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Welcome! Books, movies, music, original stories, interviews, writing, libraries, literacy, humor –all with the YA reader in mind, are just a few of the topics you’ll find here. New to the blog? Say hi! Like it? Follow away! Thanks for visiting.

Showing posts with label young adult fantasy author. Show all posts
Showing posts with label young adult fantasy author. Show all posts

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Presenting a Professional image- Part One



Guest Post by Carlie M A Cullen

These days, authors have to work much harder to get their work in the public eye. We have to have an understanding of how to market ourselves and our books (especially those who indie or self publish); we have to network, maintain blogs and keep up a social media presence.

A great deal of this work is done behind the scenes so it doesn’t matter if you’re sitting at your computer in scruffy jeans and a sweatshirt that could double as a wash rag for your car. BUT what does matter is your attitude. Let me explain . . .

A very good friend of mine is Senior Editor for a publishing company and obviously has a large number of manuscripts to read through and give feedback on. She confided in me recently that a proportion of writers go ballistic when given constructive criticism on how to improve their work in readiness for possible publication. How professional is that?


I was pretty gobsmacked by this. If you ask someone to beta read your work or you submit it to an agent or publisher, you should be prepared and ready to accept their opinion. Let’s face it – are any of us so perfect that we can submit a flawless manuscript first time every time? No, of course we’re not. We edit and revise over and over until we think it’s the best it can be, but there’s always room for another perspective, another opinion and improvement.

My writing is precious to me; I’ve nurtured it and watched it grow from a weak seedling to a strong forest. I’ve edited and revised several times before placing it in the hands of a beta reader. Yet, am I so arrogant about my work that their views don’t count?

NO!

I know my work isn’t as perfect as I’d like it to be and I know I’m too close to it to see the flaws. That’s why I welcome critique from industry professionals.




Now don’t go thinking I’m some kind of masochist and that I get a kick out of my blood, sweat and tears being trampled on with hobnail boots. What I do get a kick out of, is receiving good, honest, constructive criticism before I take that final step and submit my work for publication. I don’t want to embarrass myself or waste an agent’s or publisher’s time by sending a pile of crap – I want my work to have a strong voice not a whimper!



So before you ask someone to beta read your work, ask yourself if you are ready to receive feedback that you may not like. If the answer is ‘no’ then don’t send it! If you can’t take constructive criticism without spitting the dummy then how professional are you being? Is your beta reader likely to want to help you in the future? Remember, publishing is a business (and a damn hard one at that) and if you can’t be professional in your business dealings then you won’t get very far.

As for me – I say, bring on the hobnail boots! I’ll listen, I’ll learn, I’ll improve, I’ll be professional and I WILL go far!






Carlie M A Cullen:

Carlie M A Cullen was born in London. She grew up in Hertfordshire where she first discovered her love of books and writing. She has been an administrator and marketer all her working life and is also a professional teacher of Ballroom and Latin American dancing. Carlie has always written in some form or another, but Heart Search: Lost is her first novel.Carlie currently lives in an Essex village with her daughter.

Check out Carlie's blog HERE

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As always, find interviews, writing samples, videos, contests and more on my re-vamped website.


6-5-2012

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Writing contest update

UPDATE:

The scoring rubric is now on my website. (Thank you Hilliard Darby High School)  Be sure to read over it before you submit to make sure you've hit all the necessary scoring criteria.
If you've already submitted and would like to re-submit, that is acceptable.


If you're a visitor to my website or follow on Twitter, you should know by now that I'm hosting another writing contest.  I'll call it my quarterly writing contest since I plan on hosting four per year.  The details, along with being posted on my website, can be found below.



P.S. If you or anyone you know would like to sponsor this writing contest, please contact me at the email address below.

The grading rubric for this contest will be posted soon.  Check back at my website often!
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Is that a dragon I hear?
Deadline March 10Type: Short Story 
Prizes: 1st $50.00 amazon gift card, 2nd $25.00 amazon gift card, 

special category: Middle school/high school students-same prizes as above (so yes, you could potentially win both categories (you must be able to Prove you are a student)
 -Prizes likely to go up in value!
No entry fee! No entry fee, NO ENTRY FEE!!
Please read the Contest Rules BEFORE submitting





Click HERE to check out the artist's page who made this awesome picture.
















Contest rules:
  • Entries must be emailed to josh@TheNeverChronicles.com
  • All entries must be submitted by midnight on the deadline date
  • Entries must be pasted into the body of an email. NO ATTACHMENTS
  • 12pt font double spaced -normal font (courier new, arial, default email font)
  • No submission limit
  • Early submissions appreciated
  • Your short story MUST contain a dragon as either the protagonist or antagonist.
  • 1500 word Maximum word count
  • Spelling and grammar taken into consideration
  • PG13 stories only please
  • No previously published works (unless self-published)
  • By submitting an entry, you are giving permission for your story to be posted on this website, the J. R. Wagner author blog and the J. R. Wagner author facebook page. If and when they appear in the aforementioned locations, the author(you) will be credited and have the opportunity to provide links to the author's (your) external sites. (websites, blogs, facebook pages etc.)
  • All works are the sole property of the authors.  Reproduction of any kind, without the permission of the author as well as proper citation is strictly prohibited.



