Y. Correa's Blog, page 11
June 26, 2019
Pleasure Prints Blog Tour: Adonis Mann
Odyssey of Versatility
Ever since my inauguration into authorship I’ve been known as an LGBTQIA author. This, of course, does not bother me as it is indeed accurate. However, after a while it was apparent that time told a different tale.My very first story was “ ... and we ”. It marked the beginning of my writing career. Having been featured in “ Concordant Vibrancy: Unity ” was only the beginning. My personal odyssey of versatility would eventually take me to places that I did not foresee. I can indubitably say that I have no regrets.Please, if you will, allow me a tiny juncture of your time to delineate the chronicle of my walk through the path of storytelling.
I knew deep down inside that, at heart, I was a storyteller. Unfortunately for more years than I can count, I did nothing to pursue my calling. Yes, I wrote small tales for personal amusement, but I never endeavored to share those anecdotes with anyone. You see, for some time, I did not see the point. It wasn’t until networking with the representatives of All Authors that I finally opted to allow myself to shine. Even if just for a little while. I am happy to say, that nowadays, I call the All Authors Publishing House members, family. Networking with them has been an adventure and they’ve bestowed upon me a plethora of knowledge and musings. But, I digress.
In 2015 I was invited, after having been signed onto the House, to participate in the anthology collection now known as “ Concordant Vibrancy ”. For that collection I wrote what I knew. And what I knew was LGBTQIA Erotica.
In all truth, if was very interesting in how I morphed into a multi-genre author.
You see, I had no intention on doing so. It was completely coincidental. Some people I know would call it, “accidentally on purpose”.
While the work I put forth in completing “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ” was a never ending project, in between said project I found that I had other stories to tell. Other things to say via my writing. So I did.
When I was invited to be a part of “ Concordan Vibrancy 2: Vitality ”, I knew that I had a message to send. With the theme question being “What moves your spirit?” it was impossible for me to narrate a story that fell under solely the LGBTQIA brackets. The long and the short of it being that LGBTQIA Erotica was not the element that moved my spirit. Self-discovery did. Instinctively, I understood that this was the story I wanted to tell. I just wasn’t sure how to start it.
One morning while accompanying my brother to the barbershop I was immediately inspired by the camaraderie and welcoming feeling of the ambiance. Thus, the story, “ Barbershop ” was born.
February 14, 2015 marked the birth of a fun flash-fiction tale that I titled, “ Let’s Play on Valentine’s Day ”. This short tale was meant to be a teaser for the imagination. Something fun and quick that could put a smile on one’s face. It wasn’t meant to have any point other than that. And, due to the nature of the story, “ Let’s Play on Valentine’s Day ” also fell outside of the parameters of LGBTQIA Erotica as it would be considered more of a Light Bondage story that anything else.
Fast forward myriad stories and anthology participations later, I was presented with the opportunity to be a part of “ Divergent Ink 2: Pleasure Prints ”.
What is truly curious about this particular event was how everything transpired. When I was first invited I immediately came up with a story that seemed to be a perfect fit. I wrote the story. Somewhere down the line I utilized that same story in the collection found in “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ”. Once that happened, I knew that I could not reuse it in “ Pleasure Prints ”.
This had everything to do with the pact that the 6 Divergent Ink authors made with one another. We made a covenant that whatever stories we wrote for the Divergent collection, we would not feature anywhere else. This particular pact was not made until after I’d included the original story in “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ”.
Now, whether perspective, emotions or soul speak, I find it hard to decipher. What I can say for certain is that after a superabundance of circumstances and the trails that each one brought, I was in an irregular place. Once again, I had a story to tell and a message to send. This message came from a dark place. This mental-emotional niche spawned a plenitude of temporary delirium, whom then birthed a story like no other I’d written before.
When I am in my darkest hours I feel as though my spirit is entrapped within four walls. These figurative four walls threaten to end me. In order to keep them from doing so, I must expongue the darkness and free myself from the tumult. So it is that in this hypersensitive state of mind that I wrote “ Odyssey of Rhapsody ”.
At first, I was not altogether certain where the story would lead, except to say that I was (A) letting the darkness out, and (B) writing a story for “ Pleasure Prints ” in the hopes that I could address the theme question.
Before long, “ Odyssey of Rhapsody ” told the tale of mental illness, the toll it takes on a human being, and the almost inevitable outcome when a person feels as though they are beyond help or the world is against them.
Yet again, I did not write a LGBTQIA story.
