Alptraum: Prologue
“Let’s go a little faster, baby,” the young woman called to her daughter, who had fallen behind. “I want to get home before it gets dark.” The sun had just dropping below the coal mining hills, and the sky was growing dim. Soon the park would be draped in darkness. The woman doubled back and grabbed the child’s hand, pulling her along. The little girl protested, and twisted her hand out of her mother’s grasp. The mother sighed in exasperation as the child ran ahead up the path ahead of her. “Don’t go too far,”she called when she had to squint to make out the child’s pink jacket against the bare forest lining the pathway.
The woman shivered as a gust of icy wind blew against her back. She glanced to either side of her as a strange feeling settled over her. It was a feeling she had become familiar with the last few weeks, a sudden awareness that she was being watched. Except this time she could feel a presence stalking her.
“Baby? Come back here, quickly!” She called, walking faster in pursuit of her daughter.
Suddenly the uneasy feeling was gone and the woman felt her body relax. She hesitated for a breath when a white butterfly landed on the sleeve of her black wool jacket. Butterflies in January? She wondered, watching it slowly beat its silky wings. A cold tendril of dread wound through her chest as she stared at it. She shook it off her arm and glanced up, her heart beating faster as her trepidation spread like an ache through her body. She searched frantically for her child, catching sight of her jacket and pale brown curls as she rounded a bend in the path and disappeared from the mother’s sight.
The woman broke into a run to catch up with the girl before whatever was out there with them could. “Baby?!” She called desperately, pushing herself to run faster even though she could barely distinguish the broken concrete path before her. Her heart constricted, she almost dizzy with panic.
The child’s piercing scream slashed through twilight’s silence.
“No!” The woman screamed, sprinting towards the sound. The scream broke off abruptly and the mother sobbed. She gasped for breath as terror became a crushing weight on her chest. A flash of pink caught her eye and she lunged for it.
“Mama!” The child wailed, seeing her mother drawing closer. The desperate plea turned into choked gurgle and the mother cried out. She fell to her knees at the sight of her daughter, held in the clutches of a man. He was draped in a silver cloak and held her at arm’s length, his bony fingers wrapped around her neck. Only his face was visible within the hood. His skin was a sallow shade of green, yet his eyes shone like burning emeralds. Tiny horns protruded from the top of his forehead and held the seam of the cloak from falling over his face. He smiled, and there were too many teeth, each of them sharpened to a fine point.
The child’s eyes were wide with fear, and she flailed helplessly. She groped to the air, reaching for her mother, who sobbed. “No, no, no…” She muttered wildly, tears blurring her vision as she crawled closer to the man.
“Hello, Felicia,” he spoke in her mind, his voice like gravel against rusted steel booming through her thoughts. She had heard the voice before. In her nightmares.
“She’s just a child – leave her alone!” The woman pleaded. She was shaking with fear, her voice unsteady.
“We both know it is not the child I want,” he said, his emerald glare flaring as he let her see what he wanted from her.
She gasped as an image of him bent over her limp form appeared in her mind. Her shirt was torn open to reveal her bloodied chest. His head was thrown back while white butterflies poured from his open mouth. Fear became a cold knife plunged deep in her chest. She shuddered violently as she stared into the creature’s face. Her gaze flickered to the child; she had stopped flailing and hung limply in his hand. “No!” she screamed, her fear for herself forgotten as she watched her child’s precious life slip away. “Please!” The woman wailed, “take me instead.”
The creature’s smile widened impossibly. “As you wish.”
He dropped the child and she fell to the frozen ground in a heap. The mother gasped and scrambled over to her. She laid a hand on her chest, and sighed in relief. The child’s heart beat, and she sucked in a deep breath. The mother’s tears fell on the child’s face as she leaned down to kiss her soft cheek. The child’s eyes fluttered open. She whimpered and reached for her mother.
