Holy Heck!

I visited my own blog today. Yes this one. I heard crickets. Is anyone else hearing crickets, or is it just me?

I have not posted since Christmas. CHRISTMAS! How pathetic is that? I had no idea it had been so long. I pulled my gaze away from revisions and glanced at the calendar. Did you guys know it's March? How did that happen? I didn't even get an email that it was March. When revising, one should verbally be alerted as to what day it is. Just putting that out there.

So now it's on to creeping. I must know what you've all been up to. I have to know. I've missed you!

:)

Merry Christmas!!!

I thought I'd venture out from underneath my writing holiday rock to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. For those of you who wished for a literary agent, I hope there's one under the tree when you get up in the morning, and for your sake, I hope they were willing to be under your tree. If not I'm afraid the new year may be looking a little dismal for you. Anyhoo best of wishes to everyone!

Merry Christmas!

Errrmiiigaaawd!!!!

 The Next Big Blog Hop!

I've been tagged, people. The lovely cheese eating, hoarding, composing goddess, Crystal Collier has taken time out of her busy day to whop me on the blog. So, now I get to do something uber-amazing and answer a few questions about my WIP then I'll be whopping a few bloggers back so they can tell us all about theirs. Itchy fingers...

Okay, just because I need major motivation, and because I have contemplated self-publishing for many reasons (that's another blog), I actually have a cover for my WIP. It's slightly unfinished but I loves it!

Cover design by: Amanda Mathews of AMD Design Studios. Go check out what she can do for you! Amanda just rocks!

Now on with the rest of this: 

1. What is the working title of your book?    THE BONE TREATY (Subject as always to change).

2. Where did the idea come from?    I haven't the foggiest. I was shampooing my hair I think, and bam, I had three chapters before the end of the night. Freaking scary. 

3. What genre does your WIP fall under?   I'm going with YA Paranormal Romance. 

4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?     Ooh, let the casting calls begin....taps fingers.

                           Meet Alexia Fast playing the part of Addie.

                                                      

                                    And now for the love triangle. 

                              Alex Pettyfur as Conal Reed Grrr...                 

                

                                                                   And

                                                  Chace Crawford as Griffin 

 Now all we need is a vote for Team Conal or Team Griffin.  NO They are so not ready for T-shirts people ;)

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?   

When a stranger shows up ready to kill, an orphaned girl must unlock the mysteries of her heritage after her body reacts to him in supernatural ways. (Okay, its not perfect but it will have to do for now)

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?  

I'm still on the fence with this one. I guess I'll know when I know, right?

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? 

About nine months for the first draft. 

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?  

Hm...no pressure. I always hate this question. I'll just name one. Maybe the Premonition Series by Amy Bartol. Although I'd hate to even put myself in that category. If you haven't read the series yet, do so right this minute. It's amazing and completely swoon-worthy. My story differs from hers, there are no angels in The Bone Treaty. But my MC must come to grips with a supernatural ability she has no idea she has, and it leads her on a quest for survival, discovery, and inevitably torn between Conal and Griffin. (There have been worse days)

9. Who or What inspired you to write this book? 

Hm...not sure on this one. Since I was shampooing my hair, I might have to say Kenra since that was the shampoo. (Chuckles)

10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? 

There's a new kind of shapeshifter breaking onto the scene and you'll just have to read The Bone Treaty to find out more. Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the revisions are done, the agent is landed, and the book deal is complete, or until I can launch this baby onto Amazon, whatever I end up doing. (Sighs)

P.S. I have no idea why some of this is showing up with the white background. (shakes head)

Okay, now enough about me and The Bone Treaty. Now I get to whop 5 people.

Mary Waibel

Katie S. Pendergrass

PK Hrezo

EJ Wesley

Justine Dell

Time to spill it people! What is your WIP about?

Feeling the love and support.

It's been a long month and I cannot believe we're a day away from October. Where has the summer gone? I spotted a nutcracker at the mall last week. Yes, Belk has already decorated for Christmas and I fear Macy's is next. That confirms it! Christmas is just around the corner. Truthfully, I wanted to find the mall manager, shake his bow-tie loose and demand to know why we have to look at nutcrackers for three freaking months. But that would have been wrong and it probably would have gotten me on the, no-shop list. Nobody needs that.

Don't worry, I'm not opposed to Christmas. I love it. And I've no objections to the mall managers bow-tie. It suits his frame quite well. It was the nutcracker and what he represented in my little bubble. My goal for the summer had not been completed. Sighs. I'd hoped by the end of summer, my MS would be ready to submit. Well, its not. Not by a long shot. I guess when its ready its ready and when its not, its just not. I was bummed for part of the week.

Then...