As always, stop in to www.TheNeverChronicles.com to see what's new, exciting and fun with the upcoming release of Exiled, book one of The Never Chronicles!  I do give-aways all the time!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Guest post: Immortality by Mara Nelms


Immortality

It’s interesting, right? I mean, living forever, that’d be pretty cool. You’d probably get to see those hovercars that we keep hearing about but which nobody has bothered to invent yet.
You could do absolutely nothing day after day after day, and not be wasting time because you’re going to live forever!
Or you could horde information. That’s what I would do. Just horde knowledge, invent some cool stuff, cure cancer, you know, the usual. Jetpacks, here we come.
Or you could surf the internet forever; that’s a worth-while use of time!
Of course, there are a few downsides, namely that everyone you know and love would eventually shrivel up and die, but whatever, right? Just think of all the stuff you could accomplish!
Like… going to high school over and over again. And seducing a seventeen-year-old. And living with a whole bunch of other immortal people in a boring town in the middle of absolutely-*effing-nowhere, in some place where the sun can’t be bothered to shine.
Sounds fun, right?
Because we all loved high school, right? Like, if you were immortal, you would totally want to just keep enrolling yourself in different high schools, again and again, see the same type of two-faced girls and the same *d-bag guys who haven’t emotionally matured since second grade—and let’s not forget those kids who are always getting high, we all missed them!
Okay. I’ve exhausted my ability to be sarcastic.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Guest Post: The proper uses of 'Literally' by Mara Nelms


On The Proper and Improper Uses of the Word Literally
            The word “literally” has, for some reason, become popular in the local Southern vernacular of the English language. I don’t know why for certain, but I theorize that to certain people the use of the word gives off an air of intelligence. However, to someone who actually knows the proper use of the word “literally”, the sentence “I was literally really terrified,” just sounds stupid. “Literally” is not a substitute for the word “really.” It does not mean “extremely” or “very” and it should not be used to express vehemence. “Literally,” when used properly, is used only in the company of metaphors, similes, or hyperboles to express that the statement accompanying actually is not a metaphor, simile, or hyperbole.
            For instance, “literally” should not be present in this sentence: “I was literally so, so happy!” That sentence does not contain a hyperbole, metaphor, or simile. It can, however, be used here: “I was literally so happy I could burst, because when I was five and three months old my parents had a bomb implanted in my stomach that would be triggered by extreme emotions.” Usually when people say that they are so happy they could burst, it is an exaggeration based on the excited, swelling feeling they had. Here, however, the unfortunate speaker was so happy that the bomb in her stomach could have exploded, making her literally burst. She was clarifying that she was not in fact exaggerating for effect, but being deadly serious. Thus, the correct use of the word “literally.”
            See again an example with a metaphor: “Even by math teacher standards, she was an evil little imp.” Here the speaker is merely comparing her math teacher to an imp (the teacher probably assigns a lot of homework and doesn’t bother reviewing the material.) However, consider this statement: “My math teacher is literally an evil little imp!” To the educated observer, this sentence means either one of two things: one; that the math teacher is a horned creature from the depths of hell (or an extremely mischievous child), or two; that the speaker is an *effing idiot.
            If you’ve done this before, don’t worry. Your sins against the English language are forgiven, mostly; by me, anyway, provided that you repent and don’t do it ever ever again or else I will throw you into Grammar Hell. Are we understood?

Mara Nelms is the author of the blog:  My Purse bit my Best Friend, which is extremely entertaining as you may have guessed.  We look forward to more guest posts from Mara.
*in an effort to keep this blog PG13, I changed one word.  I'm not a fan of censorship but my readers range in age from thirteen on up and generally don't see that type of language from me or my posts.  Thank you for understanding. (not that they can't figure out what the word is supposed to be anyway)

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Don't forget to visit my website for additional writing samples, free stuff, writing contests, videos, illustrations, and, of course, updates on Exiled -releasing June 5

Saturday, January 21, 2012

How to cope with DEATH…in writing

I originally guest-posted this post on C.K Volnek's The Mind's Eye blog  on January 12th -great blog, check it out


We all see it. On the television, in video games, some of us have he misfortune of witnessing it in real life.  Some of us more than once.

I myself have been a witness to death’s clammy hand escorting a loved one from this world. I have seen the aftermath of this process and I have also seen a person pull from the grip of that hand and return to the living.  She was certainly on her way down the path until us humans intervened and escorted her back. 

Death, I’m afraid, is all around us. 

Daniel Defoe wrote, "Things as certain as death and taxes, can be more firmly believed." in his novel, The Political History of the Devil.

“After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.” JK Rowling

Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men.  ~Herodotus

The graveyards are full of indispensable men.  ~Charles de Gaull

End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path... One that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass... And then you see it.
What? Gandalf?... See what?
White shores... and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.  ~The Return of the King

Thursday, January 19, 2012

What I'm up to...this week...


