Kayleigh Sky's Blog, page 3
November 26, 2017
Author Interviews Coming Soon!
Oooo. I have something wonderful to offer you. Author interviews! I hope to start on December 2nd, and continue every Saturday with a few extra dates to accommodate new releases for the next few months at least. Author interviews are a perfect way to learn more about the people who create the wonderful books we love. I hope you’ll make a habit of dropping by.
Today, I thought I’d answer a question myself to start things off. Keeping reading below to discover what I think about my chosen profession. 
November 19, 2017
Sunday Snippets!
Hi there! I’m adding a segment called Sunday Snippets to my blog. As long as I have something new and exciting to offer you, I’ll be posting these snippets on Sundays, and possibly adding an additional segment on Tuesdays. We’ll see. Check out the tidbits below and enjoy!
May 24, 2017
COVER REVEAL for TRINKETS, my new novella!
Announcing Trinkets !!!
This is my newest. It’s a novella of approximately 150 pages available for pre-order on Amazon right now for 99 cents. You can get it here. The general release date is June 2nd. I’ll be increasing the price to $2.99 at that time, so if you want it less expensively, pick it up now. A paperback version will also be available for $8.99, and I enrolled the ebook in KDP, so you can borrow that on Kindle Unlimited if you belong to the KU program.
On the run with a stolen teddy bear and a couple hundred dollars in cash, Alex’s life takes a strange turn when he crashes his car in a freak accident. Stranded in the desert with no water, he is rescued by a crow that leads him to the home of Lars and Lars’ five-year-old niece Holly.
Lars is a man with secrets, and he’d just as soon Alex was on his way, but delays in the repair of Alex’s car compel him to offer Alex a place to stay in exchange for babysitting services. Alex accepts the offer and soon falls head over heels for Holly and the mysterious Crow.
Over the course of several weeks, Alex finds himself embracing a life he’d only dreamed of. A life of warmth and comfort—and a passion that almost makes him forget the past he’s running from. Almost.
As Lars and Alex fall in love, secrets about Lars and Holly, and a dark danger pursuing Alex, threaten to destroy their new family.
Alex was rescued once by the quirky crow he now lives with. Will Crow be able to save the treasure trove of a family he’s collected one more time?
March 9, 2017
Kayleigh Sky’s Story News.
Coming up… An Elvis Presley ...
Coming up… An Elvis Presley sighting. And story news!
What you are reading here is an excerpt from my newsletter. I decided to start posting most of the content here too. I usually provide information about free or discounted books and will occasionally provide free stories, as well. If you’d like to be a part of that, just sign up for my newsletter here.
I’m wrapping up a full-length novel right now. This is a dystopian, sci-fi (set on a future Earth) with an unusual villain in a mix of villians. Not talking about that quite yet, but I wanted to offer you a little insight into one of the heroes. This guy arose from an unexpected source of inspiration, or rather an aspect of him did, and that was—drum roll, please—Elvis Presley! Right off, I’ll tell you that he doesn’t look anything like Elvis. He doesn’t sound like him either—although he does sing.
The point of inspiration comes from an old interview with Elvis. One of the earliest ones. I tried to find it on YouTube so I could show it to you—I watched a lot of Elvis clips!—but no luck. I couldn’t find it. Anyway, it was a short conversation during which the interviewer said something Elvis didn’t understand. It might have been a word, if I remember correctly. In any case, what struck me was how readily Elvis admitted he didn’t know the word or reference, whatever it was. There was no shame, no discomfort, no attempt to pretend he understood. My character—Ori—is poor, homeless for most of his childhood, and uneducated, but his pride never suffers over that, so I gave him the dignity and honesty I saw in Elvis in that interview. Ori tries to sound out words and is never ashamed if he needs to ask somebody what they mean. He harbors a deep wound inside him that eats away at his sense of self-worth, but he knows his poor vocabulary and low position in what might be the last city on Earth isn’t a real measure of that worth.
To me, Ori’s dignity is a foundation of courage, a courage he’ll need to tap deeply as the story goes on. There is much he has to do, and his ability to do it will come from a belief that we all count no matter what has befallen us in our lives.
And now a quick update on my other stories—
Doll Baby has been out for two months now! If you picked it up and don’t mind leaving a review that would be awesome but don’t feel any pressure. I’m terrible at doing that myself, but the truth is—reviews help sell books. And I do want to sell books so I can keep writing them!
