I found this meme-okay, I stole this meme-from another writer's blog. Since I'm knee-high in revisions, cracked black pepper popcorn and re-wetting eyedrops, and can't produce a coherent thought to save my hero's life after today's word count, here's the rules:
1) Post an excerpt from page 123 of your work-in-progress
2) If you write short or haven't made it to page 123 yet, post from page 12 or 23
There's no official tag (because that would be-well-annoying), but if you're reading this, we'd love a quick sample of your writing. Leave us a taste here or let us know where we can find it on your blog. If you're a reader, post us a line from page 123 of the novel your bookmark is parked in, along with author and title.
The Night Caller, page 123
"I have proof. A nightgown and this," Evan scrambled to the drawing and unrolled it. "Her sketch. She left them both in the floorboard. For me."
Margaret's blank assessment of the tree, the white spaces of light, triggered a spark of annoyance.
"You don't believe me."
"I believe she's real to you. Those things could have been there for years."
Evan's controlled exhale flowed hot past his rigid nostrils. She could have spouted concrete quantum physics disproving his theory and it wouldn't have changed his mind.
"I'm not crazy. I'm not like my mother."
Margaret rose and placed her hand, warmed through the chipped stoneware, on the back of his own. "I can't say, Sweetheart. But there are worse things than loving someone you can't see. It's loving someone you can, but you can't feel it back anymore. Love is always a gift, no matter what form it takes."
A vise cinched Evan's throat. He didn't trust himself with anything else, so he nodded and found comfort in the tape measure. Fastened in on itself again.
Have fun and post away...