Necia Phoenix

Writer of Fantasy, Fantasy Romance, and whatever else strikes her fancy

This content shows Simple View


Snippage

On my way home from the grocery store I got hit with a scene that made me giggle. I thought I’d put it up here to share.

 

The door burst open and three men strode in. They all cut dashing figures, leather and steel. Swordsmen, all of them. Cassia sighed, recognizing the man in front.

“You aren’t welcome here Geoff.” Cassia said, pushing through the crowd.

“You’re going after the Arc, right?” He demanded, thumbs hooked through his sword belt.

“Well,”

“The arc belongs to my family and therefore it belongs to me. So we’re going to do things my way.” He lifted up the family crest amulet that hung around his neck. It was a griffin on a blue sea. Cassia swallowed, she hadn’t anticipated this.

“We’re going to do things your way, or no way I take it?”

Cassia, along with every eye in the tavern, turned toward the slim dark haired woman who walked, no sauntered towards Geoff. She touched Cassia’s arm winked and turned towards Geoff.

“Hello Lyr.” Geoff sounded like he might be strangling. “My way or no way. You need me to get past the Gates.”

“No,” Lyr was grinning up at him. “We need that.” She tapped the family crest. “You’re just the baggage.”

Geoff shook his head. “You’re not going to get this…”

“Oh really?” Lyr tipped her head to one side. “Pearthea.”

The one word had a huge effect on the swordsman. His shoulders sagged, the blood drained from his face and his eyes narrowed. Lyr just stood there, grinning at him, her hand out. He took off the crest and set it in her waiting hand.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” He asked, voice rough. She put the crest on, stood on her tip-toes and brush a lingering kiss on his lips.

“Nope.” She turned and grinned at Cassia. “Shall we go then?”

Cassia nodded, saluted Geoff, and followed Lyr through the chuckling crowd.

“What was this you were saying about being strong, Geoff.”

“Shut up.”

“But,”

“Just. Shut. Up.”

 

<<<>>>

 

:D  Have a great Tuesday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Moore, Ok

My dad’s side of the family is in the Oklahoma City area. Yesterday I got a frantic call from my mother, who lives SE of Tulsa, OK, informing me that a 2 mile wide tornado was on the ground and going through Moore Oklahoma. Going along a very similar path that the ’99 tornado took. My aunt is a HS teacher in Moore, and I believe my uncle teaches HS or Middle School though I could be wrong. Yesterday I spent several hours on FB, txting and making phone calls to see who had checked in, who was all right.

Everyone is alive and accounted for. Their homes are still standing.

But there are so many who were not as fortunate. I see pictures and hear of the children in the school… I had to turn off the news yesterday and all the tension and worry collaborated, and jumped me, and I went to bed early. I slept a full 12 hours.

Today I’m watching fb, seeing my relatives posts and giving encouragement. Thankful that my family, though I’m not close to them, was spared. Saddened for the families who lost members, pets, houses. And Thankful, so very thankful that my darling hubs moved us out of tornado alley.

For my midwest readers, please take precautions, have a plan of action and go over it with your family frequently in case of severe weather. Update your plan of action, make sure you have emergency supplies and rotate them to keep them fresh. Be safe.

KTUL.com – Tulsa, Oklahoma – News, Weather
According to Weather.com, there is supposed to be more severe weather today. Stay aware folks.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Oklahoma

In 2001, right before 9/11, I moved myself and small children to Oklahoma. It was a difficult move, a difficult situation and as a California girl I was in culture shock for years. Living in Tornado Alley taught me a different kind of fear. I love thunderstorms. I hate tornadoes. It was a goal to move out of Tornado Alley as quickly as I could manage. 11 years later I finally did.

Last night, though, I found myself watching weather channel updates and skimming my FB for my OK family’s check ins. I was saddened by the report that an entire neighborhood in Shawnee was wiped off the map.

And I feel justified for the decision to get the hell out of dodge.

My heart goes out to the people affected by the tornadoes  in OK, KS and the other Tornado Alley states. The weather isn’t going to be much better today, from what I’ve seen. Be safe people. Be aware. Know your escape routes, keep a weather radio on hand.

Tornado Safety page on the Weather Channel http://www.weather.com/safety/tornadoes/tornadoes-safety-before-20120330

NOAA Weather Radio web site http://www.nws.noaa.gov/nwr/

And….be safe.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Serenity

We’re having a Tolkein weekend. Watched The Hobbit yesterday, may watch the whole trilogy today. People seem to either love or hate Tolkein. I, personally love it, with all its faults and wordiness. I love the books and the movies. It doesn’t bother me that the movies are not exact and to the books. Both have their own merit. Both hold a special place in my heart. Today, go do something that makes you happy, something that gives you pleasure. Have a peaceful day.

All that is gold does not glitter.
Not all those who wander are lost.
The old that is strong does not wither.
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken.
A light from the shadows shall spring.
Renewed shall be blade that was broken.
The crownless again shall be king.
J.R.R. Tolkien 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Late Flash Fiction

It’s late. **hangs head** I’m sorry. This is a concept scene for an UF story-line which has never been much more than an idea.

 

Divine Conspiracy
(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

            It was, I decided, a bad idea to go check out the new nightclub in the Beville district. Unfortunately, I came to this conclusion AFTER I had spent several hours listening to an unknown band whose singer kept searching for, and failing to find, the right note. Their songs seemed to be about love gone bad, and ending in violent acts of necrophilia. Not exactly my cup of tea.

I was preparing to leave when the empty chair at my table was filled by a tall, heavyset blond bombshell called Big Bertha by the locals. Her real name was Theresa. She was a crack shot and if I had my choice, I’d have her at my back in a tight spot. She smiled at me and set down a thin business card.

“Having fun?” She leaned closer so I’d hear her over the whine of cheap speakers.

“Not really.”

She grinned. She knew why I wasn’t enjoying myself.

“Just give ‘em a few minutes, they’re wrapping up.” She nodded towards the stage, and we both winced when the singer hit a wrong note.

“They can’t be why this club is the buzz…”

“Nope. These guys are just opening act.”

“Opening?” I stared at the horrid mish mash of clashing fabrics and angry colors of hair and makeup. They’d been on stage since before I’d arrived. “I thought the opening acts were supposed to be short.”

“They lost track of time. The real act is Divine Conspiracy.” She leaned back in her chair.

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“You have not lived then. Trust me, you hear them and you’ll always compare every other  singer to her. They are that good. They will move you to your soul.”

I wasn’t sure I liked Theresa’s grin. I resisted looking back over my shoulder for the guy with the poker aiming for my throat. Theresa wouldn’t do me like that. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t. The band onstage finished and silence, oh that blessed beast, rang for several min as the band hustled their stuff offstage. With the lights dimmed down, it looked like a much classier place than the dingy, hole in the wall nightclub that changed names every four or five months. I heard whispers in the dark, and rustling movements as the waitresses in their slinky outfits made their way around the tables.

A single light shone down on the stage, illuminating a pale female face with blood red, luscious looking lips. The song began and my heart squeezed. There was some old time magic in the music, in her voice. It played along my spine, whispering in my fingertips. I could almost see it. The lead singer was not a exactly a great beauty, over-thin to the point of emaciated, her features too sharp, eyes wide and unnatural looking. Her voice was haunting, alluring, and it  carried through the room. I realized then, she had no microphone. I suspected she didn’t need one. I forgot to breathe until Theresa kicked my shin under the table.

“I told you.” She whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak. The words were lost in a haze of impressions, and the songs went from soft and slow, too fast and heavy, the kind of music you’d head-bang too. She got into it as much as her band did, her long dark hair flying as she, her crew, and the audience head banged merrily. My own neck ached to watch it. My years of head-banging were long over. How they managed to keep hair from catching on fire, I didn’t know.

Old time magic, it had to be. The lead singer somehow pulled off elegant and head banger and when the set was over the applause was thunderous. She smiled at the crowd, a beautiful lifting smile. She loved what she did. And the crowd loved her for it. There were shouts for more and the lead singer looked towards my table. Theresa gave a thumbs up, and the band launched into a slower song. Theresa turned back to me and tapped the card. “They’ve got old world connections I thought you’d might be interested in.”

I lifted the card and eyed Theresa. “You think this is a case for VHI*? I’m not with them anymore.”

Theresa laughed at me. “You’re a bad liar, Paul. You, and VHI, are like peanut butter and jelly. Can’t have one without the other. You call Draven, or maybe Jason, have em come down and take a listen.” Theresa stood and patted my shoulder. “And enjoy the music. It’s like a fine wine.”

I nodded, tucked the card into my pocket and leaned back in my chair. The music ended, the singer and band bowed as one. I sat up a bit as the singer stepped from the stage and walked right over to my table. She set something on the table, smiled brightly, turned and walked away, her perfume, light and flowery, lingering in the air in her wake.

It was a cd case with a hand-written insert. Divine Conspiracy written in a neat script and beneath it a list of songs.  Home recorded, probably in someone’s basement. But I was excited. I glanced up to thank her, but the stage was empty, the singer gone. I swallowed my disappointment, and looked for Theresa. I didn’t see her anywhere. She was probably backstage. I stood, laid a generous tip down for my waitress, and nodded to the bartender as I left, cd in hand.

I drove home, listening to that magic. Theresa was right. They moved my soul. I reluctantly took the cd out and turned off the truck. I could hear my house phone ringing inside. It was probably Draven needing something. Again. I sighed, and tucked the cd case into the inner pocket of my trench-coat. The music, the magic, still swirled in my head. Time to make plans.

 

<<<<>>>>

 

Hope yall enjoyed it.

 oops forgot to explain that VHI stands for Vampire Hunter’s Inc. It’s a tie in scene to my current 2 Year Novel project over on Forward Motion.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Advice on the Web

I try to be careful about giving advice on writing online. For one, though I’ve been writing since I was in elementary school and ‘serious’ writing since ohh…. ’02 I am by no means an expert. And the more I learn, the more I work on improving my own weak areas the more I’ve come to accept there is no way in hell I will EVER know it all. I get better, I work hard at trying to make the story I’m trying to tell clearer and crisper. But I still have a long way to go. I’m not where I want to be yet.

When I see people proclaiming they know the ‘right’ way to write, or the ‘best’ way to do [insert issue here] it frankly pisses me off. Why? Because if there is anything I have learned since joining online writing communities and discussions is that there in no magic pill. There’s no ONE way to do things. There are many methods of getting the story down.

I overheard/viewed a conversation on twitter by a person notorious for spouting know-it-all crap. This person told another writer that if you wanted to write a novel like a movie then study how to write out sccreenplays instead.

Say WHAT?

I had a hard time biting my tongue, I’ll admit. First of all writing a screenplay and writing a novel are two distinctly different animals. Second this know-it-all has never actually finished a short story, much less a novel. Now I don’t know about yall, but if I’ve never done something, lets say knitting (which I’ve tried but never gotten the hang of). How can I tell someone how to knit a scarf if I’ve never managed to get two straight rows without dropping a few stitches?

Bottom line, I can’t with any authority. Because I really have no fricken clue what ‘stitch two *purl three’ means (and I may have messed up THAT example, though probably proved my point right there :P )!

So how can this person, with little to no actual writing experience dare to give any kind of advice on writing fiction? This person has absolutely no credibility!

And that credibility thing is important to me.

‘Online’ gives people a platform to shout out their opinions and their thoughts on whatever subject they want. Whether or not they know what the hell they are talking about.

I am cautious about what advice I listen to. What opinions I take to heart. I have my own opinions sometimes heavily influenced by people and opinions I hold in high regard. I also try (I do fail at times, I’m far from perfect) to do my research and make sure that the person giving me advice on whatever subject they’re talking about, has the proof to back up their claims.

So I’ll give a bit of advice here, something to keep in mind when you observe and/or participate in online writer discussions, conversations & chats;

  • If someone EVER spouts off theirs is the one true way of writing/pubbing/editing, know they’re wrong, and most likely power seeking cretins. Some people get a high telling other people what to do and how to do it. And they usually don’t have the background to back it up. There are many roads leading to Rome, not any of them is the ONLY one. If something doesn’t work for you, feel free to try something else.
  • Do your research. Before you take their advice. If someone is giving out lessons/advising on any given subject make sure they know what the hell they’re talking about. As an example, I’m currently taking an online workshop called Before You Hit Send which is geared towards improving your self-editing skills. It’s been put together by Angela James who is executive editor of Carina Press, this is a gal who knows what she is talking about. She WORKS as an editor and has done it for years. I’ve heard a lot of very good things about this workshop by people who have taken the course. I did my research before I decided to invest in the workshop. Do your research, investigate whoever is giving you advice (myself included :P ) before you take the advice. It could save you a lot of frustration in the long run.
  • Take everything you hear with a grain of salt. People get emotional, when they get emotional they sometimes (ok a LOT of times) will spout off. Sometimes someone has an axe or three to grind. Keep that in mind when dealing with the interwebs. That person I mentioned earlier has a hair trigger response to what they perceive as criticism  I made a comment in one twitter chat that had nothing to do with this person, and he/she jumped to conclusions that had nothing to do with ME, and everything to do with his/her own ego, and need to be right. And I’ve seen this person do it to others. Smile, nod, and chalk it up to big fish in a little pond syndrome.
  • Follow your gut. Dudes, if you get that uneasy feeling, that maybe this person isn’t quite on the up and up, chances are you’re right. If something doesn’t feel right, if a piece of advice doesn’t work for you DON’T FOLLOW IT!
  • Keep an open mind. The loudest talker isn’t always correct. Sometimes people talk to hear themselves talk. On the other hand, sometimes the person who is talking does have a background to back up what they are trying to say. Don’t just dismiss someone because of how loud, or quiet they are. I will refer back to doing your research before taking any advice. But do keep an open mind, sometimes you’ll find something that clicks in an otherwise sea of BS.

