Em Seaver's Blog, page 2

Live Reading, September 1st, 4:30 EST

Basically what that says ^^

It will be on my instagram live, and I’ll read the first chapter of THTDE and answer any questions you have. I’d love to see you there!

BOOK REVIEW: Ignite by Jenna Terese

What if superhumans weren’t considered heroes?

When Scarlett Marley is attacked by an illegal super with fire powers, she doesn’t get burned, but now she has a fire-like glow flickering in her eyes.

With superpowers criminalized, she has no choice but to turn herself over to the Superhuman Containment Facility, or risk hurting everyone she loves.

Her normal life seems lost forever, until she is selected to be one of the first to receive the experimental cure to destroy her powers. In exchange, she must first complete one mission:

Infiltrate and capture one of the largest gangs of supers in the remains of once-great Rapid City. 

With the cure and all her future at stake, Scarlett is prepared to do whatever it takes to bring these criminals to justice so she can return to her family. But this gang and their leader, Rez, aren’t what everyone says, and Scarlett begins to question everything she was ever told about the SCF and the fire flowing in her veins.

The cure is her only hope for returning her life to what it was before, but is that life worth returning to after all?

Y’know books that you don’t expect to like, because you’re not a fan of the genre? This was one of those. Superhero genres have been slowly ruined for me, whether it’s because of the gay romances that seem to perpetuate the industry, or the lack of actual characterization and only things exploding.

This book, however, was superior to any other superhero book I’ve read. Scarlett legitimately had an internal conflict that was not some cheap knockoff of marvel movies, and the conflict was, while not particularly unique, something I was invested in from the very beginning of the story.

I really enjoyed how Scarlett had to break out of the social mindset that her powers did not make her a villain, and I think that her conflict can be compared to people who struggle with mental illnesses. Being taught that struggling with a mental illness– or in Scarlett’s case, having dangerous superpowers– is “wrong” or “evil,” and then having to deal with the very problems that you thought made you an awful person… I can personally attest to the difficulties of that battle.

Long story short, I give the book 4/5 stars. It’s certainly a good read, and while it can be a little slow at points, it’s a book you can invest time in without coming out disappointed.

*I received a free copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review*

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Jenna Terese believes stories are powerful. That’s why she’s dedicated to creating fiction that will impact the world. You can find this INFP dreaming about the future, fangirling over her favorite books, geeking out about Marvel, playing piano, or sipping a chai tea latte as she writes sci-fi novels.

Preorder ignite

Blog Tour Signups!

I’ve been absolutely blown away by the support behind The House That Didn’t End from everyone! If you posted, thank you so much. It makes my day when someone shares about my book– It’s hard to believe that people I don’t even know care enough to help spread the word about something that is so important to me.

Blog tour signups are now open, so if you’re a blogger and you’d like to participate, that would be spectacular! It’s a personal goal of mine to have 30 people sign up for the blog tour, so if you’d be open to doing even a feature on your blog it would be a huge help.

You can sign up right here!

Cover Reveal for The House That Didn’t End

This is it, guys. Here’s my book, ready to be out in the world. Isn’t the cover fantastic? It was done by Fantastical Ink, and turned out better than I could have possibly imagined.

Launch Team Open!

Hey guys,

Signups for my launch team are finally open, which means we’re getting one step closer to The House That Didn’t End being in our hands! Joining launch teams is a great way to connect with other readers and writers, and an amazing way to support indie authors.

Even if you don’t have the time right now to join mine, I’d recommend trying to find one that you can join someday. You can get special perks, info, updates– and also it makes the author really happy.

(And if you’re an author starting a launch team soon, tag me on insta @ekseaver.author, because unless I’m super busy I want to join and support you!)

That said, you can sign up here for my launch team. Again, I appreciate you even considering it so much!

Perfidy Part 5

First, I’d like to say two things. As soon as I finish Perfidy I’ll be removing it from the blog. Secondly, a lot of things are changing with the story and worldbuilding, so plot holes will exist. Those will be fixed in later drafts of the book. Thanks for understanding.

The entirety of Rowhux knew that Jael had saved him. It had been all over the news. No cameras were allowed inside the assembly, but they waited outside. They always waited outside. So of course they were there as Jael drug Mocha from the ruins of the building. He hated her for that. Not even two hours had passed and a dozen media posts already highlighted her heroic actions and called him to renounce his anti-nor stance. He chucked his phone across the room and sat on his bed. 

