Mia Castile's Blog, page 8
June 12, 2011
My First Blog Tour
I'd like to thank Emma for organizing my blog tour that begins Monday the 13th. We will be running a contest along with each article posted. The schedule is as follows:
13th - Kay @ K-Books: http://kayleigh-m-books.blogspot.com/ 14th - Phanee @ Funny Wool: http://funny-wool.blogspot.com/15th - Emma @ BelleBooks: http://bellebooksx.blogspot.com/ 16th - Lesley @ My Keeper Shelf http://mykeepershelf.blogspot.com/17th - End the tour with Mia @ http://miacastile.blogspot.com/
Each blogger will provide part of a code phrase. Friday I will provide the final part to the code. The first three people to post on my blog the correct code phrase will win.
Please be sure to follow each blog and comment too.
13th - Kay @ K-Books: http://kayleigh-m-books.blogspot.com/ 14th - Phanee @ Funny Wool: http://funny-wool.blogspot.com/15th - Emma @ BelleBooks: http://bellebooksx.blogspot.com/ 16th - Lesley @ My Keeper Shelf http://mykeepershelf.blogspot.com/17th - End the tour with Mia @ http://miacastile.blogspot.com/
Each blogger will provide part of a code phrase. Friday I will provide the final part to the code. The first three people to post on my blog the correct code phrase will win.
Please be sure to follow each blog and comment too.
June 6, 2011
All The King's Horses and All The King's Men
I thought this was the perfect place to sit.
To my east i saw the city and all the bustle.
Cars and trains moving on their way,
People going about their busy day.
To my West I saw the sun set.
Over the forest's tall green trees.
As the birds chirped and the squirrels squeaked,
I leaned in closer to take a closer peak.
I didn't realize i'd climbed so high.
I didn't even consider why i shouldn't have
but i did, and as i leaned closer to take a peak,
i lost my balance and gripping on the wall so sleak.
Down ward tumbling, falling fast
My life escaping me flashing past.
I saw my loves, waving goodbye
A mistake i'd made so easily, why?
A thousand pieces, broken, there i lay.
Eye witnesses gathered, but stood too far away.
Mobile phones calling 9-1-1
To tell the king's court what i had done.
So all the King's Horses, and all the King's men
couldn't put broken me, together again.
To my east i saw the city and all the bustle.
Cars and trains moving on their way,
People going about their busy day.
To my West I saw the sun set.
Over the forest's tall green trees.
As the birds chirped and the squirrels squeaked,
I leaned in closer to take a closer peak.
I didn't realize i'd climbed so high.
I didn't even consider why i shouldn't have
but i did, and as i leaned closer to take a peak,
i lost my balance and gripping on the wall so sleak.
Down ward tumbling, falling fast
My life escaping me flashing past.
I saw my loves, waving goodbye
A mistake i'd made so easily, why?
A thousand pieces, broken, there i lay.
Eye witnesses gathered, but stood too far away.
Mobile phones calling 9-1-1
To tell the king's court what i had done.
So all the King's Horses, and all the King's men
couldn't put broken me, together again.
May 24, 2011
An Unexpected Delivery
(I decided to participate in @Wovenstrands flash fiction challenge for May. I will say it was a challenge, and consumed me with worry. I was totally out of my element, but it was a GREAT learning experience. I look forward to the next challenge and hope you will join me too. but for now enjoy my story.
http://wovenstrands.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/may-flash-fiction-challenge/#comment-774 )
A mysterious box was sitting on my doorstep. It was large and I stepped around it as I unlocked and opened my door, surveying it.
"What's in the box," the voice that came from behind me startled me. I didn't have to turn to know who it was. Braxton leaned against the post; his military haircut made his face more angular. He'd shed all his baby fat in the time he'd been away. He seemed so much older than only the almost year that had passed. I entered the entry way and sat my things down on the bench just inside the door. I turned and faced him again; suddenly in the memory of the last time I'd seen him, the two of us, sat under the large weeping willow in the field between our neighborhoods. We always met there. It was three days after he'd turned eighteen, and we'd watched the sun set, and sat there talking for hours. We'd both announced that we had something to tell each other. He made me go first. I reluctantly told him that I loved him, and wanted to be with him. Not only was he my best friend, he was the love of my life. His response was a kiss, gentle and sweet under the bright midnight moon. But the next day he was gone. Boot camp. He didn't tell me he'd enlisted and he left without saying goodbye, no emails, no texts, and no phone calls. He just left. "Do you need help with that box," he motioned to it. "No, I don't need anything from you," I glared at him a moment before I surveyed the box again. He backed away from the box, and turned to leave. I tried lifting the box but it wouldn't budge. What the heck had my parents ordered?
