Sheritta Bitikofer's Blog, page 21

Sneak Peek into “The Enigma”

I am happy to announce that my pride and joy, “The Enigma” and “Becoming the Enigma”, have been resubmitted for a second round of editing. We’ve still got a ways to got until it’s published, but I though I’d like to give a sneak peek into chapter 2 to give you a taste of what’s to come. This is when Katey and Logan meet for the first time. Enjoy!

And for more about “The Enigma”, check out my blog page about it in the menu above under “Loup-Garou Series”.

***

Katey followed the paper signs that were posted up on the side of the road as she drove out of town. For the first time in a long time, she felt something. Butterflies. She’d never been to a party like this before and hardly knew what to expect.

She nearly missed the turn down the dirt road and came upon what would have been a beautiful open field. Cars and trucks were parked along the outside of the field near the tree line while in the center was a great bonfire and what looked like half of the student body dancing around it.

She could already hear the loud music that was blaring from someone’s stereo system and the obnoxious laughter and hysterical chatter. The butterflies metamorphosed into vicious beetles that clawed at her nerves.

She didn’t want to be here at all. Already she was growing agitated at the thought of being around so many people. But, she knew she had to try

Katey slung her hands deep into her hoodie pouch and stepped out into the cold night air. She meandered around, searching for a friendly familiar face. She knew Beth wouldn’t be here, but there were still other girls she hung out with on a regular basis at school that might have been there.

It was a total scene of debauchery with students smoking and getting drunk off the cheap beer someone brought in kegs and administered from the back of their pickup truck. Some couples were dancing, but the rest were mingling. No one noticed her, the outcast lurking in the shadows just beyond the rim of firelight.

The party was supposedly for the comet, but it was turning out to be just another excuse to pass the time in a boring town on Friday night. The moon was already making its appearance above the jagged tree tops and they would all miss the big event that only came every eighteen years.

Katey couldn’t find a single person she knew well enough. With a huff of frustration, she went back to her jeep and sped away from the party. She knew this was going to be a waste of time.

She didn’t want to go home, but she had nowhere else to go. Mary, her foster mother, would be home by now and the last thing Katey wanted was another altercation with her.

There were not that many places to go in Crestucky. There was a movie theater that played only a few outdated movies, a skating rink and a bowling alley, but all of those things seemed about as interesting as the party did. Nothing interested her anymore. Katey had heard about how debilitating depression could be, but this was ridiculous. There had to be a way to shake this despondency.

Then a thought entered her mind and she smiled.

Katey made her way back into town and turned off onto a sparsely populated road. It winded for miles until the road became dirt instead of pavement and trees closed in on either side.

A few miles more and she found herself at a dead end and a graveyard. It was a cemetery she had been to a few times before, but not for the reason most would assume.

Katey always thought graveyards to be peaceful places. They provided a quiet, secluded place for meditation and deep thinking. If anyone were to walk past her, they’d think she were mourning over a loved one and leave her alone.

And tonight, she needed solitude to think.

The sky was clear and the moon gave enough light that allowed Katey to read the writing on the stones. Katey parked the car and wandered amongst the graves. Her steps were slow, her shoes treading across the well worn path between the rows of stones and statues. This graveyard wasn’t monitored or gated, allowing anyone to visit at any time of the night. She could take her time and breathe in the earthy smell of the woods that surrounded her. Maybe later she would take a trip amid the trees too.

One plot of land was for a couple that died early in their marriage, another for an infant that was born and died in the same day. One was for a child who was indicated to have died of cancer at the youthful age of five.

Such tragedy, such loss. Sometimes Katey wondered if she’d become insensible to it all. There might have been a time when she’d feel her heart ache for the deaths of these people. But, just like the past year, she felt nothing.

Katey found a comfortable corner of the cemetery next to a grave of a boy that died during his eighteenth year.

She stared at the quote engraved in the cold, unforgiving stone. “Good night, I love you. See you in the morning.”

Katey never understood what the quote meant, but she always wondered.

She closed her eyes and let herself relax. She found herself smiling and she didn’t know why. Maybe it was the cool gentle breeze that played in her hair, or the chorus of nocturnal insects that surrounded her so completely.

It was that inexplicable serenity that she hungered for. The effects went deep, seeping into her. She wanted to laugh with relief. Maybe this was her breakthrough. That’s all she needed. A breakthrough. Something to stimulate the dead soul inside of her.

A twinge of bewilderment touched her mind as she began to wonder what exactly changed to make her feel this way. It couldn’t have been her surroundings alone. She’d taken a trip to this same cemetery a month ago and she felt nothing then. Maybe the moon? Maybe the comet that was to come soon? Or maybe…

“Someone you knew?”

Katey’s heart jolted. She gasped and looked behind her, staring up at the figure of a stranger.

She couldn’t see him well because the moon’s rays shone from behind him, shadowing many of his features. He was no more than a silhouette in her sight for the time, and he was far too close.

She didn’t hear him walk up. It took her a few minutes to recuperate from her minor heart attack before she could talk or breath.

“What?” Katey asked, forgetting what the stranger had just said. He chuckled a little; his laugh was so deep she could feel the sound waves vibrate in the earth. Katey shuddered.

“Was he someone you knew?” he asked again, motioning his head to the grave plot.

Katey looked at the tombstone and shook her head, sitting up straight again and avoiding the urge to look up. She knew she shouldn’t be talking to strangers, especially in a dark place, out in the middle of nowhere. She then remembered that her cell phone was in her car, so far away that if she needed help she couldn’t even call for it.

Fear flooded through her, but would not latch its claws around her heart just yet. She was afraid, but not that afraid. It was as if two conflicting emotions were battling with each other inside her. She trembled for a second or two, but then she inhaled and the peace came with the air in her lungs. It was a tug of war that she couldn’t comprehend or accurately explain.

“Then why are you just sitting here?” he asked.

Katey looked up at him, perplexed and suddenly brave. “Why are you here asking me why I’m staring at his grave? Was he someone you knew?”

The stranger shrugged and shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. I was just curious if you did.”

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked accusingly. “I didn’t even hear you walk up.” Her eyes flitted over him, but she still couldn’t make out too many details. If she could, perhaps she could tip the balance over these conflicting emotions.

The stranger chuckled again, sending oddly pleasant chill bumps down Katey’s spine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He then stepped forward and sat down next to Katey. He was far too close for comfort now.

Katey bolted from the bench and backed away under the shade of a nearby elm. She could see him clearly now.

His hair was black as the night sky above with very thin blonde highlights that looked natural in the way they weaved through his hair. Yet, the color combination was so peculiar.

In the moonlight, his almond shaped eyes appeared light blue, almost grey, a striking contrast to his dark hair and tanned skin. A slender tapering strip of dark stubble traced along his bold jaw. His features were strikingly handsome; so much that Katey had a hard time holding in a grin. To have him looking straight at her like that gave her thrills unimaginable.

The scale was tipped in favor of trusting him, but her mind would not trust her heart in this matter. Even the most beautiful roses had thorns.

Katey looked him up and down warily, remembering every detail of his appearance and outfit in case she had to repeat it again for a police report. What stood out most about his fashion was the black and blue paisley bandana tied loosely around his neck. The colors nearly matched his hair and eyes. No one wore things like that anymore, but he pulled it off well.

He looked up to her and smiled, his eyes smiling with him. “Wow, I’m sorry. I’m being a bit forward, aren’t I?”

Katey scoffed. “Try creepy and forward.”

The stranger then stood up and offered his hand out to her to shake. She eyed it suspiciously and scrutinized him in the dim light.

“My name’s Logan. And yours?”

“Why should I tell you?” she asked, still skeptical.

“Because I was kind enough to tell you and it’d be rude to not give me your name as well.”

There was an old world characteristic of him that she couldn’t quite place and it didn’t make sense with his so modern style. It was in the way he smiled, the way he looked at her, his mannerisms, and the aura he emanated.

Katey stared into his eyes. They seemed to have a certain luster to them that she couldn’t describe. It almost looked like he really cared what her name was and not just trying to be polite. It made her feel valued somehow. That was something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She took a deep breath and replied, “My name’s Katey.”

Logan retracted his hand that she had refused to shake. “I’m assuming that’s short for Katherine?”

“What would it matter?”

Logan grinned. “Boy, are you the edgy one.”

“I kind of have a right to be,” she retorted. “You just showed up out of nowhere and I’m all alone out here. For all I know, you could be a murdering rapist or something.”

Logan’s smile faded. “But, I’m not.”