I’ve been involved in online writer communities in one form or another for over 10 years now. I’ve seen a lot of people giving out a lot of advice, some good, some bad, some I’m still scratching my head over. Be wise, be wary, and trust thyself. You know more than you realize you do, even if you are a new writer. Be willing to learn, to try new things. Look for your fav writers online, often times they will have links to writer helping sites, blogs or they may also have their own section geared towards helping writers. Read opposing opinions to get a broader view of any given issue. And have fun, enjoy your writing, your creativity. (ok, some people write and hate it, but I have a hard time relating to that).

And now I have put off dishes and laundry for too long. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite speeches of all time:

 

 

 

* purl not pearl my knitting expert friend informed me…see? SEE?? I proved my point XD

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Onward and Upward

I finished marking up the hardcopy of The Fallen and today the plan is to start inputting the changes into the story itself. I’m hoping I can have it done before the 15th but unless life slows down (hahahaha) that will be unlikely. I’ll shoot for the 20th.

Yesterday I wrote out a bit of a scene for Crown of Bones, and while the scene in my head was very clear, the scene I wrote kinda…meh. BUT I love the characters, I love the situation, and I know when I finally tackle that story it’ll come together. **happy sigh**

I’m currently taking a workshop called Before You Hit Send put on by Angela James. A buddy of mine on twitter took it and recommended it to another buddy of mine. It just started today, and I’m uber excited about it. I think it will go a long way in helping me with my self editing. I think I’ll use E1 for this workshop. It needs to be edited before I start putting it up as a serial. I really hope I take away a lot from this workshop.

Have a ninja snip from CoB  :D

“You get into the oddest predicaments.”

Ok I’ve got mundane stuff and revision stuff to do. Have a good monday!

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Happy Mother’s Day

To All the moms (including moms of furry kids): Happy Mother’s day! It’s never easy to be on call 24/7!

To All the dads who have to work double time to be a dad AND mom too: Happy Mother’s Day; you guys have a tough road. Don’t give up!

To All the women who are not mothers: Happy Woman’s Day (Your worth is not defined by how many monkeys you have)

Have a peace-filled day.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Late Flash Fiction ~ The Stowaway

I sorta forgot about this yesterday. While writing it up this morning I realized how little I truly know about sailing ships. Which is sad as I grew up with my dad being in the NAVY. Anyways, this Flash Fiction is set in the Elemental Wars world and my betas will recognize the names of some of the characters. :D  This story takes place about 20 years or so before the beginning of E1, for those trying to keep track.

The Stowaway
(c) 2013 Necia Phoenix

The wind kicked up the sea spray over the side of the ship. Kerga leaned against the rail grinning as her ship plowed through the rough waves. She laughed. This was the life! Not ashore, stuck in a house raising that bearded man’s brats. She pushed from the rail and made her way towards the quarter deck.

“Cap’in we found a stowaway in the lower hold.” Her first mate said. Behind him, two of the sailors were dragging a struggling boy. Kerga frowned. No, that was no boy.

Overlarge blue-gray eyes stared at her from a bruised face. Her lip was swollen and split. Clothing torn. There was a gash on her forehead. She couldn’t have been much more that thirteen, or fourteen. Kerga planted fists on her hips.

“You know what I usually do with castaways?”

“Throw ‘em overboard?” The girl whispered. Kerga could see the other sailors watching the girl. Their looks weren’t entirely friendly. Or chaste. Kerga sighed. Of course it had to be a girl.

“I’m mighty tempted.”  She motioned to one of the other women sailors. Kerga’s ship was one of the few in this part of the world with a mixed crew.

“Aye?” Jules came up, golden curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Take the girl below decks. Help her clean up.”

“Aye,” Jules took the girl’s arm, eyes twinkling. “Come on, girl.”

The girl straightened, eyeing Kerga severely. “My name is Corrin.” She bowed low, Dhaul-Style. Kerga frowned. “Thank you, honorable captain.”

Kerga jerked her head and Jules nodded.

“Come on. You’re about my size, I’ve got a spare tunic.” Jules said as she dragged the girl away.

“Capin, some of the men,” Her first mate started.

“No.”

“But,”

Kerga turned, glaring at him. “We’re goin into port at Lorn, you can find streetwalkers then. For now, you’ll not lay a finger on that girl. Warn the men, anyone does, they’ll wind up visiting the deep beyond.”

“Yes Cap’in.”

 ~*~

Kerga sat at the table. The stowaway, Corrin, stood before her. Jule’s tunic was a touch too tight, and the ties had long gone missing revealing a luscious curve of breasts, marred by dark, ugly bruises. Her hair was longer than most women on the high seas kept theirs, a silky blue black, confirming Kerga’s suspicion; Corrin was from the Dhaul region. Her eyes haunted.

“Yer a long way from Dhaul, lass.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, but said nothing.

Kerga leaned forward. “I’ve got enough people on my ship, lass,”

“My name is Corrin.” She gritted out.

“Yer name is bilgewater if I say it is, understand me?”

“Are you going to throw me overboard?”

“I might yet. Why should I let you stay abord? Eatin our food, takin up our space. Should I toss you to the men?”

“Only if you want a crew of eunichs!” The girl snapped. Kerga leaned back laughing.

“They’d prolly spend less time at port!” She sobered up. “But I canna let you do that. Who gave you those pretty bruises?”

“The villagers.” Corrin’s eyes closed as she swallowed. Her voice low.

“Girl,”

“They tried to stone me.” Her voice was a bare whisper.

Kerga looked past her to Jules who was shaking her head. Stoning. An official stoning. Kerga felt her stomach twist. “Yer an elemental, aren’t ye?”

The girl’s eyes flew wide. She swallowed again and gave the barest nod. Kerga leaned back in her chair. “What element?”

“Water.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Show me.”

Jules silently handed her a bucket of water. Corrin set the bucket down, glancing up nervously.

“Girl, this ship is not the property of, nor in control by Nekar.”

The girl held out her hand, took a deep breath. Kerga watched in awe as a small bubble of water lifted out of the bucket, higher, and slowly changed shape. By the time it was floating at eye level it was in the shape of Kerga’s own ship.

“Oiy, Cap’in, there’s a beacon fire in the distance!” The first mate slammed the door open. The water-ship splashed to the floor and Kerga. The first mate clamped a hand over his mouth before saying in a muffled voice. “Sorry Cap’in.” He frowned. “Was she just…?”

“Get out. I’ll be up in a moment.”

“Aye.” The first mate just sared at Corrin. Water pooled and lifted back into the bucket. The first mate looked up with wide eyes at Kerga.

“Not a word to anyone about this.”

“Aye.” He whispered.

“Out!”

He nodded numbly and slammed the door shut.

Kerga looked down at the girl, possibilities springing to mind. “Jules, set up a bunk in my room. I’ll keep the water elemental close.”

“Aye Captain.” Jules left, her eyes still wide.

“You could be useful, girl. How old are ye?”

Corrin looked down. “Fourteen.”

“Surprised yer not married off already.”

“No one would have me.” She whispered.

“Why not?” Kerga eyed her fairly lush form. “Ye have a babe already?”

Corrin swallowed and nodded. “Me dar stole her away from me, then they tried to stone me.”

There was more, Kerga could read it in the girl’s face. An idea crossed her mind. “Can you feel when storms are rising?”

“Aye.”

“Can you stop em?”

“I’ve never tried.”

Kerga stood, wringing out the ends of her tunic. “Tell ye what, Jules will help you learn the ropes, we’re goin to Lorn next and then on up to Tyrsleth fer the winter. There’s other water elementals up in Tyrsleth and in Sandau.”

“I thought I was the last!” Corrin whispered.

Kerga laughed. “No, lass, there’re more, though the Seeress would have us believe otherwise. You prove useful while yer aboard and I might put in a good word to the Water Master.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I can.” Kerga turned her back on the girl. She stared down at the nautical maps, not seeing them, a sick babe’s wail in her ears. “Go on, girl and find Jules.”

“Thank you.”

 

###

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Fuck Cancer… just…fuck cancer.

It’s a word that fills me with dread. Brings up images of hospitals, sick and weak people, and tears. Lots of tears. In ’93 my cousin died after years of fighting Leukemia. He was 10 I believe. I wasn’t close to him. But the knowledge rattled me to my core. I was 14. When I was around 19 or so I found out my father’s mother had fought a bout of breast cancer. Early  detection saved her life. A year after that, my mother’s mother did a round of radiation therapy and removal of a tumor. In 2002 My grandfather was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer (I don’t know the actual diagnosis, or what type of cancer it was). Within six months he was gone. In 2008 I discovered a growth near my right nipple. It was removed and biopsied. Benign. But I was told I needed to watch, be careful pay attention to my body. With both my grandmothers having fought (and won) battles against breast cancer, it would not be unsurprising if I too wind up battling for my life against it.

Not today.

Not me.

But.

I have been following Jay Lake‘s blog for years. Quietly watching his battle with cancer. I comment, a hug here or there. But I don’t know the man, though my heart hurts for him and his family. His words from his latest blog sink deep:

I cannot cheat death, but I can cheat the terror of the disease a little by easing it for others.

 

Mother Hen, the dear lady fighting brain cancer as we speak, I know her. I talk to her. Almost daily. She is a fixture in my life. In the lives of so many. I adore her. Absolutely adore her. She is keeping upbeat and positive. Inspiring, it fills me with cheer, and sadness. I want her around a few more years. I want her to meet my kids.

I find myself floundering.

What do I say? What CAN I say?

{{hugs}} seems to be about it.

But it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. It never feels like it’s enough.

I just hope it will do.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Reading

I finished the Elemental Wars outlines last night and picked up Rae Carson‘s The Girl of Fire and Thorns, it was about 7:30 or so when I picked it up. 12:20 when I finished it. As I told my hubby, it’s nice to just sit back and read and not worry about the fine details of writing. I haven’t just read a book in a long time. Partially because of not having glasses partially because I was trying to wrap up certain projects and I hate reading books while I’m writing my own. I sorta want to do a review but I’m not very good at reviews tbh. But here it goes :P

Now I have a lot of reader quirks. For a long time I would avoid 1st person like the plague. And I’ve never ever cared about present tense. Never seen it done well. TBH the first paragraph of the book made me put it to one side while I wrestled with my inner ocd. It is written in first and present tense.  After a inner battle of me tying up the ocd and chucking it in the dungeon with the inner editor, I picked the book back up. And read it. And after the first page I didn’t even notice that it was present tense. I just noticed that Rae did an awesome job with this story. So awesome I lost about 4 hours and would happily do so again for this series. The characters were very vivid, the worldbuilding is fantastic. I love how she glazed over the journey sections. (I struggle with those personally :P ) I had tears in my eyes in three spots and laughed, and snickered throughout it.

I don’t want to give spoilers, but here’s the breakdown; The book is about a princess secretly wed to a king and thrust into a world of intrigue and danger. Not knowing who to turn to, who to trust, she finds herself even further from familiar as the book progresses. I love the buildup through the story, more than once I was wondering how in the heck would she get out of [spoiler]. The end was resolved nicely and unexpectedly. And when I finished it I felt like I do after eating on thanksgiving. Full and content. I think I stared at the ceiling for about 20 min just enjoying the post novel ‘ahhhhh’.

As a parent, I have absolutely no problem handing that book to my kids and saying “Read this one, you’ll love it!”

So I have book 2, The Crown of Embers, sitting here and I have a huge eyestrain headache so I’m not sure I’ll start it today or give it another day or two. I definantly want to read it soooooooon.  Book 3 is going to be out Aug 27th. I’m really looking forward to it.

If you haven’t read it yet, you’re missing out on a great story.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Monday

IT is a monday.

Boy is it a monday.

 

I have three kids home from school with the three little ones home.

Last week I knocked out outlines for Elemental Wars books 2 through 6, working on 7′s outline right now which is giving me a few problems. Having kids home isn’t helping. Last night one of the toddlers was up crying off and on all night. No fever, no booboos , just… crying. So I’m groggy. I usually do one cup of coffee in the morning a day. I’m on my third **shudders** I really don’t like the flavor.

Anyways. Time to Bring It P90X style then catch up on housework and do some cleaning in the basement. Sometimes that jogs lose all sorts of stuff writing wise.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Flash Fiction – The Shell

Ok this is weird. Just really…. yeah

 

The Shell
(c)2013 Necia Phoenix

She watches.

They’re gathered again, laughing, visiting. The bar-b-q is fired up and the beer and wine coolers are being handed out. The children run around, dirty, chalk covered, their laughter echoing through the canyons of apartments and houses. The little brown and black dog, the one with the missing eye and high pitched yap, is running around announcing to the world that he is there. They forgot about her again.

She comes out, book in hand. No one notices her. Not at first. She isn’t like them. She’s too quiet. Too withdrawn. She finds a spot, hiding in plain sight. Half hoping someone, anyone will come over and say hello. Acknowledge that they see her. Acknowledge that someone cares.

The bar-b-q goes on. The flurry of activity around her makes her heart beat faster, makes her palms sweaty. Too many bodies, too many voices. Too much noise.