Here is a quick glance over the comings and goings of my publishing world.

D-day (the day I get my copy-edit back and have three weeks to review the entire novel) is rapidly approaching. That's Feb 3rd.

I'm pretty sure I have a finalized copy of the logo I've been working on with JDM Creative Advertising and I'm insanely excited about it!



Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Writing Contest

If you're a visitor to my website or follow on Twitter, you should know by now that I'm hosting another writing contest.  I'll call it my quarterly writing contest since I plan on hosting four per year.  The details, along with being posted on my website, can be found below.



P.S. If you or anyone you know would like to sponsor this writing contest, please contact me at the email address below.

The grading rubric for this contest will be posted soon.  Check back at my website often!
------------




Is that a dragon I hear?
Deadline March 10Type: Short Story 
Prizes: 1st $50.00 amazon gift card, 2nd $25.00 amazon gift card, 

special category: Middle school/high school students-same prizes as above (so yes, you could potentially win both categories (you must be able to Prove you are a student)
 -Prizes likely to go up in value!
No entry fee! No entry fee, NO ENTRY FEE!!
Please read the Contest Rules BEFORE submitting





Click HERE to check out the artist's page who made this awesome picture.

















Contest rules:
  • Entries must be emailed to josh@TheNeverChronicles.com
  • All entries must be submitted by midnight on the deadline date
  • Entries must be pasted into the body of an email. NO ATTACHMENTS
  • 12pt font double spaced -normal font (courier new, arial, default email font)
  • No submission limit
  • Early submissions appreciated
  • Your short story MUST contain a dragon as either the protagonist or antagonist.
  • 1500 word Maximum word count
  • Spelling and grammar taken into consideration
  • PG13 stories only please
  • No previously published works (unless self-published)
  • By submitting an entry, you are giving permission for your story to be posted on this website, the J. R. Wagner author blog and the J. R. Wagner author facebook page. If and when they appear in the aforementioned locations, the author(you) will be credited and have the opportunity to provide links to the author's (your) external sites. (websites, blogs, facebook pages etc.)
  • All works are the sole property of the authors.  Reproduction of any kind, without the permission of the author as well as proper citation is strictly prohibited.

As always, stop in to www.TheNeverChronicles.com to see what's new, exciting and fun with the upcoming release of Exiled, book one of The Never Chronicles!  I do give-aways all the time!

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Be Prepared To Be Amazed: gust post by Carlie Cullen


Be Prepared To Be Amazed


by Carlie M A Cullen

Writers are often asked where they get their inspiration from and every one of us has our own sources.
I write Fantasy. My love affair with this genre began when I was quite young and has continued through the years. It began with stories written by Hans Christian Andersen and The Brothers Grimm and grew from there. I was the proverbial bookworm as a child and nothing has really changed.

I was inspired by the wonderful worlds created by the books I read and began composing my own short stories and fairy tales before my age reached double figures. That inspiration has stayed with me, but these days I find inspiration in a number of different ways.

People watching can provide a rich source for creativity. Whether you’re on a bus or plane, sitting in a café, shopping or just walking down the street, there are some amazing characters around that you can incorporate into your writing. It might be the way someone walks, the way they dress, their mannerisms or even their turn of phrase. Sometimes a line from a song can trigger inspiration as well as films, novels (of course), conversations and new places.

Going somewhere new will usually prove a source of inspiration, but where you go can have a dramatic effect on you. This can best be demonstrated by a short mid-week break I took back in September to Dublin. Apart from being a fantastic city to visit, with lovely friendly inhabitants, not to mention the rich literary heritage, the folklore of the country is fascinating.

Everyone has heard of leprechauns and they are synonymous with the Irish. They are portrayed as little men dressed in green, carrying a wonky walking stick and hiding their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. On my trip I decided to find out a little more about them and visited the National Leprechaun Museum. What an ear-opener.

There was a great deal more to the museum than just leprechauns; during the visit, a guide told the tourists other tales about the Sidhe (pronounced Shee), the fairies of the land. A large map - showing the country and some of the ancient place names - was used to tie together tales of adventure, great battles and betrayals. It was a veritable smorgasbord of inspiration. I even bought a book about the Sidhe from the gift shop.

I have so many story ideas from this four day trip it will keep me going for a good couple of years!
Inspiration can come in so many guises and usually when you least expect it, so be prepared to be amazed wherever you go.




Carlie M A Cullen:

Carlie M A Cullen was born in London. She grew up in Hertfordshire where she first discovered her love of books and writing. She has been an administrator and marketer all her working life and is also a professional teacher of Ballroom and Latin American dancing. Carlie has always written in some form or another, but Heart Search: Lost is her first novel.Carlie currently lives in an Essex village with her daughter.