“How can I know that?”

“If I was, I would have done it already.”

Katey had to admit that he had a point. She glanced towards the parking lot and her jeep. She wondered if she could make a run for it. She looked back to Logan and he was still gazing down at her with a look of contentment. It was eerie, but oddly comforting at the same time. Even if she wanted to run, her feet wouldn’t respond. They were listening to her heart and not her head.

Katey stepped forward and extended her hand to him. He gave her a friendly grin and shook it firmly and briefly. His hands were warm, she recalled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Katey,” he said.

“Yeah, you too, I guess,” she replied, trying to hold in the smile that was threatening to show on her lips. “So, what are you doing out here? Visiting someone?

Logan shook his head. “No, not really. I just come here sometimes to relax and get away from things. A graveyard is the perfect place to be alone, don’t you think?”

Katey was stunned. That’s exactly how she felt, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She wasn’t ready to let her guard down just yet. “Except right now. Neither of us is alone.”

Logan sniggered. “I suppose so. Why are you out here then?”

Katey pause, wondering what she should reveal and what she shouldn’t. “I just came from a party and I came here instead of going home,” she replied, looking away to the flourishing grass on top of the grave.

She couldn’t help herself but glance at his ragged jeans. They didn’t look like the kind of jeans that could be bought with holes already in them. These looked like they were torn up naturally.

“Why didn’t you stay at the party?” he asked. His voice was mature, deep and oddly soothing, like a balm to her rattled nerves.

“It was boring and I didn’t know anyone there. They were all just dancing and drinking. Not my kind of scene.”

Logan laughed. “But graveyards are?”

Katey felt flustered. “Well, no… Not really… I don’t know.”

“Sorry, it was just a question. Didn’t mean to rile you.” He waved his hands up in a gesture of apology.

Katey shrugged and looked away. “I guess I came here for the same reasons you did… I spend all day being around people and sometimes I just need to get away and be with myself for a change.”

Logan nodded and smiled. “Well, then let’s be alone together. Follow me.”

Logan then turned and walked off towards the center of the cemetery. He had a peculiar walk; smooth and graceful, yet masculine and commanding. He stopped and looked back at Katey with an encouraging smile.

“It’s okay, come,” he said, nodding his head a little before he continued walking.

Katey gave in, despite her better judgment, and followed him. She kept a few feet behind and compared their heights and estimated weights. She was so vulnerable. It would be near impossible to defend herself against him. But sometime told her that she had a greater risk of being attacked by a shark out in the middle of this graveyard than for her to be put in a situation where she would have to defend herself against Logan.

Now she knew the source of that peace. It must have been him. Just like her teachers, Logan radiated that same confidence in everything he did.

He stopped at the edge of a little pebble-stoned area, surrounded by a concrete perimeter that kept the stones in. It reminded Katey of a little sand box, minus the sand. There were no tombstones so it was kosher to walk on.

Logan stepped over the little concrete wall and into the pebbles, his heavy boots crunching against the rocks with each step. Katey watched and waited as he settled himself down on the stones.

She stared at him in puzzlement.

He let out a content sigh, folded his hands on top of his solar plexus and looked over at Katey with those dazzling eyes again. She could see that he was very physically fit. His waist was trim and from the way the light hit his black shirt, she could see the rock hard abs underneath. His broad chest steadily rose and fell with each steady breath in a rhythm that Katey could watch all night. He motioned for her to join him.

Katey raised an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, I know it looks weird and I know what you’re thinking, but I’m really not the kind of guy to hurt someone. At least not on purpose…” His eyes flashed with momentary hesitance. “But this is pretty relaxing and it’s a perfect view of the sky for when the comet comes,” he said sincerely.

It was then that Katey realized she had never been this alone with a guy before, let alone lay down next to him. Her common sense screamed at her, begging her to leave now while he wasn’t in the position to chase her. But the part of her that didn’t want to be numb anymore vetoed the idea.

She joined him and gazed up at the night sky, letting it fill her vision. She’d never realized how many stars there were and the moon was huge that night. Who needed street lamps when such a natural light was already there.

With each second that became the past, the restlessness that Katey had been feeling for months began to ebb away. Her tense muscles released and she felt she could breathe for the first time. Her chest no longer ached with loneliness. Her mind wasn’t engulfed in the black fog of despair and doubt.

Katey felt, for the first time perhaps in years, at home. This was her breakthrough.

“Do you feel it yet?” he said softly.

“Feel what?” she asked, her voice sounding loud even in her own ears.

“That weird sensation of peace like the world is alright.”

“Yeah,” she replied with a grin. “How’d you know?”

“Cause I feel it too,”

Katey rolled her head to the side and met his gaze. She didn’t realize how close he was, but she didn’t care. It was exhilarating.

He grinned and Katey couldn’t help but smile too. It was a true smile, not faked for the sake of friends and teachers. But, a true, genuine grin that she was slightly embarrassed to reveal to such a perfect stranger. She felt her face flush and turned back to the staring at the sky.

“I come out here probably twice a week. It’s almost like therapy,” he said. A moment of silence passed between them and she spoke again.

“Today is actually my birthday.” She didn’t know what provoked her to share this detail with someone who she just met when she never even told her best friends. It must have been that peace he was talking about. “A little before midnight I’ll be eighteen,” Katey said. She didn’t really know what time she was born; she just set a random time. Eleven fifty-five at night seemed nice for the moment. Beth had always bragged that she was born at three o’clock in the morning while Lily’s parents told her she was born exactly at noon.

“No kidding? Well…” he pulled out a watch from his jacket pocket and peered at it in the darkness. “In the case that either of us leaves before then, happy birthday.”

Katey giggled. “Thank you. And how old are you?”

“I turn nineteen in a about month,” he replied.

“You look older than that.”

He shook his head. “I get that a lot. You don’t look your age either.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied.

“Good. I meant it as one.”

They spent the next several moments in comfortable silence. A gust of wind rolled above them and Katey shivered as it leaked through her hoodie. She didn’t know whether to be frustrated that she didn’t come prepared with another jacket or that she could feel her skin crawl with gooseflesh. She hadn’t felt such a sensation since last winter, even though this was the closing of the first week of December.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled with a sigh.

Logan ignored her and sat up to shrug off his heavy jacket. He handed it to her with a severe look like she shouldn’t argue. And she didn’t. Katey took his jacket and remarked how heavy it was. But once it was around her shoulders, it blocked out the cold perfectly.

They reclined back down, but this time Logan folded his hands behind his head, displaying his ripped body for her. Katey shivered, but not because of the cold.

“So do you live around here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Katey replied with a note of apprehension.

“Where?”

“Why? Are you going to stalk me?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

Katey rolled her eyes at his teasing. If he had made that comment any earlier, she wouldn’t have taken it in the way it was meant at all.

“So you have heard about the comet, right?”

“Yeah, who hasn’t? That’s what the party was for. Funny thing is that everyone’s going to be too drunk to even pay attention when it comes around.”

He laughed. “And you really are not afraid to be out here all alone?” he asked, looking back to her with sympathetic eyes.

“Nah. I don’t think there are any really dangerous wild animals here anymore. And I can usually take care of myself,” Katey said with a level of counterfeited confidence that made even herself smile.

“But you get freaked out over a stranger trying to be friendly to you.”

Katey shook her head. “That’s just being careful.”

“And I still managed to get you to lay down here with me.”

Katey laughed off his comment. “Whatever.”

“And that thing about wild animals isn’t necessarily true,” he said softly.

Katey looked back at him. His expression was shadowed and somber, as if everything had been merely a joke up to this point. He was perfectly serious and he wanted to make sure she was aware of it.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I’ve heard that wolves are making a come back in this area,” he said, keeping his eyes on the moon, while she kept her eyes on his. They looked like they were changing colors, becoming lighter and lighter, mimicking the paleness of the moon. It took a moment for his words to sink in.

“Really? Are you serious?” she asked.

“Very serious. They spotted three just the other month from what I heard.”

He must have been pulling her leg. If they spotted wolves, it would have been all over the news. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked.

“Not a bit,” she replied. He didn’t press the matter or try to make her believe him.

The moon made its gradual ascension into the sky, slow and majestic in its climb.

Katey had no idea how long they had been laying like that before a dull exhaustion crept in. She closed her eyes, but seemingly seconds later Logan spoke.

“And… happy eighteenth birthday, Katey. It’s midnight.”

Katey didn’t reply, but smiled all the same. She could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t move or look at him in return. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. She was finally considered an adult. She could leave Crestucky, leave Mary and start a new life.