“Mo?” His mother wrapped on his door lightly. “Son, are you in there?’

“Yes, Bala, I’m here.” 

“May I come in?” 

“Yes, Bala.” he sighed as his mother walked in. 

Her brilliant auburn hair rippled down her back, the silver streaks shining. Mocha had first seen his mother when he was nine. She had journed from Rowhux to Farnai, his birth land, where everything was bold, including the people with their ebony hair and almond-shaped eyes. He had never seen anyone with red hair before, so before the papers were signed and sealed to bring him back to her country, he had already given her the name Bala. red. It had turned into a synonym for mother in their household. 

“What’s wrong, Mocha?”

“Have you seen the news?”

“You know I never pay attention to those things, dear.” She shook her head. “They bore me to death.” 

“Someone assassinated Lord Cactus.” Tears stung Mocha’s eyes, but he wouldn’t cry. Not now. 

“Oh, Mocha.” Her long fingers caressed his cheek. “Oh my son, I’m so sorry. Do they know who did it?” 

Mocha hesitated. He knew who it was– who it must have been. And because it had happened, there needed to be a retaliation. Those who committed the crime must be put back in their place. “It was Jael and her nors.” 

“Jael? The pretty brunette?” 

Mocha sighed. “Yes, Bala, that one.” 

“Such a pity. She was a beautiful girl.” 

“Yes. Bala, you’ve wanted to go visit Anniotter, right?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “It seems like a lovely place.” 

“How would you like to go visit right now? You and Blit?”

His mother’s face wrinkled. “You want us to go away? You think it’s not safe here.”

“Yes. Just for a little while. I have to stay back, but you don’t need to be in the middle of all of this. I don’t want you hurt.” 

She sighed, resigned. “Alright. I’ll have the servants pack immediately. We’ll leave at daybreak.” 

“Thank you, Bala.” 

She stood and ruffled her long gown. “Will I see you before we go?” 

Mocha’s eyes flickered across the room to his dark coat draped across the chair. He should get out. If he could go to where the nors congregated, he might have a chance to gather more information. He already had a small army on his side, according to the general. Rowhux itself didn’t have much military force. “No, you will not. Have a safe trip.” 

“Be strong, Mocha. Lead your people with pride.” 

* * *

The automobile pulled in front of the run-down-bar. It had taken Mocha over an hour to reach the building, on the south outskirts of the city. He tipped his driver and stepped from the cab. The building was tall, nearly as tall as his mansion, but with a flat front and board up windows. The sounds floating from the upper floors insinuated that more than drinking was going on in the upper rooms. Mocha ran a hand through his hair, already more rumpled than normal. This was going to be successful. This part of town was predominately nors. All he had to do was hide his power and he’d get what he needed. 

The music and sound overwhelmed him the moment he stepped through the door. Only dinkey neon signs illuminated the room. And Mocha suddenly realized that a long trench coat was very out of place when ninety percent of the customers were fifty-percent dressed or less. 

A dark-skinned waitress appeared at his side and mouthed something. She was short, her head full of intricate blue-and-black braids barely hitting Mocha’s shoulder. With the noise and height difference, Mocha made out approximately none of the words. He shrugged and leaned down. He could tell she was yelling, but he could still hardly hear her. 

“Can I help ya, sweetcheeks?” 

He internally cringed at the nickname. Dirty nor and their stupid slang. He tried to imitate her poor accent, but each word felt goopy in his mouth. “Yeah, ya can.”

“Beer? Aulderfruit wine?”

It was hard to keep his eyes off her body. A bra decorated with blue and silver studs was all that covered her torso. Her midriff was fully exposed, and only a flashy short skirt covered her waist. “I… I need to talk to someone.”

“What kind of someone, love?” 

“Anyone. A nor. Someone— The rebellion.” Mocha cursed himself. Blasted accents

“Ohh.” She winked. “Well I can set that up for you, hon. We got lotsa rebellious girls ’round these parts. Give me just a second.”

Mocha huddled in the corner and watched the couples on the dance floor, dancing too close. The music blasted in his ears, and even in the dull light of the neon signs, the worn interior of the building was still evident. 

A girl appeared at his arm, her sleek silver hair pulled into a ponytail. He frowned at the heavy makeup around her eyes. Nors needed to find better jobs. The girl put her hand on his chest. “Sali said you wanted to talk to me?” 

He stepped back, pulled away. He didn’t want to talk to her in here. He didn’t want to talk to her at all. The fog of the bar seemed to choke him. “Yeah.” 

