I cannot believe it’s April already! But at the same time, with everything that has happened already this year, I can’t believe it’s only April.
This month, things are *almost* back to normal. That means I’m back up to date with my writing schedule, can focus on putting funny things on Twitter, and can make sure to create blog posts to share with you all and I couldn’t be happier. In addition to that, I’m still working on a couple beta reads and putting the finishing touches on my novellas for the Open Novella Contest.
The first few days of April are extra exciting, because I’m finally going to post those last chapters of my first ever completed novel, Slow Motion Whirlwind. You can also expect regular updates until completion on all four of my novellas (posts about those coming soon).
So, as you can tell, a lot of things are wrapping up. Where do I go from here? My plan is to work through camp NanoWriMo this month and hopefully churn out most of a novel so I can start posting that when the novellas are done. I’ll keep you posted on how well that works out because I’ve never done it before.
As always, thanks so much for your support,
Excerpt – Amy’s Murder Part Fourteen
“I don’t wanna be involved, okay?” he tried to pass it off as nothing, but I could see the fear in his eyes.
“And how am I supposed to feel safe?”
He gestured to the door, “Ain’t nobody breaking through that.”
“And what about when I leave the apartment?”
His face contorted as he fidgeted with the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry but I just can’t get mixed up in any of this,” he picked up his toolbox and walked towards the door. “Good luck.” His hand gripped the knob and he turned it and swung the door open.
I would have ran after him to ask him to explain himself, but I was distracted by a small thud and a streak of white falling in my doorway. Instinctively, I jumped behind the couch and covered my head with my hands.
From my place of safety, I could hear John bend down and pick up the item off the floor. It sounded soft, so it wasn’t a weapon. I didn’t hear any signs of a struggle, so I decided to risk peeking over the top of the couch.
Connors was standing with a large white envelope in his hand, his face whiter than a sheet as he stood, still as a statue, with the door wide open.
“Close the door!” I practically screech while flying over the back of the couch to try to reach him. “Can you hear me? Close the door!”