Just found the entire first chapter of Ultraviolet lurking coyly* on Hachette Australia's "Date a Book" site, for those of you who might be interested in a sneak peek at what's coming in June (UK/AUS) and September (US/CAN) of 2011...

--
* See "Download chapter sampler" link on the right-hand side.
From Chapter Three of Wayfarer, which I was polishing up yesterday in preparation for sharing with my critique group at the end of the week:

His thumb tapped the guitar's hollow body, weaving percussion into the melody, and excitement built inside him as he saw others beginning to sway and clap along. One by one more listeners drifted into the circle, surrounding him with the warmth of their bodies and the rhythm of their hands, and when Rob picked up his own guitar and began plucking out a bass line it seemed so natural that Timothy hardly noticed.

He'd never played like this before, every fingering perfect, the guitar singing under his hands. Suddenly he wanted—no, needed—to improvise, and when he shifted from the familiar tune into one of his own songs, the crowd whistled and cheered him on. Rob cast him a swift glance and cocked his head to the side for a moment, then joined him on the new melody.

A pair of bongo drums appeared from nowhere. A bleached-looking Nordic girl conjured up a flute from the depths of her purse. Soon half the room was playing, dancing, even wordlessly singing the tune—his tune. Timothy forgot where he was, who he was, and all the misery that had dogged him through the last six months; he was made of music now, and he felt as though he could play for the rest of his life.

Veronica was sitting beside him now, so close he could smell her spicy perfume, feel her breath on his cheek. Timothy quickened his pace, plucking and strumming as fast as his fingers could go. He had no idea where all these new songs were coming from, they were pouring out of him, it was wonderful—

It was Rob who stopped the music, minutes or hours later: he swept his hand across his strings in an ugly jangle that startled Timothy and the other musicians silent, and said curtly, "Enough." Then as they all stared at him, he got up and stalked away.

Teaser Tuesday

May. 6th, 2008 02:52 pm
rj_anderson: (Wayfarer - Timothy)
This is from Wayfarer, the sequel to Knife. I wanted to post something from the chapter I've been working on but it was all too spoilery, so I'll start at the very beginning (a very good place to start):

'I expected more of a missionary's son,' said the Dean softly. )

So there you have it.
The wonderfully talented [livejournal.com profile] neonbliss made me this icon on request, and it goes so very well with what I'm writing...

Yes, that's right, having been a good girl and written the story that everyone voted for, I am now being thoroughly perverse and pig-headed and writing the story that nobody voted for... well, nobody except [livejournal.com profile] meril, and she's not even in the fandom, she was just being nice to me.

But I'm having such fun! Look: )

*cackles*

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