"Um," I said as I gulped, swallowing what was left of my pride. "Can you help me?" I heard his smirk but I didn't look up. "Sure," he said, as he came back up and lifted the box easily, carrying it inside. He put it down in the foyer. "Wow, it even smells the same in here," he paused and gave me a small smile. "Somethings never change. I'm sorry for the way I handled things last summer; I should have never left like that," the sincerity poured from his eyes. "Me too," I said as I looked at my feet. "Can we talk," his smile widened hopeful. "Sure, can we meet at the willow," I ask. He creased his lips and nodded before he turned to leave through the front door. I wondered what we would talk about. I hoped he would explain why he left like he had but I guessed I would find out soon enough. I looked back down at the box and considered opening it, when I saw the name. Lucille Bartron, my neighbor. I sighed and walked through the front door, the box was now my parent's problem.
http://wovenstrands.wordpress.com/2011/05/02/may-flash-fiction-challenge/#comment-774 )
A mysterious box was sitting on my doorstep. It was large and I stepped around it as I unlocked and opened my door, surveying it.
"What's in the box," the voice that came from behind me startled me. I didn't have to turn to know who it was. Braxton leaned against the post; his military haircut made his face more angular. He'd shed all his baby fat in the time he'd been away. He seemed so much older than only the almost year that had passed. I entered the entry way and sat my things down on the bench just inside the door. I turned and faced him again; suddenly in the memory of the last time I'd seen him, the two of us, sat under the large weeping willow in the field between our neighborhoods. We always met there. It was three days after he'd turned eighteen, and we'd watched the sun set, and sat there talking for hours. We'd both announced that we had something to tell each other. He made me go first. I reluctantly told him that I loved him, and wanted to be with him. Not only was he my best friend, he was the love of my life. His response was a kiss, gentle and sweet under the bright midnight moon. But the next day he was gone. Boot camp. He didn't tell me he'd enlisted and he left without saying goodbye, no emails, no texts, and no phone calls. He just left. "Do you need help with that box," he motioned to it. "No, I don't need anything from you," I glared at him a moment before I surveyed the box again. He backed away from the box, and turned to leave. I tried lifting the box but it wouldn't budge. What the heck had my parents ordered?
"Um," I said as I gulped, swallowing what was left of my pride. "Can you help me?" I heard his smirk but I didn't look up. "Sure," he said, as he came back up and lifted the box easily, carrying it inside. He put it down in the foyer. "Wow, it even smells the same in here," he paused and gave me a small smile. "Somethings never change. I'm sorry for the way I handled things last summer; I should have never left like that," the sincerity poured from his eyes. "Me too," I said as I looked at my feet. "Can we talk," his smile widened hopeful. "Sure, can we meet at the willow," I ask. He creased his lips and nodded before he turned to leave through the front door. I wondered what we would talk about. I hoped he would explain why he left like he had but I guessed I would find out soon enough. I looked back down at the box and considered opening it, when I saw the name. Lucille Bartron, my neighbor. I sighed and walked through the front door, the box was now my parent's problem.
April 30, 2011
I'm Sorry What Was The Question?
A few months ago I put this blog together, after I invited questions from my friends on facebook and twitter. Here are a few of the responses I got. It was fun putting this blog post together. I welcome your questions for the future, and would love to have another question and answer session.
What made you begin writing?
I began writing poetry when I was thirteen. All through high school I carried a journal book that had cherubs on the cover of it that I filled with my poetry. I would pass it around to my friends whenever I added a new poem. Sometimes a waiting list formed among them to read it, which I thought was pretty cool. I constructed the poems in margins of class study notes, and anywhere else I could write, folders, binders too; nothing was off limits when inspiration hit.
Who are some of your favorite Authors?
This is such a hard question. There are so many great authors out there. I truly enjoy Amanda Hockings, Richelle Mead, Susan Colasanti, Lauren Kate and Alyson Noel. They round out the top five, but honestly there are too many to name. There have been so many series that I've enjoyed!
Do you have any advice for aspiring Authors?
