Yes, you read right! My book, Violets Are Blue (previously titled Peril on the Sea), is officially finished! Well, finished being written, that is. The editing is the stage in which I am in now. But I actually am enjoying the editing, because the material is already there--all I have to do is change a sentence so that it flows better; alter a chapter a little so that the message is clearer; check my facts on the sinking of the Titanic, etc. I've immersed myself in SO much research and read so many books involving this infamous ocean liner that I could practically tell you every detail. A friend of mine even had a really neat book called The Sinking of the Titanic and Great Sea Disasters that contained real-life accounts from survivors, photos, etc. Click here for the book on Amazon.
Since I am still editing, I shall not post the word count yet, because that is altered by a small amount in the editing process. When it is completely edited and ready for the next step--publishing!--I will post word count, page count, etc.
I should tell you, too, that my book has been finished for almost a month--I finished it on November 31st. And I failed to let you know, other than a little P.S. at the bottom of one of my posts. :( I know, I know--I should have let you know sooner. But what with my dance studio's recital (and dress rehearsals) and then the busy-ness of Christmas, I simply haven't had the time to put together a celebratory post until now.
In honor of the completion of my book, I have decided to post a short excerpt. I am normally hesitant to post excerpts on my blog, because I don't want them stolen. But this shall be a rare exception. I hope you enjoy, especially since this is one of my favorite scenes. :) Please keep in mind while reading, though, that all of this writing is mine, and any copying of any kind is absolutely prohibited. Please respect that. And secondly, I would greatly appreciate any advice--compliment or criticsm--that you would like to give me. Thank you!
I was walking home from the factory one evening, when I happened to stop at Mr. O’ Neale’s blacksmith forge.
“Hello, Violet!” Mr. O’ Neale called out to me.
“Hello, Mr. O’ Neale,” I answered in a faint voice.
“Saints preserve us! What is wrong with you, Vi? Yer lookin’ a bit sick.”
“Nothing is wrong with me, although I am tired. It’s the factory,” I said, as if that explained everything.
He nodded in a knowing fashion.
“I heard from your little brother that you and yer mam were workin’ there. Are you at the clothing factory?”
“Aye, me old bones get to achin’ just hearin’ about it. That Mr. Woods is quite a gentleman isn’t he?” His voice was sarcastic.
I nodded again, pleased that he knew of Mr. Woods, yet curious at how the two had become acquainted.
“He’s terrible, Mr. O’ Neale! The way he makes us work, in that heat…” I trailed off.
“Did he slap you?”
I blushed. I had forgotten about the scene earlier in the week, in which Mr. Woods had taken out his anger on my left cheek.
Suddenly, everything started to seem oppressive. I heard Mr. O’ Neale speaking, but I couldn’t make out the words. My stomach twisted, my head felt faint, and the street seemed to spin under me. I felt my knees buckling.
“Violet!” someone called my name from far away. I heard footsteps.
I was falling, falling, and I couldn’t think why. Memories of the factory today made my head spin, and I began to feel more and more dizzy.
But I didn’t hit the street, as I had expected. Instead, I seemed to rise above it, as though I was flying, cradled by strange arms I did not recognize. I heard Mr. O’ Neale speaking again:
“Yer quick, lad! There, catch her before she hits her head! Steady now, don’t let her fall. Her apartment’s just up this flight of stairs.
Who was quick? Who was going to hit her head? I heard a door open, and then the creaking of stairs as someone walked up them.
Voices suddenly started calling my name, in varying tones of alarm. I felt someone, Emma perhaps, place a cool rag on my forehead.
“She’s fainted. Get her to bed, quickly.”
I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t think who it could be.
And then everything went black.