Friday, April 6, 2012

F is for Fire


Somehow I manage to write in a scene with fire into everything that I’ve written.  Whether it be something like candles, or a fiery sensation running through my character’s body – there is always some kind of fire.

I attribute this to my fire sign.  I’m an Aries, and last month was my birthday month - woo!  I’m stubborn and tend to be really hot-headed.  I’ve leveled myself out over the years and have become more compassionate than I probably should be.  But if angered, I really am a fireball of fury.

The only tattoo that I have is of the Unitarian Universalist symbol – which is a chalice, and yeah, it has a flame on it.  I’m still considering finishing off the tattoo with a fiery anklet that wraps around the chalice and my ankle. 

And to wrap this whole nonsensical post up, for Christmas, I put a fire pit on my wish list.  That’s a weird thing, right?  Well, my mother-in-law still got me one, which is fantastic!  I don’t own a paper shredder, but I tell you, turning things into ash works just as well – and is much more satisfying.  For environmental reasons, I end up recycling most things… but those pesky credit card checks need to disappear... forever.  ^__^

Thursday, April 5, 2012

E is for Escape

Here is another excerpt from The Unanswerable:

     "Take my hand!"  I narrowed my eyes as I stared into the darkened shaft.  I knew what she was clinging to, hope that we could somehow get our son out.  That he would somehow be okay if we could just stop and resuscitate him.  We couldn't wait any longer.  We had to get further away from the city.  Maybe the cellars had worked for a few days, but as the rubble started to shatter around us, I knew our situation was beyond desperate.  It was hopeless.
       And she didn't want to try without him.   She reached her right arm up, our fingers barely touched.  She coughed and held his body closer to her legs.  He was nuzzled there, like he always did when he was scared.  But he wasn't scared anymore.  He wasn't anything anymore.
        "Diane, you have to let go."
         Mist invaded her green eyes and she looked back down at our son.  "Matthew, I can't."  A loud creak came from inside the mound of rubble.  It was only a matter of time before the last beams gave in.  We were losing time.
         "Diane, please, I can't do this without you."
         "But we're so close... and he might."
         I grit my teeth, ready to cry, but more desperate to survive.  To get us out of there.  "Please, take my hand."
         She stroked her son's hair and sobbed.  She kissed his head and it seemed like she was finally ready to let go.  But then this girl scrambled her way out of a small opening in the rubble.  Her blonde hair was black with ash, and she gasped at the air.  She glanced from my wife, my son, and me in a second.  She grabbed my outstretched arm, and I hoisted her up.
         "Diane!"  I yelled.  The girl was already scurrying off to safety.
         Diane curled her hands around Keegan's head.  "Okay... I'll come up."  The ground rumbled and shook.  I lost my foothold and had to scramble backwards to avoid being sucked down the shaft.  The wood cracked and splintered.  It all happened so fast.  The small hole out of the cellar was there, and then in a moment's hesitation, everything collapsed.  The hole was gone.
         I screamed her name and buried my fingertips in the shards of glass, broken wood, nails, and ash that covered the whole mess.  "Diane!"  My hands bled and mixed with the soot that covered my fingers.  It was a blackened red mess.  She had to still be down there, she couldn't just be gone.  I was just talking to her.  I screamed and pounded my fists into the earth.
         A hand curled around my shoulder.  It was the girl, tears stained through the soot on her face revealing pasty skin.  Her eyes were the color of the sky before it had grown black with pollution.  Her lip trembled when she opened her mouth.  A high-pitched squeak escaped, and then she formed the words, "We still have to get out of the city."  She sounded so far off.  This girl wasn't real.  Everyone was dead.  My wife and I were the last survivors.  This must have been my mind playing tricks.
         But when she pulled on my arm and nearly yanked it out of socket, I snapped back into reality.  The hiss of a bomb sounded in the distance before it hit the earth.  And our feet pounded on the ground.  Away from the chaos, away from the bombs and destruction, away from my wife.  All my instincts kicked in, and they told me to survive.  I had to keep going.  I had to keep going for her.  If Diane couldn't live for us, I had to live for the both of us.  Something had to go right.
         When the bomb hit, the whole earth shook and flames licked towards the sky.  Debris pierced the air with a choking mushroom cloud.  Another building collapsed and more screams echoed in the night.  We might be the only people making it out alive.
         We scrambled over the road blockade that was upturned.  It was the government's last try to keep us inside.  We thought we would be safer towards the outskirts of the city... but they started bombing here first.  But we had no idea how far they were going to go out.  Everyone outside the city thought they were safe, but judging by the smoking ash that choked the air, no one was safe anymore.