“My poor baby.” The mother whispered, stroking her face. She picked the child up and set her on her feet. The child gripped her mother’s hands with all her tender strength. When the she saw the creature she began to cry and wrapped herself around her mother’s leg. The woman felt her heart shatter as she kneeled down to speak to her child. “Mama needs to go now. I love you so much, baby. Don’t ever forget it. You need to be a big girl and go home alone, okay? You need to go home, Tanice. Run home!“
The mother couldn’t hug her; she would never let her go. But she couldn’t ignore the creature; she could feel his impatience growing in her mind. She stood up, biting back her sobs. The child clung to her mother’s body, and with shaking hands the mother pushed her away. The child cried, tears streaming down her cherub’s cheeks, and the mother turned away. The pain ignoring her child’s pleas and fears nearly doubled her over with pain. She stepped towards the creature’s outstretched hand and paused. She looked up into his face, tears flowing freely down her own. “If I come with you, you must swear to me that she will never be touched.” She said steadily.
The creature considered her words for a moment. He nodded once. “You have my word.”
The woman glanced once more over her shoulder at the child, watching her with wide eyes, as blue as the summer sky. The woman laid her hand in the creature’s upturned palm.
The child cried for her mother and ran after her, but as the woman took the creature’s hand, she disappeared. She child stopped. Her head dropped onto her chest and she buried her tiny face in her hands. “Mama,” she cried, the agony in her plea enough to break an angel’s heart.
A single white butterfly fluttered past the child’s tear-stained face and landed on her hand.
Diminished 7 inspired: Lavigna’s P.O.V
My Diminished 7 obsession has become fairly serious. The music is just so deliciously dark. The lyrics are that irresistible fusion of romantic/tortured/wicked and Alex Crescioni’s mad vocal skills give Ville Valo a run for his money. It makes my frosty soul shiver in delight. Today I couldn’t stop playing this one song in particular…
Find them on MySpace Diminished 7
The song inspired me to revisit Shawn and Lavigna. The product is a (brief)continuation of Shawn’s story, but this time it’s switched to Lavigna’s perspective. It will be the last piece featuring Shawn and Lavigna; they keep telling me that they want their own book…
Enjoy but beware: I have opted to post now, obsess over editing later.
***
I laughed quietly at the fervor in Shawn’s voice. It was so refreshing to find a human with such a pure soul. I pictured his smooth tan face framed by sun bleached blond curls. I could still smell him, lingering on my skin. His Sunday morning sunlight scent that was comforting and somehow achingly familiar. I groaned. Crap, crap, crap! I couldn’t believe I blissed him out! I hadn’t intended to influence his emotions, but something about him made my control slip. As difficult as it was to admit, I knew that’s why his feelings for me were so strong. Nothing else would make sense. What I couldn’t quite understand was his pull on me.
Of course every vampire could put a human in trance- we never would have survived otherwise. Even today, with laws to protect humans, hunting without using some degree of compulsion was next to impossible, and usually damaging to the donor; the human mind is so very fragile. It can snap so easily under duress. Vampires could convince human minds to believe nearly anything if we so wished, but I’d never met anyone other than myself who could convince a human to feel. Joy, sorrow, lust…love. Of all the emotions, I had never played with love before. It seemed cruel to trick the heart and inevitably break it. But like all the emotions that I could create, I was sure this one would fade. And when it did, Shawn would probably hate me. He would have every right to.
My plan to get close to him had been strictly based on curiosity. The House had been been in a state of upheaval since the day Alexa walked out. Faine was like a brother to me and other than throwing all his worldly possessions around and spitting curses at everyone who resided in the House of Thorns, he had been a closed book. He confided in no one about what had happened with Alexa. I knew that more than his father’s death, his mother’s weakening health and the impending battle with Delaney, the loss of Alexa was hitting him the hardest. In all our time together I had never seen him gaze at anyone with such adoration.
Since Alexa refused to speak with me herself, I figured her best friend was the next best source of information. I wanted to persuade Shawn to reveal Alexa’s secrets. I admit, I did magnify his drunkenness in the club; I was worried he would be too loyal to Alexa to come with me. You shouldn’t have toyed with someone so untainted, I scolded myself. I had already decided by the time we got back to his apartment that I wouldn’t use compulsion, again, to uncover the truth. But it hadn’t taken long to discover that Shawn knew even less than I did. Yet I’d stayed.