Someone sees her, says hello. She looks up startled, starts to say hello back but the person flutters away before she can, a good deed done. After all they talked to her. She looks around, hopeful. But everyone is busy. Busy with their own dramas. She sighs, closes her book and goes back to her room. It’s not worth it. No one notices she’s gone.

 

She waits.

Once upon a time, the stories always start. And they end with the magical …and they lived happily ever after. But there is no ever after. No knight in shining armor to rescue her from mediocrocy. She works. Goes to school. Hopes to find someone, something that sees beyond the shell.

She wants someone to crack it. Pull it apart. Lay out the being, the rainbow that she is for all the world to see. But everyone else is waiting around, hoping for the same thing. No one bothers.

No one cares.

She begins to plan. To change. And is met with stiff resistance. She must conform to their way of doing things, even if they never bother to show they care.

 

She decides.

She is leaving. Going to another place, a fresh start, a fresh group of people. They’re angry. She’s abandoning them. She shrugs. They gave her no reason to stay. But they won’t hear that. They only hear what they want to hear.

She packs her things amidst howls of outrage and dismay. The bus leaves at 9pm. She promises to visit. Hugs them. Pets the damn dog, and walks towards the bus depot. She knows, and they know, she’s never coming back.

 

She discovers.

It is busy, day and night. The city lights, the cars, the parties, the life is almost more than she can bear. She finds places she can go, to be alone. Places she can hide from the busy and watch. And she finds she is not alone. There are others in her hiding place. Like-minded people. Rainbows in shells locked tight against society.

They are all hesitant at first. No one has bothered to care. They were not the cheerleaders. The jocks. The band members. They were the ones in the shadows, forgotten until someone needed tutoring, or a book. They are the ones society mocks.

They become family. Closer than blood can ever bring them. They know, they understand what it is like to be forgotten by the ones they want most to notice them. The shells begin to crack in big chunks.

 

She lives.

There were no letters from home. Though she sent her own. There were no phone calls, unless she made them. She got tired of not hearing back. Of not knowing. She decided to stop, see what would happen. And for a time she wondered if they would pick up the slack. But she was living. She was noticed by her new family. The ones who loved her and cared for her. She brushed aside, hid the hurt of rejection by her own flesh and blood.

She had a life to live.

And she did.

 

She remembers.

Someone asked her if she would ever go back.

No. She shakes her head. There is nothing to go back too.

They didn’t bother to find her. And she wasn’t interested in them.

She remembers too keenly, hurts too deeply.

 

She watches.
How much time passed? She’s forgotten. But the television is playing out a drama. The stars were those she’d left behind. Had she stayed it would have been her on that screen. She is tempted to call, find out for herself but her partner tells her it isn’t worth it. He takes the remote, changes the channel. Let’s watch something else, something happy.

She sits, listening to the chatter from the television, not really seeing what was on. He touches her hand and she starts to cry. Her rainbow dims, her heart broken. He holds her, saying nothing. Later than night she pens a letter, the first in years. In it she tells all, everything she couldn’t say. But it is too late. She goes to the patio and burns it.

They hadn’t cared before. She doubted they would now. She chose to live. Staring up at the sky she sighs and smiles. Her rainbow brightens, the shell is gone.

 

###

 

I have to say this is perhaps the oddest thing I’ve written. And that’s saying a lot.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Drive by post

Am in the middle of prepping a writer hidy hole in the basement downstairs and catching up on laundry. :P  I have been puttering away at ‘outlines’ for the Elemental Wars stories and have completed E2 & E3 and am *thinking* about E4. E4 is tough because of all the characters in this story I know Maen ad Vera the least. So right now I am trying to figure them out. There are things I know about them, but I don’t ‘know’ them. So the outlining has slowed while I figure out THEM.

I got a couple books from the Library. Rae Carson‘s Girl of Fire and Thorns and Crown of Embers. I’m really looking forward to reading them even if they ARE YA. I also got an old favorite David Eddings The Belgariad. I think I might take a break from the outline to get some reading in.

 

Anyways, I was supposed to post this…uhhh…. YESTERDAY and I forgot. Oops. Have a great day people!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Flash Fiction Friday – Dragons

Ok so I’m late and it’s late and I’m sleepy and this is the result. The character are from my elemental wars world. They are dragons. And I really lurve my dragons. So bear with me, this is playing.

 ©2013 Necia Phoenix

~*~

“It’s really quite simple.” He whispered in her ear, pointing towards the north. “You just jump, and change as you go.”

“But it’s so high…”

“Change, my dear, and we’ll fly!” He dove off the cliff and she screamed watching him plummet. Then something happened; the blur that was his body shimmered, went foggy and instead of the big man a huge dragon plowed through the air towards the forest. Wings snapped out at the last minute and he was gliding up and away. He circled, turning, the light glinting off his dark hide. She could see the deep, rich green and purple tones highlighted by the sunlight. She backed away, heart pounding in her chest. He landed, shimmering, changing, and then stood just feet away from her grinning like a troublesome village boy.

“That was not fair!” She said after a few moments.

“Come on Megare, you try it. It’s fun.”

“Fun?” Megare gestured towards the cliff. “Mistime it and you’d be dead right now, Stilgar!”

“I have never mistimed it!” He was grinning at her. She was tempted to throw something at him. Something very hard. Something that would draw blood. But it wasn’t right, one should never try to draw blood from one’s Dragonmaster. Doing so might result in getting assigned some very nasty chores. She had enough trouble from the man.

“Not yet!” She retorted. “I’m not gonna risk myself by mistiming a shift when fallin off the cliff.”

He just beamed at her. “Of course you wouldn’t. You haven’t got the guts.” He winked and gave a mocking bow and walked down the corridor towards the inner chambers.

Megare fumed. She hated that blasted man. She stared out over the forest. Haven’t got the guts. Echoed in her ears. She shifted, her own dragon form quite nearly as large as his, though a more ruddy dark redish brown, and launched from the cliff. She fumed, wheeling away from the Hollow, heading towards the distant lake.

She didn’t have the guts? When she led the flight against the rouges? How dare he? She snarled at a passing albatross, and let loose a fireball into the clouds. Damn him anyways. She turned, moving back towards the Hollow and the cliff, landing and shifting simultaneously. She looked down, staring at the clouds passing between the cliff and the tops of the trees. A moment’s panic could get her killed.

She glanced behind her, the passage was empty. Haven’t got the guts. She swore under her breath.

“Bloody bastard.”

She jumped, swearing, falling towards the ground. As the trees came closer she closed her eyes and shifted. She opened her eyes, spread her wings, skimming the tops of the trees before finally catching the updraft and lifted up into the sky. She let loose another fireball. Didn’t have the guts? Bah!

There was a trumpeting bellow and she glared as Stilgar dropped from a higher altitude to sail beside her. He was rumbling, amused. Arrogant bastard. Megare hissed, wheeling back towards the hollow.

She landed, shifted and stood, hands on her hips glairing as he did lazy circles in the air. He was a fine looking beast, she had to admit. Too bad he managed to jump on every single nerve. When he finally did land he stayed in dragon form, propping his huge head on his forehand and stared at her.

“Why are you angry again, Megare? You should be happy, you did it!”

“You are an ass, Stilgar!” She snarled.

“Because I challenged you? You could do it, and you knew it. I just gave you a push!” He shifted and grinned, holding out his hand. “Besides, it’s fun!”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was fighting a small grin. It was fun.

“You should see the looks on the faces of peasants when I do that at meetings and such. And the seers! Oh they have absolute fits seeing me go over the cliff.”

“And you think it’s…fun?”

“If you saw the looks on great Lord Hakaru and his lady Zie, you would find it fun too.” He wiggled his fingers. “Go again?”

She stared at his hand. Dangerous, he was dangerous. She didn’t want to find herself actually liking him. He was the Dragonmaster after all. You didn’t like the Dragonmaster, you respected him, you maybe even feared him, but like? He wiggled his fingers again, and Megare felt herself start to give in.

“Come on, it breaks the monotony of the day! Otherwise I’d be stuck in meetings listening to Habcore complaining about the humans bringing their goats too close to the Hollow again.” He batted his eyes at her.

“You don’t tell anyone.” She said stepping closer to him.

“Absolutely not.” She didn’t trust that overly sincere look.

“A secret.” She warned.

“Till the day I die.” He placed a hand over his heart dramatically.

She sighed, trying to maintain a solemn appearance and placed her hand in his. She found herself being dragged at full speed towards the cliff, barely hearing his laughter as they hurtled off the edge, she realized she was laughing too.

 

 

###

 

ok this made me giggle. I love this world!

For other Flash Fiction pieces you can check out my buddy S.E. Batt’s offering over here. And for a list of participants click over here.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Changes

I’m going to be tweaking with things on the website. While I do like this theme I want a bit of a change. So bear with me as I fiddle with stuff.

I’ve added a page/section called Serial Stories. I’m prepping a finished project for serialization, which will probably launch in May or June, I’m not sure exactly when but it’ll be near the beginning of summer.

Ohohohoh AND

I finished The Fallen!!! **does crazy dance**

That said, it’s draft 1, it’s rough and thin. Skeletal almost. It needs a good read through, scrub and expanding. But It’s going to sit for a week or three first. I have other projects I need to attack, outline and plan. I use the term outline loosely.

Outlining for me usually means listing together some scenes, and thoughts on what is going to go in the story. I use the term ‘scene listing’ and ‘outlining’ interchangeably but in all honesty it’s not really outlining, not as most people imagine it.

Anyways, time to catch up on the housework that fell behind while I was trying to finish The Fallen. 

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



An update…

I’ve been thinking and writing and thinking. I think I’ve been thinking more than writing, but yanno how it goes.

I’m nearing the homestretch of The Fallen. the ‘short’ is now past 15k and I’ve got a good 5 or 6 scenes left to write. And I always write thin, so when I edit it, if it says under 30k I’ll be surprised. I like my twisted little fallen angel story. There’s something very… morbidly funny about it (in my head).

I’ve been considering doing a serial. I’m doing some research, I need/want to read over other serials to get an idea of how to do it. I have E1, all finished, waiting for some edits. The thought struck me, perhaps I could post it as a serial, say one or two chapters a week.

I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Why? Well… Why not? I haven’t decided. I need to finish The Fallen first so I can totally focus on the Elemental Wars series.

And I need to write up a few flash fics so they’re ready to go when friday rolls around.

I’ve also been practicing drawing, taking a ‘class’ over at WetCanvas.com. I discovered something kinda cool… I CAN draw a straight line! There’s this desire, this longing to do some of my stories as a comic/manga style thing. But again I’m not quite sure how I would go about doing that, and my drawing skills are not there yet. But seriously that would be cool.

Health and Fitness stuff:

We have a zoo membership, and I went twice last week, I went on Mon and I’m considering going tomorrow again if the weather is nice. I walk the perimeter  letting the little ones enjoy themselves while I trudge up and down hills pushing a stroller with twin toddlers who each weigh about 30lbs. Along with our change in diet and doing my resistance training, I’m working hard on getting healthier. My scale broke so I’m not sure where I sit weight wise.

And now I go to rally the troops to do their chores. Have a good day folks, friday isn’t far off!

 

 


Riverofsoulsv004bn

A chase beyond the Palace walls…

Princess Chandra’s little companion dog loves to get loose at the most inopportune times. To keep him from being chained up permanently, she
chases after him and into a world of danger outside the palace walls.

Book is available at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Serenity

As we move into another week, it is a good time today to reflect on the past week. This past week was brutal for many of us. Emotional, stressful. As we go into another week, try to find the glints of silver. There is always good, even if you sometimes have to search hard to find it.

As a writer I tend to write epicish, broad, good vs evil stories. Good triumphs over evil. The princess rescues prince charming, and though they go through hell things always.get.better. I look at life the same way. Somehow, someway, things will get better. I wouldn’t be able to survive in this world without that firmly held belief.

Someone* on Facebook shared this.

There is good in this world. Don’t ever forget that.

Have a peaceful day, my dears.

 

 

*Someone who I highly respect. A man who has had a horrible year, and while he has had his tough times, one of the most remarkable things (in my opinion) about him is that while he admits his shortcomings and the pain he is going through, he is also looking forward, moving towards a future that while uncertain, he is determined to make it good. I think we can all learn from his example. Keep having hope.
Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Flash Fiction Friday

Holy crap I got one done!!!  :D  Eventually this will get packaged with The Shiny, Redshirts, and Muse Interrupted. This is a continuation of that mini-flash series;

 

Editor In Chains

©2013 Necia Phoenix

Author sat back in her chair staring at the stack of papers in front of her. Done! Finally! The project was done! She blinked rapidly, fighting a surge of tears. It was powerful, it was heartbreaking at times. It was DONE. She pushed away from the desk, still cluttered with research, notes, several decks of playing cards, and a half filled Sudoku chart. She looked around, frowning. She needed to tell someone.

“IE! Where are you?” IE, Internal Editor. The creature which both helped and hindered her writing. She frowned looking around. Where had it gotten to?

There was a muffled sound, from somewhere behind her. She blinked remembering the swift struggle and grinned.

“Oh I forgot about that.”

She made her way to a stack of plastic bins, gripped one of the handles and pulled it aside. Big blue bins full of books and possibly some plotbunnies. Author was a bit wary about going through the bins. Plotbunnies were frighteningly resilient. Even if years had gone by, give them air, a touch of water and they were as frisky and bouncy as when she’d stuffed them, squirming and fighting, into the bins. Behind the bins was a door. Padlocked, chained, with a couple of wooden beams nailed to the frame.

