The Origin preview

Here's a small preview of the urban fantasy novel that I have been working on these past several months. Enjoy!

(warning: some strong language)

 

THE ORIGIN

PROLOGUE

The silence was absolute, a big exclamation mark over the football field.

Daniel didn’t notice the lack of noise at first as he palmed the pigskin above his head in jubilation, rejoicing in his third touchdown of the night. Eventually, the absence of cheering from the home crowd sank in. Even his teammates, who had been chest-bumping seconds before, were now all transfixed by the scene behind him.

On Being a Writing Mom

To be a writer means to be egocentric, to lock yourself in a room – or if that's not possible, in your mind – and concentrate on yourself. On your thoughts. On the prose pouring out of your fingers. You have a single-minded focus on getting that story down before it takes over your mind.

To be a mother means to be selfless, especially when your child is simply unable to function until you help seatbelt that Polly Pocket in the car. Your thoughts have to be on the welfare of your child, if she's fed, if she's staying hydrated, if her panties are wet once again. To be a mother means your time and love is at the mercy of your child.

I have to admit, I'm having a tough time reconciling the two. My child is five months shy of 3, and while she has skirted around the "terrible twos" for the most part, she is still a needy, clingy being whose favorite phrase is (and said in a cute, whiny voice), "Mommy, help!" She is no longer merely content to sit in front of the television all day, to learn her values and morals from Dora and Diego. The greedy girl actually wants to play. The audacity!

And the writer in me says, Child, just please sit down with your hands folded in your lap and let me write! But the mother in me gets up and plays, making Barbie and Ken hug repeatedly, catching that fairy ball inelegantly for maximum toddler enjoyment.

The writer in me wants to install a mute and pause button on my child, while the mother in me wants to sit and read with her all day.

Can you see my dilemma?

Yes, the nights are good. I look forward to – nay, actually relish – the moment of the day when we kiss her goodnight and lay her in bed and close that door and heave a sigh of relief. But those times, I turn into the Housekeeper, the Wife, the Reader, the Workout Fiend, and sometimes, the Writer. Sometimes the priorities change, but the dilemma remains the same: there's never enough time in the day.


This post was brought to you during the blissful, and rather infrequent, time of nap.

Multi-tasking with Music

When I'd hear of people who listen to music as they write, I used to have one of two reactions, depending on the day:

1. For reals? How do they not get distracted? I, myself, have ADD tendencies thus I need complete silence to think. I get so distracted easily, y'all! You should see me when I go shopping... forget about trying to carry on a conversation with me.

2. Seriously? Can you say pretentious? When I'd visit an author's site and see a list of the songs they write to, I'd roll my eyes. Don't ask me why, but it just irked me.

But that was all before I found that album that perfectly complemented my novel: One Republic's Dreaming Out Loud. Gosh, I know, now you're rolling your eyes. It's old and, even though it has some pretty awesome (albeit mainstream) songs, they're totally played out. As in, I think "Stop and Stare" was probably played at least once every The Hills episode.

(Not that I'm admitting I ever watched The Hills or anything...)

But the lyrics are spot on and the music sets the perfect mood. Like when I hear "Prodigal," I see one particular airport scene playing right before my eyes. In the movie adaptation of my novel (ha! One can dream!), "Mercy" will play in the trailer that focuses on the romance. A few of the songs even gave me inspiration for future scenes. You seriously can't beat that.

Don't get me wrong; I still have trouble listening to music while writing as I mostly still end up singing along and losing my entire train of thought. But I'm getting better. And I figured, it's good for me to sharpen my focus.

So, to those writers whose musical choices I previously spurned, I'm sorry I was such a snoot. I get you now. I understand. Music sets the mood.

Now I'm off to download other albums. My writing will thank you, but my iTunes account most likely will not.

The Series Downward Spiral

Why is it that most of the book series I've been reading lately have really started to go downhill?

Case in point, the Sookie Stackhouse books by Charlaine Harris. The first four were very entertaining and irreverent. There was danger, intrigue, romance, and the plucky heroine always somehow managed to stay positive despite the hardships. But then a strange thing happened: the books just became... BLAH. Almost as if Charlaine Harris just got tired of writing about Sookie but still had her contractual obligations to fulfill.

Book 10 in the series, Dead in the Family, was a hot mess. Nothing happened, no climactic moment, no exciting vampire sex even. Oh, there was the act of making love, but not the usual hot stuff we've been treated to in the past. And everyone's favorite bad boy Viking vampire, Eric Northman, was reduced to a confused, docile relationship man. What happened to the Sheriff of Area 5?  He's been whipped, is what.

And don't even get me started on JR Ward's Lover series. Sheesh.

So what is it that makes a series start to go downhill? I'm very interested because my novel is only the first of 5 novels, and I'm trying to avoid the same fate that has befallen other previously good series.

Is it because the author just lost interest?

Is it because their story is open-ended and thus they need "filler" books in order to continue with the series?

Is it because the author/editor just got complacent after the success of the first few books?

I wish I knew!

It's HERE!!!!

My friends, it has arrived! The novel, Corona by MJ Heiser (available on Amazon and Powell's) finally landed in my APO box and made it into my hot little hands.

Yes, dude, I designed that! I guess now I could say I'm published, cross that off my list, and call it good. But after reading my dear cousin's post about how it felt to see her words in print, I know simply designing a book cover isn't enough. Sure, it's fun and all that stuff, but it's not the same as seeing my own words inside.

Holding Corona in my hands made me all the more determined to free my novel out into the world. And why not? It's not a terrible story, and I at least wrote it semi-coherently. I've read novels on bestseller lists that are absolute crap, so why not my turd, eh?

So stay sane, stay hydrated, and stay tuned!

Dumb Blog, your roots are showing!

Make no mistake about it, this blog is not smart, nor is it full of information on writing and publishing. I leave those kinds of blogs to the professionals, to those who already have experience. Me? Well, I'm still trying to find an agent who will see my novel's true potential. And that's a bloody hard task.

I just hope that, one day, it will happen, and I will achieve a lifelong dream.

For now, I'm just writing in this blog about random things, like book reviews, my dreams, my day, whatever issue is plaguing my mind at that very moment. If you've come to learn about writing or publishing, I'm sorry, this site is not it. I'm no teacher. I tried to sub elementary and junior high for a while in Alaska, and it taught me a very valuable lesson that almost prevented the conception of my dear daughter, and that was, I'm no educator. I'm a writer, a designer, a workout freak, but God help you if you need me to teach you something because I can guarantee it will just end up with me crying in the corner, rocking on my heels.

Review: Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen

This is, admittedly, another book that I decided to read because of the beautiful front cover. It looks flat online, but in real life, the yellow vines are actually gold embossed and the colors are vibrant and dreamy. And it's exactly what the novel itself is like: it's beautiful and magical.

The story revolves around Josey Cirrini, a woman who has lived a sheltered life under the rule of her overbearing and demanding mother. One day, a woman appears in her closet and she is never the same again. Slowly but surely, Josey begins to change, to grow, and her world begins to finally stretch out around her.

Sarah Addison Allen's style is all Southern charm, as she describes the small town and the families that have lived within its confines for many generations. The characters are  relatable, especially the heroine who is coming into her own several years too late.

To say that this novel is, in my humble opinion, the perfect package of excellent writing and a cover to match, would be accurate. In fact, I loved it. And I would read it again.