Check out Carlie's blog HERE

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As always, please visit my website, www.TheNeverChronicles.com for updates on my upcoming YA fantasy novel, Exiled.  Writing contests, videos and other cool stuff can also be found.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Mr. Lee

There is a man who goes into work every morning with a smile on his face.  Every morning he pleasantly greets his co-workers. He is always polite and respectful, always patient when things aren't ready. 

Mr. Lee's job is not easy.  He is a flooring installer.  He installs tile, which is the most labor intensive of all the flooring products (and also the heaviest).

Mr. Lee is also one of the most skilled installers in his company. 

Mr. Lee usually works alone.

Mr. Lee is nearly 60 years old and weighs as much as my thirteen-year-old daughter. He didn't complain when, in 2009, his company told him in order to stay in business, they had to reduce his rates.  This reduction is still in effect and Mr. Lee still doesn't complain.  He is happy to be working.  His oldest son is in college -accounting.  Mr. Lee is very proud of his son.

Imagine if the American workforce was populated with more people like Mr. Lee.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Happy Birthday, Dad.

The old man would have been 66 today.

Don't worry, I'm not going into a depressing remembrance of those good old times we had together. Mostly because he would have told me to shut the (expletive) up and get over it.

Humor was the medicine he often prescribed (quite often unwittingly so) and I will share some of it with you.  As a business owner, Bob had to deal with all types of employees.  Quite often, when an employee would call out sick, Bob would reply 'Shove two aspirin up your ass and get in here!' His terse management style quickly won him the respect of his employees.

There was no filter mechanism that stopped what he was thinking from spewing out of his mouth. I recall when he attended an event I was participating in as a child I would cringe and say a quick prayer that he wouldn't embarrass me too much. He gave me a nickname when I was little.  Duck.  I don't recall its origins but I'm sure they were benign. (if you know otherwise, keep it to yourself, I enjoy believing it was a term of endearment)  Anyway, I used to wrestle and when I walked out onto the mat to face my opponent, I could hear Dad yelling 'come-on Duck or Ducky or Duck-a-duck'.  I can imagine the fear that instilled upon my opponent as we prepared to grapple.

When I was young, my father was a super-hero.  I remember he would stand right at the edge of the pool and dare us to push him in.  Nobody could, he was too strong. Shortly after that he got into the habit of wearing nothing but his skin into the pool and we all maintained our distance.  One day, he thought it would be a good idea to chase my mother into the house and up the stairs with the garden hose -apparently his attempts to throw her right into the pool had been foiled.  Mom broke her foot on the stairs and had to wear a cast for the rest of the summer.

Dad was cooking on the grill, which was positioned in front of a wooden railing in a breezeway between the house and garage.  He must have let the propane run too long before attempting to light it because when I looked over, the railing, spindles and supports were engulfed in flames. He put it out before any major structural damage occurred.

Speaking of fire,  in our area we get nests of tree-killing caterpillars.  The only way to save the trees is to cut out the nests, which attach to the branches like a spider web, and kill all the insects.  So Dad collected a nice pile of these nests on the driveway, doused them in gasoline and lit them on fire.  Things were progressing nicely when for some reason, Dad decided the fire wasn't burning quite fast enough and decided to dump more gasoline onto the already burning fire.  As a result, he caught his own leg on fire, which my brother extinguished by tackling him to the ground (a long un-satiated desire of his I'm sure) and roll him around.  A trip to the hospital followed.

I know for a fact he's congratulated at least half a dozen women for being pregnant when they weren't.  Dad had an irrigation system installed on part of his property.  Shortly after the installation crew left, Dad thought it would be a good idea to hop on his tractor and rototill up the dirt above the piping so he could plant the Kentucky blue grass he'd wanted as a yard for most of his adult life.  From across the property I could hear the rototiller blades come to a sudden stop -as if they'd been caught on a large rock.  This sound was quickly followed by even louder cursing and screaming. When I walked over to see what was happening (I never ran, for I had no desire to be the first on a disaster scene) I saw irrigation piping snaked through the rototiller blades.  Each end continued another fifteen feet or so before it had been severed.  The installation crew was back the next day.

During a summer vacation to the beach we all saw Return of the Jedi. I was a little down (as any kid would be) because my hero, Darth Vader, was dead and Dad decided to cheer me up by jumping out from the darkness and screaming.  Little did he know I was changing into my pajamas, which were around my knees at the time, so when I went to run, I fell into the door jamb -head first.  Blood was everywhere.  So, on day two of the family vacation I got a trip to the hospital, stitches and had to wear a bandage around my head like The Mummy for the rest of the week.

Good times!

Happy Birthday, Dad.


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For more inspiring pieces of writing visit MY WEBSITE
Exiled, book one of The Never Chronicles releases on June 5th! See all the latest updates, extras, videos and more right there. Including the world famous Lost Journal

Friday, January 6, 2012

Why movies of late are lame

Did you know they're making another Spider-man movie?  At first, I thought...cool, the others with Tobey Maguire were pretty cool, I wouldn't mind seeing a sequel. Then I read an article about the film and found out it is about the origins of Spider-man. Seriously?  Didn't we just cover that with...well, Spider-man in 2002?