“You still in there IE?”

The muffled noise sounded louder but she still couldn’t quite make it out. IE would be mad. No, not mad furious. At least until she shoved the manuscript into its hands. Then it would do what it did best. Shred it. She suppressed a shudder. It had to be done, to get it ready for the grand sendoff, but still…

She picked up the crowbar hanging next to the door and began prying the beams from across the doorway. It took time, more time than she thought it should have. She fumbled for her keys to unlock the several padlocks. One dropped to the ground with a clatter, the chain made an odd swishing noise as it too dropping in a pile to the floor. She got to the final lock turned it and pulled the door open.

The trunk was sitting in the middle of a cold room, damp and lightless. It moved every now and then, the lid rattling as IE pushed it from inside.

“How you doing in there?”

“MMMMmmmmfffff!”

“You shouldn’t be so angry, you deserved to be put in there.” Author said, kneeling down and fiddled with the combination lock.

“MMph? MMmmmPH!”

Author shook her head. How could someone so bound put so much meaning into mmmph?

“MMMMmmmmph!”

“Oh stop it.” Author muttered, letting the first padlock drop. The lid rattled violently. “You weren’t letting me finish my book, you know. Every little thing, every little word, you wanted me to agonize over it. Our cast isn’t going to live that long, you know. I had two redshirts die of old age waiting for you to make up your mind about that one scene. Old age!” She opened the lid, looking down at the bound and gagged IE who was glaring daggers out of its eyes. “Who has ever heard of a Redshirt dying of old age? I had to finish it.”

“Mmmph. Mmph.”

“Of course it’s not perfect, that’s what editing is for. But I’ll never be able to edit it if you don’t shut up and let me finish it!” She untied IE and helped it out of the trunk. It tore off the gag and glared.

“It probably sucks, you know. It’ll be riddled with problems, plot-holes and…”

“Well now that it is done you can go over it and red-pen it.” She stood up and motioned the open door. “But I have other projects to work on, you are going to cooperate this time. You got that?”

IE glared at her, not saying anything.

“Okay. You want to get back into the box?” Author lifted up the gag. “I can put you back.”

“No.”

“Then agree.” Author crouched, eye to eye with IE. “I am the boss. It is MY story and you are a figment of my imagination. Either behave or you’ll be boxed and replaced.” She pointed to the bricked up wall in the back of the room. “Like that one was.”

IE’s nose flared but it nodded. “Fine.”

Author handed IE the red crayon. “The manuscript is sitting on the desk, all ready for your inspection.”

IE nodded, toddled out of the room, muttering under its breath. Author heard a muffled whimper behind her and glanced towards the bricked up door. She shrugged, turned, and walked from the room. That one wouldn’t let her get beyond the opening sentence. And it wouldn’t listen when she told it to knock it off.

She took a deep breath, it was time to find Muse. Author frowned. Muse had been awfully quiet. Her office would be packed to the brim with plotbunnies.

She closed the door, glanced towards the desk, and IE who was hunched over with the manuscript. She grinned. IE would be busy for a bit, she could start the selection process for the next project. She chuckled under her breath. Chaining the Internal Editor up while finishing the project had been the best idea she’d ever had. Now to talk with Muse about the next manuscript! She skipped down the hallway towards Muse’s station, dodging a couple dark blue plotbunnies. Yes, life was certainly looking up!

 

~*~

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :D

For other Flash Fiction pieces you can check out my buddy S.E. Batt’s offering over here. Or Lazette Gifford’s piece over here. And for a list of participants click over here.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



On the heels of some aggravating news I went offline/turned off social media last night and played Don’t Starve for about 4 hours. I ran some errands today and on sitting down to see what I missed, I see things have yet again… Lots of stuff happening.

A writer I have followed for some time, Jodi Meadows author of YA books Incarnate and Asunder posted this on her tumblr and it really sums it up well: What I feel like doing today.

A friend, S.E. Batt linked me to this

Boston folks, I’m thinking of you guys. {{{hugs}}}

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Boston, my heart goes out to you

I was going to write up a post about the trip the kids and I took to the zoo this morning.

Instead, I find myself overloaded with information about a possible bombing in Boston.

Friends in Boston, I’m thinking of you folks. Thanks for checking in. {{{hugs}}} to everyone involved.

Watching the video of the marathon, that moment when the explosions happened… you know what stands out to me. The men and women who ran TOWARDS the explosion center. The people who first rushed to help the people who were injured.

Thank you. You are appreciated.

 

DSCN0081

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



New Release – River of Souls

I now have a new short story out. River of Souls appeared in the 2012 Forward Motion Anthology and is now out as a single short for $1.49.

Riverofsoulsv004bn

A chase beyond the Palace walls…

Princess Chandra’s little companion dog loves to get loose at the most inopportune times. To keep him from being chained up permanently, she
chases after him and into a world of danger outside the palace walls.

Book is available at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Kobo

This short story is a part of the Avaria series and has a cameo by a character in the Zander books (though Zander himself doesn’t show up). This is kinda a big deal for me, though. This is an Avarian story. Timewise it takes place years after the events in Bastard Prince, and is sorta an in between story. Hope you enjoy it.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Nook Press.

I have been fairly busy. Kids, stuff, it’s all nutty here. Then with Mother Hen’s situation, I haven’t been paying attention much to things happening in the writing communities. So I got sent an update on a post Holly Lisle made voicing teh evil of the contract pubit/nookpress was offering.

Her post on it is over here. As I am no expert on contracts and haven’t actually had the opportunity to read said contract I’ll make no comments.

On going over to pubit, a little flash notice popped up telling me about this wonderful new platform they’re preparing to launch. The official Press release is here, the notice they gave is here;

With NOOK Press, you can write, edit, format, and publish your manuscript all in one place, collaborate with friends and editors, and get your questions answered quickly by our live chat support staff—all at no cost. It’s easy and improved and offers the same great terms as PubIt!.

While you can continue to use PubIt! for the time being, we will be phasing out the platform in the months to come. Sign up for a NOOK Press account and include your PubIt! login details to easily sync your account, title, and sales information over.

 

I can see this now, n00bs and naive writers are going to upload their only copy of their work and something is going to go wrong, B&N goes under and all those authors are left wringing their hands and wailing over their lost words.

But yanno, copy and paste works well. ;)  What bothers me, what really sets my teeth on edge and makes me want to do a complete two year old tantrum. Silly as it may be… when a company tells me that they’re going to be phasing out the pubit site and I have no choice but to jump ship… well you should have seen the letter I sent Photobucket when they forced their stupid crappy platform on their users. -.-

Perhaps its a leftover from the teenage rebellious years, maybe it’s because B&N hasn’t really been worth my time. But other things have come to light in talking with several writing buddies.

A friend of mine pointed out that there is no way to update your files on the nook press site. I haven’t gone over there yet to verify this, but I don’t doubt her. When it comes to epubbing, she knows her stuff.

She also had another problem  with it, which is slipping my mind.

The Passive Voice has two posts up about it here and here. The second link is a post on stats Nook had touted in their press release. The comments are interesting, people sharing how their sales have dropped off over the past few months. Worth reading.

Holly Lisle posted another post on changes made to the contract over here.

She suggest printing out the contract and going over it. I think if you’re not already doing that you’re asking for trouble as a writer and as a business person. If you don’t have a hardcopy of your contracts with various distributors, and you’re not familiar with what is IN those contracts, you’re going to find yourself in a very bad situation. It’s common sense.

Now the new Nook Press site is over here in case you wanted to take a gander at it. I’m planning on taking a look over the contracts and refresh my memory on Smashwords, Amazon and Kobo’s contracts just so that I’m up to date with what is IN them.

So what are MY thoughts?

  1. I would love to see Kristine Rusch do a post on it. I know she’s busy, but her insight would be very nice to see.
  2. As I haven’t read the contract I won’t comment on it. I do have concerns but I need to read the actual contract before I voice those.
  3. I am sitting here waiting for my new release to go live at Pubit. I have a post ready to go, but without the Barnes and Noble link. I uploaded it last night. Smashwords, even with their meatgrinder didn’t take as long as this has taken. Amazon went live shortly before 3am when I went to bed. Kobo went live shortly before Amazon. **taps pubit** helloooo??? What’s the hold-up bub?
  4. If I can’t upload/update my work, as many in the comments section of PG’s posts stated, I really don’t see that that is a good idea. No matter how many times a person goes over it, you’re going to see errors. I’m unimpressed
  5. Someone in the PG post’s comments mentioned the site isn’t working right and that it shouldn’t have been rolled out just yet. the word Beta comes to mind.
  6.  In two years of epubbing I’ve made exactly 3 sales through B&N. THREE. I’ve been considering dropping B&N completely. Is it worth my time? 3 sales in 24 months. hmm… I think for now I’ll stay. At least until they try to force me to switch over. then **shrugs** I have better things to do that wait for them to get their thumbs out of their asses and put my stuff Live.

 

I think it’s something to approach cautiously, and go with your gut and know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.

 

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Serenity

So much of life is attitude and how you face each new day. If you have a sour outlook , chances are you’re going to have a bad day. It you look for the good things in life, for the silver lining if you will, chances are your day will be better because of your perspective.

My dear friend, as she is faced with a terminal illness, is cheerful and positive. She knows what she’s facing. And she is going to have days which are going to be difficult, and hard. But she stated ‘I will enjoy every day.’

I will enjoy every day.

What a lesson we can take from that. How often in our day to day, just faced with the busy that is modern life, do we adopt a poor outlook on life. I challenge you all, look for the silver lining, try to find the good things that are happening all around us. Today, take a moment to look up at the sky see the clouds (here it is bright and sunny) look for flowers, for beauty. Take a walk, look for little birds  and squirrels and lizards. Find beauty even in the concrete jungles.

Take it in, whatever you’re going through, find something that makes you smile. And have a song, one that I’ve had running through my head all morning long…

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Update on a Friend

Ok so the lady who had brain surgery to remove a tumor has survived the operation, has been sent home, but has some very, very bad news. It is called Gilioblastoma multiforme and is the worst (iirc) form of brain cancer a person can get. And if that’s not bad enough, there’s more bad news. As the wiki article states;

Median survival with standard-of-care radiation and chemotherapy with temozolomide is 15 months. Median survival without treatment is 4½ months.

 

The family has no insurance. They fall in the cracks, making too much for state aide, not enough to be able to afford their own insurance, and she’s not old enough for medicare to kick in. While they have found assistance for the chemotherapy, they have not been able to find assistance for the radiation therapy and without the radiation therapy, the chemo won’t do any good.

Here is the blog post from my dear friend, and mentor J.A. Marlow on The Mother Hen “String Weaver” Project which lays it all out on the table. This is a rough time for them. I know things are rough for all of us, but this…this is just… Please share this, lets give dear Mother Hen a chance to live a bit longer than the grim estimates.

The fundraiser over here: Help for Mother Hen, to try to pull together the money for the radiation therapy. Or go over to Star Catcher Publishing and maybe purchase one of J.A. Marlow’s books (The Salmon Run series is GREAT!). Or just link to it, spread the word.

I’m scrambling to try to come up with other fundraising ideas to help out. To be honest, when I think of Mother Hen…damnit she reminds me so much of my own mom (even to the RV and artist thing) that it just brings me to tears.

Keep them in your thoughts and prayers at the very least. Thanks.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday thoughts

I learned this past week that a dear friend’s mother was found to have a large tumor on her brain. In a matter of just hours their lives were turned upside down as they rushed her to a hos to do an emergency operation to remove the tumor. Friday night a surgery that was sposed to take 4-5 hours actually only took about an hour and a half (If I remember correctly) and the dear lady has been improving wonderfully. It looks as though she’ll be sent home soon.

There are other details I’m not at liberty to discuss but do have a request, please keep their family in your thoughts, prayers, whatever you do. They can use all the good positive energy you all can muster.

 

And that thought leads me to this one; Things change so fast, in the blink of an eye everything just changes. 

Take the time to let those you love know that you do love and care for them. Because you never know when you’ll be faced with riding shotgun through the night taking your mom to a hospital to have a tumor removed off the front right lobe, not knowing how things will go.

{{hugs & snugs}} MH, FR, DC. Our thoughts and prayers going out to you.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Busy busy – checking in real quick

It is the season for running around like a crazy person. More than usual.

  • New computer to replace the old one
  • New working gas range
  • allergies kicking in
  • running errands like crazy

 

I haven’t had the time to sit and think, write, any of that, really. Tomorrow is an appointment for one of the monkeys then…I think I should be able to veg out for the weekend. I think.

Unless there’s something I missed.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



The right music, the right seating, wow what a difference!

I rearranged where the desktop-that-was-once-a-laptop was, tossed in the soundtracks for the Transformers movies and managed to kick out over 2k of words, in just under 2 hours. So in celebration of that sudden upchucking of words, I have a snip for you. More Fallen stuff. Very rough, it needs more emotion and description, so on and so forth, you know first draft stuff, but overall, I really like this story!

To set the scene; Alyssa aka Wanderer is talking with a fallen angel known as Anuk about her encounter with Fallen.

~*~

“Do you have something to say, Wanderer, if that is what you are calling yourself these days. Or are you going to stand around and stare.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you.” She nibbled on her lower lip but stepped inside. “I had a couple questions, if you have the time.”