Serendipity has stated that I am now a multi-genre author. And it with immeasurable pride that I accept this crown. With that said, I would like to thank each and every person that has ever offered their support. You all have a small part in the creation of Adonis Mann, the author.
Until Soon,
Ever since my inauguration into authorship I’ve been known as an LGBTQIA author. This, of course, does not bother me as it is indeed accurate. However, after a while it was apparent that time told a different tale.My very first story was “ ... and we ”. It marked the beginning of my writing career. Having been featured in “ Concordant Vibrancy: Unity ” was only the beginning. My personal odyssey of versatility would eventually take me to places that I did not foresee. I can indubitably say that I have no regrets.Please, if you will, allow me a tiny juncture of your time to delineate the chronicle of my walk through the path of storytelling.
I knew deep down inside that, at heart, I was a storyteller. Unfortunately for more years than I can count, I did nothing to pursue my calling. Yes, I wrote small tales for personal amusement, but I never endeavored to share those anecdotes with anyone. You see, for some time, I did not see the point. It wasn’t until networking with the representatives of All Authors that I finally opted to allow myself to shine. Even if just for a little while. I am happy to say, that nowadays, I call the All Authors Publishing House members, family. Networking with them has been an adventure and they’ve bestowed upon me a plethora of knowledge and musings. But, I digress.
In 2015 I was invited, after having been signed onto the House, to participate in the anthology collection now known as “ Concordant Vibrancy ”. For that collection I wrote what I knew. And what I knew was LGBTQIA Erotica.
In all truth, if was very interesting in how I morphed into a multi-genre author.
You see, I had no intention on doing so. It was completely coincidental. Some people I know would call it, “accidentally on purpose”.
While the work I put forth in completing “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ” was a never ending project, in between said project I found that I had other stories to tell. Other things to say via my writing. So I did.
When I was invited to be a part of “ Concordan Vibrancy 2: Vitality ”, I knew that I had a message to send. With the theme question being “What moves your spirit?” it was impossible for me to narrate a story that fell under solely the LGBTQIA brackets. The long and the short of it being that LGBTQIA Erotica was not the element that moved my spirit. Self-discovery did. Instinctively, I understood that this was the story I wanted to tell. I just wasn’t sure how to start it.
One morning while accompanying my brother to the barbershop I was immediately inspired by the camaraderie and welcoming feeling of the ambiance. Thus, the story, “ Barbershop ” was born.
February 14, 2015 marked the birth of a fun flash-fiction tale that I titled, “ Let’s Play on Valentine’s Day ”. This short tale was meant to be a teaser for the imagination. Something fun and quick that could put a smile on one’s face. It wasn’t meant to have any point other than that. And, due to the nature of the story, “ Let’s Play on Valentine’s Day ” also fell outside of the parameters of LGBTQIA Erotica as it would be considered more of a Light Bondage story that anything else.
Fast forward myriad stories and anthology participations later, I was presented with the opportunity to be a part of “ Divergent Ink 2: Pleasure Prints ”.
What is truly curious about this particular event was how everything transpired. When I was first invited I immediately came up with a story that seemed to be a perfect fit. I wrote the story. Somewhere down the line I utilized that same story in the collection found in “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ”. Once that happened, I knew that I could not reuse it in “ Pleasure Prints ”.
This had everything to do with the pact that the 6 Divergent Ink authors made with one another. We made a covenant that whatever stories we wrote for the Divergent collection, we would not feature anywhere else. This particular pact was not made until after I’d included the original story in “ Syncopation of Ravishing Intensity ”.
Now, whether perspective, emotions or soul speak, I find it hard to decipher. What I can say for certain is that after a superabundance of circumstances and the trails that each one brought, I was in an irregular place. Once again, I had a story to tell and a message to send. This message came from a dark place. This mental-emotional niche spawned a plenitude of temporary delirium, whom then birthed a story like no other I’d written before.
When I am in my darkest hours I feel as though my spirit is entrapped within four walls. These figurative four walls threaten to end me. In order to keep them from doing so, I must expongue the darkness and free myself from the tumult. So it is that in this hypersensitive state of mind that I wrote “ Odyssey of Rhapsody ”.
At first, I was not altogether certain where the story would lead, except to say that I was (A) letting the darkness out, and (B) writing a story for “ Pleasure Prints ” in the hopes that I could address the theme question.
Before long, “ Odyssey of Rhapsody ” told the tale of mental illness, the toll it takes on a human being, and the almost inevitable outcome when a person feels as though they are beyond help or the world is against them.
Yet again, I did not write a LGBTQIA story.