The hubs looked at me and said the most inspiring three words: "Do this thing!"

Um...well...okay. So, after sulking over my missed, personal deadline, I dove into my MS and really started working on it, not that I wasn't already, but maybe I wasn't as into it as I should have been. We should not write or revise when we're bummed, people. No! That never ends well. Knowing what to do, I reached out for the support of my CP's. One of them could not be reached due to computer issues, but fortunately, one of my CP's IM'd me with some uplifting thoughts, and support. She then offered me a new beta prospect, and then I spotted the hubs walking down the hall carrying the laundry.  I spun my chair around to help him, but he pointed to the computer screen, demanding I keep writing.  It may have been the hottest thing ever. Swoon...

So...I perked up and decided to use the nutcracker as my next goal. I may even go out to Belk today and pick one up to set on my desk. When I get irritated, I'll flick him in the eye. Evil, I know. But I'm doing this thing. I am. So help me and that damn nutcracker, this is happening!

How about you? Have you missed a personal deadline? Does anyone want to see the nutcracker?

Do tell...

Would you date me?

Happy middle of the week, people! I hope your week is going better than mine. I caught a summer cold from a carrier monkey disguised as my nephew. Worry not! He is safe. I could not be mad at the little primate. It was me that opened the door and allowed him to regenerate his cooties all over my house for the entire weekend. On top of that, I'm disappointed in my portfolio at the moment and its absence of Kleenex stock (I'm kind of bummed at the absence of a lot of other stock too...whimpers). I shall not be bitter (whimpers again). I shall be strong, eat lots of soup, and resist the temptation to whine. I think I'm off to a good start. Chuckles.

Is this a bad time to post a, 'Would you date me, Wednesday?' Heck no! I'm not up for grabs. I'm married and contagious... That sounded so bad. 

Moving on...

Today we have the lovely Jennifer M. Hartsock with us. She has been willing to entrust us with the fist few pages of her manuscript, BATTLEGROUND. And no, it has nothing to do with my ex-hasbend. Please help Jennifer out and leave her some honest feedback. And Thanks for stopping by!

Jennifer M. Hartsock

Battleground

Chapter 1

CURE A DISEASE BY AVOIDING ITS SYMPTOMS

In the city of Kinhedge, California, surrounded by the loud buzz of party chatter, horns and cheers boomed from outside in celebration of the New Year. With the last few days of Christmas vacation drawing near, everyone was eager to have a bit of fun before sophomore year started again. People in party hats with whistles and streamers gathered in clusters throughout the house—smiles and laughter galore—guzzling down alcohol. I remained seated in the kitchen corner, imagining myself somewhere different.

Samantha Withnell stood across the kitchen island from her friends, Ping-Pong ball in hand. She had teased her blond-streaked chestnut hair, but from the humidity of many people in a small space, it looked like a sticky mess of styling product. Her eyes peaked over her shoulder, and my hands shielded my face.

“Lilly, quit pouting and help me.”

“I’m not here.”

The stern look in her eyes confirmed her impatience with my attitude. Sam abandoned the island, catching me up in her whirlwind, and plummeted into the armchair with me. “Young lady, we’re getting down to the wire!”

The small crucifix around my neck rested at my collar, and I gripped it in my hand, making sure the pendent was tightly secured to the chain. If I was stranded in a pit of drunken classmates, I needed the best guidance possible.

 “I’ll play only if we go home early.”

Sam furrowed her eyebrows. “Deal.”

We rose from the chair to take our places at the island. There were only two cups left in the game and, because I hadn’t drank tonight, I helped Sam toss the ball across the table. We managed to miss the cup.

Corbin Burke lifted his eyebrows at the disaster on the island. “You better bump up your game, ladies. Sober Island, hand me one of those shot glasses, will you? Standing here between drinks is less exciting than dropping a potato chip.”

I filled a shot glass and pushed it across the island. Corbin took it to his mouth and threw it back. “Hello, Lolly-bean. One more term to go until you’re a junior, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, you see, I’ll be a senior, so we havta hang out before the war!”

“I forgot about you joining the Army. One year to go, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Corbin wrapped an arm around my neck, administering a nice, long noogie. Locked against his chest, I could only peek into the living room through the crook in his elbow. From under the hood of a jacket, blond hair curled around a stranger’s ears and neck, framing a pale face, a hint of freckles dappled across his nose. He played a guitar that no one, perhaps not even he, could hear.

“Corbin, let me go.”

“You can’t rush art.”

“Corbin!” I urged, and he released me, my lungs sucking down air.

Amid the chaos of fifteen partygoers, playing his music, there was a peculiar uneasiness in the boy’s eyes. Sad and longing, they seemed to ask for my help.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

Corbin looked over his shoulder. “Lilly Rosalie Dawson,” he said, patting me on the back. “Go find out.”