He set his tools down, wiped his hands on the thick leather apron and looked at her. His eyes going immediately to the tear-drop gem. He looked up at her, eyes wide.

“You have met one of my kind.” He pointed, stepping over and lifted the gem up in the light. “This is old. Very old. You know what they call them? Heaven’s Tears.”

“Anuk, do you know what the dome does?”

“No. The ones in charge of that are very secretive, they’re the first brood.” He let go of the jewel and stared at her hard.

“What does that mean? The first brood.”

“The first of the heavenly hosts. They were the experiments, with form and power.” He rubbed his eyes. “Who was it you met on your travels? Who gave you that.”

“He called himself Fallen.”

“A fallen, yes but,”

“Not A fallen, The Fallen.”

Anuk shook his head slowly. “Oh. Oh that’s, you gained his favor.” He pointed to the gem. “Understand this is a precious gift.”

“Who is he? Why would he have given this to me?”

Anuk shook his head. “I only know rumors, Wanderer. Just rumors.”

“I’m going to be gone for good tomorrow, I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Anuk looked towards the door and nodded. “I only met The Fallen once, before he fell. He was a messenger, and a warrior for the Father. He spent some time, many generations, in a cold, northern area, I don’t recall what it was called. He returned to the Great City much changed. It was whispered he’d loved a mortal woman, who died. He and eight of his broodmates went to the Father in a closed meeting. I was in southern lands, when I heard that the entire first rank, the first nine the Mother bore, had fallen, together, and The Fallen had had his name struck from eternity.”

“Together?”

“It was a precursor for what was to come.”

“The war in Heaven?” Alyssa could barely breathe.

“Aye. But the first rank was different. They fell with the Father’s blessing.” Anuk rubbed the back of his neck.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I was doing my own bit of, disruption.” He shrugged. “Fallen was widely respected, before the fall. Even afterwards he was, welcome in some of the greater floating cities. After mankind’s collapse, I fell, and I lost track of what others were up to. Where did you encounter him?”

Alyssa looked down at the Heaven’s Tear, trying to imagine what it would have been like to live to see so much. “In the city. Defending the dome.” She looked up at Anuk. “He spared my life. Showed me inside the dome and bid me to share what I saw with the elders.”

“And what did you see?” Anuk’s voice was hushed.

She fought the sudden onrush of tears. “Birds. Grass. Fresh water. Life.”

Anuk pointed at the jewel. “We see things far differently than the mortals. The oldest of us has tasted time’s bitter edge and knows how fleeting a mortal’s life can be. You are important to him.”

“I knew him for just a few days…”

“He saw something in you he wanted to protect. Ever the warrior, ever the guardian, no matter that he fell, it is his nature.” Anuk lifted the Tear again. “The Heaven’s Tears were given to us by the mother when we departed her loving home.” He pulled a heavy looking chain out of his tunic. Very similar, though a dark red dusky color, his Tear stood brightly against the dirty tunic. “It is precious to us. To all of the Heavenly Hosts.” He tucked it back inside his tunic. “If he gave that to you, he treasures you.”

###

Good night my darlings. I hope you enjoyed that snip.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Just checking in

I’ve got some sort of respiratory thing again, sorry I missed the sunday serenity post. Just not feeling well.

IT will pass. It always does.

So it’s a monday, I lost my voice, and I’m trying to force myself to take it easy.

This week’s agenda;

Get back to my workouts – kinda fell off the wagon (again) when I started getting sick and dealing with sick kids.
Finish the Angel story – seriously this should be done already.
I would like to finish the Inside the Author’s Mind series of shorts, there are three more I want to write then I can get to formatting, new cover and have them ready for release. In Sept I plan on packaging all of them into a collection, but I need to finish them first! 3 little shorts, probably less than 3k each.

I’ve been debating posting the release schedule I worked up, however some changes to RL stuff means I need to rework it. But here are two things I’m positive are on the board;

The Fallen – post apocalyptic fallen angel thing – Late May, early June
Inside The Author’s Mind Collection – Six stories of what it is like to be a character/story element. There are three out right now, I need to write the other two – September

There are more plans but right now a lot of that hinges on RL stuff and the fact I AM on vacation.

Hope you all have a good week. Will try to update again thurs or friday depending on life stuff.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sick dreams

I woke congested this morning and running a fever and two kids missed their busses. So while hubs ran them to school, the younger 3 and I snuggled watching that mousy fellow on tv in his clubhouse. I dozed and had the most godawful blip of a dream incorporating the mouse and his friend’s theme song and the cast of a new show on SyFy called Deep South Paranormal, which a friend of mind shared the youtube vid the other night;

 

Yes, these guys singing to;

My brain is weird.

To put it mildly.

So today as I am trying not to die from this stupid cold, I’ll try to finish out the Fallen Angel thing, maybe play with zander a bit and write down the scene notes for E7.

OR I might imagine I’m going to do all this and actually sleep off and on all day.

I think with a little bit o rest and some decongestant I might even feel human some time today.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Angel snippage

Wrote this this afternoon/evening/night and thought I’d share. Yes words are still flowing, and I’m still trying to finish this thing.

~*~

“You have become the recluse they always accused you of being.” The archangel stood, blocking the exit to the subway, pale wings spread wide.

“Hello Raphael.” Fallen pushed past him, hoping the archangel would follow him instead of going further into the subway. Not even the greater hosts of Heaven knew about the Life Force.

“What are you doing here, Fallen?” Raphael followed, almost running to catch up. Fallen glanced his way. The ‘younger’ archangel was of a later brood. Blond instead of white hair, blue eyes that pierced through the hearts and souls of mortals, instead of the pale gray from the earlier broods.

“My duty.”

“There are rumors going around.”

“What sort?” Fallen didn’t care, rumors always abounded in the greater cities of the sky.

“They say you saved a mortal who was trying to destroy the dome.”

Fallen forced himself to keep walking. “Who said?”

“Some of the cherubim.”

Fallen glanced towards the shadows. He felt the underlings and the reavers attentive. They would find the sneaky little arrow totting bastards and take care of them. Cherubim were like imps of hell. Thousands, spawned by the great mothers hidden in the floating cities. He turned on Raphael who took several steps backwards hands out.

“Fallen…” he began.

“You were told to keep those shit eaters out of my territory.” Fallen growled.

“I never sent them here. Gabriel did.” Raphael clamped a hand on Fallen’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have sent them in.”

Fallen snorted. “What interest does Gabriel have in me?”

“There are odd happenings going on in the city.” Raphael glanced upwards and let his hand drop. “The father, the son, and the Dark angel have been busy with a game.”

“Game?” Fallen blinked.

“Old mortal board game, buying and selling with bits of plastic. They started about a century ago and are still playing. Listen, there is something happening, apathy fills the great cities.” Raphael looked down, not meeting Fallen’s eyes. “Some say tis better to take control while the father is not paying attention.”

Fallen stared. Schism?

“They feel the First Rank would interfere.”

“Why? I have not been to the Great City since…”

“You are, and we became because you fell.” Raphael looked up at the city again. “I must go. Guard yourself a bit closer than you have. Your life may depend on it.”

###

 

And I’m not sure how this will tie into everything else, but as always it all just got complicated. mwahahaha!!!!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



The value of silly

Simon Batt, a fellow self pubber and dear friend of mine, has a tendency to come up with the most absurd, the silliest and yet brilliant ideas for stories. I find myself looking forward to chatting with him, because we (myself and other chatters) never know exactly what will get him going. His outlook is so refreshing in this age of dark, morbid negativity.

You might want to check out some of his titles, (no he doesn’t know I’m telling you all this :D ) and for a taste of his writing style check out his Flash Fiction Friday.

Smiling is good, absurdity is fun. It’s refreshing. And in honor of Absurd Sat, I present

Googly Eye Art!!!

2013-03-16 10.29.06

 

Have a wonderfully absurd Saturday!!!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Serenity

I bought this flowering plant the other day, and the lady asked if I wanted to put it in a bag. I told her it would be undignified for the plant to be in a bag. The cashier just looked at me. I could hardly believe I said it outloud. I think I was channeling my grandmother.

 

I think I may have a few issues :P

This is the plant. I mean, can you imagine being put in a bag? 

2013-03-09 17.28.37Be kind to one another, and go water your houseplants (If you have any).

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



That wasn’t how I planned my week…

you see it kinda started ok, some goodness happening… then…

 

well I’ll let the picture show you;

 

2013-03-04 19.36.30

 

That is my laptop screen. That is what happens when unexpected company shows up and I just close the screen, with mouse and keyboard on the unusable keyboard, and tuck it under the black chair beside my recliner. That is what happens when a 2 yr old decides to then use it as a step-stool.

This happened tues. Hubs and I discussed it. The plan is in the works to get a new laptop. But I’ve also sorta been wanting a tablet.

 

So hubs gave me the go ahead and I got one. Mainly for the multi-platform e-book readers. It’s easier to test across the board on the tablet than having to juggle three different readers.

That’s my story and I’m stickin to it :P

it’s a samsung galaxy tab 2. I lurves it.

:D

So right now I’ve got an external monitor, an external mouse and an external keyboard. I am going to be getting a new laptop here eventually, hopefully soon, but for now… it is the dtwal (Desktop-that-was-a-laptop)

Now to bed to get myself enough sleep for tomorrow. *waves**

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Ranty McRanty-pants

I will start by saying this is a rant, brought on by one too many people shoving the idea that if you don’t want to be published you’re not a ‘real’ writer.  I’ve heard it in multiple places, from multiple know-it-all asses.

I call bullshit on that.

BULLSHIT!!!

Do you write blog posts, journals? Private journals? Stories that are your precious, secret things that you just can’t bear anyone seeing? Poetry? Songs? Limericks? Guess what? You’re a writer.

That’s right. You are a writer. Do you know why? Because you write. It’s just that simple.

Repeat after me; if you write, no matter what your ultimate goals are FOR that writing, you’re a writer. If you have trouble remembering it, scribble it on a post-it note and put it on your mirror, tattoo it backwards on your forehead. If you write, you’re a writer. Period. And don’t believe anyone who says otherwise.

Got it?

Let it sink in and we’ll move on to the next issue that has completely, 100% pissed me right the hell off.

**takes a deep breath**

There is this idea that if you need emotional support as a writer you shouldn’t be writing. This idea is so asinine, so blatantly stupid that it makes my head hurt. I’ve seen it often, usually spouted by someone who doesn’t have a real strong grip on reality and human interactions. Sadly I see it spouted on social media where gullible new writers could and do stumble on it.

You see as a writer we communicate with each other. Often for emotional kickback. I tell someone I’m not well, I get hugs. I get the emotional kick that someone gives a damn about me, and though I still might feel ill, I emotionally feel better knowing that someone cares. Humans communicate and often it is laced with emotion. When I write, or read, I am going on an emotional journey.

I am, last I checked, human. Humans are social animals. Most of us want to be around, or in contact with other humans on some level or another. It is how we are put together. I remember in Stephen King’s The Stand, the character Glen(I think), talked about how people after catastrophe would gather together in groups. It always stood out to me, because it rings true. Many people want to be around people.

We want to share experiences, we want to be acknowledged. When a friend got a rejection letter on a project, myself and others rallied around her, gave her ehugs and encouragement. When another friend lost someone in his family, again there was emotional support for him. It’s the human thing to do. It’s natural. It’s good.

Writers often write about people, people who catch our imagination. We are moved emotionally in one way or another towards characters. Ever seen UP? The first 15 min is almost exclusively without words, yet it is a poignant and emotional journey. I have not met anyone yet who has not shed a tear while watching that part.

We, as writers, have an obligation I guess you could say, to give the reader an emotional connection with the characters. I read Neil Gaiman’s Neverware, not for the main character (he annoyed the shit out of me) but because I wanted to know what happened to a minor/sidekick character. I was emotionally caught up in HER story (I would LOVE to see a sequel, because there were a lot of unanswered questions about her).

Having an emotional support group as a writer, can be a GREAT THING. Being able to interact with other writers often gives a writer an opportunity for learning, growing, and expanding as a person and as a writer. I’ll admit, not everyone needs it, not everyone desires it, that’s OKAY. I’m not saying you HAVE to find an emotional support group. But to spout off that if you DO feel you need it, that you shouldn’t be in the writing business, is arrogant and self-defeating. Spouting it on a social network platform; facebook, livejournal, blogger, twitter or any of those… well it makes me wonder about a person’s IQ.

Every person, every writer is on their own journey. And with writing there is no ONE WAY to do it. Just because MY way isn’t YOUR way doesn’t mean I’m better than you, or that you are better than me, it means we work in different ways. But I WILL object to you spouting off that YOUR way is the BEST and ONLY way and acting like you know it all. You don’t. I don’t. I’ve heard authors, who have been in this business for DECADES, talking about learning new things. You should never stop learning as a writer.

If you’re naïve enough to believe you know it all, I think you’re going to be in for a huge shock. I worry about the new writers who come so full of hope and dreams only to be crushed under the wave of arrogant ‘advice’ out there by people who don’t have a fucking clue what the hell they are doing let alone telling OTHER people how to do it too. I’ve seen too many new writers get jaded and overwhelmed by that sort of ‘advice’.