Follow your heart. Write about what you know. Don't try to impress anyone, because if you are true to yourself, then your reader will get it. Take a chance on yourself. If someone tells you that you can't, believe in yourself. Maybe you can't do it one way, but work it out and make it fit you.
Where did the idea for The Ocean come from?
I had family that lived in St. Petersburg, Florida. Growing up we spent many winter breaks in Florida. I began writing
What made you begin writing?
I began writing poetry when I was thirteen. All through high school I carried a journal book that had cherubs on the cover of it that I filled with my poetry. I would pass it around to my friends whenever I added a new poem. Sometimes a waiting list formed among them to read it, which I thought was pretty cool. I constructed the poems in margins of class study notes, and anywhere else I could write, folders, binders too; nothing was off limits when inspiration hit.
Who are some of your favorite Authors?
This is such a hard question. There are so many great authors out there. I truly enjoy Amanda Hockings, Richelle Mead, Susan Colasanti, Lauren Kate and Alyson Noel. They round out the top five, but honestly there are too many to name. There have been so many series that I've enjoyed!
Do you have any advice for aspiring Authors?
Follow your heart. Write about what you know. Don't try to impress anyone, because if you are true to yourself, then your reader will get it. Take a chance on yourself. If someone tells you that you can't, believe in yourself. Maybe you can't do it one way, but work it out and make it fit you.
Where did the idea for The Ocean come from?
I had family that lived in St. Petersburg, Florida. Growing up we spent many winter breaks in Florida. I began writing
April 28, 2011
The BOOK-LAUNCHANATOR
With the Release of The Ocean This week, I have been from one end of the emotions spectrum to the other. Stressed over a mishap that I won't bore you the details of, but ended up pushing back the release two days. Excited over all the rave reviews I'm receiving that are making my heart skip with joy that the readers understand my characters so well. Humbled because of how huge this all really is. Overwhelmed, because no matter how much we planned, we still didn't know what to expect, or what would work and what didn't, technology wise anyway. All I can keep telling myself is the next launch will be easier. I have more stories to tell, and more characters to meet. This is the first of many launches. I'm not stopping, quitting, or slowing down.
This has been such a huge roller-coaster, just when I think I might want to get off, it throws another loop into the track. My heart skips and I get that gushy happy feeling all over again, squealing and clapping my hands with joy. So when it comes to a stop and the safety bars lift over my head what am I going to do? I'm going to run down the exit ramp, around the display and get right back in line to take my turn again on the BOOK-LAUNCH-AN-A-TOR *read in echoing monster truck announcer voice*
The Ocean is now available on Smashwords.com and coming soon to barnesandnobel.com and amazon.com.
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/51497
This has been such a huge roller-coaster, just when I think I might want to get off, it throws another loop into the track. My heart skips and I get that gushy happy feeling all over again, squealing and clapping my hands with joy. So when it comes to a stop and the safety bars lift over my head what am I going to do? I'm going to run down the exit ramp, around the display and get right back in line to take my turn again on the BOOK-LAUNCH-AN-A-TOR *read in echoing monster truck announcer voice*
The Ocean is now available on Smashwords.com and coming soon to barnesandnobel.com and amazon.com.
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/51497
April 11, 2011
A Lyrical Experiment
I will be running a mini contest from Wednesday through Saturday this week. The concept is simple. I will randomly post a lyric from a song in The Ocean Playlist. The first person who responds will be the winner. You can find the Playlist for the ocean here on my website/blog and on youtube.com/miacastile.
The Rules
1. You must be 13 years of age or older
2. The post will appear as #theocean #playlistcontest 'lyrics,'
3. The correct response will be @miacastile #theocean #playlistcontest song title and artist
4. This is strictly a twitter contest. If by chance the post appears on Facebook, there will not be a winner chosen from Facebook.
5. This is open to anyone with a postal address.
The Prize
A personalized postcard and a bookmark.
**All Lyrics verified from elyrics.net**
The Rules
1. You must be 13 years of age or older
2. The post will appear as #theocean #playlistcontest 'lyrics,'
3. The correct response will be @miacastile #theocean #playlistcontest song title and artist
4. This is strictly a twitter contest. If by chance the post appears on Facebook, there will not be a winner chosen from Facebook.
5. This is open to anyone with a postal address.
The Prize
A personalized postcard and a bookmark.
