Writing Update and Write200

I've recently finished another round of edits on two quite long projects (both fantasy YA) and I've been reluctant to throw myself into the middle of another big writing project straight away. I have made a start over the last few weeks on turning my Snow White retelling Mirrored Snow into a full length novel, but it's something I'm dipping in and out of at the moment, rather than devoting myself to entirely. 

Instead, I'm focusing more on free writing, and have challenged myself to write at least 200 words a day on something unrelated to a current project. I'm using it as a sand box, of sorts, to work on description and world building, and also to try out new ideas. A lot of it is quite rough around the edges, but in a bid to keep myself on track, I'm going to share my favourite piece on my blog each Sunday. Here is the first. 

The pounding at the front door was loud enough to rattle the breakfast things on the tray I’d placed on the table. Fine porcelain cups, a tea pot twice as old as I was and the small jug of milk shook precariously. I was thankful of the tray when a slurp of tea fell from the spout; Mama would have scolded me if the silver-wood table had been damaged. 

As it was, she was already fuming from the interruption: “Whoever could that be at this hour? The dawn lizards aren’t even out yet. No one can have such urgent business at this time of day.” 

Concern curdled in my stomach like spoilt milk; no one called at this hour unless it was an emergency - especially not with a knock like that. My pulse raced when I thought of Papa, who was away on a business trip. Had he taken sick? Been attacked by khaziani riders? Caught in a snow storm? At least we hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast yet; the churning of my empty stomach was bad enough.

Mama - ever practical and unafraid - reflected none of my fear. She reflected little else of me, either. Her eyes were a pale green to my warm brown; her hair ash blonde to my chestnut; her features soft and friendly while I was made of harsh angles and high cheekbones. My little sister, Freya, and Mama were like two sides of the same coin - practical, yet soft and loving - while I seemed to belong in a different coin pouch all together. 

I got a bit carried away with this piece and ended up with over 600 words (and possibly a new story, but I'm trying not to let it take over my free writing time slot!) The two write200 pieces that have come after it have also been quite long and set in the same world.