For those of you who haven’t picked Doll Baby up — what are you waiting for!? Click on the cover.
April 10, 2016
A Little Flash Fiction for You
A DREAM AT THE END
The river was a fantasy, of course.
I tried the tap again, the image of water rushing through my head. This time a thin dribble struggled out. I let it collect in a bowl at the bottom of the sink and gazed out the only window in our apartment, but all I saw were the gray walls of towering buildings and the opaque gleam of the dome in the distance.
Sighing, I scratched at the bristles on my chin then picked up the bowl, brought it over to Sam and sat on the edge of our cot. He smiled up at me.
“C’mon,” I said. “Have a swallow.”
“I’ll be ready,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”
I smiled back now. “You never have.”
He drank, and then I dipped a corner of the cloth in the tiny puddle at the bottom of the bowl and rubbed it over his face. The sickness had come on him two days ago, some kind of virus or bacteria in what remained of our water supply. I had gone out yesterday to find help. I had found only bodies. The blaze of our sun had seared through the dome. The air had been still, the stench of death growing with the weight of the heat. Now I wiped my husband’s cheek and chin and gave him the last dribble of water from the bowl.
“Jim . . . .”
I leaned close, felt his hot breath. I could feel the heat inside my own body now, surging against the heat outside. It would win. I was dying too.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Tell me about the river.”
I didn’t know what the river looked like. I had never seen a river outside of pictures. But I imagined it now. I imagined a sky I’d never see and the grass I’d never lie on and the arms I’d never melt into under a warm, sweet sun.
“It’s loud,” I told him. “Thunderous. It’s blue and gray with white waves. It’s so cold it’ll take your breath away.”
His smile widened. “You take my breath away.”
“I’ll get you there, Sam. I promise.”
He nodded. “Just let me rest a minute. I’ll get up in a minute. We’ll find a way out.”
We were going to go a week ago. I’d heard a rumor of an exit under the dome through the almost empty aqueducts. But I’d made us wait. There had been too many patrols on the streets even then. Now there was nobody.
“I promise,” I whispered.
I kissed his smiling lips. He died that way. Then I lay down beside him and pulled him into my arms and prayed that I’d dream of that fantasy river and the grassy banks where I would lie with him forever.
February 14, 2016
THE PRICE OF A BOOK
Today’s post comes to you from R.A. Padmos, whose new book The Bookshop was released on February 9th. Enjoy!
THE PRICE OF A BOOK
Anyone buying romance books in e-book format can’t help but notice that many titles are being sold for around one dollar. As a reader I can understand why some of my fellow readers argue that a romance story in e-book format, with let’s say 100 pages, is worth a dollar to them, because that seems to be the standard. I have a very limited budget too, and why would I pay more than double for something that I can read in an hour or two?
As a writer, however, I know it’s a bit more nuanced. Let’s compare an e-book with a cup of coffee. Any coffee enthusiast does a happy dance when they find a place where great coffee is being served for a price that usually gets you a plastic cup of something that is only just drinkable. But, does anyone feel robbed if a good quality product cost quite a bit more? Does anyone say, “It is the exact same amount so why do I have to pay more?”
So why do some readers think that only the word count should decide how much the publisher asks for a romance e-book? After all, you can drink that cup of coffee only once, while a book can be re-read as often as you like.
Whether you as a reader finish a book with a deep sigh of bliss or one of annoyance is a purely personal matter. Perhaps you just discovered a lifelong friend, or you wonder why others see what you don’t. But, if you are an experienced reader, you will probably notice if writer and publisher took serious trouble to make a book that respects the reader. Making mistakes is human, but at least the text isn’t riddled with problems any editor worth their salt could have easily corrected.
More than that, a well-written book has nuances and layers; it makes you not only ask the questions, it also invites you to find your own answers. It makes you go back for that one lovely sentence. It gives you not only an insight in the mind of another human being, but also in that of your own.
Writing (or even trying to write) such books takes time. The initial inspiration might hit a writer like an unexpected but totally awesome gift, great ideas alone do not make great books. Great ideas plus a lot of hard work make great books. Or at the very least books that make a reader say, “Sadly it wasn’t quite to my taste, but I recognise the value of the product.”
Selling books for a very low price for a limited time is a way for many writers and publishers to showcase the products they have on offer. It’s a great way to discover new writers or to treat yourself to something you might not be able to afford otherwise. As a reader I wish all romance e-books could be that cheap all the time and still be of the depth and quality I prefer in my reading material.