But with that revelation came the knowledge that if she did leave town, she’d be leaving far more than a bad home and hick town. She’d be leaving her friends behind. And before she could stop herself from thinking it, she knew she’d be leaving Logan too. It was silly. They just met and he suddenly became a factor in her decision to leave town.

“Hey, Katey… Look.” Logan knocked his hand a few times gently on her arm and she looked up. Just below the moon, a small streak of pale blue light, the color of Logan’s eyes, shot across the sky. She watched in wonder as its tail left a trail of stardust in its wake. Katey had never seen anymore more glorious.

And all the sudden, she felt small. In the vast workings of the universe, she realized that she was just a small speck of dust, no bigger than the pin of a needle compared to what else lay out there for man to discover. Now she understood why people could be so obsessed about space.

But Katey wasn’t concerned with space. Just her place in it. She was afraid that the depression would return and tried to force the thought out. But it wouldn’t leave. And instead of giving her feelings of grief and sorrow for her own insignificant life, it instilled something else completely different.

Katey wanted to find her place in the world, not just accept the idea that she might not have a place. She remembered how good it felt to help Mr. Myers with his car earlier in the day. It was the feeling of fulfillment when she helped someone in need. She wanted to feel it again.

Katey looked over to where Logan was laying to tell him all about her new revelation, but he wasn’t there. She didn’t even hear him leave. Rocks surrounded them, but somehow he managed to get up and walk away without making a single sound.

Katey sat up and swiveled her head around, searching for him. She didn’t see him anywhere. Katey began to wonder if she had fallen asleep and only imagined Logan. As she looked around more frantically, her heart began to pound in her chest with the thought that she was alone again. The peace that she had felt only moments ago had left her. She didn’t want to be alone ever again.

She jumped up and ran to her jeep, stumbling a little on her way. Just as she stepped over the threshold to the parking lot, she heard a long solemn wolf howl coming from the forest beyond the graveyard.

The sound reverberated through the air like a haunting call, chilling her blood and then making it boil all at the same time. It was a bizarre sensation as she froze and listened to the last dying notes, captivated by it.

Was it really a wolf or just a lone dog? She’d heard stray dogs bark and howl before, but none of them sounded like that. The howl was majestic and regal. Not the mangy wailings of a mutt. Could what Logan said be true?

She quickly hopped in her jeep and sped away from the cemetery. It took her that long to realize that she was still wearing Logan’s heavy jacket. Now she knew that he must have been real and not just an illusion. But if he was real, she wondered why he hadn’t taken his jacket back.

 

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New Year, GoFundMe, Vellum and Scrivener

So, I’m finally getting around to posting again. The holidays were a crazy time and I for one am glad that they are finally over with. And I’ve got lots to fill my readers in on.

First, Happy New Year! Yeah, I know, it’s a couple of weeks delayed, but better late than never. Lots of people ring in the new year with empty promises they make to themselves about losing weight or making more money, but I’m not doing any of that. Instead, I’m setting up some goals for myself as a self-published author that my be a little more realistic than losing 50 pounds (even though it probably would do me some good to try for that too).

On the roster this year, are at least four book publications, if not five. I’m still working on “The Enigma” and have decided to give y’all a sneak peek at the cover. Isn’t it gorgeous! I’ve completed the rework of that one and I’m in the middle of “Becoming the Enigma”, which is its sequel. After that, both manuscripts will be going back to SolaFide Publishing for a second round of edits and I’ll be ready to release those to the public.

But while I’m waiting for that to finish, I’ll be returning to “Passions” and finishing that up within a few months, hopefully. Then it’ll go to editing and get published. After that will be “The Rose”, but that’s going to take a lot more time and effort since I’ll be reworking it as well. Then, and only then, after those projects are out on Amazon, I’ll turn my attention to “The Beast Within”, which is the third book in my Loup-Garou series that started with “The Enigma”. Very excited for this chain of stories and I hope you all will be too. I’ll post a segment of a chapter once I find the time.

Apart from manuscript work, I’ve been doing a lot of side projects to improve my career as an author. The biggest thing was that I jumped on the “GoFundMe” bandwagon and started a campaign to fund my writing hobby/career. Yes, I do earn royalties from the books that I sell, but most readers don’t realize how much time and money goes into being a self-published, independent author. Everything that the publishing companies normally take care of are the responsibility of the author now and they are the ones that foot the bill. Covers, editing, software, all of it costs a pretty penny and until sales stop scraping the floor, I need you (the readers) to help. If you love my work or just have a generous heart to give, I strongly request that you take the time and donate even a little to my campaign. Here’s the link: Sheritta’s GoFundMe Campaign To Becoming a Best Seller

Every little bit counts and thank you in advance.

Now that all of that is out of the way, I can fangirl over a couple of new programs I discovered!

The first, and dearest to me, is Vellum. This sexy beast of software was created for writers to produce professional and beautifully formatted ebooks to publish on Kindle, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, etc. The process to create a book is so simple that I was able to upload one of my novels, cover, chapter breaks and all, within less than ten minutes. It normally took me hours using a free website based converter and even then, they didn’t look half as good as the templates Vellum provides. It does cost a bit to generate an ebook, but if you make the investment to have unlimited downloads ($199), then you can create as many ebooks as you need. It’s already paid for itself in the time and frustration I’ve saved by using it rather than the other alternative.

Don’t believe me? Check it out for yourself! Vellum Ebook Creator

Another program I have come to love is Scrivener. Part of my winner goodies from National Novel Writing Month was a discount on this program that simplified my writing workspace into one interface.

Before, I had each book separated into folders on my hard drive, which then contained a Word document for each chapter, the plot outline and a folder for the character pictures. With Scrivener, I was able to combine all of that into easy to use platform where everything is accessible without having a ton of windows open. What I loved most is that they have a feature that helps me to convert all of my chapter files and front book matter (copyright, dedication page, etc) for a print book into one file that is formatted to the book size and font styles I need. Again, I used to spend hours on Word trying to make sure the page breaks, page numbers, headers, footers, fonts, and page alignment was absolutely perfect before uploading it to CreateSpace for publishing. Now, I spend maybe half an hour at most on Scrivener before compiling it into one file that works perfect for a print book.

Not only that, but when you’re writing in Scrivener, you can make the page blow up full screen to keep you from getting distracted from other websites. It’ll even allow you to make a background photo to help inspire your writing. I think Word can do this also, but there are so many more ways to customize with Scrivener that it almost makes Word obsolete. My only problem is that in Word, I’m used to right-clicking on any given word and choosing an synonym to replace it. With Scrivener, you have to highlight the word, go to a separate window for the Thesaurus, and even when you find the one you want, you have to manually type it into the document. This is just a feature I’ve grown to like through Word, but Scrivener, just like Vellum, pays for itself with how easy it is to use.

Check out this video on the basics and see if it’s something you want to look into (if you’re a writer that is). I highly recommend it as a useful tool.

 

Well, that’s all I have for now. As soon as I can find the time to breath through all this editing, I’ll post a sneak peek into “The Enigma” and create a page on my blog for it, as well as the whole Loup-Garou series I mentioned before. This is going to be a long journey, but I hope that you’ll follow me through it and see what great things come from my books. Until then, happy reading and Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas to All!

I just wanted to write a quick blog to wish everyone out there a Merry Christmas. I’m writing from sunny, warm Orlando Florida! When we drove in at 4pm, it was 84 degrees. Doesn’t quite feel like Christmas this year because of the crazy weather we’ve been having. But, regardless of the weather and the stressful duties of holidays errands, I am with family now and it’ll be a glorious weekend.

I also want to take the time to announce the release of “Saving The Beast”, the third installment of the Decimus Trilogy! Check it out on Amazon Kindle! Still working out the layout for the print compilation of all three books, but I will let everyone know when it is ready.

In the meantime, I’ve been working hard on a serious rework for one of my favorite novels: The Enigma. I’m hoping to have that released, as well as it’s sequel “Becoming The Enigma” by March, but I can’t promise anything. The holidays are indeed, a very busy time and I’m not even a quarter of the way through it all. But, it is going to be spectacular. Stay tuned for updates on that.

And don’t think I’ve forgotten about “Passions”. You may remember I mentioned it in a previous blog. It is still a pot of boiling water on my much crowded stove, but I’ve had to put it on the back burner as The Enigma series has taken center stage. Reason being is that I’m having it professionally edited by SolaFide Publishing and they returned the manuscript at break-neck speed. They requested that I review the edits, make necessary changes, and return it to them for a second round and I’m doing my best to not keep them waiting. My work on “Passions” will resume once Enigma is taken care of.