**All Lyrics verified from elyrics.net**
I Got My Windows Down Rollin'
One of my favorite things about spring and summer is driving on the highway with the windows down, music blaring and singing at the top of my lungs. In those sheer moments of happiness no one judges your voice, or how wild your hair looks. No one can even hear you if you are alone, it is you and the passion, well, and alertness to the road and other drivers because safety first, but you know what I mean.
When my older sister got her license she and I would take road trips just for the road trip. We would crank the music, having to yell at each other as we talked, because it would be silly to roll up the windows and turn the music down, just to hear the conversation. We felt free, elbows hanging out of the windows and our hair blowing around whipping our faces. We'd talk about boys, best friends, and anything else that popped into our minds. When we returned home after putting two hundred miles on her car we'd spend half of the night rehashing what we'd already obsessed over.
As you get older, sometimes you forget about the simplistic fun things you did when you were younger. I love piling my little ones in the car, plugging in my ipod and asking "Hey guys, do you want the windows down rollin'?" They usually cheer and clap their hands. and we roll down the windows and turn up the music. Whether it's a five minute drive or three hour drive, I've shared with them a little bit of something that made happy memories for me as a young girl.
When my older sister got her license she and I would take road trips just for the road trip. We would crank the music, having to yell at each other as we talked, because it would be silly to roll up the windows and turn the music down, just to hear the conversation. We felt free, elbows hanging out of the windows and our hair blowing around whipping our faces. We'd talk about boys, best friends, and anything else that popped into our minds. When we returned home after putting two hundred miles on her car we'd spend half of the night rehashing what we'd already obsessed over.
As you get older, sometimes you forget about the simplistic fun things you did when you were younger. I love piling my little ones in the car, plugging in my ipod and asking "Hey guys, do you want the windows down rollin'?" They usually cheer and clap their hands. and we roll down the windows and turn up the music. Whether it's a five minute drive or three hour drive, I've shared with them a little bit of something that made happy memories for me as a young girl.
April 10, 2011
The Ocean Playlist
I always make a play list when I write. I am very music driven. Sometimes I loop a song as I write a scene, or if I want to recapture feelings a character has for another, I'll listen to a bunch of songs that remind me of that one. I'm sure there are a lot of Authors and writers that write like that. So the Ocean was no different for me. The Ocean is so near my heart because I began writing it as a teenager. It's definitely not the same animal that it began as, though. Names changed, plot lines rooted and grew, but the main story stayed the same.
There were some I chose for obvious reasons, Beyonce's Dangerously In Love isn't only one of my go-to songs but it is Gia's favorite song. Travis' favorite is Hero/Heroine by Boys Like Girls, is beautiful. I am partial to any version of a song that is acoustic, and really, if I'm being honest any Boys Like Girlssong. They always end up on my playlists. When I wrote the scenes for Travis and Gia as they fell in love, I played a few song songs. Feels Like Tonight by Daughtry, John Mayer's Freefalling(which is one of my ultimate faves), Stars and Boulevards by Augustana, Don't Speak Liar by We The Kings. I'm generally not one for conflict so I really dug deep to make these scenes work.
***I hope this give you a little insight to Travis and Gianna. I will post a bit of the story as soon as I get my manuscript back from the editor. I'm so excited for you to get to know them. Keep watching here (my site), facebook and twitter for more information about the cover too. I'm very pleased with the way it's all coming together.***
You are Amazing,
Mia
There were some I chose for obvious reasons, Beyonce's Dangerously In Love isn't only one of my go-to songs but it is Gia's favorite song. Travis' favorite is Hero/Heroine by Boys Like Girls, is beautiful. I am partial to any version of a song that is acoustic, and really, if I'm being honest any Boys Like Girlssong. They always end up on my playlists. When I wrote the scenes for Travis and Gia as they fell in love, I played a few song songs. Feels Like Tonight by Daughtry, John Mayer's Freefalling(which is one of my ultimate faves), Stars and Boulevards by Augustana, Don't Speak Liar by We The Kings. I'm generally not one for conflict so I really dug deep to make these scenes work.
