Have you ever clung to a one-eared teddy bear? Refused to throw away a favorite toy just because it was broken? Yeah, that's me. At least with stories. I queried widely with my first YA, and received rejection after rejection. (Stupidly figured out months later that my agent for my adult romance works with YA, too O.o)A few agents loved aspects of it, but had issues with how the plot was handled, etc. I sniffled. I sobbed. I cooed to the poor broken thing, then packed it in gauze and put it on a respirator.
Well, thanks to talking with Heather Kinn and Heather Howland, I've come to an angle to fix what's broken in DRENCHED. It will take scrapping huge hunks of it, reworking the over-all story arc, basically a COMPLETE rewrite. Am I masochistic? Guess so, because I'm really really excited about this!
AVERY AND THORN WILL LIVE AGAIN!! THANK YOU, MY HEATHERS!!
My newest writer pal Jus Asscardo is talking songs that stick in your head. Last week she gave me a new addiction, Say You'll Haunt Me by Stone Sour. This week, however, she picked one I listen to often. Along with Stone Sour I've been listening to a lot of Papa Roach. I guess it goes along with feeling just a little combative...
Earworms. Your favorite song. Your character's favorite song. The song that just FITS the scene you're writing. Well, my online pals and I are posting our Saturday Sing-a-longs and this is the song that's been on repeat while I wrote two chapters' worth of the dystopian:
Isi does what's necessary and hurts someone in the process... Lands her butt in jail, even. So this one really fits.
Have I ever told y'all I'm a WIPaholic? Yeah. Lots and LOTS of stories in one stage or another. And right now, when I should be nose to the grindstone with RESONANCE, this annoyingly interesting and way-too-much fun dystopian pops it's head up and won't go away. So, to placate the dystopian gods pestering my brain, I'm trying to purge it into a file. So far, I have a blurb, a complete summary and a snippet toward the end. But this...this is the first couple paragraphs of Chapter One.
Alarm sirens wail above the ration line in the town center. The breathy shriek pierces my ears and a shudder slides down my spine. I should stay in my place. I should act like the rest of the Commoner puppets.
Doing what I should will be the death of me.
People in the city square freeze mid-step, identical looks of fear spreading across their faces. Life snaps to a halt, arms clutching packages to chests, mothers reining in children on their wrist strap leashes. Good little marionettes awaiting the Mentalist Guild Operative announcement over the loudspeakers. I was born without puppet strings, and with a healthy self-preservation instinct--not to mention the knife I have sheathed in my boot and the blue-steeled contraband tucked in the small of my back.
A week’s worth of ration stamps crinkle when I curl my fist around them and shove them in my pocket. I duck my head, hiding my face behind a curtain of hair, knowing it won’t shield me from an Operative. Motion soothes my nerves, gives my mind a chance to plot escape routes while I put distance between me and the Commoner crowd before the siren above runs out of breath. After the siren comes the proclamation, then comes the Operative. There is no hiding from a Seer, and I can’t risk being seen.
First, there is a HUGE contest starting soon on my YAlitchat Query Kick-Around group. This is a great opportunity to get your query in front of big names in the business for review, improvement and the big winner will be the recipient of a TBA editorial prize from one of the judges. ROCK ON QUERY WARRIORS!
QUERY KICK-AROUND CRITIQUE CONTEST And, there's a contest over on the Oasis for YA's blog to win a signed copy of Shelena Short's THE BROKEN LAKE. Our own Jessie Harrel did a very nice interview with Shelena, who seems to be a big, big sweetheart, and I know Jessie is dying of want for that book, so make her happy (jealous maybe?) and go enter, would ya??
Well, my agent is in love with the sample and synopsis of RESONANCE and wants to put together a proposal and start submissions!! I feel like the Cheshire Cat. My cheeks hurt.
Why is there a Willie Nelson song in the back of my head? On the road again...
Give and take
neglecting you
hurting me
the wrist aches
the blade bleeds
cut it out
cutting me
forgiving you
forgetting me
the precipice beckons
the feet betray
step over the edge
stand alone
telling you
listening to me
no quarter given
none deserved
give and take
of hurting you
hurting me
no me left
tears took it all
hurting you
killing me
Yes it was a dark time when I wrote this. NO I have never been suicidal. consider it "situational poetry." Feeling slightly growly today and thought it was worth a revisit. And, it gave me an excuse to use that gorgeous Victoria Frances painting. :)
First draft for the synopsis of RESONANCE is done! This book doesn't follow the trends, it's inventive, plays off physics and spins it toward magic, but still has a "paranormal romance" feel.
