Beginning this week, today, Sunday 6/25/17, I will be providing excerpts from Surrogate, the first novel in the Surrogate Series so readers can get a feel for what the multi-world, epic Sci-Fi the series has to offer.
I’ll be posting this in addition to my #WIPpet Wednesday posts on Surrogate: Traditions (the third novel in the series) and #RainbowSnippets posts on Surrogate: Hunted. (the second novel in the series)
Here’s the publishing schedule for the series thus far:
Surrogate – released 3/2/2017 by Supposed Crimes Publishers
Surrogate: Hunted – release scheduled for early spring 2018 by Supposed Crimes Publishers
Additionally, and just for fun, I’ll be posting a link to a song I believe correlates to the excerpt. No, the music is in no way affiliated to the excerpt, chapter, the novel or the series, but I found each song in some way reminded me of the current week’s post.
Happy Saturday! It’s quiet at present in my house. Everyone except me is sleeping in, and I’m using the time for writing. Today is also our youngest child’s eighteenth birthday. How fast they grow! I could say a whole lot more mom-nostalgic things, but I’ll refrain for my own sake.
*Looks up from intense back edits* Oh, hi! Is it Wednesday again? *clean her specs on her shirt tail and stretches out the kinks*
All right then, let’s do this.
So, what am I working on? Surrogate: Hunted. I’m in my final back edits before it goes off to the best editor I know at the first of July. After that, it’s off to an editor at Supposed Crimes. That said, Hunted is officially out of WIP play, (it’s listed as coming soon at Supposed Crimes) *happy dance* I’ll be sharing from another WIP for Wippet Wednesday from now forward. Welcome to Surrogate: Traditions. The manuscript has hit the land of rewrites, so I’m comfortable sharing snippets.
Here’s this week’s math:
The numbers – 062117
My calculation choices: 6 x 21 = 126 + 170 = 296 words from Chapter One, “Aftermath,” with enough added to complete the paragraph.
Dead or gone. Gone or dead. Etain Ixtii slumped against the foot of the bed, her head between her knees. The life she’d known, most everything she’d come to value since living on Takran— gone, gone, gone. But her heart still beat despite the pain. Alyward workers like Etain were built to succeed in adverse conditions, and— is anyone besides us still alive?