So with that, I will close this post. I know, it’s not nearly as long as some of my others, but I’m sure you’re getting tired of how I drag on sometimes. I’ll be putting out another post (probably next week) about some neat software I’ve been using and my GoFundMe account.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and best wishes for a safe and prosperous New Year!

Writing Contest and NaNoWriMo

So October and November were some pretty exciting months this year. I have been lax on my blog posts. Hope y’all can forgive me. Not only have the last few months been exciting, but also terribly busy.

Not only have I been working hard on getting the last of the Decimus Trilogy books out on Kindle, I’ve been working at getting the print version available too. I plan to have it out by the end of the year. The print copy will include all three stories: The Beast of Verona, Amber Ashes, and Saving the Beast all in one volume. Looks like it’ll turn out to be 400 pages of awesome storyline, filled with werewolves, romance, and some introspective discovery. For more info on what I’m talking about, visit the special page for “The Decimus Trilogy” here on my blog. There you’ll find links to the eBooks on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited, the book blurb, “Story Behind the Story” and a book trailer! Go check it out! And I’ll be sure to let everyone know when the print book is available.

Not only is The Decimus Trilogy in the works, but I’ve got two other eyes on my stove hot and going.

Twitter is a wonderful promotion tool, not only for authors, but for publishers as well. I first found SolaFide Publishing on Twitter when they followed my account. I decided to check them out and saw they were holding a writing contest. I thought “What the heck, why not?”. So I took a manuscript that is very near and dear to my heart, entitled “Enigma”. It’s the first book I ever wrote with a solid outline, but it took the longest to write. I started it in 9th grade and finally finished in October of 2014. I even wrote a screen play to accompany it. This story is what started my passion for writing supernatural romance. Before Twilight was a thing, I wrote Enigma. If it wasn’t for Enigma, The Decimus Trilogy, as well as dozens of other novels in the works would not currently be in the waiting queue.

So, I decided to put my baby on the altar as an offering and I wasn’t disappointed. Two weeks after the contest closed, I got an email with a review attached. The judges loved it! They had many nice things to say about this story of a young girl finding her purpose in life and discovering what being part of a true family means. I was brought to tears over all the wonderful things they said. For the contest, there would be 5 finalists and out of that group, a grand prize winner would be chosen. A finalist won a free eBook and print book cover for their manuscript, but the grand prize winner would win a free publishing package from SolaFide Publishing.

I am thrilled to announce that I was one of the finalists. I didn’t win, but the guy who did win seems like a very talented writer. Not bitter or disappointed at all. In fact, when his book is published, I’d love to read a copy. It looks great. You can learn about it on SolaFide’s blog at “THIS LINK“. So, just above this paragraph, you can check out the cover I won, along with a little blurb about the novel.

I will be publishing Enigma sometime in 2016 for sure. It’s a doozy of a tome, though. In print, at 6 inches by 9 inches for a cover, it’s going to be about 800 pages. The story is able to be sectioned off into 3 parts, which would make each part about average novel length. So, I just need to decide if I’m doing that or not, as well as having SolaFide Publishing take care of the editing for the manuscript (because heaven knows it needs it and I don’t want to do it). Will keep everyone updated on Enigma’s progress.

But before I can even think about getting Enigma set up for publishing, I’ve got one other book in the works that has been a bit of a stretch for me.

November was a fun month. Not only is it my birthday month, but it is also National Novel Writing Month. For anyone who is familiar with the writing world or has friends who are, you know this is always a fun and challenging time for us. The NaNoWriMo challenge is to write 50,000 words in the span of 30 days. We create a novel on their website and (ideally) daily update our word count as we plow through the process of writing a decent first draft of a novel. Not to toot my own horn, but I knocked it out by the 19th. Diligence, perseverance, and lots of coffee are the keys to winning NaNoWriMo. As a winner, I get a bunch of goodies from sponsors for NaNoWriMo, including a 50% off code for Scrivener. I’m toying around with the program right now and will most likely blog about it later. I’m just testing the waters right now to see if it’s worth my time.

So, what did I write about you ask? I wrote about a girl writing a novel about a girl writing a novel who falls in love with a vampire living in her basement… I can tell I probably lost you a few times in that sentence so let me elaborate.

Chloe returns to her childhood home after her aunt passes away to claim a cabin in the mountains that has been passed down through the family for generations. In fact, her ancestors were some of the founders of Carter Lake, Georgia. Leaving her big city life in Atlanta, Chloe hopes to finally pursue her life long dream of becoming a writer. With the secluded cabin as her base of operations, she’s eager to start her new life. But she’s rattled by some rumors in town that her cabin is haunted. The rumors are confirmed when she finds a beautifully hand written note critiquing her latest novel in progress. Thinking that this is an intruder, she takes extra measures to secure her home. But the letters keep coming. Under the impression that her secret correspondent is a ghost, she does a little research and finds out a man by the name of Gavin lived in the cabin before her family, and possibly built the original structure. One night, after taking a bad tumble outside of her cabin, she meets Gavin in person. But he is anything but a ghost. He’s very real and very much a vampire living in the basement under her home. As she comes to know Gavin on a personal basis, she learns that he is not an evil vampire like in the movies, but one that abhors his own existence and wants his humanity back more than anything. Also, he was once an aspiring author, just like her. Together, they strive to cure Gavin of his vampirism and make sure her first novel is a best seller.

I’m now at 68k words and I’m STILL not done. I will say, though, I’ve got a good chunk complete. If I can keep my wordiness down to a minimum, this manuscript may be suitable for literary agents and publishers to take a look at. However, if it breaches 100k words, it’s toast and I’ll end up self-publishing it. Yes, most literary agents and publishers will not accept manuscripts longer than 100k words. Some won’t even bother with novels that are over 80k words. It’s sad, especially for a writer like myself who can crank out 188k, 123k, and 230k word stories that can’t be split up into different parts. And even if they can be, some publishers won’t take a series like that in one sitting. Thank God for self-publishing.

Passions has been a stretch for me because I don’t particularly care for vampires and this will be the only novel I ever write where the main conflict includes a vampire. I have vampires featured in other books, but they aren’t in the lime light like Gavin is. Also, I’m writing strictly from the female’s perspective. It’s harder than it sounds.

So, I think that’s an adequate explanation for my absence on my blog as of late. The night is young and there is plenty more to write. I’ll post again soon. Until then, happy writing and I hope everyone reading this has a wonderful holiday season with their families. God bless!

P.S – If you’re wondering who does my FABULOUS cover art, wonder no more! Her name is Angela Quincoces Rivera at http://www.dream-designz.com. She’s an immensely talented woman. She turned out the covers for the Decimus Trilogy, Escape, and Passions. She’s also working on a few more covers for me and has already made a few more for future projects. I couldn’t make my books look good without her.

Research: A Writer’s Best Tool

So, it’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog about something other than book releases. My apologies. Better late than never.

Over the past few months, I’ve been writing my short werewolf fiction series, The Decimus Trilogy, which takes place half in the 1st century Roman Empire and the other half in modern day Italy. What I’ve learned after over 150k words and months of mental labor is this: you cannot skimp on research if you hope to be a writer. Especially a writer of believable fiction.

Now, it’s one thing to write fantasy. Most of the time the writer has created their own world that is completely and totally imaginary. Take my first novel, The Princess and Her Rogue, for instance. The setting is loosely based on a medieval world, but the places, characters, and culture are completely fictitious. But it’s another thing to say your character is walking through Rome, Italy, but you’re describing the shops from Los Angeles. It just can’t be done.

I spent hours upon hours of meticulous research for this series, probably more than I have done for any book I’ve ever written. It was a grueling task, but in the end, I was glad that I had taken the time to make sure the facts were right. I’m sure there are things I got totally wrong, like if the Passetto Hotel in Ancona even offers room service. I still don’t have a clue, but I had my characters order the room service because I felt it was somewhat necessary. Some things you can fudge a little.

Below are some different methods of research that we, as writers, should utilize at every given chance.

1.) Google – There is absolutely no excuse for lack of research nowadays with the invention of the Internet. Even if you don’t have a computer or don’t have internet, if you live in a town or city with a library, there is almost always a public computer you can gain access to. And if you’re able to read this blog, you have the ability to Google how to say “Hello” in Italian. And if for some weird reason you can’t, go to your local library or bookstore and spend a few hours researching the old fashion way.