G is for Giveaway Hop

A to Z Challenge:  I know, I'm early... but I wanted to submit this Giveaway into the Easter Eggstravaganza Giveaway Hop.

Giveaways are awesome, even if I'm cheating a little bit in the A to Z Challenge (though, can you blame me?  Those egg bunnies are adorable)  Starts April 6th at 12:00AM EST and ends April 12th.

I have tons of books (tons and tons of books) to giveaway.  So instead, here's my list of books that you can choose.  (U.S. participants only).

If you win, you can choose one title (click on the book title for more information from goodreads):

YA Books:
Deadline
Saying it Out Loud by Joan Abelove (hardcover)

Other Books:
Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
About a Boy by Nick Hornby
Mystic Warrior by Tracy Hickman, Laura Hickman
Happiness Sold Separately by Libby Street
Wormwood by G.P.Taylor (hardcover)
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D.Salinger

Just enter the rafflecopter below!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Be sure to visit the other blogs in this awesome hop - and visit the hosts:  I am a Reader, Not a Writer and Once Upon a Twilight.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

D is for Drinking

I will be posting occasional excerpts from my current manuscripts/WIPs, and today is one of those days.

Marc turned to me, breathing hard, blood dripping down his chin. His eyes were blackened with thick circles around them, and red in the direct center. A growl escaped his throat that made all the hairs on my neck stand on end.

The streetlight poured into the alleyway from above us, making the whole scene glow with an eerie euphoria. Marc looked ready to pounce on me.  He was animalistic. Noted: Never interrupt Marc’s feeding. But it didn’t help that my body reacted in a way where I was ready to pounce too. With all my nerves firing at once, I was ready for anything that he might try.  And part of me thought I could beat him.

Marc let out a short grunt and narrowed his eyes at me. I could see him, beyond the instincts, beyond the vampire that stood before me, he was there. I focused on that. I made my body focus on that so I wouldn’t lunge at him. He loosened his grip on the blonde guy. The guy looked perplexed, not scared, worried, or anything that would naturally float through a victim’s head. He didn’t run either. He stayed pinned against the wall, waiting.

Marc closed his eyes and evened his breathing. Then he whispered into the guy’s ear, “You slipped and fell. It hurt, but you’re fine now. And no, you don’t want to see a doctor.” The words drifted from his mouth with red steam. The hot blood particles mixed with the air. I was glad I already ate because my body almost lost it on the sweet coppery smell. 

D is for drinking blood ;)  And no, my MC isn't a vampire - though this passage sure makes him kind of sound like one, huh?  Rioss has been finished recently and is currently in the editing process.  I'm actually really excited about this piece because of how complex the story becomes.  There are layers to it, and things that I didn't even realize would happen.  My characters were so strong that they took me on for a ride, not the other way around.  Rioss is intended to be the first in a trilogy, though I haven't even started outlining the second book.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

C is for ChoreWars

My roommates and I hate chores. Absolutely and incredibly hate chores. My husband will happily do just about anything to make the house clean – he loves everything in its place. Not me, nuh-uh.  I would live in my mess if I could, but I can’t.  (Not filth, but mess - there is a big difference between mess and filth - I like to be chaotic writer-ly disorganized with my thoughts spewing out on every paper I can find).

A few weeks ago, I stumbled onto ChoreWars, this silly website where you get a character (much like D&D), but you level up for doing things around the house. Example: You wash the dishes, you get gold and XP. Since I’m still a hopeless gamer, I instantly fell in love with the concept and made an account. My roommate (and cohort on Adorning Schemes - we are also doing A to Z over there!) and I have been cleaning up the house on a more regular basis. And my husband?  Well, he's kicking all of our butts since he racks up 74 XP every day.

But this sets the fire, “No – you cannot be better than me in ChoreWars! I will win! I will defeat you! Mwahahaha!” It mixes competition into the whole thing, which makes chores finally worth doing.

Digging up the yard to put in a garden isn’t fun – but if you add experience points and gold coins along with it? Yeah, sure, I’ll do just about anything for more XP. I’m obsessed with making my characters better (which is exactly why I'm good at being a gamer).

The inner five year old in me constantly jumps up and down every time I finish something. It’s like a gold star... without spending money on stickers.

I am, and forever will be, easily amused.

Tomorrow I post an excerpt from Rioss.