“Do you want to get a room? There’s a few open.”

A room? He shook his head. “Can we go outside to talk?”

“Outside…” She hesitated. “Sure, we can go outside.” 

It was a relief to step back into the cool night air. Mocha took deep breaths, attempting to ignore the pulsing stench of the slums. The girl guided him by the arm, behind the building, into the shadows beside a dumpster. Mocha stepped back as a  rat scurried across his path. The girl purchased lightly on the edge of a dumpster. “You know, the rooms upstairs are  a little cleaner.” 

“I do not want a room upstairs. I want to talk to you back here.” 

“Alright, you’re the customer, Mister.” She pulled the strap of her flashy shirt off her shoulder. 

Mocha realized in an instant what she thought they were doing. “No, no. Stop. I just need to talk to you.” 

Confusion knit the girl’s eyebrows. “You don’t want my services? Wait, is this about Cassandra and the secr–” 

“What do you know about the revolution?” 

“The– Hold on, sir, you’re going kind of fast.” She curled her hair around her finger. “Revolution?”

“Yes, nor rebellions. To take over the government.” 

“Nors are taking over?” The girl giggled. “Thank goodness, finally the people will have a say and all that.” 

Rage flared in Mocha’s chest, but the girl didn’t seem to notice the emerald tendrils flickering between his fingers. How dare she insult the government. How dare she, an ignorant nor making money from prositution, think that her people could rule a country. Think that her people deserved to rule a country. Still, that was exactly why Mocha was there. To stop it. 

“So,” Mocha leaned against the dumpster beside her. “What do you know about the revolution?”

“Nothing. First I’ve heard about it is from you.” 

“No, you’re kidding me.” He let his mouth slide into an easy smirk. “Come on, girl. What do you know about it?” 

She scooted away slightly. “Mister, I don’t know anything. What are you, a recruiter or something?”

“Something.” He winked. “Are you sure you’ve heard nothing?”

“Well,” She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “I might have heard a little something.” 

Mocha stood up a little straighter. “What have you heard?” 

She grinned. “You’re the one taking up my time, so you’re gonna have to pay for that information.” 

Mocha grabbed her wrist. She wasn’t going to get away for something like this. “Tell me,” he hissed. “Tell me if you value your life.” 

The girl’s eyes were wide, and she twisted her wrist, trying to squirm out of his grip. “No, mister. I’m not gonna tell you unless you pay me. And take your hands off of me.”

Mocha did so, slowly releasing his grip from her hand. He expected her to dart away like the coward she was, but she stayed. The hand he had gripped reached out, opening and closing for money. 

No, she wasn’t going to get money. She wasn’t’ going to get anything, but she would provide him information. He thrust his hand forward, shoving an emerald  burst of light into her chest. The girl flew backwards, pinned between the wall and the magic. Her eyes widened and she screamed. With his other hand, Mocha lifted the dumpster and thrust it against the girl, over and over again. She wouldn’t get away with this disrespect. He refused to let her. War was about to start and if she wouldn’t get information, he would force it out of her. 

“Stop!” The cry was strangled. “Stop, please.” 

He slammed the dumpster against her one more time, then let both drop to the ground. He strutted over to her. She’d have learned her lesson now. Except she was crumpled on the ground, bloody, limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Her eyes stared lifelessly at the light-polluted sky. He’d just killed a girl. He’d freaking killed a girl. 

Why did he feel so powerful from it?

“She wasn’t a nor, you know.” 

Mocha jumped, spun around. Nadia stood behind him, the dull glow of neon signs illuminating the smirk on her face. 

Mocha ran a hand through his hair. “Gosh, Nads. What are you doing here.” 

“You just killed someone,” Her voice was smooth. She licked her lips. “And you’re asking what I’m doing here?”

“I had business here.” 

“Killing someone?” She strutted over to examine the body. “That’s a form of business, I guess.” 

“I didn’t mean to kill her.” 

“Sure you didn’t.” Nadia boosted herself up onto the dumpster, crossing her legs at the knees. “Sure you didn’t. You know, Jael was talking a lot about you tonight. She’s got plans.” 

“Of course she’s got plans, she’s Jael.” 

“Plans you won’t like.” 

“Against me?” 

Nadia’s smile crawled across her lips. “Well, I guess I shall leave you to your murdering anyone you think is a nor business. I’m sure Jael’s somewhere on your list. Don’t get caught.” 