What had come over me? I shook my head as if the movement would help make sense of my thoughts. There was something in the depths of his perfect cornflower blue eyes that I hadn’t ever seen in another human’s eyes: trust.
When we unveiled ourselves to the world, many of the human’s who had always longed to associate with vampires suddenly had a change of heart. Suddenly they realized just how mortal they were. And of those who still lusted after us, those with a death wish or who reveled in fear or wanted one kinky night to boast about, they were always very aware, in their heart of hearts, that we may steal their last drop of life. And they feared it, they feared us; we saw it their eyes, we tasted it in their blood.
Except for Shawn. In my life, never had someone offered himself to me and not feared me. Oh, he was afraid; he was prey to my predator, belief can only sway instinct so far, but he didn’t fear me. He didn’t flinch at my touch.
I shouldn’t have bitten him, but I couldn’t resist tasting him. I couldn’t resist the temptation, to see if he would really put his life in my hands. And he had, for better or for worse. He had simply accepted what I was. Perhaps that was the answer to my own enamored feelings; I had never tasted someone as pure as Shawn.
I felt a sudden stab of fear. Too much of a good thing almost always ended badly.
I spread me wings, pausing for a moment to savor the freedom, like finally stretching your legs after sitting bent up for too long. The velvet darkness beckoned and I sprang off the ground, cutting through the frigid spring air into midnight’s embrace. I dove over the river, determined to put distance between Shawn and I before I let myself turn back.
***
Oh no, more dressage crap?
I am pleased to announce that I’ve begun writing again. The House Of Thorns sequel now consists of 8 chapters and I now have the first chapter of the new project, which I was calling Regress, but don’t much like the name. I think for now I’ll call it…Apocolyptica.
I feel the urge to begin researching literary agents again, which means Round 3 of querying is just around the corner. Think I’ll take another look at the query letter…I hate query letters with the fiery passion of my soul.
I know you’ve been dying for a riding update, so here it goes. Monday wasn’t my day to ride, but Dundee still worked. Comprende? I was a little terrified that I would have to A) reschool everything that we’d schooled the previous few weeks, and B) try to get Dundee’s back muscles back in working order. I was being a little bit pessimistic, and the tiniest bit dramatic. In fact, other than having to work extra hard to get him off the inside left rein and to stop dropping that inside left shoulder and ducking out of the haunted corner of the arena, Tuesday was quite good. I did warm him up on the lunge line before getting on though. After about 15 minutes on the lunge his back was solid and he didn’t flinch away in the least. It would seem Dundee is cold backed.
Wednesday was absolutely awful. Total regression. He used the underside of his neck and locked his jaw and worked against me for the better part of an hour. Everything that moved in a 5 mile radius around the arena was a distraction, often requiring him to run off. I ended up taking more contact that I am comfortable with and driving him into it. It wasn’t fun or beautiful. We ended on a half decent walk/canter transition. Funnily enough, as soon as I put my kid on him and sent them out on the lunge line he transformed into ‘Dundee: Police Horse’.
Wednesday Dundee had off and I used my alloted ‘riding time’ to research some new approaches to training. I think the problem I’m running into with Dundee is lack of variation. I can only manage to hack out once a week, so 5 days a week we’re stuck in the ring. Lunging gets dull for both of us, and there’s only so many ways to be creative with one jump, one cavaletti and a handful of poles. I’ve tried in-hand work in the past and it was just a mess, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to learn. So a hunting I went for some new ideas. And ideas I found…so many methods and approaches, and most of them conflict! How’s a girl to choose? German or French. Classic, modern or Academy. Am I allowed to take certain aspects of each and combine? Ultimately I would love to learn the Nevzorov way to Haute Ecole, but I can cross that one off the list seeing as a student of the school you are forbidden to ride your horse. They see it as cruel. In many cases it’s true, but always? I’m not sold on that idea.
Anyway, I came across Bent Branderup, who is a pinnacle in the Academic Art of Riding. His work is quite beautiful and well thought out, and all about ‘the horse’ which is a nice change of pace.