Wait. This is called The Amazing Spider-man!  Really? Oh.  Well, that makes it better.  The Spider-man franchise isn't old, it isn't a classic and it certainly isn't time to release a re-make of a film released only ten years ago. Here is the trailer for those of you who doubt...




Hmm...it looks like they're developing the Peter Parker character a bit more but otherwise the story stays the same. Is this what Hollywood has come to?  Re-make after re-make, franchise after franchise just for the guarantee of a big payday?  Why yes, of course. It is Hollywood after all.

While Paramount broke its record earnings with 1.735 BILLION in domestic earnings, (thank you box office mojo)The total number of tickets sold in the U.S. and Canada declined 4 percent this year to 1.28 billion, marking the seventh annual drop in the last decade, according to Hollywood.com. 


Surprised? Not really. Recession to blame?  Perhaps... although many see movies as an escape from reality (hint: books are cheaper, last longer and you can read them in bed!)


The headline: Franchises to rule again in 2012 makes me want to barf. 


Why are ticket sales down?  Why are the opening weekends good but the following days and weeks see waning ticket sales?  Because the movies aren't original, enjoyable or in some cases tolerable.


I know for a fact there are good writers out there.  By simple deductive reasoning this should imply there are good screenplays out there and if we follow that line of thought there should be good movies as well. So.  Where are they?


In general, Hollywood studios are so afraid to fail that they aren't taking risks with new ideas, writers and directors any more.  Do we really need another Mission Impossible, James Bond or Bat-man?  (I have to admit, I do like the Dark Knight films)


What we REALLY don't need is another sequel to the abomination otherwise known as Transformers. Sorry, I can't stand that franchise. Could have been amazing but turned out to be junk.


Oh good...another Underworld releases in a few weeks!  Really? And then we have all the 3D re-releases from anyone and everyone grasping for dollars.


On the plus side, more and more indie films are being written and directed by people with talent who don't want to wait for the Hollywood execs to grow some cojones (sorry). Hmm...this sounds somewhat familiar doesn't it?  


The book publishing industry seems to be having the same problem right now.  The difference is, unlike Hollywood, the power is shifting away from the publishers and into the hands of the authors...well, maybe not.  More like away from the big six publishers and into the hands of Amazon. Another tale for another time.


BUT


there is hope


The Woman in Black with Dan Radcliffe looks like it could be excellent. 







We can always count on Pete Jackson with The Hobbit .





Otherwise, we will have to rely on great books coming out in 2012


psst...I know of one releasing in June!


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Visit my WEBSITE! and learn all about Exiled, book one of The Never Chronicles (releasing June 5th) What a coincidence!



Thursday, January 5, 2012

The evolution of YA: Guest post by J. Roger Greer


The Evolution of YA

by guest poster extraordinaire, J. Roger Greer



I am going to go out on a limb and guess that many of the new followers to this blog are here for the YA connection. If that is so, great, wonderful, absolutely awesome! There is nothing better than a young adult who spends time with a book, no matter how that book is delivered. Books force a person to think, to create, to interact with characters, characters that may not be like the reader. And today’s YA stuff might just lead a reader to yesterday’s YA stuff.

That would be Robinson Caruso, Little Women, The Catcher in the Rye. Yes, all of those are well written classics perfect for a young adult reader. For those who are jumping on the Vampire craze, remember that Bram Stoker became famous borrowing the vampire idea from earlier poets and novelists. As much as I hate Wikipedia, one can use it as a jumping off point for research such as this. The Vampyre is one of those earlier stories, give it a read, it is the basis for so many of the popular stuff today, and written better, in my opinion.

Vampires fuel a need within us, the need to live forever, to cheat death, keeping our youthful appearance, as well as developing superhuman powers. The perfect protagonist or antagonist for any story. One can hate the vampire for its need for blood, or be jealous of its strength and longevity. One can love the vampire for that same longevity or for its looks, as many vampires are depicted as gorgeous. But-you knew there was a but coming, didn’t you?-The vampire stories still fall back on to the tried and true literary devices that have served story tellers forever.

This is not an indictment of the new vampire stories (such as those written by Willow Cross), rather it is an act of applause, a ‘shout-out’ to those who make the old stories new again, drawing in new readers who may dig deeper and keep some of the older version alive; isn’t that what we authors want? For our words to live forever, even if we can’t?


J. Roger Greer writes for his blog Stones and words and words and stones


          

As always, 

Visit my website www.TheNeverChronicles.com for updates on my forthpublishing novel, Exiled, writing contests and other cool stuff.



Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Where am I?

I'll be honest, I haven't disclosed what's going on with my publishing process much.  I'm not sure why, really -I guess I think it isn't very interesting for an outsider.  For those thinking of publishing or just wondering what the process is like, I'll share where I am in the process.

Earlier in December, I was given a production schedule by my production manager at my publisher.   Essentially it marks the milestones all they way up until the release date.  The release date has been set to Tuesday, June 5th.

