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  • Writer's Singer

With more time to write.....

Since I'm working on the second in the Gravity Gone series, I find myself asking questions when the story changes course. Now perplexed with the ending, I was playing with AI for a title idea. What I found was title and subtitle ideas that took the story on a different path. Almost wondering how much better the story would be using one of these ideas. Made me wonder, should have I titled the story first? I have way too many words on paper, or at least digitally, to change the story line now. What I have discovered is a means to come up with the third story to complete the trilogy.

Sneak Peek: An unedited excerpt from the yet to be named next book in the Gravity Gone Series.

Ray’s phone rang as he sped down the 84 at twenty over the limit, trying to hold his phone steady while bouncing over the rough road. The urban Palo Alto landscape, a blur in the early evening darkness. A calm female dispatcher explained to Ray his father had a heart attack, was now in transit to Stanford General, as he expected. She explained the seriousness of his situation. His mother with him in transit. Ray thanked her, hanging up the call, which Tessa overheard. Now, both hands on the steering wheel, he pushed the accelerator to the floorboard.

Gripping the sides of her seat, the tires squealing, breaking loose on a turn, Tessa yelled, “Ray, slow down…please. Getting there sooner won’t change your father's situation.”

“My father may be dead if we get there too late,” Ray growls.

“Ray, please Ray, slow down. Please, for the baby's sake,” her eyes whelping, ready to tear.

“My Father…now you bring the baby into this,” he snarled, his face shown still in the dim light from the dash.

In aggravation, he slams the brake petal hard, the tires of the Subaru locking up. Tessa holds her bulging middle to support the 5-month-old fetus from slamming into her abdominal wall while holding her breath. The smell of burning rubber filled the car as it sat idle in the middle of the darkening road. Ray’s knuckles white, gripping the steering wheel, his head resting in its center, breathing hard. Tessa turns her bowed head, her long brown hair strands partly blocking her view.

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