2.) Google Earth – If you have never physically stood outside of the amphitheater in Verona, Italy, but you need to know if there is some side of the structure that has low traffic volume so your main character can sneak in, Google Earth will tell you. I wanted to make sure my descriptions of a road or street were as accurate as possible, and sometimes you can search the images on Google all day long, but you won’t find out what kind of shops are around the Ludus Magnus in Rome, Italy unless you’ve been there in the flesh. Or just use Google Earth. It’s a handy tool. Perhaps a little hard to navigate at first, but still usable.

3.) Websites – Yes! More internet! This time, you’re trying to look for the nearest restaurant to a specific location for your characters to eat at. Simple. Pull up Google Maps, find the nearest pizzeria to where they are generally located, and often times Google will include a link to their website if they have one. And if it’s in Italian, German, or French, Google Translator can help. However, search on the page for that little British or American flag first before you copy and paste the whole website into the translation box. And yes, Google Translator is not always the most reliable, but unless you want to take the time to refresh yourself with old high school Spanish, it’s your best bet. And the same goes for places in the USA. Restaurants will post their menus with prices, which can make your scene that much more believable and realistic. And not only for restaurants, but museums, hotels, apartment buildings, stores, businesses, etc.

*Funny tangent. In Amber Ashes, Arria and the other slave women in Decimus’s household, take a trip to one of the bath houses in Pompeii. I searched all over the internet for how a Roman bath worked and what the one in Pompeii would have looked like. And there were separate baths for men and women at that point, so I had to be specific. I watched two documentaries that each ran over an hour in length, trying to find the key to describing the calderium where the scene took place. Then, while browsing on Youtube, I found one guy had actually taken a 12 second video on his phone of the inside of the women’s calderium in Pompeii. It was a short video, but it gave me exactly what I wanted. I was indignant that I had spent so much time sitting on my butt, watching a documentary that didn’t even pertain to what I was looking for exactly, only to find something that did and wasted little of my time. So, in your research, don’t exclude the tool of YouTube. It could make a enormous difference*

4.) Road Trip! – So, if you have the luxury of being close to some place you want to write about, just go there. If you’re writing about Boston or New York and never been there, but you’re only a couple of hours away, take the time off from work – if you can – and go see those places you want to write about. I have a novel that I plan to write sometime next year and it takes place in New York. While I was doing the outline, I researched the snot out of all the places my characters would go. I even went apartment shopping for them and saved pictures of what their home would look like down to the art on the walls. Of course, I’m a long ways from New York, so that will take some serious planning and money-saving to pull off. But, if you can, I totally encourage you to do it. There are some things that the internet can’t tell you. I continually joked to my husband while I was writing Amber Ashes that it would be fantastic just to take a weekend trip to Pompeii and walk around to jot down notes instead of hoping someone took a picture of just the right building and uploaded it to their travel blog. 

5.) Interviews – Alright, I know most of us writers tend to be introverts. We don’t like socializing or talking to people we don’t know. But honestly, this could be a huge game changer in your writing skills. I hated the idea of personally interviewing anyone. I wondered what I was supposed to say. “Hi, I’m a writer and I’m conducting research for a book. Do you have time to answer a few questions?” It sounded so pathetic and needy. But you know what, I’m going to do it more often now if I can. Last week, I spent all day interviewing a friend of my husband’s who happens to be a firefighter for our local area. I have a book I’m planning to write and my male character happens to be a firefighter. But I didn’t know anything about what a firefighter did apart from what I’ve seen in movies. Boy, am I glad I got a hold of this guy, though. I learned so much that I would have never guessed and found out that a lot of movies like Ladder 49 did not accurately depict firefighters. He was a great sport about me asking all these dumb questions too. And interviews don’t always have to be in-person. I talked with this firefighter all day through Facebook Chat because that was the best way to reach him at the time. Just today, conducting research for the same book, I stopped by my local library to ask if I could sign on as a volunteer. Apparently becoming a volunteer is more of a longterm commitment than just coming on one or two Saturdays and stocking shelves. But the head librarian was very generous and allowed me to shadow her and the crew for a little while and learn the basics of what it is like to work in a library. Having served at my high school library before, it was nothing entirely new to me, but I got to see how a big-time library was operated. You can’t always learn that in a book or on a website.

6.) Documentaries – If you’re writing historical fiction in particular, documentaries and nonfiction reference books can be very helpful. They can offer general facts about a certain period of time, or specifics about a particular war or era. A very interesting documentary that was available on Netflix a while ago was “Death and the Civil War”. Not only was it about the Civil War, but it was about the culture of both the north and south, and how they related to death in their time. Any Ken Burn film is worth the time if you’re writing about baseball, the Civil War, World War II or Vietnam. I’m sure he has made more in the past, but those are the few I have watched and enjoyed. So, instead of catching up on the newest season of your favorite show, take a few hours to sit back and take notes from a documentary. You’ll learn a lot.

And not only does research prepare you for when you’re ready to sit down and start cranking out your next novel, it also gives you more credibility as an author. Someone who has been to Italy and reads about how well you described the colosseum at twilight will enjoy the story that much more. And sometimes, research can help give you ideas for scenes or plot twists. While researching about Pompeii, I was watching a documentary where they discovered the skeletons of mules or donkeys trapped inside a bakery. It gave me the idea that Decimus could… Well, I’d be spoiling some of the plot for you if I told you the end of that scene, wouldn’t I? *sly wink*

Comment below if you have any funny or interesting stories about time you’ve spent in research for a novel. Did it help you? Frustrate you? Leave you an aficionado about something that no one else would even care about? I’d love to hear from you!

“The Beast of Verona” Now Available on Amazon Kindle and Kindle Unlimited!

So, here is my debut novel that introduces my Loup-Garou (werewolf) mythology/universe.

For inside info, visit the book’s page HERE

This series began with the creation of a simple short story and blossomed into a short trilogy instead. I had a blast doing all the research about the Roman Empire and gladiators.

Blurb: Taken prisoner as a traitor to the Roman Empire, Decimus is sold into servitude as a gladiator in the Verona amphitheater. A natural warrior, Decimus has earned himself a reputation in the arena as a vicious combatant. But the secret behind his uncanny success lies not in his strength and prowess, but in a generational curse that only his manager is aware of. When he catches the unwanted lustful attention of a young politician’s daughter, he is tempted out of his violent complacency.

Howard, a young man in line for the position of leader in his family in the states, is sent on a quest by his father to discover the truth behind their ancient heritage. He thought the trip to Italy was foolish and unnecessary. Why did the life of a first century gladiator have to do with his leadership skills? With the help of a shy and clumsy, but beautiful, history buff, he comes to learn much more than he ever expected about his ancestry and himself.

Chapter 1 Sneak Peek

Sneak Peek into “The Beast of Verona”, a paranormal historical romance

Here’s the first chapter in the first installment of the paranormal historical romance trilogy I’m working on called “The Beast of Verona”. Check out more details in its page here on my blog. Keep in mind that this has not been edited yet. Stay tuned for the release on Kindle in September

Somewhere over Italy, 2015

Howard’s teeth rattled inside his mouth as the airplane bobbled through the spell of turbulence they were passing through. And he was soon discovering that even his iron stomach had its own limit.

He felt like the toy inside of a Christmas present for a toddler who was becoming a little too anxious to find out what was inside. And if the air didn’t clear soon, the chubby businessman sitting next to Howard would see exactly what was inside of him.

Howard reached up and twisted the head of the stiff nozzle for the air conditioner above his seat. Leaning back, he let the cool air flow over his forehead. Even though he showed no discomfort in his expression, anyone could tell he wasn’t feeling well by the glistening sheen of sweat on his face.

He never wanted to fly to Italy, but his father insisted that it would be faster than taking a cruise across the Atlantic. Howard was not naturally a nervous person, but he strongly believed that if God had intended for men to fly, they would have been born with wings or had the ability to change into a bird.

At the image of a burly man like his father turning into a tiny canary, Howard let out an amused chuckle. It was a pleasant sound that rumbled in his throat.

The businessman turned to him with the least affable countenance and sneered. “What’s so funny?” he grumbled.

Despite his squinty eyes and puckered lips as if he had smelt something rank, Howard could sense his anxiety. He probably didn’t like flying either.

“Nothing,” Howard replied in his husky baritone voice.

“Well,” the man sniped, “keep your nothingness to yourself.”

That suited Howard just fine.