Bent Branderup
In the same vein, Philippe Karl has sparked my interest. Actually, I just found out about him. To my understanding, lateral flexion is put before flexion of the poll and he teaches the French way of Légèreté. Obviously there’s more to it than that, but give me a break! I’ve known about it for 2 days.
“The founding principle of the School of Légèreté is the absolute respect of the horse. In this concept, Légèreté (French: lightness) is not a declaration of intent of a poetic or esoteric nature, but a philosophy bringing together clear, effective and measurable equestrian concepts.” – The philosophy of Légèreté
Philippe Karl: Philosophy
Then there is the modern teachers such as Ingrid Klimke and Conrad Schumacher, who are the leaders of the modern sport…
*Que me throwing my hands in the air in confusion.*
I must add though, that after reading and watching as much as humanly possible before ‘my time’ on Friday, I went into the ring with a very basic idea of how to achieve work in-hand according to Branderup’s Academy. And gosh darn it, it worked. I used reins on either side of the lunging cavesson for the ground work and managed shoulder-in, leg yield and volte in the walk, and just began the trot. It’s a tricky thing for Dundee to comprehend, this idea that he can trot as slow as I walk. To my utter astonishment, when I got on after the in-hand work, I had his back right away and he was thoroughly round. So round that sitting trot wasn’t an issue. And colour me fricking amazed, halt transitions were there after a half-halt, he sprang into canter transitions out of a walk, and stretched down into downward transitions, and when I asked for lengthened trot it was like he just uncoiled. It’s led me to think that perhaps this classic approach is perhaps not better, but simpler for Dundee to understand. That or he was just really appreciative that I let him have a day off.
Yesterday I rode out in a storm and he was a prince. So nice to know with winter approaching that I will still be able to work with some consistency rather than battling Dundee’s demons everyday.
Xenophon said it right
I realize I’ve been MIA this week, but I promise I haven’t been slacking off. Well, for the most part anyway…
To be frank, the last rejection on my partial, even though it was somewhat insightful, hit me hard. I found myself feeling rather hopeless, and circling the ‘I give up’ pity party with desolate fascination.
Instead of giving into the temptation and joining the party I did research. I found a few more potential agents, and today after receiving a good morning standard rejection letter, I sent out a couple more submissions. The constant ‘not right for me at the moment’ has forced me to start accepting the fact that, while people who read paranormal and urban fantasy(like me) can’t get enough really good vampire stories, the market is saturated with vampires, werewolves, etc. (It’s a pretty good indicator when agents specifically requests NO vampires.)
All these realizations prompted me to begin the new book. Not just outline it and do some loose research, but to actually sit down and create my protagonist, start shaping her life and start figuring out how to pull aspects of reincarnation, magic and Hinduism into a story. Even wrote the first chapter. There’s a good chance it’ll be scrapped. Not sure of my protagonist’s reactions yet…
I did learn a fun fact during research. There is a sect of Hinduism that indulges in cannibalism. Their rituals apparently entail cannibalism and alcoholism. I must add that most other Hindu sects have declared the cannibalistic Aghori non-Hindu.
The only other Canadian in Bottrop flew home to Toronto today. We went out for a couple of beers on Thursday(something she had to enjoy while she could- she has almost a year to wait until she drink legally back home). It was an amusing and slightly disconcerting evening. I felt…old. Despite how well we get along, and how many things we may have in common, I could feel the weight of my age. An older person may scoff at the statement coming from my approaching thirty self, but it’s the experiences in one’s life that make for true age. My wild and free fellow Canadian(who is sooo Canadian it hurts) may feel the difference when she returns after living abroad and gaining an entirely new perspective to life. I certainly know that 6 years submersed in a foreign culture has made it difficult for me to relate to a lot of people. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve always been socially awkward.
Due to the ever popular summer vacation, I have a horse to myself this week. Dundee is still working back up to the point he was at before the absentee farrier and the heat wave struck. Still, the difference in his self carriage now and when I started working with him in…May was it? Anyway, the difference is incredible. He used to be all downhill. His gaits were sluggish and he fell on his inside shoulder, no matter how big the circle was. Now? Balance, impulsion. Hind end tucked under and light in the front. Stretching through the back and poll, or occasionally adopting the ramener position. Just lovely. And just through simple and consistent ground work(and voice commands). I am not a patient person, and Dundee is not a ‘calm’ horse, so if we can do it without needing force, anyone can.