Serendipity has stated that I am now a multi-genre author. And it with immeasurable pride that I accept this crown. With that said, I would like to thank each and every person that has ever offered their support. You all have a small part in the creation of Adonis Mann, the author.
Until Soon,
June 3, 2019
Ask The Cover (Cover Reveal): Pleasure Prints, Divergent Ink Book 2
Hello and welcome!
Today, the All Authors Publishing House family is offering up a big treat. Please sit back, relax and enjoy this unique Cover Reveal for the upcoming anthology collection called, " Pleasure Prints: Divergent Ink Book 2 ".Before giving you a glimpse at the cover, we here at All Authors decided to interview the cover. No one knows the cover concept than the cover itself.
Without further ado ... We present you with the first ever "All Authors Ask the Cover Interview".
1) Why the rainbow colors as part of the design?
I do worry about the rainbow colors for two reasons. First one is because those kind of colors are your signature Lady Desire and I would hate to look like I am a copycat. Second is because some people may mistake me as an erotica or LGBTQIA classification instead of a short story anthology. Other than that it's fine.
2) How do you feel about your backdrop always being black?
It is my favorite part. It makes me versatile. A number of colors can work on me.
3) Do you like your dimensions being smaller than the typical 6 x 9 size? Elaborate on the answer.
Well, the truth is that I don’t mind either size. It isn’t the size of the boat, but the motion in the ocean. Right? Right … I think.But honestly though, I like to think that the 5 X 8 is fun sized, and Divergent Ink is nothing if not fun to read.
4) Why both foot and finger prints?
This collection’s main title is Pleasure Prints. So, I thought that it would be important to show a variation in prints because it would speak to the versatility in the content as well as the theme of the book. Also, different prints leave different impressions. At the end of the day, that is what Divergent Ink is all about, giving the audience a variation of interpretations for a single question.
5) If you had a choice about what order to put the stories in inside of you, how would you organize them?
Well, either by length or by emotion.
Length, from shortest to longest, because it builds up reading endurance. If one has the longest story first, the reader may mistake the rest of the works as being just as long as the first one. Humans don't have the greatest attention spans.
Emotion, from solemn to sunny. Most like the happily ever after in the end. Plus, with a title like Pleasure Prints, shouldn't the end result be a pleasant one?
6) You seem to like abstract art as opposed to realistic art, why is that?
I do a prefer abstract over realistic. The reason is because perception is reality. The Divergent Ink collection gives us a myriad of theories based on one fundamental question. Since perception is reality, there is no black and white, meaning the clarity of the answer may not be so straightforward. The reason that abstract art fits Divergent Ink so well is because it “sits in grey”. This means, that everyone can come up with their own hypothesis of what and why.
Blurb:Divergent Ink is the mesh of different frames of thoughts, various interpretations of one core question that yearns for universal expansion. Although the subject matter may change every year, the purpose of the Divergent Ink series will remain the same.The second book in the Divergent Ink anthology series, “Pleasure Prints”, revolves around the following question:
Where is paradise?
Six Divergent Inks exploring " Pleasure Prints ". Will the destination cause one to sip a tropical cocktail or cock an eyebrow in amazement?
Featuring:
Adonis Mann: Desperation and delusion are a marriage of emotions. Sentiments collide when three lives tell their tales. Hypnotizing and melancholic are the days of the souls who pursue the "Odyssey of Rhapsody".
C. Desert Rose: Helena can be cumbersome and crude, while her life is at a standstill, she likes it that way. Amidst the orange glow of office lights and a steaming cup of hot chocolate, Helena learns that life is a series of "Fleeting Moments".
Da'Kharta Rising: For Masato, there's no time like the present. Is no limit too great to accomplish “Masato's Zion”?
Synful Desire: Cecilia Teflon knows she doesn't have much time left. Before she leaves this earth, she must make a confession. Will this revelation grant her entrance into spiritual paradise? Explore the twists and turns of “Onus”.
Queen of Spades: Axana has always lived a very careful life but a lucrative advertisement shreds her comfort zone. Paradise is where one least expects in “Axana … Unscripted”.
Y. Correa: Myth or memory, which can it be? A life so scripted can be less than desirable. To go or to stay, it is that question that leaves, "Nalani at Heaven's Gates".
April 10, 2019
Trying ...
The only real reason I am blogging today is because I am trying to get better. I am attempting to put "on paper", if you will, the thoughts that abound in the attempt to get back to a place of mental-emotional peace. This, I fear, is the biggest challenge I am facing. I am finding it increasingly difficult to get back to just being me.