Tagline: One love. Two dimensions. Only one choice. First line of the synopsis: Random teens in Harmony Ridge are losing their sanity, and I’m afraid I might be next. First line of the book: I sat in the shadows of the auditorium, wishing I could throttle Shaina Weston.
I guess I should have known when I wrote this poem years ago that I was destined to write YA, because that young guy in the picture was the kind of Adonis I saw when I wrote it. Funny how hindsight is 20/20.
Oasis for YA is having a blog carnival today and each of the Oasis Ladies have taken a particular sense. I snatched up SIGHT right away--always have been a visual writer...
Here's mine for SIGHT: The African sun and cottony clouds should have sparked happy thoughts of swimming in the azure waters with my boyfriend, Terry. But, as I took in the lush view from the hotel window, I couldn't help remembering the terrace party, our fight and him leaving me in center dance floor, alone. Phillipe, tan skin caressed by alabaster moonlight, had looked the absolute definition of 'forbidden fruit' when he'd asked me to dance. Now, feelings of guilt, dark and hard as the rocks beside the outside wall, threatened to punch up tears. Then, Terry walked in, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a towel. Sunlight poured over him, lighting his lean muscles, dancing in his damp, wavy hair and giving his smile angelic light. I smiled too, but it felt like a lie.
Now, here are the rules of this particular carnival: You've just graduated from high school and your awesome parents have taken you and your boy/girl-friend on the trip of a lifetime to the Seychelles Islands off the coast of Africa. This (picture above) is the view from your hotel window. You have ONE paragraph to describe the setting, and you can use only ONE of your senses. Go... (then come back and share the link, so we can see what you've done!)
The Balrog. Demon of shadow and flame, and the nemesis of Gandolf the Grey. When confronted with the Balrog in the depths of Khazad-dûm, a rare glimpse of fear twisted the face of the great wizard. Gandolf Stormcrow and the Balrog fell, tied in a battle to the death.
I think we as authors often pitch ourselves in similar battles. We set ourselves up for frustration and plummeting feelings of sick, sticky failure when we face down our writing nemesis. We become Gandolf, and we face our beast of shadow and flame--our battle becomes...
Us vs the Synopsis of Evil
We fuss and fidgeted, worry and angst about what to put in to a synopsis and what to leave out. Do we write it from distant third? Do we say XXX is the story of... ? How can we fit the motivation, conflict and resolution and the romance all into 2/5/10 pages?? There's so much in this story! Sound familiar? Yeah, been there, done that. I whined. I moaned. Then I pulled up my Big Girl Panties and dealt with it.
First, we need to fall out of love with our own words. If we let go of what we think is so damn brilliant, and peer through the pretty word glamor, we can see what's beneath. We need to realize that scene or snippet of dialogue we love so much doesn't necessarily belong in the synopsis. The synopsis is the story of the story, it is a blending of story arc, conflict arc and romantic arc, and their resolutions, and yet still be engaging enough to make readers want to keep reading, and then read the entire book.
Yes, I know. Daunting. The Blarog in the shadows of our Writer's Doom.
We need to be Gandolf. We need to realize in facing our nemesis, we face our fear. And, in many cases, our fear controls us, makes us (and our synopses) weak. I found a magic talisman that helped me battle my Balrog and win. I wish to pass this weapon on to you. Knowledge. A friend pointed me to this link, I signed up (IT'S FREE), and then downloaded a synopsis writing guide that took the fight out of my Balrog, and gave me the weapon to slay my nemesis.
Fighting the Synopsis of Evil? Go to Denise Vitola's site and sign up for her newsletter. When you do, you can download her HOW TO WRITE A FICTION SYNOPSIS THAT SELLS. Her guide was the magic I needed to triumph.
With this magic, you too can become like Gandolf, do battle, best your nemesis and temper your writing wizarding mettle. Gandolf became clean and White. Hopefully, you can become triumphant, you can become represented, and perhaps some day you can become a published author!