As a writer, I know this is only possible if we find it acceptable that the vast majority of romance writers get next to no payment for their work. I do mean, all their work, not just the occasional give-away or ten great romance stories by your favourite author only this week for $0.99.
Only part of that one dollar goes to the author. You can imagine that a writer has to sell a hell of a lot of copies to make even minimum hourly wages after weeks, sometimes months, of research, writing, re-writing (repeat several times) editing and more editing. And writing faster for a higher production almost certainly means something else has to go.
Many of us writers actually feel shy about asking for money for something we do simply because it’s what we do. So part of me is inclined to say, “Sorry that you have to pay for my book” even though I know exactly how much time and knowledge went into that quiet whisper of a novella called The Bookshop.
But there’s also another part of me, that believes that if you are willing to pay more for an excellent cup of coffee or a nice piece of pie, then a book written and edited with care and love is worth no less.
About The Bookshop
Even I, who had resisted kicking and screaming, had to admit defeat. Why would love be impressed by the protests of a simple bookseller?
Jakoba has had enough. It is 1999 and she looks back on her life that began at the start of the century. Her arrival was unexpected, but joyfully welcomed, by her middle-aged parents. In a time where a middle-class girl has one destiny, namely to become a wife and mother, Jakoba is allowed to start working at a bookshop. Books become one of the loves of her life. Later she will inherit the shop.
She values friendship, but romance has no meaning for her. She values her independence too much and knows all too well what price women pay for being married.
It is German army photographer Armin who will change the course of her life. Jakoba is forty when she meets him. Armin is almost thirty, and Germany has occupied Holland. It does not matter. For him, she’s the one, and despite her hesitation both because of the war and because she can’t understand what this handsome man sees in her—a plain woman—she has to admit her feelings for him.
Such love has consequences for both of them that will reach far beyond the war and in ways Jakoba could never have imagined.
Available at:
Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/book/the-bookshop
Or any Amazon shop of your choice
Allromance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thebookshop-1980445-153.html
my blog: https://rapadmos.wordpress.com/
November 22, 2015
Pretty Human Cover Reveal!
COMING SOON!!
Pretty Human will be available early next year.
See the Books page for further details.
Here’s an early look at the cover. 
September 28, 2015
Bewitched by the Unknown
This picture is actually a daytime shot taken on my phone. I played around with the tone to give it a nighttime look. One of the perks of writing, for me, is doing things I might never have otherwise done. Like everybody else, I have a busy life. Hobbies are almost luxuries, so maybe the idea of taking pictures was a little appealing even before it became a research issue, but who has the time to add in yet another scheduling challenge? However… for some reason (I suppose I could analyze said reason and figure it out) one of my protagonists must be artistic in some way. In Backbone, it was photography, but day time photography. Then I had a painter – I paint, too — when I have the time. Oils. Love it. Now I’m back to photography, but now it’s night photography. I get to take pictures because… I need to do my research!
Research is a part of writing, and I love it. A lot of it can be done on line now or through traditional study methods. I have books on photography, but there’s no substitute for holding that camera in your hands, feeling the weight, the smoothness, pushing buttons, moving dials, adjusting the lens. I love the feel of all the parts, the heft of other lens, the sharp angles of the flash, the awkward legs of the tripod. I need to know what my character feels when he raises that camera or attaches it to his tripod and fixes his eye on an object or scene.
As much as I would hate to live in a big city, I love urban photography. Think of the abandoned buildings of Detroit. Have you ever heard of Keelung in Taiwan? It’s an abandoned city being slowly swallowed by nature. The photos are absolutely stunning. Check it out. Then there’s Hashima City. You might know that one from the James Bond movie. I don’t know how it is that the lives of the people who lived in a place can permeate it so deeply, so richly, so long after they are gone. The photos from those cities bewitch me.
In my city, which is really a suburb, I look for things that fit my sense of “urban”. My neighbors have a thing in their side yard. By thing I mean, (possibly) a trailer? Some sort of flatbed contraption. Most probably it’s a freaking eyesore in the middle of the day but at night…? It’s a mysterious, strange, alien wonder. There’s a street lamp right above it and an amazing aloe vera plant behind it. With the light shining down, the shadows under the flatbed are impenetrable. That’s the picture I want… as soon as I can figure out how my camera works at night. I think my shutter speed was good, but the aperture not so good. I took a couple of shots, they didn’t come out. No worries, I told myself, I’d try again the next night. But no… My neighbors parked a car right in front of it!! Damn them. Now they’ll probably get rid of it or something.