He turned his green eyes towards the open window next to him and watched the wisps of clouds flutter by as the cabin of the plane rocked a little harder. The dense clouds that passed over the wings obscured the view, but Howard didn’t need to see. He didn’t care. He wasn’t in Italy to sightsee anyway. The only camera he brought with him was the one on his phone and he had no intention of using it.

Why did he have to go to Italy anyway? What did learning his family history have anything to do with being a leader today? What was he supposed to prove by learning a few facts and visiting a few museums? All he was given was a name, a place and what his ancestor was. Howard was supposed to fill in the blanks and report back to his father in the states.

The intercom chimed through the cabin before the fluid voice of the head stewardess announced that they would be landing in the Verona Villafranca Airport soon. She repeated it in both English and Italian. Howard understood both. He had been preparing for this trip for a while now and could speak the language well enough. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it too much.

Arena di Verona, 69 AD

Still clothed in the tattered garments of his enslavement, Decimus sat in the cell the Romans had confined him in. He could hear the roar of the crowds above his feet, shouting for carnage and death. And they thought that he was the barbarian.

Despite the murky darkness that surrounded him, his hazel eyes could see everything as clear as day. He could distinguish the edges of the smooth stones of the walls and the iron bars that imprisoned him there. He could easily tear them down, but then where would he be? Guards were posted along the halls and outside of the arena. There was no easy escape for him.

The jingle of keys snagged his attention and he listened as they drew closer down the corridor. The keys were accompanied by the clanging of armor and weapons bashing together with every step.

Soon, half a dozen guards were at the door to his cell. It was unlocked and the strong arms of trained soldiers seized him. Decimus dragged out of the cell until he could gain his own footing. He had no desire to resist them. He had spent too much of his life fighting the Romans and he was exhausted. Perhaps not physically, but in his own soul he was tired of the bitterness that had been instilled in him from a young age. It was such hatred that had led to his imprisonment. Hatred, and a lust for the flesh of his enemies that he was not able to control.

The guards led him down the twisting corridors until they came to a set of steps that ascended to a portico. Beyond the gate, he could see the sand of the arena floor and the opposite wall of stone. Just above the edge, he could see a few rows of spectators, shouting and waving their arms widely in a frenzy that both puzzled and fascinated him.

The guards unshackled his feet and wrists and left him at the foot of the stairs to guard his only other way out. The cries of the spectators roared to a climactic high as the portico was raised, admitting Decimus into the arena.

Decimus glanced back to the guards and the swords they carried on their belts. He could risk an escape now, but at what cost? He turned back to the arena and made his way heavily up the steps, emerging into the bright sunlight of the amphitheater.

The hot sun beat down upon his brow as he squinted to take in the view of the crowd. Men, women, children, politicians and slaves alike had gathered to see his execution. Did any of them know his name or where he was from? Or did the sponsor build them up to believe he was just another barbarian from the north, unworthy of recognition or respect for the little service he had done for the Roman Empire?

No, none of them cared. They wanted to see his blood cake the sand beneath his feet. He wasn’t sorry that he would disappoint them.

Decimus ran a dusty hand through is thick ebony hair as he turned to take in the sight of the towering arena. The blue Verona sky above him offered no cloud to reprieve him in the heat of the summer season. Not even a gentle breeze could make its way over the high walls of the amphitheater to cool his temples.

The sponsor of the event was seated in a place of honor in the front row, surrounded by his entourage of politicians and wealthy citizens. Decimus didn’t know his name or how he came to sponsor the event, but his life rested with the man that scowled down upon him over his pointed nose.

The sponsor, clad in rich garments, waved his hand as a cue to someone within the arena. Decimus spun around to see another portico on the other side of the arena rise to open the way for his executioner.

If it were even possible, the crowd grew louder as the golden pelt and mane of the lion seemed to glow in the sunlight. Decimus’s lips curled up into a snarl as the lion prowled towards him. Hunger gleamed in the dark eyes of the beast as its own whiskered mouth pulled back into a threatening roar.

Decimus braced himself for the attack that he could feel was eminent. His muscles rippled and tightened under his tanned skin, his feet shifted into the dirt to affirm his stance, hands curled and ready to counter the beast.

The lion stalked around Decimus, knowing full well that he was a real threat. He wasn’t like the others the Romans had thrown in the arena. He was strong, confident and unafraid. Decimus was a predator, just as the lion was. Perhaps more.

In a single tense moment, the lion charged. Fangs and sharp claws flashed at Decimus, but he was ready. Decimus’s strong arms captured the lion around its neck, dodging past the lion’s massive paws, and wrestled him into the dirt.

The lion’s hind feet kicked wildly at Decimus, slashing at his tunic and ripping it apart. Decimus dug his own claws into the lion’s thick skin, drawing the first blood of the match as he pounded the beast into the ground.

Ducking his head close to the lion’s mane, the raging jaws were unable to find purchase into Decimus’s neck. When the frenzied jabbing of the lion’s hind legs into his gut became too much, Decimus lifted the beast off the ground and threw him several feet to the side.

The crowd was deafening. Decimus could distinguish cheers for both himself and for the lion. The tide was turning in his favor.

The lion scrambled to its feet as slivers of red blood dripped down its back where Decimus’s claws had sunk in. Glancing down at his own hands, he saw his fingers drenched in the sticky, crimson blood of his opponent. A surge of satisfaction coursed through him.

The lion, now angry and confused, circled Decimus once more. He was searching for a weakness and Decimus could see the thoughtful cunning in the lion’s eyes as it tried to formulate a new plan of attack. He wouldn’t give him the chance.

Decimus leapt at the lion. Claws slashed into his shoulder, but he ignored the searing pain as he swung around to grapple the lion from behind. His legs straddled across the lion’s back and Decimus trapped his neck between his arms once more. The lion roared and reared up in an attempt to loosen Decimus’s grip. But the traitor was too determined to live and wouldn’t let go.

Decimus’s nails cut into the lion’s neck, tangling in the coarse hair of the mane. He could feel his fingers slide past the flesh and pulsing tendons as his fingers dug deeper into the thrashing lion. Blood poured over his palms, down his arms and over the lion’s torso, soaking them both.

Soon, the lion became weaker and crumbled to the ground, sending out a plum of sand upon impact. Decimus followed him down, his arms squeezing out more lifeblood as the lion’s legs convulsed with spasms. He could feel the euphoria of victory throb through his body, his limbs tingling with the rush of pleasure from the kill.

When the lion breathed its last ragged breath, both of them lay in a pool of blood that became muddy as it mixed with the sand of the arena. Decimus could feel it coated thick upon his skin, but he didn’t care.

He dislodged his hands from the flesh of the lion and pushed himself up, standing strong and tall. The gash in his shoulder was no longer there, but the traces of his own blood were there, mingled with that of the lion’s.

The crowd was no longer cheering for the lion, but for Decimus. He turned to glare at the sponsor, who’s eyes were wide in disbelief at the spectacle he just witnessed. But Decimus was not done.

He stepped over the lion and leaned down to grab the jowls of the beast he had vanquished. In one swift motion, Decimus ripped the jaws apart. Even more blood splattered around him as he took the lower jaw and tossed it like a disc across the arena. He could hear the shrill screams of horror from the women and the riotous shouts from the men.

Turning to the sponsor again, he waited. He proved his worth, he defied his own execution in the style he had heard they all hungered for. Word of this blood sport had reached him all the way through his homeland. Even then he didn’t want to believe that the society that ruled the world as they knew it could find amusement in such carnage, in death, in suffering. But in one dreadful morning he found it to be true.

The sponsor rose from his seat and paused to listen to the will of the crowd.

They demanded life now and not his death. How the mob could be turned in a matter of moments was incredible. The sponsor’s chest rose and fell with the decision he had to make. According to the will of the people, the sponsor raised his hands to dismiss the criminal, granting him his life. But not necessarily his freedom.

Guards flooded out onto the field with their spears trained upon Decimus. He slowly looked at the men who would dare to capture him and he could not only sense, but see the fear so visible in their faces. He could see the horror in their eyes as they roamed over his body, so soaked and caked with blood that hardly any clear skin could be seen on him. Decimus must have looked like the god of war himself in all his victorious splendor.

He did not have to be ordered back the way he came. He went freely. Swaggering towards the open gateway that led to the corridor he had been ushered through just a little while ago, he took in the sight of the arena one last time. At least, he hoped it would be his last.

Clouds is LIVE and available on Amazon Kindle and Kindle Unlimited!