Hey, y'all, my new blog and Twitter friend Tricia Rayburn's book SIREN releases today!
BLURB: Seventeen-year-old Vanessa Sands is afraid of everything—the dark, heights, the ocean—but her fearless older sister, Justine, has always been there to coach her through every challenge. That is, until Justine goes cliff-diving one night near the family’s vacation house in Maine, and her lifeless body washes up on shore the next day.
Though her parents hope that they’ll be able to find closure back in Boston, Vanessa can’t help feeling that her sister’s death wasn’t an accident. After discovering that Justine was keeping a lot of secrets, Vanessa returns to Winter Harbor, hoping that Justine’s boyfriend might know more. But Caleb has been missing since Justine’s death.
Soon, it’s not just Vanessa who’s afraid. All of Winter Harbor is abuzz with anxiety when another body washes ashore, and panic sets in when the small town becomes host to a strong of fatal, water-related accidents in which all the victims are found, horrifically, grinning from ear to ear.
Vanessa turns to Caleb’s brother, Simon, for help, and begins to find herself drawn to him. As the pair tries to understand the sudden rash of creepy drownings, Vanessa uncovers a secret that threatens her new romance—and will change her life forever.
So, if you're in the market for a summer read, check it out!
Hey, y'all. As you may know, I'm a member of a group blog full of YA writers. We're steadily growing over at the Oasis for YA, and when we reach 100 followers the Oasis for YA gives back to our followers. We will be giving:
A book tote made by me
Autographed copy of Magic Under Glass by Jaclyn Dolamore
Captivate by Carrie Jones
Lock and Key by Sarah Dessen
$10 iTunes gift card
$10 Barnes & Noble gift card
You need to be a member of the Oasis, then watch the blog for more details. Once we hit 100 followers, we're throwing a party! Well, opening the contest. Prizes are better than parties, right?
I've told y'all I can get compulsive, and stalkerish over submissions. The best way for me to avoid those tendencies is distraction. Well, I've been questing through the archives of WIPs looking for one that sings. WIP after WIP, nothing. No arias, no choirs of angels. But, one constant whisper, a soft 'pick me! pick me!' A concept I've been dragging around and chewing on since 2008.
It is NOT paranormal. *gasp* No vampires, no werewolves or other mythical creatures. This one is almost sci-fi, with medical disorders, different dimensions and physics. For example, these definitions are in the front of the book:
Synesthesia
[sin-uhs-thee-zhuh, -zhee-uh, -zee-uh]
A conditioninwhichonetypeofstimulationevokesthesensationofanother,aswhenthehearingofasoundproducesth
evisualizationofacolor.
Resonance
[rez-uh-nuhns]
The stateofasysteminwhichanabnormallylarge vibrationisproducedinresponsetoanexternalstimulus,occurringwhenthefrequencyofthestimulusisthesame,ornearlythesame,asthenaturalvibrationfrequencyofthesystem.
Right about now, you're probably thinking, 'but AE, that doesn't sound interesting.' Trust me, if I could pour everything in my brain out for you right now, y'all would love it. Magic, dimensional shifts, intrigue, romance, secrets and family heritage...
Still doubting? How about a sample to whet your appetites?
EXCERPT from RESONANCE:
I sat deep in the shadows of the auditorium, wishing I could throttle Shaina Weston.
Razor straight blond hair, ice blue eyes and, worst of all, Shaina had a pitch perfect voice. Despite my monster case of jealousy that she was singing with my boyfriend, I had to admit she deserved lead soprano in High Street honors choir. Something in the tone of Shaina and Chad’s voices and their sappy sweet love song rang true enough for me to see it hanging between them. Add the way his gaze poured over her face, the closeness in their choreography and Chad’s boyfriend status was in serious question.
“Look at them,” I whispered to my co-rehearsal crasher and best friend. “They’ve got to be hooking up off stage.”
“No way.” Autumn shook her head, then thumped my shoulder. “He’s totally into you.”
“I used to think so.”
“What do you mean, ‘used to’?” She waved a hand at Chad, then at me. “You two are the cutest couple ever, Hailey. They’re just singing together for the choir competition.”
Singing like angels together, I thought miserably. Music and I aren’t on speaking terms.