Opposite of my style, remember the Westfalen filly? I had the privilege of sharing an arena with owner yesterday. She was working her Haflinger on the long-line. It was the first time I saw a Chambon abused. I love Chambons and De Gogues because they encourage the horse to stretch into a long and low frame, which developes the back muscles. I way prefer them over side reins, which allow very little freedom through the back. This woman had her Chambon so short the pony was basically forced into a lower version of a rollkür. The rollkür is a highly debated topic in the dressage world. As far as opinions on this blog goes? It is the devil. It is a form of hyperflexion that compresses the cervical vertebrae of the neck. If you’re remotely interested, watch this and learn.(Turn the sound off if you don’t like One Republic) This video explain things pretty well. They forgot to mention that fact that the horse can’t breathe and the windpipe can be damaged/collapsed.
So, you can understand why my eyes bugged out of my head when the woman started demanding this horse canter on a circle so small she could reach out and touch him. Ironically, she thinks I’m the inexperienced one.
What was it Xenophon said?
“For what the horse does under compulsion, as Simon also observes, is done without understanding; and there is no beauty in it either, any more than if one should whip and spur a dancer.”
no cigar
I received a very polite, and somewhat insightful rejection on a partial this morning.
Shake it off…
I’ve been doing a lot of research lately, which is a test of my concentration. I’m working on a premise for a novel idea that I’ve been thinking about for a good 6 months. It will have roots in India, but the research itself is slow going-there is just so much to Hinduism.
RT Book Reviews has an Eternal Kiss of Darkness giveaway happening. If you’re interested…
RT Book Reviews: Jeaniene Frost giveaway!
To all her fans who haven’t yet heard: Jeaniene Frost is going in tour. Check and see if you’re lucky and close to one of her tour stops!
Eternal Kiss Of Darkness teaser!
Calling all Jeaniene Frost fans: Ms. Frost has posted the first 20% of Eternal Kiss Of Darkness. As if I wasn’t eager enough?
Eternal Kiss Of Darkness teaser
If I haven’t mentioned it before, I have a terrible memory. (Which is why I don’t recall if I mentioned it.) I had an excellent nightmare about some very scary fairies the other night, and for the life of me I cannot remember the details. I remember waking up thinking(and you know you’re a little off when you wake up in the dead of night thinking about books) but I remember thinking ‘that would be a great premise’ (for the dark faery tale I have waiting in the recesses of my mind). Maybe it’s better to let it stay there a little longer. Too many ideas and too little time makes for terrible focus.
Speaking of which, I’m supposed to be writing. Well, I guess technically I am writing…but I suppose this would be called ‘off-task’ writing. I’m eager to continue with the sequel yet I find myself procrastinating. I’m hungry- can’t write on an empty stomach. Oh, now I’m thirsty. Better get a drink. Do we have any chocolate…?
I managed to write my way well into chapter 7 of the House of Thorns sequel. I’m not sold on a title yet for it yet, so until I am I will simple refer to it as ‘the sequel.’
No new news on the agent front. The world of publishing turns slowly…
I am (still) reading Holy Smokes by Katie MacAlister. I have officially lost interest. I’ll power through just to be done with the series, but this reading feels like work. Aisling Grey seems to have lost her personality. Now that she and Drake are getting married she’s all “Oh, sweetie, I’ll do what ever you say, my big studly dragon.” Apparenty being in love requires subservience. It also seems to kill brain cells. While Aisling has always done things her own way, I used to consider her more ballsy than daft. Emphasis on ‘used to.’ Part of my lack of enthusiasm is also knowing that this is pretty much the end of the line for Aisling as the protagonist. Katie MacAlister apparently has them simmering on the back-burner, but has no current plans to continue with the series. Although, perhaps that’s a blessing in disguise. I can’t read anymore goo.
