#katherinescribbles

So I haven’t written in forever, right? Partly it’s because I’m in the middle of a big transition in my life and have started shifting into the adult world and trying to figure out what a life for me looks like, but I’m happy and very pleased to say that I still want writing to be a part of it and that my dream of writing a full novel is still burning strong. I’m buckling down and starting to commit! This doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly changing overnight and am ready to pump out a 1000 words a day or anything, but I have carved out a rigid time for me to write consistently and I’d like to welcome anyone into the challenge of writing for (at least) 10 minutes a day!  

What I’ve been doing is leaving my notebook, pen, and a kitchen timer on the table so that immediately following a trip to the park with my dog, as soon as I come home I set the timer to 10 minutes and write as quickly and as non-stop as I can. I can tell you that what I write absolutely sucks, but I don’t allow myself more than 10 minutes so I’ve started to find that I’m getting more and more ideas, but by not letting myself write them down it’s keeping me charged and rearing to go for the next time. I have started collecting tons of just assorted scribblings of ideas. It’s been a wonder for my creativity! 

So if you find yourself lacking motivation or structure, please join me! I would love to help keep you accountable. Only rules are that you get no more or less than 10 minutes and that’s pretty much it. If you’re like me and are finding yourself struggling to start consistently writing, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with starting small. The long-term goal is to build up the minutes, but I find that this has been incredibly effective and there’s no shame in starting small as long we’re starting somewhere.

Part-time Reaper | Katherine Ross

Young Adult, Low Fantasy, Supernatural

magic // reapers // adventure // action // undead // limbo

100,000.

That’s how many souls 15-year old Rachel Moore owes Death, the agreed price for her life— all in all, a pretty killer deal. According to protocol she shouldn’t have been allowed back at all, but she was lucky enough to find herself in slightly special circumstances. After all, it’s not every day that the son of Death gets you killed after accidentally pushing you in front of a bus. Though, he did say he was sorry. DJ, a lazy bum who’d rather spend his time drinking sodas while playing video games than reaping souls, finds himself grounded top-side and is to remain by her side until she repays her debt.

A worse team has never been founded.

But together, Rachel and DJ must rely on each other as they face the dark world of Limbo where the dead are alive, the supernatural lurk around every corner, and they just can’t catch a break. And if that weren’t enough, while also trying to survive the day-to-day dangers of Limbo, if Rachel can’t reap enough souls by the end of her allotted year, her own will be Death’s for the taking.

But, no pressure.

WIP INTRO— Part-time Reaper // tag // characters // page

genre: young adult, supernatural, adventure, low fantasy

setting: modern day America

ENTER RACHEL.

First, she used to be dead.

Now, she’s not.

But damn does she now have one Hell of a debt to pay.

ENTER DJ.

He just can’t catch a break.

Resurrect one human, and suddenly he’s responsible for everything she does.

Though — to be fair — it may have been his fault in the first place.

SYNOPSIS:

100,000.

That’s how many souls 15-year old Rachel Moore owes Death, the agreed price for her life— all in all, a pretty killer deal. According to protocol she shouldn’t have been allowed back at all, but she was lucky enough to find herself in slightly special circumstances. After all, it’s not every day that the son of Death gets you killed after accidentally pushing you in front of a bus. Though, he did say he was sorry. DJ, a lazy bum who’d rather spend his time drinking sodas while playing video games than reaping souls, finds himself grounded top-side and is to remain by her side until she repays her debt.

A worse team has never been founded.

But together, Rachel and DJ must rely on each other as they face the dark world of Limbo where the dead are alive, the supernatural lurk around every corner, and they just can’t catch a break. And if that weren’t enough, while also trying to survive the day-to-day dangers of Limbo, if Rachel can’t reap enough souls by the end of her allotted year, her own will be Death’s for the taking.

But, no pressure.

AN: This is my “pilot” series that proceeds an in-development conceptual WIP of mine that is going to serve as a sandbox for me to develop characters and the world, if that makes sense. It’ll be an actual Limbo where I can create everything before sending the characters, etc. to their “real world.” When that WIP finally comes around, some things developed here may become invalidated thus why I’m looking at it as a pilot. But there’ll be a lot of sass, action, comedy, quirky characters, some romance, and the world of the dead… all good stuff.  

9/27 UPDATE: Character info is now up! But I don’t think the link will work on the mobile app, boo... This is also technically a new post about Part-time Reaper. My original one got messed up/deleted so I couldn’t edit it. I’m sad to have lost all the nice tags and original notes, but I’d rather be able to edit. Sorry for the confusion ^^;

I’ve been requested to make a tag list! :) // don’t be shy to ask me if you want to join! // tags under read more  ★

Alana crashed onto the ground with a blissful groan. Finally.

She rested her sword against the birchwood tree and nestled herself against the bark. A link of metal dug uncomfortably into her back. It was a pity she couldn’t strip off her chainmail, but just being off her feet was more than enough. The red and gold leaves crinkled under her and she sunk lower, and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the autumn sun as the cool breeze carried the promise of winter.

The trees had begun to shiver and the air was clear and crisp. Every breath was sharp and tingled pleasantly deep in her chest. She rolled a piece of dry foliage between her leather-gloved fingers. It crinkled pleasantly as it fell apart. Her breathing slowed and her body relaxed, allowing fall’s lullaby to wrap her in its quiet. She could imagine a gentle touch stroking her hair.

A leaf tickled her face and she half-heartedly batted it away. The trees rustled, whispering their secrets. She picked at memories of her childhood, of running through the yard when her mother called. The scent of roasted apples was thick and honeyed in the air. Her mother had just pulled an apple pie hot from the oven and had cut a thick slice for her. She winked conspiratorially and kissed her forehead. My dearest one. Alana’s lips quirked in a soft smile.  

There was a soft rustle and another leaf brushed her face. Alana floated up from her daydream with an unpleasant jolt. Her nose itched and her eyes opened into narrow slits, frustrated. A vine of red and gold ivy was blowing above her and she swiped at it but it pulled away before she could touch it. And it was in that moment that she realized that the tree beneath her was shifting. There was actually a gentle hand petting her head. A pair of eyes were gazing over her.

She was on top of a woman, but her skin was a rippling bark and her hair was branches and leaves. But her eyes were what kept her from moving, fixed. They shimmered like deep pools of gold under an autumn sunset.

Alana stared into the face of the beautiful creature that stared back down, utterly captivated. Heat bloomed on her cheeks.

The wood nymph’s hand stilled and she smiled. Alana’s breath hitched and her heart fluttered like a small bird. “Oh! I’m sorry, did I wake you?” The voice was warm, tinkling. Like the falling leaves. “You seemed to be having a good dream.”  

These are actually great mini character studies 🧐 thanks for the ask!

Woo! Thanks for the ask :D

First: The air was cool and bit at Emilie's cheeks, but the sun's warmth cut through the sharp cold with the promise of spring. Wind laughed through the small meadow and sprinkled the air with petals as Emilie's small hands fumbled over the weave of snow drops and pansies while her mother's long fingers delicately wove a ring of her own.