Anyway, I digress – a little. Research, especially of actionable things, can create newness and depth in your life. Take you in directions you wouldn’t necessarily otherwise go, because carving out the time can be so daunting, but for your work…? That’s different. This is the time you get to play at all the other things you could have done, try out the paths you didn’t follow. And if you don’t write – do it anyway. What interests you? What will take your imagination to new places? What will stretch you so that you’re a different person than before? What adds to you like brush strokes on canvas or musical notes to a score or photos in an album?
So far, there’s no artistic quality in either of the characters in the book I’m currently brainstorming. I’m sure there will be. Maybe I’ll learn to play the harp or the flute. Or the drums!! I never focus on the art as a topic. In other words, it’s not a theme or a plot line or anything like that. It’s a trait or a quality. A form of expression that my guys can’t live without. They are me, from me, from the writing that is integral to me. This artistic interest rounds out the characters. It rounds out me. Sewing. Carving. Glass blowing! Sculpture – metal, junk, stone.
The photography, though, is here to stay in my life. Pictures without words. How many stories are out there hiding, waiting for my lens to find them?
What makes you bigger than you, different than you? Who is the secret you that a new art form will reveal?
Talk about it. Leave a comment if you’d like to share.
But above all try out at least a few of the people you imagine inside you. Life is short. Soar!
September 20, 2015
Wanna Look into My Bag of Tricks?
How do you write a good book? I’m sure there’s a trick. There’s certainly no dearth of how-to-write and how-to-get-published books out there. A lot of people buy those books. I buy them. I’m reading Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight V. Swain right now, but I’m pretty sure there are no tricks in this one. I’ve read reviews from aspiring writers and one individual lamented that she’d read dozens of books on writing, and none of them really told her how to do it. There must be a trick, a scheme, a short-cut, a paint-by-numbers approach, and this doesn’t even begin to address what happens after you write the damn thing.
Here are some of the things that go into writing a book—
Ideas – Some people get ideas from real life, from sitting in coffee shops, from brainstorming, mind-mapping, prompts. They write snippets on envelopes, old receipts, their phone, a notepad, the palm of their hand (OMG, no, I’ve never done that!), the inside cover of a book, the back cover of a book, index cards. Some people work the ideas right away. Some people file them. Some people set them aside for years – to ripen, mellow, bloom with complicated flavors and aromas, or something like that.
Process –Pants it? Outline? Combo? Word count? Page count? Morning? Night? Again, for questions on process there’s an ample selection of books to lead the way. Some people will say that to outline or not is a personal choice. Some people will lift their chins, sniff, and suggest that outlining is a failure of creative courage. Some outliners will tell you that if you don’t outline, you’re a useless resistant rebel who will never be published. And as far as outlines go—30 days, 2 weeks, 1 week to a finished-ready-to-be-polished-into-a-final-draft outline, anyone? 500 words a day, steady and sure, to a completed novel? Or how about 2000 words a day? Or 10,000 words a day? Type faster, think faster. Get that book done!
Structure – So you have an idea. You pants it or you don’t. How do you put your story together? Is it a three act structure? A four act or five act structure? Is the trick in the structure? The beginning, the middle (Oh, god forbid you have a saggy middle!), the end? Is it in the inciting incident, the first five pages, the first fifty pages, the first or second plot point, the pinch points, the climax? Is it plot or character or both. Is it in the scenes or the dialogue? Or the tension or the foreshadowing or the emotion?
Revision – Do you have holes in your plot? Would you even know it if you did? Well, there are books for that too. This is where you plug those holes, prop up your saggy middle, tie up your loose ends, layer in meaning, deepen characterization, highlight theme.
I think it’s pretty clear that if there is a trick, you’re gonna have a hard time finding it, so you might as well just give that idea up.
I love to read these how-to books. I’m an absolute sucker for them just because I love all things writing. A lot of the books I buy are physical books. Sometimes I get the Kindle version. But I’ve begun to read these books for fun now (there are exceptions that I make for books that inspire) because I’ve noticed something. Here’s the thing—let’s say you are that reviewer I mentioned earlier who’s trying to find a tried and true method to produce books. You decide to outline. You decide on a four act structure with an inciting incident, two plot points, two pinch points, and a rising hell-raising climax! You fit your characters in. You develop scenes to match your structure. You connect the dots. I suppose it’s possible to do it this way. It’s functional and replicable. But where’s the joy? The adventure? The wonder where the hell I’m going with this breathless, surprised, wondrous, mind-blowing trip that a really good story takes you on (and, yes, you can get there with an outline).
