Nicole Hadaway's Blog, page 3

Silly Me!

My editor LOVED Egypt!!!  And she doesn't like short stories!!!  Silly me!!

Next week, we'll be re-doing covers, so hopefully, it'll be out on Amazon again soon ;-)

Doubts!

So, remember that short story, Egypt 1906?  I put it out about 2 years ago?  I was SO PROUD of it back then.  Well, as part of my new self-pub thing, I sent it to an editor, but first, I re-read it myself, to polish it a bit.

I wondered who wrote that piece of garbage and what business they had ever thinking they could be a writer.

This was a short story that got a 4 star review on Smashwords (the reviewer said it was "very well-written", as well as a "pretty crappy" review on Barnes & Noble.  Yes, bad reviews hurt.  Despite that, I just thought my piece was misunderstood by the second reviewer.

It was my own opinion though, that made me wonder -- what did I like so much about this story?  Why did I think it was so good back then, and now, I cringed?

Anyway, I changed a few things, and sent it to the editor.  I think I might revise it again this weekend.  I was so into Cray and Mirrie's world back then, maybe, since I've been out of it now, it doesn't make sense?  In which case, another do-over would be good, as this is a story meant to entice readers into reading a full novel.

Onward, and ... somewhere...

Happy Summer!!!

Well, we just got done with Spring, the season of rebirth.  However, it's summer and fall that will really be a rebirth for me -- my publisher, Vamplit Publishing, is sadly going out of business.

While I very much enjoyed my time with Vamplit and the support of their editor, I'm actually looking forward to a new chapter -- sorry! -- in my writing.  I'm going to self-publish.  As you know, some of my stories are already on Amazon and Smashwords -- I'm going to go through them again, do some edits, and then re-publish them, as well as Release, and Return.  In the meantime, it's high time I start and finish Redeem, the third (and final?) book in Miranda's world, then possibly a stand-alone novel featuring just Cray (tentatively entitled Quest).

I do promise to blog with more regularity now that I'm getting my writing groove on again.  Thanks so much for your support, and I look forward to bringing you the further adventures of Miranda!

Friday Flash -- I Knew I Was In Trouble When...

It's one of those nights.

No, not really -- I don't really know what kind of night this one's gonna be.  I haven't had one like it before, though.  I'm sure about that.

It all started with that bottle of wine I shared with my neighbor, Rainbow.  Yeah, her parents were hippies. Red wine, the only kind we wine snobs drink in winter (we save white for summer.  Hey -- I said we were snobs.).  This was a new brand, kinda like that "Vampire" wine, which the store is ALWAYS sold out of, but this one promised to be just as good if not better.  "Nosferatu".  Yeah, I know, I had my doubts, and I knew I was in trouble when the cork crumbled halfway out of the bottle, but it was a long day and I was so looking forward to kicking back with a glass and chatting with Rainbow...

While waiting the 5 minutes for the wine to breathe (I know, we needed to wait longer, but Rainbow and I are never big on patience!), I perused the back label.  "First pour from a bottle corked tight, and you shall have an endless night!"  Wow, stealing from Shakespeare to promote wine -- gotta love it!  Hoped it wouldn't taste as bad as Lambrusco.

It didn't.  Not at all.  It was surprisingly good, and we both loved it.  The whole bottle, and then the second bottle (which was supposed to be for next week).  Totally regretted it, when the sun hit my eyes the next morning.  I wore my shades all the way into my work building and even into my cubicle, not even bothering to turn on the desk lamp.  Damn overhead lights were so bright!!

And I was so thirsty!  All day long, couldn't get enough water.  Weirdest thing -- my headache got worse as the day went on, the more water I drank.  Usually, hangover headaches got better with the H20 consumption.  Halfway through the day, my boss got a look at me and sent me home.  "Don't be bringing that flu in here.  Jesus!  You look terrible!  Go home and get some rest, and keep whatever germs you have to yourself!"