Go write, whatever it is that moves you, that you feel pulled to write. You’re a writer. No matter how many shoulders you need to lean on, or how few. No matter if you want to get published traditionally, self publish or a hybrid of the two, or keep your writing to yourself in a secret drawer. You are a writer. And don’t let anyone, ANYONE convince you otherwise.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Saturday Silly

Someone in chat was wanting something to lighten her mood the other night and I found a few songs that I first heard years ago when searching for something for the kids to watch. My kids have ‘outgrown’ it, but every now and then I will watch the youtubes, hum along and giggle at the thought of a grown woman listening to veggie tales;

 

So have some smiles, sing along, be happy, be silly. Life is too short to not smile.

If I can get some focus (and stop youtubing) I’ll try to finish the fallen angel thing. OHohohoh, some of you may have seen this from my linking to it on twitter, but I’ll share it here again;

Cover mockup of The Fallen;

Photobucket

I am by no means done with this cover, I want to fiddle with the colors, the text, the font…but overall I love this.

Picture  © Dusan Kostic | Dreamstime.com this guy has some truly AMAZING artwork.
Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



It’s SNOWING!!

Again.

2013-02-21 08.06.02

 

 

I know that a lot of folks think I am crazy. And they’d probably be right, but I love this weather. I love seeing the snow falling. Don’t worry, give me a couple years and I’ll start bitching about it along with everyone else. :P

It is a day to snuggle under blankets with toddlers, to have hot coco and hot soup. It’s a day to stay inside, read, and/or write.

Speaking of, the fallen angel thing is sitting at about 6k. I thought I could bring it to a close around 10k but now I’m not so sure. This has got to be one of the weirder stories I’ve written.

Now I need to get to it, then get dinner stuff on. You know the glamorous life of an author.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Some Links

So I’ve been crusing through the web to see what might be of interest to people haven’t found much sadly as I am also handling RL stuff. And some of the links I’ve found…well I prefer to leave politics off my website*.;

 

Did you hear about the guy who couldn’t afford to get his dog out of the shelter?  There’s an update over here. It makes me very happy.

I have followed Illona Andrews, the team who writes the Kate Daniels books since shortly before the first one came out. Recently they had issues in their kitchen. It has turned into a mess with Home Depot. We are discussing a possible bathroom remodel and were trying to decide Lowes or Home Depot. That post, and her situation, have marked Home Depot off the list. ye gods I feel bad for them.

Just this past November the first Anthology for Forward Motion for writers was published. Well they are accepting works for the second one over here;

Forward Motion for Writers is a free online website for the writer who wishes to move forward in their writing career, whether pursuing traditional or Indie publishing options. The website has offered forums, chat, workshops, and other resources for over 12 years. It is a resource we do not wish to see go away.

Some do not have the finances to donate directly. Some donate in the form of conducting workshops and classes, or helping their fellow writers in other ways. There is something else we can do: We can also use our skills as writers to help by donating a story.

 

The post lists out the details. The 2013 prompt is Cat Eyes and I’ve heard there have already been submissions to it. Deadline is Aug 1, so if you sign up and be active in chat or the forums for the next three months you’d be able to submit.

For those curious about the last one, you can get it at Amazom, Smashwords, and B&N. All proceeds go back to Forward Motion for Writers to help keep the site running.

 

And now off to run errands. Have a good day folks.

 

* If you have something of interest that you feel I ought to include in Next week’s link lineup, email me at neciaphoenix@gmail.com Subject Title; “Tuesday Links” and I’ll check it out. I can’t guarantee that I’ll use your offerings, but you never know.
Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Not much of an update

This morning when I took son to the bus stop, the inside of my nose froze. It was crinkly and weird as I tried to breathe through my mouth. My son, who is 6, thought it was funny that mom was making such weird faces.

Ahh new places, new experiences.

In the Zander stories, the climate where he lives is, at times, brutal. Very cold, very unpleasant. But I never thought of freezing nostrils. Of the chilling cold on the face. We just didn’t have that in OK. Or CA where I’m originally from.

I can see new scenes for the Zander stories.

Hope you have a good monday. **Waves**

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Romance Day

Hubs and I don’t actually celebrate it with more than a ‘Oh, it’s romance day. Love you!” back and forth to each other. For someone as sappy as myself I find it amusing on some level that I don’t get all worried/excited about v-day.

 

Happy V-day for those who celebrate it. Happy Thursday to those who hate/loathe or are just indifferent to it (like me).

I do have something in the works for FF which may be V-day themed. If I can keep it under 1k.

:D

Have a good day folks! (what’s left of it)

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



some things

First of all, this dude wins. Just…he wins.

Slave Leo

 

Read it look at the pictures, He’s not bad looking at all. Go him. And the worksmanship is just awesome.

 

Writing;

Disclaimer: I am still on vacation. **nods** Really, I am.

I was part of a conversation between two friends of mine about goals and characters. The one has been struggling with character issues for a story for a while. The other has ten or eleven books written/pubbed traditionally and has won awards and stuff. I will have to ask her permission before I drop names. but suffice to say she has a LOT of experience, and is someone I HIGHLY respect. Her books are fun too.

She talked about problems with some of her stories and one in particular that had a goal that wasn’t strong enough to carry the whole book. She talked about her methods of finding a better goal and in the process the mc focal point of the story changed. It’s fascinating, and very educational. I was listening, munching on popcorn and thinking about my own books, My own stories and the struggles that I have had with them. And taking notes, checking goals.

We’ll get back to that in a moment, because the night before I was chatting with some of my OTHER pals and we were discussing release dates, serials and stuff like that. And we talked about trilogies.

There is a line of thought, that I encountered years ago, that trilogies are cliche. That they are outdated. No one likes them yadda yadda yadda. At some point a long time ago I got it into my head that writing a trilogy is BAD. I decided I would never write a trilogy.

So we were discussing reader habits. and trilogies. and a little whisper in my head reminded me that years ago, BP and Crossroads was supposed to be a trilogy. I shoved the idea down. No. Not gonna go that route.

Woken up, though, the thought, the urge to make it a trilogy just wouldn’t go away.

Then I sat in on that other conversation. And it hit me. The goal thing. Bastard Prince  covers about 17 years. The goal is hard to define. But if I break it up… I can see two very distinctive goals, possibly three, which would hold their own in their own novels, but smooshed in that time frame, they get lost. Bastard Prince can become a trilogy.

Let me say it again (It’s making the lazy inner writer scream in horror)

Bastard Prince can become a trilogy.

And the mind opens up. Scenes that were blank are filling in in my head because I am giving myself the permission to go more into depth on Zander’s years in the Northern Empire. Because those scenes were just the tip of the iceberg  The conspiracies, the interactions with people. The culture which captured my imagination…

It feels right.

It means a lot more work. BP is roughly finished and I’ll just keep writing on it in one chunk.

So where does this leave my other projects? 

Well that’s a good question there. I have a lot and sometimes it really gets overwhelming trying to pinpoint which one I need to work on next. And there’s the whole vacation thing.

I’m supposed to be backing away, taking a break. Taking a breather. So I am just going to get the Angel thing ready for a late May release. Other work will be decided on after that.

Health

Tony Horton, fitness trainer and creator of the P90X workout system, has a saying ‘Do your best, forget the rest.’

It’s become my mantra in many areas of my life lately. Working out is challenging, especially with toddlers underfoot. Sometimes I mess up, sometimes I have to stop and chase kids. That’s ok. I am working on doing my best. Working out with intensity. Nothing matters. I’m doing my best. It is very liberating.

I feel much better without stressing or feeling guilty for making mistakes.

That said, turbofire beckons and so does the kitchen.

Hope you all have a great Wednesday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Thoughts

I meant to post something yesterday but totally forgot.  It has been a rough week for me, a lot going on.

Weight; I’ve lost 18 lbs and overall 4 inches since I started Turbofire last July. Now I have NOT been consistent with my diet or following the exercising, yet I’m still losing weight. **YAY**

I’m currently two weeks into my consistent workouts and eating right, I haven’t weighed myself since Tuesday and I’m not going to until next tues. I feel better, I can feel the changes. Just need to work on getting to bed early.

Writing: I’ve been working on the fallen angel thing. Yes, I am still on vacation ;) but the story is very loud in my brain. I blame J.A. Marlow for it. Yes JA I am publicly blaming you for it!!! :D  Seriously though  I am very happy to be working on this thing, so I shouldn’t complain.

I am putting together my business plan and release schedule for the next year. There is a lot to think about and now that things are settling down, I think I can start re-focusing on my writing business.

Overall; Life is good. Next Sat we will be celebrating 1 year out from Oklahoma. Hubs and I were talking about doing a celebration or something. I love where we’re living, and though this past year has been brutal, it has been worth it.

 

 

~*~

Help Never Came

Life in the post-zombie-apocalypse is full of nasty surprises and many unsolved mysteries, such as old diaries and teddy bears. After saving some fellow survivors Chris and his team find themselves stuck on the wrong side of the river with surging hordes of Zombies moving faster than normal. Worse yet, home base isn’t answering their calls.

Smashwords | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



The powerful resource of social media

A few years ago I started reading a blog/serial by  M.C.A Hogarth (I knew of her first via  livejournal) though I’ve been pretty sporadic on LJ lately, I liked seeing her progress with her projects.

So in December when she announced that Amazon had yanked Spots the Space Marine because of a supposed trademark issue I was a bit concerned. IF it could happen to her, it could happen to others. And dear gods don’t get me started on the claim that Space Marine ‘belonged’ to Game Workshop. There are others who were far more verbal about it, and more knowledgeable about the situation. I had never heard of Game Workshop before this started.

M.C.A. Hogarth protested it, after all, the term Space Marine is a common one in the Science Fiction genre (dare I whisper the word ‘cliche’ even?) and the term first came into being in the 30s/40s. Hells bells the stupid that Game Workshop displayed with this, and the bullying they pulled made me see red. (that was the day the website was offline, in retrospect I think that was a good thing. I can be very incoherent when furious.)

So when a friend shared this, announcing that Game Workshop backed down after a slew of people getting on twitter, facebook, reditt, and other venues posting about it  and M.C.A. Hogarth contacted the EFF, I bounced, cheered and startled my kids by my hooting.

Yes I just went and bought a copy of Spots the Space Marine

Just because M.C.A. Hogarth is a self pubbed author doesn’t give anyone the right to tromple over her books. This issue is sure to come up again. We need stay vigilant and get mad and do what we can to help fellow authors/artists stand against bullying of this nature.

Congrats M.C.A. Hogarth! Thank you everyone who got mad and spread the news.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



No tuesday links

I wanted to put up a list, but I’ve been dealing with sick kids. Again.

No, wait, there IS one.

Jim Hines has, for some time now, been mocking the sexulized covers with women on the front. He’s featured in an article over here.

Now I’ve only read one of his books, The Stepsister Scheme, which I think is just an AWESOME book. I’ve read his blog off and on for some time.  I like him, I liked the one book I read of his and I plan on reading more in the not so distant future.

Ok, now to disinfect the house. Take care all!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Snippage

I know, I know, it’s sposed to be Snippet Sat, but I missed a day. Here’s a snip from the current thing that took fire in my brain*.

 

~*~

He glided over the black goop that filled the basin north of the city. His guest wouldn’t be going anywhere. He did feel regretful that she’d been wounded, but it was better than death, wasn’t it? She deserved death for her interference. He sighed. When word got around, he’d have hell to pay.

Mist rose from the surface of the black goo. Devils blood the mortals called it, but it wasn’t, not entirely. Gaia bled for her betrayal. As the sun set, the fog thickened and he was the only light source, a dim light, but a light nonetheless. He was The Fallen, older than time, though not as old as the father. His light would never totally fade.

He maneuvered through the thick flocks of night terrors moving northward. He warned them, leave his home alone. They acknowledged, curious but not enough to change their flight pattern. As he neared the southern coast the sun had made it back to the east and it peeked over the horizon sending long rays of light piercing through the fog. Fallen flinched tucked his wings in and dove sharply towards an old jumbled pile of rubble that once, long ago, was a lighthouse. He landed, kneeling, head bowed, facing the rising sun.

I greet thee. He let the thought sit. Waiting.

How art thou, Fallen? She responded as she always did.

I exist, mother.

The city? The life source?

Protected. As it always has been.

Be happy, my son.

As the first brilliant rays of light passed by him, he felt the fragile connection broken. He sighed, stood, and lifted himself back into the sky to continue his flight towards the city, the dead zone and the Guardians who were mourning their losses.

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

 

*Yes I am still on vacation. I just can’t not write.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Queston and call for research help

As posted on FB;

Ok internets, I am doing research on angels in mythology any site/book recommends that aren’t psychotic paranoia bullshit but actual; according to X this angel is X and stuff like that? I don’t want an over steeping in religious dogma I need the actual references of where this information originated (The Qua’ran, Torah, Bible etc.) 

 

To properly world-build this I need a bit of historic mythology knowledge from a wide range of sources, not JUST Christianity or what have you.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



New Bunny Snip

So someone showed me this picture of a biomechanical angel with a sword walking down a corridor..and I got hit with this scene;

~*~

The wind howled between the empty skyscrapers. Old trash, bits of floating paper drifted through the streets. In what was once a center for trade and international commerce, sat a glowing green dome, encompassing several city blocks. She crouched at the edge of the business district, naked blade in her hand, staring down the corridor between the buildings at the lightning dancing along the surface of the dome.

“It’s time, you know.” The shadow at her feet rasped. She nodded and straightened. “There will be no help from them.

“I don’t expect any.” She glanced above the dome towards the floating city above. “They’ll be watching though.” They always watched.

“They will regret not acting.”