After a few months of hard editing, revising and waiting, Clouds is now available on Amazon in both ebook and print format! You’ll find the links below. If you preordered a copy over the past month, the book will show up in the library of your device. Be sure to leave a review of how much you enjoyed it!

“In a new political machine where Christians are segregated and persecuted for their faith in the worst imaginable way, hope is dim and out of reach. Shiloh is the worst city in Gadria, boasting the largest Christian ghetto in the country. Tabitha, a young Christian woman trying to hide her blind mother from the secret police while working as a hostess in an inner city restaurant, finds herself falling desperately in love with her new supervisor. Luke, the youngest son of the new chief of police of Shiloh, is disturbed by the plight of the Christians and feels especially compassionate for Tabitha, but he is nearly alone in his sentiments as all of his colleagues despise Christians with a fervent passion. Can they overcome the prejudices of the culture and keep their forbidden love a secret?”

   

Where does Introversion come from?

I’m going to turn my writer’s hat around for a moment and be the philosopher today. Notice, I’m not taking the writer’s hat off, I’m just turning it around so you see the “Philosopher” label on the back of the hat, because every writer kind of has to be a philosopher and/or psychologist to create the kind of stuff they do.

Something that I’ve been thinking about is the subject of what it means to be an introvert. I am an introvert and I know a few people are are introverts as well. It’s not a bad thing, but I really wouldn’t say it’s a good thing either. It’s just you being you or them being them. Nothing wrong with it. But, I started to wonder why people are introverted and this is what I came up with based on me own conjectures. Much of this stems from the reason why I am an introvert, so you may not agree with some of it (or any of it), but I felt like if there is anyone out there that struggles the way I do, it’s worth writing it all down to share and let them know they are not alone.

First off, please look at this list through the lens of the idea that the introvert is not born that way. When I say this, I’m only talking about that percentage of people who were NOT originally the quiet children in the corner of the play room at day care of. I’m talking about those kids who once were the bubbly and excited about everything. They’re the ones that could walk up to strange adults and say “Hi! Wanna be my friend?” without batting an eye, but somewhere in their childhood, they became the introvert they are today and these could be the possible reasons.

They suffered from bullying as a child. I know the social media has been blowing this up all over the place lately. And its for a good reason. I, for one, became very introverted at a certain point in my childhood when I was bullied a lot for being the new kid in school. We just moved to a different town when I was in elementary school. I had a few close friends in my old school, but coming to the new school, I was lost. I didn’t have any friends. I had enemies. They were kids who immediately excluded me or picked on me because I was new. This is wrong and no child should suffer this kind of discriminating treatment, especially from their peers. As a result, they avoid new people like the plague because in the back of their mind, they wonder if that person will hate them so unconditionally as the bullies did. They make an effort to avoid that pain and abuse before it becomes a problem. There are tons of new programs out there to try and control bullying, so kudos to them.
They had failed friendships that have scarred them. I can think of two instances immediately where close friendships have turned sour. What I mean is when you have a close friend that you get along with, have had sleep-overs with, gone out to the mall together, passed notes in class, all that stuff. You even came up with secret hand shakes and a language that only you two knew. But something happened that was not your fault at all and suddenly that best friend stabbed you in the back, spread nasty rumors about you or dropped you like a batch of fries into hot oil, and you two are no longer friends. The victim of such cruelty then becomes hesitant to be close to anyone or be tight friends with anyone again afterwards. I believe this more often happens in middle school and high school.
The problem stems from issues at home. I’m not talking about verbal or physical abuse inflicted upon a child by a parent. This goes beyond abuse. This is simply an environment thing. I’m sure there are plenty of introverted people out there that had siblings, but I’m not talking about them either. I’m referencing to those kids who grew up as an only child and/or without any other children their age to play with. I have a handful of cousins, but we didn’t see each other much in my later years of growing up and on top of that, I am an only child. Being at home, I had to learn to entertain myself. Not because my parents weren’t around or too busy to deal with me, but because I understood they had their own lives and I needed to learn how to be independent. A lot of things I’ve heard about extroverts is that they draw their energy from interacting with other people. An introvert on the other hand, builds energy from being alone. A child who has learned to be comfortable with alone time and independent activities like reading, writing, video games, etc, are less willing to interact with other people (their age or not) because they think “I can have just as much fun at home, if not more”. This then creates the mindset that they don’t want to go out and would rather be alone.
They heard too many times “Shut up, no one cares.” I actually saw this in a tumblr conversation earlier this week. You can tell someone has suffered from this because they’ll start talking about something that they’re super passionate about like stamps, geology, the Titanic, or writing and their face is lit up like the fourth of July, but then they stop and say “I’m sorry, I know this is boring.” If you’re a decent person, you’ll let them keep talking and give them your undivided attention. This complex comes from the idea that what they have to say is not important. The same thing can happen if they’ve come across too many people that will simply turn away and start talking to someone else even though you’re in the middle of explaining something to them. I’ll get on my high horse and say that those people are just plain rude and hurtful. I strive to always give people my undivided attention because I know how bad it hurts to think that you’re not important enough to deserve the time and consideration of another human being. An introvert can be quiet because of this, be soft spoken or hesitant to input their own thoughts into a conversation. To avoid the humiliation at all, they may just avoid conversations or people in general. Which leads into my next point.
They were humiliated too much. Either as a child, or an adult; by their own doing or that of others, an introvert may likely have become who they are today because of an incident where they felt publicly humiliated. It may not have been a thing like slipping on a banana peel or called out for having a funny accent. It could have been something very subtle like a rash comment made by a coworker that may not have been true, but brought a laugh out of everyone else at your own expense. It may not have been intended as a slight to that person’s character or appearance, but it sure felt that way. Or it might be that the introvert has made too many mistakes in conversation like saying something completely wrong and inappropriate that no one else may have picked up on. I’ll give you one example. I work in a furniture store and we have customers that pick up their orders in the warehouse. The warehouse employs take care of pulling the merchandise and bringing it out to the customer. I was going back into the warehouse to tell the guy that there’s a pick up. It was ten minutes till time to go and he was just messing around saying that he wouldn’t do it. He’s done this before and it’s not unusual. Sometimes it’s actually kind of funny. But I left the warehouse and still had the invoice in my hand because he wouldn’t do it. I was not mad, I wasn’t frustrated, I just wanted the job to get done. I came up to the warehouse manager and handed the invoice to him. When he asked me why, I said “Because (name) is being a male reproductive organ and won’t do it.” This got the warehouse manager furious and he snatched the ticket away and stormed into the back, mumbling curses all the way about how the warehouse worker was getting on his last nerve. I had to have blushed because I felt so humiliated that I had just inadvertently said and done the totally wrong thing and now I’ve gotten someone else in trouble that didn’t deserve it. It makes me dread going back to work and facing either of them.
They think way too much. I’m guilty of this. And thinking too much is a pretty broad phrase. They could be thinking about too much of a lot of things. They may be thinking too much about how people will see them when they walk through the grocery store. They could think too much about what exactly they would say to someone when they are forced to face them. They may think too much about all the things that could go wrong with going out into public or meeting new people (such as everything I have listed above). They could be thinking too much about how they reacted and interacted with other people after they get home. All of this over thinking, I believe, leads to the feeling of being mentally and emotionally drained after interacting with society as an introvert. I know on my way home from work, my mind is going a thousand miles an hour faster than my car is, thinking about all the things I had done wrong at my job or all the things I could have done better. I have the best witty comebacks to my coworker’s sarcastic remarks, but I always think about them after the fact instead of in the moment and I kick myself for it every time because if I don’t reply at all or very little, I feel like I’ve set a bad impression that I’m not a fun person to be around. See, thinking too much right there! It leaves you doubting yourself, doubting your abilities to handle social interaction and makes you inadvertently dread it in the end.

Like I said in the beginning, I hope that maybe you or someone you know can relate to this. I’d love to know what you think if you care to comment below.

As a close, I will say this, to avoid the spread of unnatural introversion, be a kind person. Don’t degrade someone or act like they don’t deserve your time. Everyone deserves to feel loved and accepted for who they are, not how YOU idealize them to be. You may not want to be friends with them, but at least be a good person so that they know not all people are bad.

What You Mean To Me

Forward: I don’t have anywhere else to put this, so I’ll just put it here. I wrote this for my husband on our second year anniversary as a way to put into words what he means to me and why I love him. He did the same for me, but it was better in my opinion. Also, this is not strictly based upon a single event, but a combination of feelings and experiences over the first few months of us falling for each other in high school.It’s been a whole weekend since I’ve seen or spoken to him. Or has it been an eternity? I can’t tell anymore. Every time we’re apart like this it gets worse. I get worse. How anyone can put up with me, I’ll never know. But he can.