Does anybody else agree that the latest episode of True Blood ended terribly? I mean, HBO is excellent at the weekly cliffhangers, but this just seemed to end. Alcide says ‘RUN’ with his crazy wolf eyes(which looked like an Acme cartoon rather than a transitioning werewolf) and POOF. Over.
I am one episode away from finishing the last season of Dexter. The writers of this show are super genius’. I’m still a little shocked by Dexter’s revelation. My exact words were “Holy shit!” That was just…I have no words. I can only shudder. Too bad about Rudy…I used to really like him. It would appear I have terrible taste in men. What does it say about me that I’m always attracted to sociopaths?
The only two Canadians in Bottrop joined forces over ice cream yesterday. Our conversation ended up being a whole lot of eh and aboot. I think both of us were just eager to speak a slang and actually be understood. We compared stupid comments on Canada(which of course includes the classic-and frequent-igloo questions). So refreshing to speak to someone, face to face, who understands sarcasm. unfortunately, her year-long exchange is almost done and she leaves in 10 days. God, I love irony.
Good news: the water dragon has ended his hunger strike. He started eating again after I shut off all the heat lamps. What with this heat wave we’re having, I almost cremated the poor little guy alive. He’s stopped giving me the evil eye now that the terrarium has cooled down.
hotmail headache
Let me start by ranting about how furious I am with Hotmail.
I’ve had a Hotmail account since I was a teenager, it’s always irritated me how they feel the need to update its appearance. It’s pointless: all the same functions are still there, it’s all the same color scheme, except it takes twice as long to find what you need. Well, they’ve updated again and now I can’t send out a fecking email. Apparently I need to update my browser. I finally figured out how to use this one, and now I have to change? Change is good- except when it comes to computers!
Of course this would happen the day I planned to start querying. Bastards.
Okay, deep breath. Count to ten. Happy place.
As far as writing goes, I’m happy to say that I’ve finally started querying. It’s such a nerve-wracking process. The psychotic butterflies in my stomach have ten pound wings that thrash around until I hit send. They finally relent about 5 minutes later.
Most likely I won’t be posting a chapter tomorrow. It’s mostly written, but I’m just not happy with it. I think the problem is I’m in a House of Thorns frame of mind, and can’t seem to get into character. Besides, querying is first priority at the moment, and the process takes a lot longer than one might expect. Especially after taking the monstrous sadistic butterflies into account.
The weekend was pretty good, if you don’t count the fact the even in the dead of night the temperature didn’t drop below 30 degrees.
Friday I met with the farrier- a new farrier seeing as the other woman never showed up. He was…early. First time in my entire life a farrier called to see where I was. Miracles can happen.
Another bit of good news: the owner has cancelled ‘training’ session with her ‘advanced level dressage rider.’ Indefinitely. I can barely suppress my grin.
My luck has gone downhill since then. Like just now when the waffle iron fell off the shelf and bounced off the induction stove top. The element is shattered into a billion pieces and the waffle iron is broken. I know I’m a clutz. I won’t even try to deny it- but I wasn’t even in the room this time!
So before I dwell on how long it’ll take me to get to France or Ireland when all the spirits in the world bring my possessions down around my head so that I have to keep replacing them, let’s move onto something more interesting.
The Gates…anyone have any idea what the hell Leigh is? At first I thought she was a genie and her magic lamp had been stolen . But then she picked up a box with a heartbeat.
The sequel to Amber Kizer’s MERIDIAN is apparently called Wildcat Fireflies and will be released fall 2011. We won’t have to wait that long for Patricia Brigg’s next novel featuring skinwalker Mercedes Thompson. River Marked will be released in spring of 2011. The shirt with Mercy’s logo from the front cover of Iron Kissed is available to buy on Patricia Brigg’s website. For some reason, I find this exceptionally cool. If you’re interested…
Only a few more weeks until Eternal Kiss Of Darkness is released!!!
Query update: 7 sent today, 2 rejections recieved today. NA JA.
Canuck Bus
Strange things happened this afternoon. For the first time in six years, I met a fellow Canadian. On the bus of all places. An exchange student who is leaving in 2 weeks after being here 10 months. Later at the barn, the pony decided to get down and roll – for like 5 minutes. Luckily I got the kid off before she was down. Then the bus driver drove off on me when I didn’t get on fast enough and I had to wait an extra 20 minutes.