***I hope this give you a little insight to Travis and Gianna. I will post a bit of the story as soon as I get my manuscript back from the editor. I'm so excited for you to get to know them. Keep watching here (my site), facebook and twitter for more information about the cover too. I'm very pleased with the way it's all coming together.***
You are Amazing,
Mia
Just Another Saturday
I wake up to the shrieks of children, arguing over who killed who in the Mario game on the wii. For some reason the kids never wake me up when they get up on Saturday mornings. If their father is home, he'll wake me up but they don't. I haven't decided yet, if it's because A. they are being sweet angels and want to let me sleep in; or B. wanting to get away with something. So I stumble out of bed, and down the stairs to find the two of them wrestling on the floor. Little Man (4) has Baby Gurl (9) pinned. she's flailing her arms and kicking her legs to no avail. He wears a triumphant smile. I decided it's B.
"Get off of your sister." I say, in not so much a correcting tone, but more of a 'not again' tone. He does and she pushes him further down on the floor, as if to get the last say. I'm in the kitchen now starting coffee and put their breakfast bowls in the sink. They are arguing again in the living room. I can count it down, 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .
"Mah-om, sissy won't..." little man begins as he chases her round the island in the kitchen, and then they are gone, stomping up the stairs and giggling. I fix my coffee, and the ceiling over me shakes.
"Stop jumping off my bed!" I call up.
"OK." They sing in unison.
And thus begins just another Saturday.
"Get off of your sister." I say, in not so much a correcting tone, but more of a 'not again' tone. He does and she pushes him further down on the floor, as if to get the last say. I'm in the kitchen now starting coffee and put their breakfast bowls in the sink. They are arguing again in the living room. I can count it down, 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .
"Mah-om, sissy won't..." little man begins as he chases her round the island in the kitchen, and then they are gone, stomping up the stairs and giggling. I fix my coffee, and the ceiling over me shakes.
"Stop jumping off my bed!" I call up.
"OK." They sing in unison.
And thus begins just another Saturday.
April 9, 2011
The Wind and Me
I've become accustom to the howling wind as he invisibly moves between my house and the next. Today is grey and matches my mood. So the moaning wind is welcomed in my solitude.
It seems as if mother nature feels my energy and feeds the rest of the world with it, crying her
tears, flashing her anger, and pushing the wind beyond his bounds.
He cries to me begging for relief, but all I can do is watch and wait for the next shoe to drop.
Thunder shakes my stick of a house.
The windows rattle, as the grey sky flashes with bright, white, wiry fingers reaching to
touch anything, but feeling nothing.
The lights overhead dim momentarily as I look up at them annoyed.
All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.
As pressing as my responsibilities are, I want to wander in the vast, darkness.
Aimlessly, effortlessly, I need to be allowed to escape to another time, land, and be another
person.
I don't want to have to deal with it, I don't want to have to make a decision about it.
My attention is drawn from my own thoughts to the sudden silence that surrounds me.
Has Mother Nature decided my foul mood is enough for her?
The sun tries to peek out from behind a cloud, but is quickly covered again, leaving it's tears to fall
touching every part of exposed earth.
In my solitude, I make my decision.
Open the door and welcome the soft gentle breeze into my home.
The curtains stir, but softly return to their uniform stance.
The wind encompasses me as if to say hello kissing my cheeks and ruffling my hair much like my
grandpa did to me as a child.
Then he leaves out the opened door he entered.
Accepting my fate and his own.
It seems as if mother nature feels my energy and feeds the rest of the world with it, crying her
tears, flashing her anger, and pushing the wind beyond his bounds.
He cries to me begging for relief, but all I can do is watch and wait for the next shoe to drop.
Thunder shakes my stick of a house.
The windows rattle, as the grey sky flashes with bright, white, wiry fingers reaching to
touch anything, but feeling nothing.
The lights overhead dim momentarily as I look up at them annoyed.
All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts.
As pressing as my responsibilities are, I want to wander in the vast, darkness.
Aimlessly, effortlessly, I need to be allowed to escape to another time, land, and be another
person.
I don't want to have to deal with it, I don't want to have to make a decision about it.
My attention is drawn from my own thoughts to the sudden silence that surrounds me.
Has Mother Nature decided my foul mood is enough for her?
The sun tries to peek out from behind a cloud, but is quickly covered again, leaving it's tears to fall
touching every part of exposed earth.
In my solitude, I make my decision.
Open the door and welcome the soft gentle breeze into my home.
The curtains stir, but softly return to their uniform stance.
The wind encompasses me as if to say hello kissing my cheeks and ruffling my hair much like my
grandpa did to me as a child.
Then he leaves out the opened door he entered.
Accepting my fate and his own.