My nerves are shot, my hands shaking, and my chest tight with anticipation. I know any moment he’ll come through that door, his stride strong and confident. I’d know his walk anywhere. My knees bobble restlessly as I sit on the rolled up matt alone. The wrestling gym was hardly a place to practice ballroom dancing, but it was all the club could find. I glance around to the wall of mirrors, the long window across the adjacent wall that flood the room with just enough light to let a person see where they were going. But what I saw most were the people, my fellow students and club members. I knew their names and they probably knew mine. But that was all. They knew nothing. Not even my friends knew everything about me. Only he did.

Everyone else is talking, laughing, gossiping but I’m silent. I’m always afraid that if I don’t hold my tongue, I’ll let slip about this crush and it’ll be the end of me. I can’t, I won’t. I made the mistake of telling one person and it hasn’t helped at all. She only tried to make it worse. She said too much, implied that much more and tried her best to make it work, but I know it wouldn’t. Nothing good could come of this. I know he doesn’t want me like I want and desperately need him.

Avoidance, that’s what I need. Just to avoid him and let this all pass away. It’ll hurt more than anything imaginable, but it must be done for my own sanity; or what’s left of it.

I’ve made up my mind. But as I get up to run out the door, my feet failed me as I saw him standing there. His eyes were searching the room. Were they searching for me? Surely not, I’m imagining it.

As his mystic blue eyes fall upon me and he flashes that goofy smile at me, my legs beg to buckle from under me. But I refuse. He’s seen me and I’ve seen him. And what a feeling it is to be seen, not just looked at, but to be noticed and acknowledged with such warmth that radiated from his gaze. It felt like he was the only one who really saw me, who cared that I was there. He must have been looking for me. His eyes wouldn’t avert nervously, but focused in.

He took a step, then another and I knew he was drawing closer. I straightened myself and steeled my nerves. He was just a friend, nothing more, but thank the Lord it was nothing less. I gave him a weak, toothless smile. It was forced, I know, but perhaps he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the heart I wear on my sleeve and how utterly shattered it was without him.

As he drew closer, I was suddenly very aware of how badly I was shaking and how stupid I felt just mindlessly standing there. I felt like a fool and I hadn’t any clue what to do with my hands. I tried to act casual and hang my thumbs from my jean pockets, but I can still feel the tips of my fingers twitch against my thighs.

He stopped in front of me and set down his bag beside his feet. I could bare it no longer and looked away to the rest of the club. No one even suspected that my world was spinning.

“Hey,” he spoke. Oh, how his voice sent pleasant shivers down my spine. I could feel sweat crawl across the skin of my back and just below my neck. I’m so glad I put on deodorant and body spray before the meeting.

“Hi,” I timidly replied, this time letting the edges of my mouth pull into an anxious grin, but I still refused to let my eyes directly meet his again. I wouldn’t have the courage to speak if I did.

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

“It was ok,” I lied. It was horrible. I spent the whole time locked up in my room listening to sad love songs to get myself out of the rut he unknowingly put me in. If only he knew how torn up I was over this whole mess. It was like I had opened Pandora’s box the day he showed concern for me. Why did I have to fall apart at the seams every time someone showed that they cared? Why couldn’t I just take it at face value instead of over thinking everything? But as I probed more, I found that I genuinely cared for him too.

“How was yours?” I finally asked, shifting my weight from one leg to the other in an attempt to make this situation more comfortable. It wasn’t working well.

“Not bad…” And then he proceeded to tell me what he had done with his family over the weekend. The conversation took twists and turns into various subjects like music and movies and I could feel the tension begin to melt away. Once I got past the jitters, it was so easy to be with him. It didn’t seem complicated and everything was simple again. Everything that happened before our conversations seemed eons away and none of it mattered anymore. All that I knew was that he was with me and it was easy.

My peace was interrupted as our dance instructor entered the gym and began to set up her music player. I had almost forgotten why we were there. All of the sudden, a new anxiety crept in. Who was I going to dance with?

I took a quick observation of the room and saw that there were an odd number of people, meaning one person would have to sit out. Glancing at him from the corner of my vision, I knew I would be the one to sit out. There were so many other dancers more worthy of his partnership than I.

As the music began and the instructor gave directions, I slinked back to my spot on the rolled up mat and sat with my hands folded nervously in my lap. I didn’t look at him and stared at a speck of discoloration in the concrete floor just in front of me.

The music began and I felt a twinge of bitter envy for those who were having all the fun. I loved to ballroom dance. The music, the intimacy, the sheer fun of the whole thing made me grin and ache with longing to join them. Melancholy flooded my brain and I sighed, wishing that just one more person could have come to the meeting so I could have danced with them.

Then, a shoe concealed the speck on the ground I had been staring at. It was a familiar shoe. I lifted my eyes to see those blue diamonds staring back at me.

“Aren’t you going to dance?” he asked, a look of bewilderment pinching his eyebrows together.

“There’s an odd number of people and I don’t have a partner.”

His face softened and a gentle smile graces his lips. He took a step back and bowed to me, offering his hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”

The suave yet gentlemanly gesture made me giggle. I scanned the group and saw that a member had stepped in at the last minute to make our party an even number. It seemed too perfect for words.

I look a shaky breath and faithfully placed my hand in his. “You may,” I replied with as much gentility that I could muster.

With very little effort, I rose to my feet and he led me to join the other dancers on the floor. The first dance was one we knew very well. The waltz. We assumed the position with our hands joined, my hand ever so slightly touching his bicep and his hand cradling just below my shoulder blade. To have him so near and yet so metaphorically far, it was a wonder I didn’t melt to the floor in a puddle.

We took step by step, clumsily at first as we were trying to grasp the rhythm of the song. Then we gradually became more fluid in our movements, rising and falling with each step, subtly rotating around other couples, all at the gentle guidance of his hand against mine.

I kept my back straight, head erect and chin tilted in such a way that I was not directly facing him. I kept my eyes focused on the room and where we were spinning, but heaven forbid I should look at him. If I did, I would lose all self-control of my muscles and collapse for sure.

As the song progressed, I began to feel the nagging idea that he was staring at me. Do I dare look? I did. And he was. His eyes were glossy like two marbles, his lips pulled up into a sweet and endearing smile. Everything about his expression screamed that he was enjoying himself. I couldn’t help but crack my stony face and smile back.

“What?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. My stomach leapt within me as my anxiety rose.

“Nothing, I’m just looking.”

“Oh, my ugliness leaves you stupefied?”

He shook his head as if in pity. “No, you’re not ugly.”

I turned my head to face him, all the while still dancing. But I tried my hardest not to look into his eyes. I stared at his nose instead. “Then why are you staring?”

“No reason.”

I sighed and resumed my professional-dancer exterior. All the while on the inside, my mind and heart battled each other for an answer. Was he staring because he thought I was nice to look at? Was there something on my face that was amusing? Is there a zit I haven’t popped that he’s noticed? Do I have dried ketchup on the corner of my mouth? Is he really looking at me or just something behind me?

I glanced again. No, he was really looking at me. I tightened my lips, forcing them to stay relaxed and not laugh. But the more I looked into his eyes, the more I could feel the last bits of my sanity slip from me. I began to giggle, and giggle uncontrollably.

“What are you laughing at?” he finally asked.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t stop giggling.”

I had never been able to look into someone’s eyes without busting into a grin. It was unexplainable. But this was different. This urge to giggle was so overwhelming that the only way it could be explained is that I was too happy to stay straight faced the way I was. To be dancing with him like this was like magic. I hadn’t been so happy in so long that I almost forgot what it meant to be truly happy. He gave me back that feeling.

Once I finally regained control, I decided to face my fears and gaze back into his eyes too. Such calm, laughing eyes that I could drown in. Never had I seen such beautiful eyes in the all the world. In fact, I found the world in his eyes. My everything, my life, my soul, my heart was in his eyes. In them, I had everything. In HIM I had everything. Everything I lacked and needed so desperately, I knew he could offer me. He was the courage to my fears, the strength to my weakness, the love to my beaten and broken heart.

The very essence of my body wanted to scream out to him how I felt, what I felt and what he meant to me in that moment. I was such a shattered life before he came and showed me love. Whether he knew it or not, I knew he had to have feelings for me. I hoped he could see it in my eyes because my tongue wouldn’t loosen from my mouth enough to say the words. “I love you”