We write. We revise.
She sat in her slip and curlers on a low cushioned seat and three repeated versions of her leaned into the three -way mirror of her vanity. Guided by an imaginary line starting at her forehead passing right down the bridge of her nose she began a partial process of her everyday routine. With a M.N sponge she applied foundation over the entire left side of her face coaxing it up to the curved bone of her nose. The entire right side of her face she left plain, her caramel freckles exposed to the world, her right brow a pale moon that crept unnoticed over the bone. She watched as the left brow made an appearance as she filled it in with Soft Heather, watching it gain life and elegance as she curved the shape into place. Amazing how a good brow could give you authority. She pulled the tiny brush from her tube of eyeliner and carefully dragged it along the base of her lashes, with just a bit of a curled lift at the outer edge. That look was still in vogue. ~Excerpt from novel-in-progress by Therese Rossi
Perry had a coal black braid that hung inches past his jean pockets. When he walked in the hallways, his braid lashed recklessly, like a jungle-clearing machete. Students parted, bamboo shoots ducking the blade. He was held back, one, maybe two years, everyone said so, that’s why he was taller. Sitting in class was the only time Perry’s braid stayed put. At the top it was tight and thick, and as wide as a bicycle tire. Then its knots narrowed, as a curled feather floating through the air—its tip landing on Tilda’s desk. Somehow, Perry was the only Indian student whose braid didn’t get cut. ~Excerpt from Bad Men Among Whites, a novel-near-completion by Mark Radoff.
Ann focused on her delightful orderly numbers. She ran her eyes down the column with speed and felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Thanksgiving was 6 days away. It was a beautiful day outside for November and the weekend was only hours away, not that she had any plans. She liked it that way: just her, the love of her life, and her favorite Disney movies.
As if she summoned the social gods, her phone rang. ~Excerpt from spy-novel-in-progress by Dalia Astalos
She knew she was rambling on, telling much more about herself than she ever intended. Sounding a little dingy, defensive maybe, nobody wants to be seen as a person who doesn’t have fun. Especially if it’s true. And it was pretty much true. She was in between boyfriends. Or at least she hoped she was in between. Getting over the last one was painful. Even though they were not compatible, so it was just as well. She hoped someone good would pop up soon. ~Excerpt from The Level and the Square, a novel-in-progress by Ruth Roberts