If all goes according to plan between now and then we will hit that release date -or possibly release earlier.  There is always a chance it could be pushed back.

What am I working on right now?

The copy editing team has my manuscript and is making their first pass. I expect to see it marked to hell in early February.  Then, I have to review, make changes etc. quickly.  I have three weeks max.  All while working full-time.  Ugh.

Also at the moment, I'm working with my illustrator on my chapter header illustrations.  Deadline for those is February 17th.  29 of em.

And, I'm gathering ideas/inspiration for my cover design.  I have some things in my head, plus a list of my top ten favorite YA covers I'll send off to the design team.

And, I'm finalizing a contract with a marketing firm. Hopefully I'll have it in my hands by the end of the week. 

Plus, I'm working on getting endorsements for my book -when you get someone famous to say how great your book is and put it on the back cover. I have to have all of those out by the 15th of this month. 

I had my photo-shoot for my website/PR/book shots done last week.


Monday, January 2, 2012

December short story contest sixth place entry



 The Evil

by Alex Davidson




Carolina awoke to the sound of a crack and the sensation of being hit. Bleary eyed, her eyes
strained to focus on her surroundings. Carolina, rose to her feet, stretched and felt the warmth of the sun
energize her body. “Where am I” she whispered to her father. It was then that Carolina realized her
father was no longer with her. She asked the trees if they knew where her father had gone. All knowing
yet stubborn, they ignored Carolina’s plea and stood in emotionless silence. Carolina was often told of
the land she now found herself on. Her father had told her not to venture too far away from home, for
creatures, some known, many not, lurk and will snatch her up in an instant. Wishing to recall more of her father’s stories, but also needing to seek safety, Carolina found a large, smooth sloping boulder on which she could see in all directions. She also sought to recall the incidents which led her to her current situation.

It wasn’t long before this day, when her father had told his family, passionately, about the ways
of this world, the laws she must abide, and the creatures she must avoid. Once upon a time, and perhaps
somewhere still beyond the horizon, a land of beauty and peacefulness existed. Her family could once
spend an entire year, surrounded by the gifts of the world. Many different creatures existed together, in
blissful balance. However, this is not a story about what was, this is a story about what is. Her father
explained to Carolina that gradually, slowly, and inexplicitly, the world became darker, and “The Evil”
began to appear. The Evil infected its victims with bitterness and rage. The creatures that her family
once counted as its numerous friends transformed into enemies.

At first, the infections moved slowly and go unnoticed, but slowly, inexplicitly, one creature after
another began to change. Perhaps no creature became more infected than those from the Goldspring area, known to the other creatures as Lords. In earlier times, Goldspring was another land of bounty, with endless spaces covered with all the blessings of the creators. The rage infected the Lords quickly, subtly, and without reason. No one was sure why they were infected first, what is known are the consequences.

The Evil infected the Lords of Goldspring causing them to absorb the knowledge and energy
contained in the world around them at an increasingly rapid pace. What started as a trickle, within a very short period of time, became a flood. As more energy was absorbed, sacrifices to the other areas of
Carolina’s world were made. Carolina’s father told her of the day-screamers which move through the air, devouring all that was in their path. The beautiful, yet deadly Rumblers, roamed the many trails and
paths, devouring any creatures encountered, with no remorse. Often, the Rumblers would leave their
victims for days at a time after incapacitating them, in pain, only to finish them off later. But perhaps no
threat was as grave to Carolina, her family, and friends as the Omma.

Carolina had never seen the Omma; they struck quickly, and without warning. She did not
believe in their existence until the afternoon she was out gathering food for a feast with her
mother. There was no warning, just the sound of a tree branch cracking in the distance. Carolina turned
to her mother and said “How much longer before we….” but was interrupted by the sight of her mother
who had seemingly fallen dead; the sign of the Omma evident on her body. The Omma had sheared off
her mother’s coat, and penetrated her chest, death was instant and silent. Shocked and unable to move for what seemed an eternity, Carolina was finally found by her father who did not, could not weep. He
instructed Carolina to follow him immediately, as more Omma were heard in the distance.

Upon their rapid progression out of the area, Carolina and her father found themselves
surrounded by a thick black haze, nearly impenetrable. Her father shouted “keep moving”, which she did, coughing and choking as darkness entered her body. She strained to see the cause of her suffering, but could only make out countless trees, burning from the canopy. “What hell had this become” she said, “What creature had done this and why!” As she followed her father further, she heard the unmistakable sounds of the day-screamers overhead. She continued to follow her father towards what she hoped was home, and out of this nightmare.