Should I? I didn’t want to wander too far from my friends, but what, in those strange eyes, could possibly compel my attention? I grabbed a bottle of something and took a shot. It warmed my agitated stomach.

Corbin crossed his arms, inspecting my impulsive drink. “Damn, Lolly. Right on.”

“Congratulations,” Sam announced, draping her arm across my shoulders. She handed over a cup of something that looked thick and sweet. “You’ve finally crossed to the dark side.”

Corbin snorted. “All for Parker.”

“Parker,” I said.

“Here.” Sam exchanged my cup for one with water. “It’s almost the new year. Try something new, okay?”

The crucifix felt comfortable and familiar in my hand. This was enough to ease me into the living room and sit across from the stranger. Even as the party raged around him, those eyes were distant in thought.

At just that moment—this picture perfect opportunity—a gangly albino sat next to Parker. He drunkenly leered at me. “Who are you?”

“Lilly,” I answered.

To my surprise, he jumped in his seat, almost knocking Parker in the face with his flailing right arm. “Chuck Norris doesn’t wear a condom because there’s no such thing as protection from Chuck Norris!”

“Ha, ha,” I said dryly. I could smell the beer on his breath and wished he would join the keggers in the kitchen. I tilted my water cup to him. “It was nice meeting you.”

He stared at me for several seconds, but ultimately took off down the hall. I laughed pitiably.

“Chuck Norris isn’t the best way to get a girl to like you,” Parker said.

He was speaking to me. “No, it’s not. Um, I’m—”

“Lilly, right? Gabriel Parker” —and finally I had a real name— “but call me Parker.”

He tucked a hand into his jacket and pulled out a plastic baggy of marijuana and papers. This boy was more lost than I’d thought. Was this why I was lured over? He peeped up at the right time to catch my pained expression.

“There sure are a lot of older people here,” I said.

“Just turned sixteen, so most people here are older than me.” Parker rolled his fingertips over a joint, puffed it, and exhaled the musty smell of pot. “Let’s toast to lost causes.”

Did he mean himself? “Who?”

“Uh, good question.” He exhaled again, and I watched the thick plume of smoke. “How about Kinhedge.”

“I don’t understand.”

 “Everyone here is Christian,” he continued, “and every scumbag is Christian and every unintelligent person, too.”

The crucifix burned on my chest. Heat flushed my face, but with a quick prayer to keep my anger in check, I said, “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I bet you’re Christian.”

“Of course I’m a Christian.”

His blue eyes flickered with interest. “Why’s that?”

Another explosion went off outside, and we watched a shower of light through the bay window. In the kitchen, one guy had a fistful of his puking girlfriend’s hair, while cheering for his buddy sucking down beer through a funnel. Something good would eventually come out of this. I was here for a reason.

But what was that reason?

Think.

Think of something.

With insecurity stinging my cheeks, I spit out something my pastor had said: “God has a plan for everyone, and although I might not know what it is, He doesn’t throw a situation at you that you can’t handle. I just need to know I’ll be a better person afterward.”

“Why does He need us to prove anything?” Parker leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and I knew to pay close attention. “Look, if God is real, He breaks His own rules. He sets up a game in which we begin as the losers, and if we do indeed win, He rewards us with an eternity of praising Him and nothing else.”

My brain became thick with disbelief. “Adam chose to eat the forbidden fruit. God’s mercy gives us a chance to be with Him again.”

“Assuming that God is showing mercy by allowing us to exist is completely illogical.” Parker palmed a bottle from under the coffee table and poured whiskey into a couple of shot glasses. He handed one to me, but I didn’t want to drink it. I set it on the table, and Parker only shuddered from the sting in his throat. “You’re just repeating what we’ve both heard in church every Sunday.”

The conviction of my beliefs flared in my heart, but just for a second. His awful convictions spat on my very being, but what hurt deeper than the tightness in my throat, or the tension in my stomach, was that he was right. These words were not my own. Someone else had inspired what I thought to be wisdom, what I thought to be true.

I could leave. If I really wanted to, I could leave.

“Why is it bad to repeat someone else if it’s the truth?” I asked.

“The truth?” Parker set the half-inch end of the joint in a discarded cup. “Okay, sure, but it’s your truth.” He gulped down the rest of the whiskey in a rush. “God, I say, is you, me, this bottle of whiskey, everything, and nothing. What you say God is, is true—as an idea, that is. God is whatever we say He is.”

“That’s not true!” When Parker began rolling another joint, I’d finally had enough. “You shouldn’t even be doing drugs!”

