enough to reach the bedroom and Bobby Jack opened his eyes and his body was shaking in fear. He looked wildly around the room. The fucking gooks were going to kill him if he couldn't find his pistol. Then he fell back on his bed and came fully awake.

“There you go,” Tekla said smugly, “the key to your success.”
Teival couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. “Carrots?” he asked, holding up the bunch of colorful roots as his voice grew to a repressed shriek. “I’M SUPPOSED TO SAVE HIM WITH CARROTS?”

His voice maybe wasn’t all that loud, but it left behind it a silence so profound it tasted bitter.

I like to break up my serious moments with silly footnotes. It's not perfect, but that's what revision's for.

"[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Any suggestions [/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif]vis-à-vis[/FONT][FONT=Times New Roman, serif] our fortifications?" asked Mora.[/FONT]

He chuckled. For Woadwoses, language was like a toy. For all their brashness and headhunting, they were dead clever, and latched onto new ideas like a lion took to cabbage*.

*That is to say, with great gusto. This is a little-known fact, as lions have a reputation to maintain.

My first memory goes back to the house on Hamilton Mill Road and the wharf rats that held a rodent con on the kitchen floor every night.

Not sure if this will stay, but:

The waiting stretched, the night’s calm like a scrim of ice soon to shatter.

AnnieColleen said:

Not sure if this will stay, but:

The waiting stretched, the night’s calm like a scrim of ice soon to shatter.

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Ooh I love this!

AnnieColleen said:

Not sure if this will stay, but:

The waiting stretched, the night’s calm like a scrim of ice soon to shatter.

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Dittoing Anna S.
I hope it stays.

An exchange I liked between my MC (a pirate girl) and a navy sailor who's been taken hostage by the crew:

Perry quirked an eyebrow. "I'm only alive because you wanted to protect your cousin?"

Louise looked up from tying the dripping laces of her boots. "Does that surprise you?"

He shrugged. "I didn't really think pirates cared about stuff like that."

"In between blowing up ships and stabbing each other, we manage to find some time for family."

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