Writing Partner for Adult Fantasy

Hello! My name is Kali Butcher. I’ve been writing for about five years now and am currently working on my third novel. It’s an adult fantasy I started awhile back, but sort of left to work on easier projects. Now I am coming back to it to tackle it head on. I only have the beginning done, and what I wrote in the past, but am looking to start fresh.

I’m searching for a writing partner who is willing to trade chapters with me. I don’t really care what you write, but I do care that you’re somewhat familiar with the fantasy genre. Some of my favorite authors are Robin Hobb, Diana Gabaldon, George RR Martin, Mindy McGinnis, Hannah Howell, among others.

I do have a lot of time on my hands, and was hoping to establish a connection with someone that can devote as much time to my project as I can to theirs. I’m able to critique a few times a week, give or take, and would like to expand my circle of fellow writers. I highly value honest feedback, and am willing to give it as well. My main goal here is just to become a better writer.

If this sounds like you please let me know! Like I said, I am interested in reading almost all genres, although I do not have much experience with Middle Grade, but I would be willing to try it nonetheless.

Q: Name or pen name
A: Kali Butcher

Q: Audience or category of your writing, if applicable:
A: Adults

Q: Genre of your writing, if applicable:
A: Adult Fantasy

Q: What would you like your partner to do?
A: Give honest criticism! You won’t hurt my feelings I promise.

Q: What are you willing to do for your partner?
A: I will also be very honest.

Q: How quickly you would ideally like to work with your partner?
A: I have just started this project, and will be working on it full-time.

Q: Your location, if applicable:
A: Near Tulsa, Oklahoma

Q: Please describe your project in 500 words or less, or paste a sample here!
A: Visibility was poor as we entered the Seaspray Inn. The tavern was packed full of patrons celebrating the end of the sowing season. It was hot and humid, which allowed their pipe smoke to linger in the air. It was a thick mixture of cheap barrel leaf and the occasional fume from someone puffing the poppy. The inn keep was yelling at his customers to take leave if they were going to smoke, all the while opening every window and propping the door open to air it out.
Ian was pulling me by the hand, trying to get us to the center of the room. It wasn’t every day the Seaspray brought out its giant Wheel of Fortunes. The fact that they had been banned by the Hoskird meant everyone wanted in on the game, and I was about to throw in my own coin for the very first time.
“Can you see, Elara?” Ian said, as we stopped near the low side of the wheel. It was massive, probably twice the size of a cart wheel, and was tilted in a way that displayed the paintings on each wedge with ease from where we stood.
“I can see it,” I said, smiling.
“Twenty coppers for the young fishmonger! Bab calls the rose for the young fishmonger!” A man shouted from behind the wheel. He was reaching out his long arms and taking coppers from a group of older men. From the way they were dressed, in freshly dyed linens that hadn’t been marred by sea salt, I could tell they were some of the wealthier men from Links.
Ian leaned in to speak in my ear. “The man taking the coin is the handler, and that’s Bab up on the stool,” he said, pointing to the round, short woman perched high on a stool at the top of the wheel. Despite the warmth of the room, she was wrapped in layers of rich fabric with red and violet stitching, and had wild, gray hair piled on her head in no particular way. “Bab called the rose! What will it be for you my good sir?” The handler asked a bald patron handing over his coppers.
“I don’t go against Bab,” the bald man said.
Bab squinted with pleasure as she brought a slim pipe up to her pursed lips. She blew out a long plume in our direction. It was the source of the poppy smoke, I realized, or, at least one of them.
“What do they get if the wheel lands on the rose?” I said to Ian.
“Only one copper.”
“What? They risk twenty, only to gain one?” I said, shocked.
“I know. They get more if they bet on another wedge. This man bet on the kraken,” Ian said, nodding towards a massive man with long, black hair tied behind his head. His arms were crossed and he stood like a statue. His clothes were plain, raw linen tunic and breeches.