That was perfect, because I was feeling really tired.  Like, totally dragging tired.  My throat was getting sore, too.  Great -- strep?  Flu?  And that closing on Friday, followed by Rainbow's big birthday bash.  Awesome, I get sick now?

Not so awesome was the 2 o'clock sun -- I wore two pairs of sunglasses on the way home, my eyes hurt so bad.  So here I am, holed up in my bedroom on a gorgeous June day, birds singing outside, driving me insane because my head can't stop pounding!

Oh wait -- that's the door.  It's Stephen, Rainbow's boyfriend.  She's not doing so well at all, either, and he's here to borrow some aspirin.

"Ok," I mumble, backing away from the door.  "Come on in."

"What the hell are you doing wearing sunglasses in your apartment?  Shit!  It's so dark in here, you don't need them.  Ow!  What the fu-- aw, great, I'm bleeding.  Hey," he held up his and, and I could see the beautiful, ruby-red liquid running down it, even in the darkness, even in my shades.  Such a delicious shade of red...

"Don't just stand there, dumbass!" he yelled.  "Get me a band-aid, or a tourniquet!"

God, I am so thirsty.

Flash Friday -- The Chair

What on earth am I doing here?  I know dealers got some quirks, but really – dead pig fetuses in a jar?!  Too freakin’ freaky…
“I don’t he likes our collection, Slink,” the guy in the corner laughed.  Mick, that was his name, or nickname, more likely, as this business dealt in fake identities and anonymity. 
“Nah, it ain’t that, man,” Joe replied, casually turning his head to hide his lying.  “It’s just been a while since science class, ya know?  Ha ha,” he laughed, shaking off the feeling that the eyeballs in the glass beaker were really staring at him.
“Yeah,” Mick said, counting the dollars Joe had just handed him.  “Why don’t you have a seat, Joe?”  Moe nodded to a leather chair in the corner.  Right past a collection of dead spiders, pinned to corkboard, hanging on the wall.
“Uh, sure,” although Joe was anything but.  Gotta keep up appearances, though, and he was certain he was doing that.  He’d always been a good actor; he didn’t even break a sweat when he was nervous, and no funny hand or eye movements, no ticks to betray him. 
So I’ll sit, Joe thought, moseying over to the chair, pausing to look at the giant tarantula hanging on the wall, making sure his face displayed awe, not fear.
“You just relax, man.  That’s right, take a load off,” Slink encouraged, moving over to the table where Mick sat.  “Comfortable, ain’t it?”
Joe had to agree – the chair was very comfortable, surprisingly comfortable.  It was an armchair, stuffed, but firm in the seat so he didn’t sink into oblivion.  The back, however, was like a pillow.  Joe imagined sitting on a cloud must feel this way.
And the leather, oh the leather!  Soft, like velvet – softer even.  Buttery, melting against his skin.  Supple, not old, or dry.  Joe felt the idea forming in his head when he saw Mick count the last dollar in the pile. 
“Hey, where’d you guys get this chair, and how much does it cost?”  Joe asked.
“Knew it; he likes our chair, Mick,” Slink grinned.
“They all do,” Mick agreed, nodding without lifting his head to look.  He was focused on measuring the granules on the scale.
“Yeah, shit – this leather – what kinda leather is this?  Seal?  Chinchilla?”
Laughter erupted from the table, scattering some dollars and shaking powder from the scales.
“Nah, Joe – something a big more special,” Mick answered.
“Yeah?” Joe said, running his finger down the length of the arm.  “So what is it?  And is it expensive?”
Silence.  The guys were being cagey.  Silence was a rule in this industry, but over a chair?  Really?  Joe let his impatience show, rolling his eyes, glancing from the white package on the table to the doorway where Slick now stood.
“It’s human.” Mick said, looking Joe dead in the eyes.
“Huh?!”
“The chair you’re sitting on, the chair you want to buy.  It’s made from human leather.”
“Yeah,” Slick said, drawing the gun from behind his back and pointing it directly at Joe.  “And I think we need an ottoman to match.”