What makes a really good story? Joy. Mystery. Expectation. Surprise. Enlightenment. Belief. Disbelief. Wonder. Resonance. The echo of an experience that carries past the pages into real life for days or months or years. Is there a trick? No. There’s a leap of faith. The blank page. Follow the fucking story. I’m willing to bet that nine times out of ten, form will follow substance. Heart and soul—I think that’s what readers want. And I’m pretty sure that that’s where the story is—and where the sheer joy of writing is wearily lying under the cover of way too many rules.
Anyway, I’m going for the fun. Writing is hard. Story is tough. There are no short-cuts, and there are no tricks. Write the story. Read it. You’ll know if it works or not. And if the story’s good, you can fix it. And if it’s not, nothing can fix it. Writers keep writing! Readers keep reading!
Soar, babies!
September 7, 2015
Hey! Got Any Time for Sale??
Yeah, it’s a conundrum. A 5000 piece puzzle without all the pieces.
I’m trying to figure out how to get five extra hours in my day here. Hell, I’d even settle for three. Ten to eleven hours out of each day swirl down the ravenous drain of the day job. That’s the job that pays for the roof, the lights, the water, the cat food, the kitty toys, etc. It pays for the phone I use to keep track of social media. It bought my beloved MacBook Pro. It puts gas in my car so I can get to my day job, the grocery store, the vet, my therapist (God, do I need my therapist!). But that’s eleven hours, including commute. (For the long hours per day I get every other Friday off. Ten to twelve hours writing to give me about forty hours of writing a week). One hour for chores. Thirty minutes to an hour to work out, which I can’t not do. After multiple injuries to back and neck, it keeps me mobile. Another hour to get ready each morning. An hour for Twitter, Facebook, and my website. Six hours to sleep. That leaves three hours to write and/or relax.
Typical Workday:
5:00 am – Feed cats, Coffee
5:15 am – Check Twitter, Facebook, Post/Tweet something
5:30 am – Workout/Read (Stationary bike—love it!)
6:00 am – Get Ready for Work
7:30 am – In the Office
5:30 pm – Home/Chores
6:30 pm – Writing
9:00 pm – Read/DRINK!!
11:00 pm – Bed
I’m frazzled. I bought a book—Meditation for Dummies, I think, to try to find some kind of center of calm in the storm of daily life. My ultimate goal in the time before I can quit my day job (which feels like any day now with the way things are going in that place), is to keep my writing front and center. This means thinking about it all the time, whether I’m in a position to write or not. I do write every day, and on weekend days, I put in ten to twelve hours. I read books on craft, books in my genre, books and articles for research into my next projects. I brainstorm those projects on my downtime during the day. But I always feel like I’m stealing time, cramming it into every available nook and cranny of my life. A part of my awareness is almost always conscious that I’m running ragged. The exception to that is the time I spend on my WIP. With that, blissfully, I disappear. There is no time, just story.
Anyway, I think to myself, if I systemize this so I don’t have to even think about it, I can let my imagination run off to play. Center with meditation, schedule, off I go. That’s what I want—the luxury of free thought. To keep the stories and the people from ever drifting far away. For the most part, I succeed. But at the same time, in the back of my mind, I’m aware of the crunch of all the things that don’t get done. Cooking? I don’t think so. Taking some pictures? Not this week. Gardening? Nope. I do make exceptions for dinner out with friends. That happens about once a month. I don’t need to work out on those days. I skip that. And while I am out? While I’m with others? My work floats through my head. Obsession is the only way this can go right now, so on to meditation through which maybe—maybe—I can locate that plane of peace where my imagination and my stories can unfurl without anxiety and tension and the nagging demands of a job I loathe but pays for the roof, the lights, the water, the cat food, the kitty toys, etc…
Maybe I can devote some energy to the house falling down around my ears—new fence, new plumbing, new drywall, new paint… Oh, yeah, and then there’s the five to six hours that go into housework each week. Not sure, but I think that puts me over my allotment of weekly hours. What a pisser!
I really need a vacation, but I have no friggin’ idea where I’m gonna fit those hours. ☹