Startled out of her daydream, Carolina heard a familiar voice. Her father was calling to her from
a field just below the hill where she was resting. Upon reaching him, she was shocked by his condition.
Though alive, he was broken, and in a great deal of pain. “Carolina, you must get home to your siblings” her father said to which Carolina replied “it is impossible without your guidance.” “I have shown you all that I know and all that I have learned. You must help your siblings fight The Evil which infects the land.” Why was her father telling her to do this, once he healed, they could live together as a family again. “Remember to respect and adhere to the laws which bind us together, and you must inspire the Lords” he said. Abruptly, Carolinas father, looked towards one of the last remaining valleys, and slowly closed his eyes.”
Saddened, but unable to cry, Carolina thought about all she had just seen and heard. She
reconciled that her father was right, and must be a source of inspiration and change for those which seek to inflict suffering on her and others in the world for no apparent reason. Carolina would gather her siblings and begin her quest to right the wrongs of her world. With that decision, she took off, flying into the forest and calling, as Eagles do, to her family.

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You can view the best of the best...the top seven, on my website HERE

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Saturday, December 31, 2011

December Short story contest fourth place


Scarlet's Tale

by Rebekah Lawrence


She was half way home when she realised there was someone following her. The air seemed to get colder panting out of her lungs and frost was gathering on the narrow pavement which she walked upon.  Refusing to turn around to notify the footsteps that she knew they were there, she increased her pace.

It was a cold winter night in the middle of the village, subsequently no lights could be seen due to the fog; the house’s that were nearby appeared to be stretching in the distance the further she travelled. Also no one was around, that is, forgetting about the pounding heart beat behind her.

Her dark hair was escaping its bun. As Scarlet’s hand swiped to push the wavy strands behind her ear, she noticed an increase in the tempo of the heavy footsteps behind her.

Panicking Scarlet looked out the corner of her eye to catch a glimpse on the profile in an attempt to calm her nerves. Unfortunately her instincts were correct; she didn’t know the man following her. Crap.
His shining dark eyes were focused on her like a predator on its meal of the day. She was so screwed. His heavy riding boots were cascading towards her, and she knew deep down she was helpless for whatever he wanted. The tree’s screamed in the breeze as she came to a halt looking the man in the eye. She was no prey. She wasn’t going to run away like one, but instead stare him in the eyes and fight for all she was worth.

However as soon as she had stopped she noticed the boot fall had stopped meaning all she could hear was his heavy breathing and the harsh sound of nature. Maybe she wasn’t in as much danger as she thought.

Startling her further, the mysterious man bowed. He actually bowed. Scarlet couldn’t help the shocked expression on her face, but instead studied the young man who looked no more than 20, looking like he’d walked out of a 18th century novel.

His bowed head caused a tumble of colour that could only be described as rich cream, to fall over his high cheek bones and caress his strong jaw. His stern neck was camouflaged in a high necked ruffle shirt, with a contrasting dark waist coat and tailed jacked. His lean legs were wrapped in midnight coloured trousers, with the high riding boots cloaking his stern carves.

Scarlet didn’t know the man, yet she felt she did. Absurdly, she felt that she should be curtsying back. Then diving into his arms. What the hell?

Her chest compressed as she erratically gulped down more oxygen as if drowning. What is this? Why did she feel she knew this man? His eyes were so dark, drawing her in to his presence that she had to catch herself from falling at his feet. As if sensing her inner torment he closed his eyes slowly, almost looking in pain. 

 “Who are you?” She almost begged. Scarlet couldn’t handle this. She didn’t even know him yet she was contemplating throwing herself into his arms. Instead she backed off the pavement.

A deep voice that caressed her senses replied: “You know who I am, my love.” Scarlet’s eyes snapped open at the endeavorment, not even realising that the hypnotic voice had caused her instincts to fly out the window. She couldn’t put her guard down. Even if she felt safe with him for some absurd reason.
“Come with me,” he carried on, reaching out his hands to emphasis the point. Oh he had nice hands. Strong. Smooth. Sinful.

Shaking her head to try to escape the spell he had set on her, she looked upon him in fear. How could he do this to her? A total stranger, yet here she was almost agreeing to go where ever with him. She backed up further onto the road.

“My love, please. It’s time, don’t be scared. I can help! Make sure it doesn’t cause you any pain.” Pain? What was he on about? The only pain she was emitting was the sheer power she had to use to stop leaping into his arms.

When she finally found her voice after his beauty was more tamed she pled, “I don’t understand! Why do I feel I know you? WHO ARE YOU?!” When her last words echoed around the trees, she noticed another faint noise. An engine. Good, it was only a small village: she knew everyone. Someone could give her a lift away from this man who made her insane.

Scarlet stepped further into the road. She was safe; the car would take her away. Take her to the normality of her home with her average parents, average pets, and average life. Away from this extraordinary boy who made her feel dizzy in the mind.

Yet as she travelled further into the fog she noticed she saw his eyes close in expected pain. The look was so filled with longing and love she almost went back to him, but then the car hit her.

Her legs buckled. Her body somersaulted through the air. She landed with her head smacking into the pavement with an audible crack breaking through the pain in her legs and torso. Her vision blacked out.
The next thing she knew she was out of her body. Literally. She was hovering above her broken body with the handsome man shimmering next to her. Yet as she looked down at the blood and broken limbs she found she didn’t feel anything. Instead she could only feel the warmth of his hand, the flush his half smile brought her skin and the love she felt blooming in her chest.