It’s hotter than the pits of hell again. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter yet. The weather forecast for Sunday is 39 degrees and rain. An intriguing combination, non?
It hasn’t escaped my notice that lately many of my posts have begun to take on a book review vibe. They aren’t full reviews with a detailed synopsis and thorough critique, but it’s enough to get an idea of the book. It wasn’t my intention to throw them in here on this completely unbiased, highly philosophical blog, especially after babbling endlessly about creating a separate review site.
Oh, who am I kidding. It was bound to happen. I can’t keep my opinion to myself, and I tend to write like I speak, without much direction or control. So while that explains why the reviews have started leaking into this blog, it doesn’t explain why Urban Ink Reviews isn’t up yet. Truth is I questioned whether trying to be published as a genre fiction writer while reviewing genre fiction was a conflict of interest, but I figure if Amber Kizer can do it and not be socially crucified, so can I. So the answer is yes, I still plan on creating a separate review site. At the moment it exists, but it’s sitting there abandoned, unpersonalized and blank. Unfortunately, due to time restraints and several projects begging to be completed and of course, my ceaseless determination to be published, it has been shoved to the back burner. If I’m ever granted the gift of time and/or energy, it’ll be the first thing I do. Until then, brief reviews will be posted here. Speaking of which – the next review to be posted will be Light My Fire by Katie MacAlister.
As for the uncompleted pieces…the sequel to House of Thorns is hot in my brain. Decided on the inscription as well. I’m actively working on Shawn and Lavigna’s piece for the 13th, and I’m playing with the idea of writing Shawn his own story. I have a few other writing endeavors under way as well, but I find my concentration on this post waning. You’ll be sure to hear all about them along the way.
In domestic news, one of my water dragons has gone on a hunger strike. I’m still trying to figure out what I did to piss him off.
And dammit, my Cadbury Mini Egg well has run dry…why is there only half a handful in each bag these days?
It’s All Tears
Well, I am happy to say that I have been a dedicated attempted/determined-momentarily-unpublished author the last few days.
House of Thorns is completely edited and reformatted. I’m not going to touch it again until I advised to by agent and/or editor. It’s a good feeling. Still waiting on a response…
Next I will tackle the problem paragraph in the new version of my query letter. Then it’s query time, baby!
I am pleased to say that I have even started working on the sequel to House of Thorns. I haven’t touched it since May, but the first 5 chapters are now there. I’m going with a different tactic with this book. I plan to bang the book out before August and THEN edit, add and deliberate over detail and word choice. Since I know my characters so well already it should be possible.
A little mood music…this song was on repeat while rewriting the end of chapter 4 and chapter 5.
nervous, who me?
It’s hot. Too hot. Like, melt my brain and watch it drip out my ears kinda hot. That was kinda morbid, huh? That’s because it’s TOO HOT!
I haven’t posted in a couple of days, but I have an excellent excuse. I received an email Tuesday afternoon from an intrigued agent. WOOHOO!!! It came as a complete surprise – I queried at this agency back in March or so. So what have I been doing? EDITING!!! I wanted the first third of the book to be perfect. It’s like a sick obsession, really. Finding the perfect word, making sure the tone and voice are the best they can be, making sure grammar is correct, and that character reactions are appropriate. Then deleting, and rewriting. And again.
But, after a serious pep tak with myself in front of the mirror, I manged to convince myself that it would be counter-productive to work on the manuscript ’til the day I die, when it will finally be ripped out of my cold, dead fingertips. So I sent it, along with the synopsis, which, after rereading it nearly three months after writing it, I realized I still like. Huge relief. If I had felt the need to obsess over it as well I probably would have had a heart attack.
I will be checking my email every 5 minutes until I hear back.
So keep your fingers, toes, eyes, legs, and whatever else you can cross, crossed. Hold your breathe. Throw salt over your left shoulder. If you know an indian dance that’ll help, then, please, get up and dance.
Love Muse…