“They don’t give a damn.” She retorted, took a deep breath and began walking towards the dome. The Shadow muttered something. She turned, frowning at it. “What?”

“Nothing.” It wavered at the invisible line between the old city and what they’d come to call the Dead Zone.

“Are you coming?” She asked exasperated.

“Into the dead zone? Are you crazy?” It hissed. She shrugged.

“There are Reavers out there you know.”

“There are trolls and deamons in there!” It shook its ghostly fist.

“Pick your poison.” She turned her back on it, continuing towards the dome. Behind her, she heard it hissing, swearing, and she grinned. It floated in front of her.

“This is the last time I let you drag me into one of these places, do you hear me?” It demanded.

“I didn’t lay a hand on you.” She stepped through it, laughing, glad for the company of even one ill-mannered and grumpy shadow.  Her destiny awaited her at the dome. If she died, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

~*~

I should mention that it is not her shadow, rather a wraith she picked up somewhere.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Tuesday Links

  • I want to try this, a mind jar to help kids learn how to calm down. I need to do this at my house. A Mind Jar
  • Oglaf  is a over 18 adult web comic I read. New posts every Sunday. Explicit, adult content. Funny as hell but very very crude humor (which explains why I love it :P )
  • The Zombie Hunters If you like zombie stuff, I HIGHLY recommend taking the time, start from the beginning and read this comic. New posts every Monday and Thursday and let me tell you I am riveted.
  • For those who follow my blog who are interested in going trad, I saw this link on twitter this morning and thought I would share it here. Tor UK has announced accepting submissions from un-agented authors.
  • Kris Rusch has a post on Editorial Revisions in which she is teaching how to work with an editor in both the Traditional AND Self-publishing industry. This is a MUST read, MUST bookmark because it applies to ALL writers, Self or trad published ones. Kris, thanks again for the info you share.

 

And that’s the tuesday linkage.  Hope yours is going as great as mine is!

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Kids are back to school

And I am bouncing between household chores and editing. Yes, I am editing. Why? Because I can! :D

Seriously, I’ve been editing about a chapter a day of Bastard Prince with the only goal of making it better. I haven’t set myself any kind of deadline, I might not edit tomorrow, or I might, I don’t know. And I’m not worrying about it right now. I’m working on ch 5 right now. I might work on crossroads later, depending on what is going on.

Health Stuff;  Whatever felled us last week seems to have run it’s course so I’m back on workout schedule and to do lists and stuff.

Ok, looked at the time, time to get kid to bus stop and get to other housewifey stuff. Take care.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Give Science Fiction Author a hand

Folks, please if you can help do so, and if you can’t give, please pass this on.

I’ve followed Jay Lake for a couple years via his blog posts and his twitter. This is the overview of the situation. The full page is here. If in a small part we can do something, lets.

Jay Lake is an award-winning American author of ten science fiction novels and over 300 short stories. He is also one of more than a million Americans who have colon cancer. Diagnosed in April, 2008, Jay’s cancer has progressed from a single tumor to metastatic disease affecting the lung and liver, recurring after multiple surgeries and chemotherapy courses, and multiplying from single tumor presentations to multiple tumors presentations. Jay is now in his fourth round of chemotherapy, but it’s not clear that it’s working, and his doctors have little to go on in terms of advising further courses of treatment for him. In short, things are not looking good for Jay. Not at all.

 

Please boost the signal, lets try to do what we can, shall we?

 

Here is his blog, in which he has detailed this years long fight with cancer. Jay Lake’s Blog. You want to know what a person fighting cancer goes through? Read it. With a box of tissue.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



To do lists

So, I am taking the 30 Push challenge put out by Chalene Johnson http://www.30daypush.com*, (she’s the gal who does Turbofire, Turbo jam and a whole slew of others) which is a 30 day organize and achieve your goals program. This woman is crazy busy and crazy organized. She teaches a little bit day by day how to create and maintain a to do list.

The reason I bring this up is because far too often I find myself running in circles trying to figure out what the heck I am supposed to be doing next. Sometimes I remember, more often I forget and that’s how I burn food, lose glasses of milk, misplace important papers, forget about laundry loads in the washer and so on.

And I know I am not the only one.

Sometimes my writing is inhibited by the nagging feeling that I’m forgetting something. That there’s something I HAVE to do, but I just can’t remember what it was.

By keeping a to-do list, on my smartphone no less, I am finding I am getting things done and when I think of something I need to do I take a moment, put it on the list in the right catagory (today, this week or SOOOOOON) and things are getting done! If I feel like I’m forgetting something, I check my phone (I have a widget on the home screen that lists off tasks that haven’t been done) and can get reminded…oh yeah, I need to switch out laundry and get another load in. Oh yeah I need to get dinner on, oh yeah I need to call the dr office about X’s appoint and so on.

We actually remembered an appointment today that I would have totally missed if I hadn’t entered it into my phone.

Starting tomorrow I’m going to add a daily wordcount to the list. Next week, editing. Part of being a writer, part of being a writer in the business of writing and selling his/her own books, is being able to keep track of your business. Which means getting a grasp on organizational skills.

There are many methods out there, some focus on housecleaning, such as Flylady or  Unfuck Your Habitat, and I do believe there are a couple others who focus more on other organizing time but I can’t remember what those are. If you know of one, please list it in the comments. These are ways that have worked for many people in getting their lives, all areas of their lives, in order, so they can keep from wasting time and running in circles and do things they want to do, like hobbies, spending time with important people/pets that share our lives & so on.

Often times we are so caught up in trying to get shit done, that we forget to take a moment to sit back, breathe, think through, and then write out what we need to do. Whether it’s writing or any other aspect of our lives. I firmly believe that sitting down for about 15 min every day and figuring out what needs to get done, how important those tasks are to the overall goals and priorities I have, how soon those things need to get done, will go a long way in moving my life more in the direction I want to go. I also believe that this sort of thing can help other people in achieving their goals and be more productive in their lives.

I have a long way to go, I’ve got areas of things that I’ve neglected/forgotten about that I absolutely MUST get under control and soon. But I’ve got this to-do list, it’s on my phone which I’m constantly checking anyways… and I’m starting to get a handle on those things.

What methods help YOU keep yourself on track? Or are you one of those awesome folks who manage to just do it naturally?

*you can still sign up, and do it. It’s free and is, for me, a great set of skills.
Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



End of the year stuff

Short and sweet, my sales sucked. I am not bothered by this in the least, for several reasons. The biggest being I knew 2012 was going to suck. Hell, I made a major move, and everything has just been nuts and it still isn’t exactly squared away.

Now I am still on ‘vacation’, I’m just recouping and taking time to get RL squared away. I am thinking on what I need to do with the businesses I run. Something has to give, I know what is going to be dropped. No, writing isn’t on the table. It’s safe and secure, I couldn’t live without writing.

I’m just not hell bent on driving myself into the ground.

Here‘s a great end of year numbers post from Kristine Rusch, you can see my comment down at the bottom (I always read the comments on her blog, they’re fascinating).

I have work to do, I may add about an hour a day into my schedule to get some writing business stuff squared away. I have a lot to think on and decide, from what to do about the shorts, larger projects, covers that need to be updated, whether or not I’m going to stick with smashwords & B&N and so on.

I need to stay focused with my health stuff. Changing diet and cutting out frivolous foods and drinks. I need to get into the habit of getting to sleep sooner. I do so much better with sleep.

I think the biggest issue of 2012 was lack of proper, consistent sleep. Without rest, I’m just a vegetable.

ohohohoh

 

Over at Forward Motion they’re offering a free 2 Year Novel course. Because I’m a dork, I went ahead and signed up (I *think* it’s still possible to sign up). You start with a basic idea and build it up to writing and ready for pubbing, whichever way you decide you want to publish. The first few months are, in all reality, very slow, so I figure I am not breaking my vacation if I’m only working on something once a week. **nods**

because, you know, I feel guilty if I am not writing in some format.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Stuff

Even though I tell myself I’m taking a writing break, my brain is screaming out stories and scenes. The only problem, of course, is the ideas are from multiple projects. From the Zander stories to the Elemental stories and everything in between. Meh. And my brain doesn’t seem to want to linger on any scene long enough for me to really write it out.

I jumped and went ahead and restarted my Turbofire workouts, yesterday. Why wait for tomorrow? It was so nice to get back to it. I love Chalene Johnson and the music really gets the blood pumping. I did have to modify the workouts, toddlers kept trying to join in and some of the leg work involved kicking. I can just imagine kicking and accidentally clocking a kid in the head. Plan on doing it again today.

Something I noticed, on the turbofire workout schedule you get, they have it listed Mon, Tues, and so on. With the workout for that day (or none for the restday) and for some reason my OCD would go nuts with it. We don’t run on a Mon – Sun schedule. Hubs’ day off is thurs and so things are just crazy nuts for us. I took a marker and struck through the days, so it’s just got the days and the workouts.

I can’t tell you how liberating it was.

Anyways I need to get my office cleaned, I would like it semi clean for the new year, do my workout then get some laundry done. Happy New Year!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Writing break

I really need to just step back and relearn to breathe. I pile on shitloads of stuff then burn out. 2012 was a hell of a year. For a lot of people, not just me. And I’m tired. So while I’ll try to keep this place updated, writing and pubbing is kindof going on a backburner while we get real life sorted out.

You see, I have some health issues I am trying to work on. Losing weight, eating healthier and being less sedentary will improve things. It is a mission for a healthier me, if I don’t, well lets just say I want my kids kids to have me around. If something doesn’t change soon, I might not be. I’ve been inconsistent with it, and though I’ve lost about 20lbs since aug, I have a lot more to lose, and habits to rearrange.

FWIW, it isn’t because of wanting to fit in a bikini, it’s an effort to avoid diabetes and improve heart health, there are some things I can’t ignore anymore.

So if people are interested, I can share that journey here, but I dunno, I’ve kept this pretty much writing/pubbing only so far, not sure I want to drag personal stuff over here. We’ll see.

I am using Beachbody products (chocolate Shakeology and Turbofire workouts) and am very happy with them to date. I hate gyms, and doing it at home makes it much easier to focus on me.

Anyways, time to tackle the office, laundry and my bedroom. If I get a chance to tonight, I’ll freewrite, but I’m refusing to feel guilty if I don’t. Take care all. I’m not quitting writing, I’m ensuring I’m around long enough to tell the tales I want to tell.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



A Long Snip

So my brain melted down the other day, and I decided I need to take a few days to just unwind. Today I began skimming over projects, the elemental stories to be exact, and found a possible prologue for E7, Elemental Betrayal  and thought I’d toss it out at you all. I don’t know if this scene will EVER make it to a final version, but I LOVELOVELOVELOVE it. Even if it is rough and needs a good scrub.

1) I wrote this in 2010, I know it needs fixing.
2) For those who have read the beta of E1, I think you may recognize a couple of the names.
3) By the time I finally DO write E7, this scene might not ever reach the final cut. I am not going to start scrubbing it until after I’m done with E2 through 6.
4) I forgot what this was, but I already had the four there, so I thought I’d put *something* there. :P
5) Enjoy

~*~

Prologue

 

In the dingy streets of Jersh, a dirty city on the other side of the world a pale woman in grey robes strode. Her hood pulled low over her face, her hands concealed in the folds of her robe. Children ran back and forth, screaming and chasing each other in a rule-less game only they understood. She went down an ally, the tan stone blocks that made up the buildings looked as though they were slowly sliding off the block beneath them giving the buildings a dangerously tilted appearance. Halfway down the alley she stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Four half grown boys, each with long sticks were lined up behind her, blocking her way out.

In front of her four, more boys blocked her way. She pushed her hood back, smiling when the boys gasped. Her colorless eyes glowed and the boys dropped to the ground in a heap. She moved past them, pausing long enough to grasp one of the sticks. The alley led her to a hidden courtyard. A loading place long since abandoned  Boxes covered in heavy woven nets were stacked neatly along the edges of the courtyard. A few wagons were stripped to the frames and filled with cages of chickens which were unusually quiet.

“My name is Mitwaka.” She spoke softly, but power rolled from her voice. She heard the voice, like hers, soft with power. Far more power than its owner should have had at that age.

“Go ‘way.”

“I can’t go away. I need to speak with you.” She toned down her own power, decades, centuries of practice left it a subtle whisper, a tug to the child hiding behind the boxes.

“Not wanted. Go. ‘Way.” the child’s voice, feminine, with a strong get out of here impulse actually had her taking a step back.

Mitwaka shook the powers effects from her, tightening up her mental shields and sitting down on the dusty ground. She took a clarifying breath letting the dry dusty air fill her lungs. The child was terrified. She could feel it. So she set the stick down and set her guarding wards.

She felt it then, the interest.

“What you doin?” No matter how hard she tried, this child couldn’t get her voice to sound tough and Mitwaka felt the frustration she felt. How could she control people when her voice simply wouldn’t take on the harsher sounds those around her had.

“Setting my wards.” Come here little one. I won’t hurt you.

From behind her she felt the movement. Tentative at first then surer. Mitwaka completed her wards and rested her hands on her knees.

“How?” The child was right behind her. Mitwaka took a deep breath again. This child had been difficult to locate, she didn’t want to rush at this point.

“What is your name?” Mitwaka kept staring towards the boxes.

“Ain’t gotta name.” The child was coming around her left shoulder. Mitwaka could see the sun burnt skin stretched over a thin bony frame, wispy white hair and the eyes, a pale blue. Mitwaka’s heart sank. This wasn’t the one she was looking for.

