BUSY BUSY!

 

This isn't mine, and isn't the cover, 

but I pinned it to BROKEN's Pinterest board for a reason...

Well, I never thought when we announced BROKEN's sale that we would get interest in it right away. A book blogger contacted Angry Robot, Strange Chemistry's parent company and requested a guest post, I think, the day after the announcement. My editor and I collaborated and did the post for Jessica of Allways Unmended. You can read that post HERE.

And two friends, betas and bloggers, both opened up their blogs for interviews with me. One went up this week on Wednesday, the other goes up next Tuesday. You can read Wednesday's interview with JL Spelbring, author of the upcoming Spencer Hill Press's release PERFECTION on JL's blog HERE. JL and I had a blast with the interview. If you're curious about Emma and Alex of BROKEN, go read that interview for my thoughts on them!

The other interview, and a contest will go up on Sheri Larsen's BLOG next week Tuesday and Wednesday.

I started a Pinterest board for BROKEN. To see it, go HERE. Lots of dark, creepy, dreamy images with hints about the story and characters. You know you wanna check it out... BROKEN also have a Goodreads page. I think I fainted a little when I stumbled across that already! Feel free to check it out and add it to your TBR lists ^_^

And, I've been talking with a jewelry artist about making custom pendants and bracelets with my favorite line from the book. I will have more news on that later.

And...there's something I can' say anything about. I ran around the house with my hair on fire for a little while...

WHEW! I'm going to go collapse now.

(un)LUCKY SEVEN: A peek at BROKEN

I've been tagged by Kate Avelyn with the Lucky Seven. I'll be a good sport and play along.

The Rules:

1. Go to page 77 of your current MS.
2. Go to line 7.
3. Copy down the next 7 lines/sentences, and post them as they’re written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 other victims …er, authors.

Seeing as my current WIP isn't to 77 pages yet, I'm going with BROKEN. Hopefully, my editor won't spank me too bad for for posting these. I mean, everybody's dying for a peek at this baby, right? Well... Here ya go!
 

Alex’s shirt slides over me with a whisper of cotton, the smell of leather and death.

His front door is open, and he’s covering his scars and skin with another long sleeved-shirt. “I’ll take you to the clinic so you can get another brace, then I’ll take care of the deer,” he says.

“Okay,” sounds limp in light of what’s happened but it’s all I can force out.

His seats are covered with sheepskin seat covers. I hesitate a moment, clutching my right hand to my chest.

“Don’t worry,” Alex promises. “They’re washable.”

As for tagging people...Nope. I don't do that. Fly and be free my minions!

New WIP hint

Curious where my mind has been going since the book sale?? Not the announcement, but the SALE?
Well, Like BROKEN, which I played very close to the vest, I won't say much about this one either. I will tell you it is the most complicated, research-heavy concept I have ever dared to bat around. I've contacted two different experts in the separate fields, even. And below is a picture hint, but even if you guess it, you'll still be missing the most of it.

I SOLD MY BOOK!!!!!!

Oh yeah, peoples. *buttdance in the typing chair* We've been sitting on this news for a little while now, but I finally get to share!! And the press release says it so prettily:

Strange Chemistry, the YA imprint of Angry Robot Books, is delighted to announce the signing of another wonderful author. A. E. Rought has been signed to Strange Chemistry in a two book deal with worldwide English rights negotiated between Amanda Rutter and Gina Panettieri, of the Talcott Notch Literary Agency.
The first of these two books will be called Broken and will be published by Strange Chemistry in early 2013.

About Broken:
Imagine a modern spin on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein where a young couple's undying love and the grief of a father pushed beyond sanity could spell the destruction of them all. A string of suspicious deaths near a small Michigan town ends with a fall that claims the life of Emma Gentry's boyfriend, Daniel. Emma is broken, a hollow shell mechanically moving through her days. She and Daniel had been made for each other, complete only when they were together. Now she restlessly wanders the town in the late Fall gloom, haunting the cemetery and its white-marbled tombs, feeling Daniel everywhere, his spectre in the moonlight and the fog.
When she encounters newcomer Alex Franks, only son of a renowned widowed surgeon, she's intrigued despite herself. He's an enigma, melting into shadows, preferring to keep to himself. But he is as drawn to her as she is to him. He is strangely... familiar. From the way he knows how to open her locker when it sticks, to the nickname she shared only with Daniel, even his hazel eyes with brown flecks are just like Daniel's.
The closer they become, though, the more something inside her screams there's something very wrong with Alex Franks. And when Emma stumbles across a grotesque and terrifying menagerie of mangled but living animals within the walls of the Franks' estate, creatures she surely knows must have died from their injuries, she knows.

AE said: “When my agent told me Strange Chemistry was interested, I think I squealed out loud. Angry Robot has an amazing reputation, and to be welcomed into their YA imprint? Bliss. Nerdvana. I'm absolutely thrilled to be with Strange Chemistry and working with Amanda.”

Amanda Rutter says: “As soon as I received the email from Gina detailing the premise of Broken, I knew that I had to read this book. I was thrilled to discover that the writing was just as good as promised and I have no doubt Broken will prove to be a massive hit!”

SQUEE!!!! *deep inhale* SQUEE!!!!! Do the Sold Book Dance with me.

Repost from the Oasis blog: Writing prompt

borrowed from http://fotolympus.deviantart.com/

I'm between WIPs right now, waiting on news, researching to keep my mind busy... And on my ceaseless trolls of the Internet, I found this picture. I love the blues, the streaks in the sky and the way they echo the waves in the foreground, and the mysterious ship. So, I decided to make this week's Whoseywhatsit Thursday, a no more than 250 word writing prompt. If you play along, make sure to hit all the senses. Make us see, smell, hear, heck, maybe even taste what this picture makes you see. I'll take a wild stab at it:

Ship's log, 25th May.
We're stranded here, the shore in the distance, out of reach and mocking me. The salty air sits in my nose, parches my skin. Father had promised so much when he dragged me on board this ship--I know now those promises were hollow. How can he make good on the sunlit beaches, the sweet fresh fruit, the girl he said was waiting, when he's lying on his rack coughing blood? The mutinous crew took everything, even siphoned the fuel and then beat my father, the captain, near to death.
"Thomas," he rasps, a dry rattle knocking around in his chest, "water..."
"Of course, Father." My parched lips crack. Iron tickles my sinuses, red smears my sleeve when I drag it over my chin.
I dip the tin cup into the bucket, scraping the bottom to get the last drops--our last drops. Maybe it will rain tonight, the clouds look ready to weep. My hand shakes, the precious water splashing in the cup, but I won't spill.
A sick smell comes from his mouth, pushed out by a groan when I tilt his head. I touch his chin, let him know the cup is coming. Blood shines in the split skin of his lips when he sucks the water down. Then a wracking spasm of coughs grip him, and the water is lost in the mix of blood and spittle flying to stain his cheeks and bed clothes.
"Leave me," Father commands. He's so weak he can't even roll to the side to spit. How can I leave him? Would I want to die alone? No. I will stay with him these last moments, I vow. Father flails a limp, broken hand at me, his words hardly a whisper when he says, "Leave me."
"I can't, poppa. I can't."
Father eyes sag, matching his sunken cheeks. He has no strength left, still he lifts that shattered hand and places it on my cheek. His skin is cold. White clouds his eyes. "Love you, son."
"Love you, too."
One last breath escapes him, his chest sinks, and outside rain begins to fall.
I wish it would fall in here, and take the place of the tears my body can't produce.