On the 1st next month, I will not be posting a scene of fiction. That's because I'll be doing a post for The Worldbuilding Blogfest, which starts on the 28th.
In other news, I am just a few pages short of having finished my first revision of The Complete Guide to Being Evil, which will now go out to beta readers (I have two I can really count on and one possible new guy), so I pretty much have no control over when it will be done editing at this point. But when it is...I can't wait to query this thing. I received some excellent advice on my query in various places, including over at The QQQE and at Falling for Fiction, and I just want to send it out now. But I will wait...
Lastly, I've finally gotten around to reading Mistborn, by Brandon Sanderson. I knew I would love his writing after watching his online writing lectures, which I think propelled my level of writing forward a great deal. I'm in the middle of the book, and the setting is so cool, I want to do something in the vein. So without further adieu, here's the Friday Fantasy Scene.
The mist wrapped around her as she strode through the streets. When she got to the right keep, she stood in a braced position, with one leg behind the other. Then she burned steel.
Blue lines appeared in varying thicknesses, pointing from her chest out to several different places. She focused on a smaller one in the direction of the keep and Pushed. The sound of glass shattering sounded in the night, and she knew she'd probably pushed a window latch into the room it was on.
She smirked. Teach that jerk to mock me... She chose another small line, and Pushed it as well. The next line she Pushed, she felt her feet slide back an inch on the ground. She abandoned that one, and continued Pushing the small lines in front of her, causing as much damage as she could to the keep.
Lights flared on in many windows. She shut off her steel so she wouldn't be a beacon in the night to a Seeker, and walked away as silently as she could. She didn't have any metal on her, so no Coinshots or Lurchers could find her, either. She would walk away from this completely anonymous, unless an Inquisitor cared about a Misting vandalism on the keep, which was improbable.
The next time he made a fool of her at a party, he's lose more than a few windows.
What books inspire you?