“You do have a name. And a sister, don’t you?” She reached into a hidden pocked within the large sleeves of her robes, pulling a little set of flutes.

“No name. No sister. Bitch.” The child darted back behind the boxes, Mitwaka took a steadying breath and blew into the flute.

The music was magic, hiding the power, the compulsion. It took time, beneath her heavy robe she sweated, inwardly hating the dry desert. She sent the power out through the city, seeking for the other child, the girl whose eyes were blank. The first girl crept back out, like a dog looking for treats, stopping just out of reach.

She felt the other girl before she saw her. A tower of anger, the child felt the summons. Mitwaka continued playing, a haunting melody she’d heard when she herself was a child. When the child came around the corner Mitwaka slowly set the flute down and considered the two.

“You two have been controlling the street gangs.” She said looking first at one then at the other.

“You aren’t wanted.” the new girl said, her voice brittle her power rolling clumsily along the ground. The wards flared to life and the power faded.

Blue eyes inched closer. “How’d you do that?” she whispered. Mitwaka ignored her.

“What are your names?” She let her power roll out and both children flinched. How old were they now? Ten? Twelve? She couldn’t remember.

“Kera.” the white eyed one said then slapped her hands over her mouth those eyes wide.

Blue eyes snickered. “Nekita.”

“Kera and Nekita.” Mitwaka looked back and forth between them. If it wasn’t for the eyes…. “You have gifts.”

Kera straightened up. “Wuddya want?”

“You see people who aren’t there.”

Both girls stilled. She could feel something passing back and forth between them. The ward flared as the girl behind her darted forward only to be thrown with a sparkle of blue flickering lighting.

“I can teach you how to do that you know.” Mitwaka said over her shoulder. Nekita moved around to beside Kera, blood was trickling from a cut lip, her nose and a cut on her forehead. Mitwaka swallowed the sudden surge of guilt reminding herself this frail looking creature had just tried to slit her throat.

“Show.” Kera snapped.

Mitwaka leaned forward. “No.”

Kera’s eyes glowed and she stepped forward only to stop with Nekita’s arm in the way. The two looked at each other. That silent speak again.

“Please show us.” Nekita said, no power, completely contrite. Kera glared.

Mitwaka had to look down and struggle to conceal her smile. She tucked the flutes away and looked up at them, looking first at one then the other. “If you come with me, I will teach you.”

The girls looked at each other. Kera began to move off but Nekita shook her head. Mitwaka swallowed. Interesting.

“Promise?” Nekita asked.

“Won’t go.” Kera snapped. She turned away, storming back up the alley.

“I win.” Nekita called, her voice soft but the power was enough to send the wards shaking and flaring to life. Mitwaka shuddered. Had she been mistaken? Kera looked the part of a spirit elemental but Nekita seemed to have a better handle on her voice.

Kera stomped back, coming nose to nose with Nekita. Finally she turned, glaring at Mitwaka.

“Promise?” she demanded.

Mitwaka smiled. “I promise.”

~*~

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



…and I wept.

I have a kindergartner. He’s a vibrant,  busy little boy, learning about the world, a smile on his face most of the day. He loves our animals, he loves his sisters and brothers, and his hero is his daddy. He can count to thirty, is reading better every day. He loves playing Mortal Kombat; Marvel vs DC Universe, and loves playing spiderman(leaping from couch to couch throwing my yarn around as his ‘web’). He is sensitive to how others feel, often giving out random hugs if he thinks you aren’t feeling good.

Tonight, after we got back from a Christmas luau, we snuggled. We cuddled. And I cried. I cried for the parents who don’t have the opportunity to snuggle their children anymore. I cried for the school, a place of education, of learning, of hope, which saw such violence. I cried for the staff, the other students who lost their classmates and siblings. I cried for the town, the state, for the country. And I cried for me, for the guilt for feeling happy that I still have my kindergartner.

There is no rhyme or reason to human madness. Yet we still seek a reason, we try to unravel the crazy to find out why. In cases like this, I don’t know if you can really answer ‘why’ someone would do this.

So I snuggle my children, I tell my family I love them. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, none of us do. But I will make sure that my family is 100% sure that I love them. Just in case.

And honestly, I really hope my readers do the same.

Be kind to one another.

Goodnight.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Flash Fiction

Ok, so I missed it friday, sorry. Better late than never, right?  Enjoy!

~*~

Waking The Beast

©2012 Necia Phoenix

The voices echoed through the cave system, bouncing through the unseen cracks in the rocks. Laughter, giggling, the sound of happy youth exploring the unknown. He opened his eyes, listening to the unfamiliar sounds. Closer, the voices came closer.

He stretched his lean, scaled body, preparing himself to go and investigate.  He was a Forgotten. A leftover from a time of darkness, when magic and religious fervor ruled the day. He could see in the darkness, and propelled himself through the narrow forgotten passages, investigating the noise.

Clawed hands gripped the sides of the caves. He squinted in sudden bright light. He was still far below the ground, where had the light come from? He blinked back tears of pain, waiting for his vision to clear.  Standing in the old sacrificial cave were two, things. Soft. They looked soft. Tasty.

On the ground behind them, in the center of the ceremonial cave was a ring of stones. For a fire, no doubt. Beyond it, a safe distance away, two odd mats lay side by side in colors brighter than any he’d ever seen, save the setting sun. Behind them were two bags, traveling packs perhaps?

His attention was brought back to the two things as they inspected the paintings on the walls. They held a tube which streamed a pure white light. And they were using it to direct light all over the inside of the chamber. One turned to the other, shining the tube in the face.

Humans.

They were humans!

He fought the rage, the growl. He didn’t want them to know he was there, not yet, not till he understood why they came to this sacred place. The struggle was mighty. Their kind had destroyed his home. Destroyed many of his kind. Leaving him and the other survivors in hiding. The hate festering like an open wound. He crept behind a large boulder, pulling his body into a tight coil. Unless they actually touched him, they would see nothing but a pile of rocks. He waited, watching.

They took little time, passing within inches of him. Their words had no meaning, sounds, with nothing to tie him to what they spoke of. Without another look around they returned to the fire-ring and lit the fire, turning off the tube-lights. He watched them slide into the mats. Their voices drowsy, then, nothing.

He uncoiled, moving towards them. Humans. Hate melted into curiosity. These were not the same as those long ago. He crouched staring at their faces, the firelight casting his shadow against the far wall. What were the humans of now like? Had they changed? He looked at the travel bags and a smile crossed his scaly face. He crawled along the edges of the firelight, willing himself smaller, snakelike. He hesitated, glancing around the cave. At the edge of the firelight, he saw eyes watching him, questioning him. He touched the nearest bag and the assembled nodded.

It was time.

He slid into the bag, digging through clothes, supplies and other things he wasn’t sure of. He found an inner pocket and slid into it, cutting a small hole in the side of the bag to see out. He could see the fire, one of the sleeping bags. The others had disappeared back into the rocks, the crevices the humans could never get through.

He waited.

When they woke, they broke up the camp with practiced ease. He did tense when one lifted the bag and he got a confusing blur of walls, ground and ceiling. Then they were making their way through the twisting tunnels, and he saw, through the hole, his fellows, his kin, following at a distance. He waved them back then pulled the hole tight, curling up in a little ball and closing his eyes. He was going into the world again. Yes.

It was time.

 

~*~

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Sunday Serenity

Haven’t done a Sunday Serenity post in a while, so here you have the creek in my backyard;

 

 

So yesterday I was supposed to work on Crossroads, but instead I got caught up with a character whose story is about 25 years after Crossroads, so I wrote out a little reunion scene between him and his love interest who haven’t seen each other in about 4 or 5 years, and now he seems to have lurked away into a corner, yet again freeing my brain to play in Zander’s story. If anyone is curious, it is Zander’s son, who looks like he’s going to be as cracktastic to write about as Zander is… I can’t wait to get to his story!

So here is the snip, I don’t know what comes next (my friends are telling me reunion hawt SEX) or what led up to this scene, but enjoy;

~*~

Caladorn leaned against the door frame, watching her as she was carefully setting weapons out on the table. She didn’t see him, engrossed in what she was doing. There was a hardness to her, that hadn’t been there before, a few more scars, more confidence. Her hair pulled back in the tight braid with a few stray curls framing her narrow face. Her dark eyes locked on her weapons. She half turned and caught sight of him, halting mid-step, eyes going wide.

“Hello Amora.”

“You came!” She shrieked, he barely moved in time to brace himself for her leap at him. He caught her with a low laugh, wrapping an arm around her waist as her arms slid around his neck, legs around his waist. She kissed him and the cares and worries and annoyances fell away. When they broke apart, she slowly lowered her legs to the floor, leaning against him, not letting go .

“I said I’d visit.” He brushed her hair from her face. Her eyes were overly bright.

“Saying is one thing, doing, is another.” She tipped her head to one side, tracing the thin scar on his jawline her smile fading. “You’re not here just for a visit are you?”

~*~

 Have a happy Sunday!

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Flash Fiction Friday – Not.

So I had this up for hours, half wrote a flash fiction and got bogged down by sick kids and a brain that was most disobedient. Darn the thing I kept falling asleep! I just read over the flash fic piece and I have no idea where the heck I was going with it. I’m sorry but I think I have to pass, again, on FFF. OF course it IS a moot point as it is now Saturday.

Anyways, I have been thinking and planning and mostly silent in the blogosphere, mainly because there is so much going on I am hesitant to go into too many details.

Today is the first of December and I think my plan for today is simply get my workout done and get another chapter of Crossroads written. I might even get a snip up here. I stress the might.

As for my december goals; Finish crossroads. That’s it.

 

Have a great Sat.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



One more day

I am hideously, horribly behind in the NaNo wordcount. That’s ok, :)  I’m not too worried about it. It’ll carry on thru december. The ultimate goal, anyways, was just to finish Bastard Prince and Crossroads before Jan.

I will make that. I know I will.

Today, sadly, can’t be dedicated to writing, however. It is a Dr. Appointment day with the munchkins.

There was more I was going to say but I just looked at the time and must zoom.

Have a good thursday people.

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Royalty Free Art for Covers

Just a placeholder post with links to sites that have free, public domain, Royalty Free pictures which can be used for doing book covers. ALWAYS read the fine print and make sure, before you try to download, what the rights are so there aren’t any nasty surprises later. I download into folders named after the site the pics are gotten from with a copy of the rights and Terms and whatnot so when I do go back to use the pics I’ll know where they came from and what I am working with. A little bit of work now will avoid confusion later down the road.

http://www.dreamstime.com
http://www.wikipaintings.org/
http://www.loc.gov/pictures/
http://gimp-savvy.com/PHOTO-ARCHIVE/
http://digitalmedia.fws.gov/cdm/
http://morguefile.com/
http://www.free-stockphotos.com/
http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/     <——- omg the pics here are gorgeous!
http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/

Thank you J.A. Marlow who gave me the links (If you haven’t checked out J.A. Marlow’s Salmon Run books, you need to!)

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



Happy Thanksgiving

I meant to post the other day, but I was in a food coma. Sorry.

This year has been a very difficult one, for writing, for living, we made a major move, have had some fairly serious situations come, then go. I’m thankful for the fact that we have overcome most of those and have moved forward with getting ourselves established. Writing had been in fits and starts, and pubbing this year has not been my priority.

There’s always next year, right? I am working on a 2013 business plan, figuring out a pubbing and writing schedule and…and….re-do covers and…

yeah, lots to do.

 

ohoh, the Forward Motion Anthology is out now. I do have a story in it, which is humbling because there is some really awesome writing included.

17 authors, 17 different stories, and one prompt.

A Princess, A Boatman, and A Lizard…

Seventeen authors took up the challenge and responded with works ranging from silly to dramatic across genres such as fairy tale, steampunk, science fiction, fantasy, Native American tales and more.

The 2012 Forward Motion Writer’s Anthology is an annual showcase of the multi-national writing talent at the venerable writer’s group. The 2012 edition includes an active table of contents with works by:

Princess Of The Mountain Forests – Susan Petroulas
Soul of Insurgence – A. Shelton
That Troublesome Bar – Gera L. Dean
A Present For Cynthia – S.E. Batt
The Warning – C. M. Clark
Convoy – Val Griswold-Ford
The Terrible Bedtime Story – Tobe Ornot
The Prince of the North – A.J. DeVial
The Adventures of Orville Bramson Esq – Catrin Pitt
Freedom of Wings – Jordan Lark
Predators – Jim Francis
Drought’s End – Connie Cockrell
The Dancing Moons – Lane Decker Davis
Bowl the Lizard – J.A. Marlow
The River Of Souls – Necia Phoenix
Six Bullets – Linda Adams
The Princess, the Lizard and the Boatman – Lazette Gifford

I’m still reading through it, I haven’t been disappointed. These are some great authors and it is an honor to be listed among them. It is available at;

Smashwords
Amazon
Kobo

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter



NaNo-ish thingy

As posted on my tumblr;

I am suckin hard at NaNo this year, but that’s okay, I’m being a rebel anyways. :P I found a picture which, I don’t know who the models are, I have no info whatsoever on where this pic came from, but it just SCREAMS my two fav characters from my nano projects; Zander and Talia….

I’m hoping to catch up over the weekend. When I am focused I can really crank out the words.

 

Share this:
Share this page via Email Share this page via Stumble Upon Share this page via Digg this Share this page via Facebook Share this page via Twitter




Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers:

Follow

Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers: