Here's the gist of the Lucky 7:
Go to page 7 or 77 of your current MS/WIP, or go to line 7 (for short fiction). Copy down the next 7 lines, sentences or paragraphs and post them as they are written. Tag 7 authors and let them know.
Since I just tagged seven cool people last month, I'm going to do it a little differently this time around. Instead of tagging seven more, I'm going to invite any of you fine people to participate. Post your Lucky 7 according to the rules above, either here in the comments section or on your blog (leave a link to the entry in a comment). I'll list the first seven people to do so here, and give them each a plug in my next seven blog posts.
Since I took the easy way out last time and just posted seven sentences from my old novel, this time I'll post seven full paragraphs from a story I've been working on. The excerpt comes from a story that takes place in the Forged World, a fantasy realm that a few of my stories have shared. This one's tentatively titled Shattered Circle, but I'm not sure how crazy I am about that title. It might change before I thrust it unto the world. Have at it:
Jurian took her advice and made his way over with a mug. The lass behind the bar wouldn't take his coin, though the look on her face said it was no choice of her own. When he found a seat, Rob passed him a poker from the hearth to warm his mead. "Not fretting over that butcher, are you? Couldn't be helped, that one. Fool may as well have strung himself up."
"That's the bloody truth of it," Jurian said. "Still, it doesn't seem right to call a man a fool who stands up for his fellows."
Old Omont shook his head, sending drops of mead running down the gray streak in his beard. "These are strange times, lad. As king's men, we're fortunate to have our oaths to live by. Makes things easier when you're sworn to serve the throne no matter whose arse sits it. Change is harder on these common folk. Few years back, they were putting their babes to bed with stories of how great and wise Caelen was, and how all the gods of the Circle was watching us over. Now he's in the ground and Silas brings this southron faith up to us like it were here all along."
"Eastern faith, you mean," Rob said. "Southrons may pray to a dragon same as Silas and his fire priests, maybe even the same one, but we never found no cause to come hunting Circle folk before. I never was no holy man, but me gram used to read to me from the Writ when I was a lad. The only talk I remember was of love and mercy and how the Dragon didn't want men to go killing each other off whenever they felt like it."
"Say as you will, but a dragon's a dragon to a Northman. It could be she was just saving you from the untidy bits, so as not to soil your flowery little head," said Omont. "After all, they still had hopes of making you a eunuch back then."
Rob's cheeks flushed as the men around the fire laughed. He took hold of the poker from the hearth again, this time brandishing it at the old knight. "The next time I warm my cup, I'm going to jab the end of this in your mouth first."
"Do it the other way 'round. Mine's almost empty."
There you have it. Your turn. Don't be shy, kids. Let's see what you've got!