It seems that everyone is ganging up on me this week. I love backstory, it seems, and in today's fiction market, that just isn't tolerated. So I'll surrender. I cut and hack and, in my own words, just tell the story.
It's Saturday morning and I'm sitting at my kitchen island. I love wireless, don't you? There is nothing better than a cool (not quite crisp yet) autumn morning and a cup of coffee. I got up before everyone else because the opening scene for a book that is still two years away kept gnawing at my brain. So I gave up and wrote it. Y'all should be proud of me--no backstory. Just like Brandilyn says: When it comes to backstory, DON'T.
The small people who inhabit my house are stirring now, so I'll cut this one short. They'll probably want food again, even though they just ate--what?--yesterday?