He set down the marijuana and picked up his guitar. He strummed the strings, a melody I couldn’t hear over the loud chatter. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“But—”

There was a quick flash of motion—Sam jumping over a pile of plastic cups—and then she was on the couch next to me. “We’re ready to leave.”

“Sure, okay.” I helped my friend from the couch, but didn’t yet follow her to the front door.  I turned to Parker. “Would you—” I began, and lost the moment when he waved me off with his empty bottle. It was as easy as that for him to dismiss this discussion, inviting a pain in my gut, and a small hole of curiosity in my faith.

Why, when this stranger denied everything I believed in, was I hungry for more?

BLOOD FUGUE COVER REVEAL

Today is an exciting day, people! Scratch that. This whole week is exciting! Blog-friend E. J. Wesley, is releasing his babe into the world. How cool is that? I can only imagine what he might be feeling right now. I can just picture him sitting in front of his computer screen, the very place where the magic happens. He's probably wearing that uber-cool hat of his, and chewing his fingernails into nonexistence? Just be careful how far you go with that, E. J. Fingernails can be suspect. Just saying.

And now for the cover reveal:

“Some folks treated the past like an old friend. The memories warmed them with fondness for what was, and hope for what was to come. Not me. When I thought of long ago, my insides curdled, and I was left feeling sour and wasted.”

Jenny Schmidt is a young woman with old heartaches. A small town Texas girl with big city attitude, she just doesn’t fit in. Not that she has ever tried. She wears loneliness like a comfy sweatshirt. By the age of twenty-one, she was the last living member of her immediate family. Or so she thought…

“We found my ‘grandfather’ sitting at his dining room table. An entire scorched pot of coffee dangled from his shaky hand. His skin was the ashen gray shade of thunderclouds, not the rich mocha from the photo I’d seen. There were dark blue circles under each swollen red eye. A halo of white hair skirted his bald head, a crown of tangles and mats. Corpses had more life in them.”

Suddenly, instead of burying her history with the dead, Jenny is forced to confront the past. Armed only with an ancient family journal, her rifle, and an Apache tomahawk, she must save her grandfather’s life and embrace her dangerous heritage. Or be devoured by it.

BLOOD FUGUE by E.J. Wesley, is the first of the MOONSONGS books, a series of paranormal-action novelettes. At fewer than 13k words, BLOOD FUGUE is the perfect snack for adventurous readers who aren’t afraid of stories with bite. Available wherever fine eBooks are sold September 2012. 

Nice job! 

Cover work by Sketcher Girl, LLC - http://sketchergirlstudios.com/

But wait, there's more! There's a party....

Blood Fugue, Moonsongs Book 1 by E.J. Wesley Cover Reveal Party

Author E.J. Wesley is throwing a blog party to celebrate the release of his new book cover and wants you to join in the fun. Jump over to his blog to learn about how you can win some awesome prizes, including $50 toward a cover of your own and advance reader copies of Blood Fugue.

Join the Party!

The Open Vein, E.J.'s blog - http://the-open-vein-ejwesley.blogspot.com/

E.J. Wesley on the Twitter - https://twitter.com/EJWesley

Um...why are you still here? You can come back to my awesomeness later, like on Wednesday when we post another, Would you date me, Day? Go see E. J. Wish him lots of luck. Go buy Blood Fugue! Send him scary links about why he shouldn't chew on his fingernails. Go! Go now! But come back. I will miss you. 

And thank you for stopping by.

The Hermit Goes Out!

Okay, so I ventured out. I'd been holed up in my office, working on revisions for far too long. Nothing like a little mountain retreat with the hubs and some of his co-workers to lure me out of my shell. We had wine. Listened to a great band at an outside stage in the mountains of Pennsylvania, and watched a glorious fireworks display. It was epic! 

I ended up with that feather thingy around my neck. You can't tell it from the picture but it was blinking with tiny red lights. Nice! It was much worse for the others. A few people had balloon helmets made, and one co-worker actually looked like a court jester. Too funny. I have pictures, but no disclosers for the wall of shame. 

Now its back to real life. No balloon helmets for me. But I did keep the feather thingy. It may lead to something awesome while I'm writing. I can just see the kids faces as they pass by my office door. Nothing like seeing your mom, typing away on the computer, wearing Old Navy Pj's, and a blinking feather thingy. Ah, good times! They have no idea how much coolness I possess;) 

Speaking of coolness, please head over to Fiona's Blog today or tomorrow for: Yeah, but would you date me? This weeks feature is by, Rachel Pudelek. It's the first 2000 words of her WIP, DARK WATERS. Go check it out and leave her a constructive comment. I know she'll appreciate it. 

Happy Hump Day and all that!