She slid off the dumpster and landed on high-heeled feet with the agility of a cat and disappeared onto the shadows.

Jael on the list? Mocha hadn’t considered Jael being on the list. He heard noise at the front of the shop. They would find the girl and they’d find him standing over her. He’d be arrested. It would stir the nor sentament. 

He fled.

Quick writing update:

I haven’t been doing much with platform building, but now that it’s summer and my part-time job working with an afterschool program is about to get out, I’ll have more time to work on that.

I hopefully will be announcing the release date for The House That Didn’t End later this month.

Follow me on instagram for more consistent updates.

I was late to this and I’m sorry

Here’s my clue for the scavenger hunt. Due to technical difficulties I wasn’t able to post it today and didn’t have time to do the questions part. I’m so sorry!

Rules:

•  The hunt begins on 5/7 at midnight EST

•  Don’t rush! You’ve got all weekend (until Sunday, 5/9 at midnight) to hunt. So take your time, checking out all the unique posts along the way. Share your thoughts in the comments or the blogs with your friends!•  Submit your entry for the grand prizes by collecting the clue (code stream) on each blogger’s scavenger hunt post and submitting your answer in the Rafflecopter form at the final stop on Grace’s site.

Here’s your clue: We are so excited to share

And you can find another clue over at Daisy’s blog! Have fun!

Incorrect Quotes

I was inspired recently by one of my friends to find incorrect quotes using ScatterPatter’s generator (Warning: some of the quotes in the generator have language– I’ve changed any of the language for this blog post)

These aren’t from my book or anything. They’re just funny quotes that I thought fit my characters. (or didn’t fit and I still found funny)

Flame: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.
Em: You need to stop.

Nathaniel: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE
Flinn: Anything, honestly, but feisty brunettes especially
Nathaniel, desperately, as Flinn bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE
Flinn: Oh! B positive.
Nathaniel: DON’T TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE
Flinn:

Vera: Where’s Em, Choi, and Flinn?
Michael: They’re playing hide and seek.
Vera: Where?
Michael: I don’t think you get how this game works.

Nina: Rules are made to be broken.
Em: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.
Flinn: Uh, piñatas.
Choi: Glow sticks.
Michael: Karate boards.
Nathaniel: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.
Nina: Rules.
Em:

Em: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.
Choi: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?
Em: No! Four to five seconds!
Choi: Too late!!!

Nina: Nothing in life is free.
Flinn: Love is free!
Choi: Adventure is free.
Em: Knowledge is free.
Justyn: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

Flinn: You can de-escalate any situation by simply saying, ‘Are we about to kiss?’
Flinn: Doesn’t work for getting out of speeding tickets, by the way.

Em: Dumbest scar stories, go!
Nina: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.
Flame: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.
Flinn: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.
Chio: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.
Michael:
Michael: I have emotional scars.

Choi: Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat
Em: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents
Choi: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you
Michael: Actually I did the math, Em would have $225, not $0.15.
Em: Fam I’m right here….
Vera: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda
Choi: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?
Vera: Sorry I only have a dollar
Choi:
Michael: Hey I just realized my friend is right, Em would have $22,500 because it’s a dollar for every pixel, not a cent
Vera: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice
Michael: You can buy anything you want with $22,500
Rani: Yeah and they want soda and apply juice
Michael: Apply juice to what
Nina: Directly to the forehead
Em: Great chat everyone

Em: Can I be frank with you guys?
Nina: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.
Flame: Can I still be Flame?
Vera: Shh, let Frank speak.

Okay, that’s all for today. I’ll have a legit post sometime soon. Meanwhile, you can get updates by signing up for my newsletter.

Can I even write anymore?

The question sounds ridiculous, I know. How could something I’ve spent over half-a-decade pouring my life into vanish into thin air? How can a talent that I’ve honed and improved upon vanish without a trace or head injury?

It’s weird for these words to evade me. It’s weird that the thoughts inside my head can’t be transcribed onto paper. It’s weird that this relentless passion of mine could disappear down the drain after a week of too much busyness to make time for one of my greatest loves.

Right?

Someone please tell me I’m right in saying that the impossible is impossible. Please tell me I’m right in claiming that my writing isn’t disappearing down the drain and that the feelings of failure sweeping in are just that– just feelings, and when I take a break from the ever-draining tides of school everything will be okay now that the kryptonite is gone.

Because I can’t live with the fear of the playful dance of words disappearing from my brain. I can’t live with the idea of it all going to waste.