Unlike most guys at Concord Senior High, music was my boyfriend Chad’s entire world. He played percussion in concert, marching and jazz band, and sang lead tenor in every choir. I was rhythmically challenged, surviving best if both feet were on the floor and my mouth was shut. For me, there were two certainties beyond death and taxes: I cannot sing and I cannot dance.
“Two left feet and can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” my mom used to say.
Pushing back into the padded seat, I waved Autumn closer. She inclined her auburn curls until we were inches apart and I was choking on her heavily applied peaches-and-cream body spray. I tried to point out the shimmery evidence I saw floating between Shaina and Chad. “Can’t you see it?”
Autumn turned, eyebrows tipped and rising over her nose when she looked me in the eyes and said, “I see you need two Tylenol and a good night’s sleep.” Her tone said, ‘I see you need to put on a straight jacket and check into the rubber room at the psych ward.’
She sank back into her seat, watching the choir rehearse for Regionals, the three-state wide competition on Saturday. Occasionally, Autumn’s gaze shifted to me, eyes shadowed, brows pinched like she questioned my sanity. Honestly, I wondered, too. The longer Chad and Shaina sang, the stronger the shimmer became, until it was no longer a visual whisper but an undeniable glow pulsing with the song’s rhythm. Music? Emotion? Frigging dirt bag-scoundrel cheating? Whatever it was, it wrapped them, draped them, pulled them together.
Chad drew Shaina to him and kissed her lips at the end of the final refrain. The kind of kiss I’d always wanted… eyes slipping closed, heads turning to deepen the kiss before the world crashes back in. I sucked in a breath. Autumn let out a sigh. The music shifted into pianissimo, or the softest tones, the glowing halo faded to a mist and then when the choir (and Autumnn) applauded, the light disappeared completely.
I don't know about you guys, but I drag my books with me everywhere. And, I'm pretty damn nutzo about wrinkles, scratches, etc, so I decided to figure out a tote to protect them. Since the creativity vein has switched channels and is dumping into the sewing outlet, I decided to make book totes from reclaimed blue jeans. The one pictured above would be a snug fit for a Twilight sized novel, but will easily hold two novels of Shiver's size, and since it's one of my favorite novels EVER, I used it to make the pattern.
Help! Author down! We have an author down!! *snort* As usual, pic snitched from DeviantArt, this time from LilSunCloud
Lovely blogger and YA writer pal Sheri Larsen tagged me. TAGGED ME. I haven't been tagged in ages. No. Scratch that. I get tagged alllll the time, so don't feel sorry for me and decided to tag me more. *_*
I've been tagged to answer FIVE QUESTIONS, five times each. Then I'm supposed to tag five people. So, here we go...
Question 1: Where were you 5 years ago?
-recuperating from a hysterectomy -training a lab puppy -battling my first, and worst flare up of rheumatoid arthritis -working on edits to Nuermar's Last Witch, my first published novel -watching way too much cheerleading, thanks to my daughter
Question 2: Where would you like to be 5 years from now?
-New York Time's Bestseller list
-a booksigning for a new release in the Thanatos Academy series -in a pool, in a yard without close neighbors, maybe close to Lake Michigan -visiting friends and family and not worrying about time or funds -taking long naps ^_^
Question 3: What is (was) your to-do list today?
-dishes/laundry/cook dinner -avoid melting in the heat (I hate hot weather) -plan/pack for vacation -plot destruction of evil zombies with my writing partner -write, write, write
Question 4: What 5 snacks do you enjoy?
-bacon popcorn (recipe available on request) -Honey Nut Cheerios snack mix -popcorn chicken and sweet chili dipping sauce -hot dogs cooked over a fire until the skin crisps -squishy pretzels and caramel
Question 5: What 5 things would you do if you were a billionaire?
-Set up trusts for my kids' education & my parent's health (snitched this from Sheri)
-Buy hubby that house in the country (where I can have my pool), get him a Black Russian Terrier, and some big loud gun he's always wanted. -set up a foundation to pay scholarships to kids going into college for language arts -donate to local libraries -pitch headfirst into a bin of stuffed animals at Build-a-Bear Workshop and just go NUTS! (I've got my eye on the Amur Leopard)
And now the five people I'm supposed to tag... NO ONE. Fly and be free my minions! *snort* As if I had minions... Dare to dream.
s-thee-zhuh, -zhee-uh, -zee-uh] 