She had died: hit by a car. But she didn’t morn her life. Instead she celebrated the joining of the man next to her. The ghost who stood by her side. Her love she lost in her previous life’s; yet gained every time she died. 


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You can view the best of the best...the top seven, on my website HERE

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Friday, December 30, 2011

December short story contest 3rd place entry

This is the third place entry for the December short story contest. An excellent concept with novel potential!



Empties


by Colby Cox




     It was my first time outside the white-painted dome, and I was immediately struck by the colors. I had heard the stories of the colors before, but I wasn’t sure whether I believed them. All I had known—all I had ever known—was black, white, and grey.
     I blink my eyes, and I notice that some of the other Hunters are doing the same. The Head,
Anton Meier, and the rest of the seasoned Hunters laugh at us for doing so—they know that they looked the exact same way when they came out here for the first time.
     The world is immensely different. Where under the dome we had skyscrapers, in the Outer
World, there are thin, dark towers that stretch to the sky and end in dome-like canopies the color of the ground. These towers stand in a large group together, stopping only for the dome that covers the White City and continuing as far as I can see. The spaces in between these towers are dark, the light from the whitish orb in the sky blocked by the vast canopies at the top of the towers.
     Anton Meier stops laughing at us and points towards the dark areas. “Well,” he says. “Let’s
roll out! Come on!”
     The lot of us walks behind Anton into the darkness. We have to step over things that have
fallen from the canopies now and then. At one point, a river, much like the artificial one that men
have built in the middle of the White City, comes up in front of us and we have to jog over to a
simple footbridge that can only handle one of us at a time.
     Anton holds up a hand, stopping us. “Michelson, come here,” he says. At the mention of my
name, I step forward, stopping slightly behind and to the right of Anton. “You can be the first
newbie to see this. Look—between those trees.”
     I look, but I see nothing at all in between the towers—trees. “What…What is it?” I ask.
“It’s an Empty. Do you see him?” he asks.
“I don’t,” I respond honestly. “What am I looking for?”
“Look for something that looks like a man, only it doesn’t move quite like one. Don’t expect
to see smooth movements—they will be slower and more rigid than what you would expect to
see from a man.”
     The other new Hunters stand far enough back that they don’t hear what we’re saying, but curiosity is obvious on each and every one of their faces.
     Suddenly, I notice movement, and I jolt. The Empty, as Meier called it, looks exactly as he
had explained it—like a man. However, you can easily understand how it got its name—the
creature seems like it has a missing piece of the puzzle—the one thing that keeps it from being
human.
“Is that what we hunt for?” I ask, confused.
“Yep,” says Anton.
“So…we’ve been eating Empties in the Mess Hall all of this time?”
     Anton laughs out loud. “No, Michelson, we don’t. It always gets me that the newbies believe
that we actually hunt for food out here.”
“Well, what are we eating, then?” I ask, annoyed and embarrassed that he is laughing at me.
     The other new Hunters look very confused; they can’t quite hear what is being said.
“It’s all manufactured in that factory by the river. Hell, I couldn’t respect myself I caught
what was made into that slop that they call food.”
     He sets his sight on the Empty and lets his arrow fly, releasing the bowstring. The arrow
sinks itself into the creature’s head, and it falls over.
     Anton Meier motions for the Hunters to follow, and we walk through the space between the
trees deeper into the woods. He explains to us that the Hunters used to hunt for food, before they had to cover the city with the dome because the Empties were multiplying too quickly. Then, the city officials ordered engineers to come up with a way to make food out of synthetic materials so that the Hunters could focus all of their efforts on the eradication of the Empties. He explains that people used to live past forty in the Outer World; that they would eat animals and plants; that they would run and lift heavy things to stay healthy and keep themselves alive longer; and that all of that changed when the dome was added.
     Soon, we come to a clearing and Anton stops us. “This is where the White City was
originally. If you will notice, the ground changed from where we have been walking. You can
see the roads and building foundations from the old city.”
     I look to the White City that we live in now. It is odd to see it like this—convex instead of
concave. It is an absolute behemoth.
“This is where we take our breaks. We always sit on this foundation for about thirty minutes
before getting another start. It’s outside of the trees, so it is much safer because we can see
everything.”
     We sit down on the hard ground, and only now that I’m sitting do I realize how badly my
calves hurt from all of this walking.
     But almost before I get a chance to rest, something on the horizon changes. It is moving,
throbbing, unnoticeable at first, like ants on an ant hill. But there is something coming up from
below the ground.
“Um, Anton,” I say, but when I look at him, I see that he is looking at the same thing as I am.
     Empties. There are at least fifty of them, outmatching the fifteen of us greatly.
“Lukas, do you know if the buildings that were over there had basements?”
“I’ve never been over there.”
“I think they did.” Anton draws his bow and, and we all do so, but the Empties are moving
much too fast. Within seconds, they overpower us.

Check out Colby's blog HERE
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Check out this story and the other top entries at my website.  HERE.