Hey, everyone! I hope your summer has been full of good times and free from heatstroke. Maybe you’re one of those fortunate individuals who live where summer is actually the weather highlight of the year. If so, make the most of it for me!
Like many of you, I’ve had a busy summer. Writing had to go on the back-burner in May, June, and July, but I’m finally back and feeling a bit of a fresh, north Atlantic wind in my sails. I’ve missed this blog. And with the advent of a new book, it’s time for an earnest return.
Thank you to Deborah O’Carroll of The Road of a Writer for tagging me in the 777 Writing Challenge! She gave me the impetus to update you on my retelling of “The Bremen Town Musicians” and share a snippet.
For the update, the story is moving forward nicely, praise God. The tentative title is The Road to Bremen, and it’s topped out at about 19,000 words. Illustrations are being planned and I’m working on a next-to-final edit and formatting. November 2018 is my projected publication date, though it may slide into December. I’ll share more as I begin the publishing process.
And now for the snippet. Here are the rules for the 777 Challenge:
1. Open your WIP to the seventh page.
2. Scroll past the seventh line.
3. Copy the next seven paragraphs and paste them on your blog for THE WORLD to read.
4. Tag seven people. (I’m going to forgo this last one and tag whoever wants to do it.)
|Photo Credit: Ivana Ebel|
“Before we get stuck in the forest at nightfall!” the violinist chuckled.
And with that, they were off without so much as an Auf Wiedersehen.
Etzel was offended at first, but when the musicians struck up a tune down the road, his thoughts turned. Bremen musicians were paid well and in great demand? Why, he could eat all the hay in the field and more! He’d never have to carry a heavy load again! All he’d have to do was sing; he probably didn’t even need to sing very often if musicians were paid well.
He had a fine voice: loud, deep, and natural. It would drown out all the music humans could make with their meager voices and instruments. Their instruments had a nice, tinkling sound, but they were mere twitters compared to a donkey’s voice.
So why shouldn’t Etzel go to Bremen, too? He was condemned to death here at this thankless farm, so why not leave and become a musician? It certainly seemed his true calling, the more he thought about it; perhaps he ought to have become a musician long ago and not spent all his life in farm drudgery!
Turning away from the fence, he looked this way and that. On the other side of the pasture, the draft horses’ noses were planted in the grass, backs facing him. Herr Hofmann was probably inside the large clay-and-timber barn or the house behind, both under the same long, sweeping thatched roof. Etzel didn’t like how the empty black doorway gaped at him, but at least it showed no one was watching.
What do you think will happen next?