This morning during a time of introspection I have realized that I feel like I am in a perpetually sad place. By "sad" I mean that I am finding it very hard to find pleasure in things. Even in those things that would normally bring me joy.
I'll elaborate. I beg that you do not judge me. I am only human.
In recent months I have been in an extended state of mental-emotional darkness.I sought help by looking for a therapist. I found one thankfully but we still have a long way to go. Loads of things to work on and work through.
Anyway, for about 4 or 5 months now I've been in the throes of a depressing, anxiety and PTSD flareups. I've been doing the best I can to cope, and for those that don't know me well enough, they'd never be able to tell that I am not okay.In the past 3 months especially, I have found no reason to want to take care of myself, to do things that I would normally enjoy, to be social ... anything, really. And when I do do these things I feel like it is being done more because of obligation than desire.Even when I m writing or creating the "high" is passé. The contentment (not happiness like before) is only there during the time I am doing the thing and once I am done ... gone. Just like that. Like a puff of smoke if just fades away almost instantaneously. I shower out of obligation. I hardly care for my hair and only do so out of obligation as well. I don't really want to go out but do so because I have not option. I haven't shaved my legs (or anything) in at least 3 months. I don't want to put makeup on. Jewelry is only used because it is there and probably should be used. I don't feel like dressing up and would walk around in sweats or pajamas all day if I could. I don't really care about what I eat, when or why. I only exercise because I have to do so but find no enjoyment in it like I used to. I talk to people outside of my son and best friend because I am also obligated to.But at the end of the day, the only thing that I really want to do is stay in bed, be a shut in, sleep all day and do nothing else.Honestly, I can't even cry. I want to, but I can't. Literally can't. The tears just won't come.I used to love to cook. It was one of my favorite hobbies. Now, I would eat frozen dinners, candy or sandwiches all day, every day if I could.Again, I cook because my family needs to eat. Truth be told, I don't even exert any energy in trying to make it " taste good" anymore. I don't care that much.
I can't find a reason to care about anything anymore. I don't care what I look like, what people think, what I do and why. I just don't have it in me.Most of the things I do, I do out of pure obligation and that sucks.
There have been some days in between the down slopes that I think I may be feeling better to the point where I even believe it myself. Then, the very next day, boom! In the gutter again.
Each day I try to find something to laugh about. It is so hard to do. I always try to joke around or whatever ... anything to at least smile once a day. But it is so forced that many times it just feels fake.
My biggest fear is that I will never be myself again. That I'll live in this darkness in perpetuity.
The layers go so deep that many times I just don't have the words to explain the why.Imagine going down a very long, seemingly eternal staircase. Every step downward is a different reason why your sinking deeper. That is what it is like. Each step is a reason, but I can't seem to get off of the staircase. All I can do is look up at the light I am leaving behind in the hopes that I can soon turn around and go back up.
I want to find "a reason" to be happy again. I want so badly to get back to my happy place. But my biggest fear is that I will never get there again.
The most frustrating thing is when people say things like ...
It'll get better.Cheer up. You just have the blues.Why are you so sad? Just smile.There is a light at the end of the tunnel.Just look at the silver lining.You can do it. You're strong.Don't worry, be happy.This is only temporary.
So, since I know that the above are going to be the answers I'll get from most people, I just don't even bother exerting the energy to talk to anyone. What's the point? They just don't get it.I rather suffer in silence than hear someone tell me any of the above stated lines, or anything like them.
Sometimes I just want someone to listen and not give me a pep-talk of shit that I already know. Sometimes I just want permission to be vulnerable and sad without any cheerleader giving me some bullshit happy talk.
SOMETIMES I JUST WANT A HUG OR TO BE HELD.NO WORDS. JUST ACTIONS.
Sometimes ...
This morning during a time of introspection I have realized that I feel like I am in a perpetually sad place. By "sad" I mean that I am finding it very hard to find pleasure in things. Even in those things that would normally bring me joy.
I'll elaborate. I beg that you do not judge me. I am only human.
In recent months I have been in an extended state of mental-emotional darkness.I sought help by looking for a therapist. I found one thankfully but we still have a long way to go. Loads of things to work on and work through.
Anyway, for about 4 or 5 months now I've been in the throes of a depressing, anxiety and PTSD flareups. I've been doing the best I can to cope, and for those that don't know me well enough, they'd never be able to tell that I am not okay.In the past 3 months especially, I have found no reason to want to take care of myself, to do things that I would normally enjoy, to be social ... anything, really. And when I do do these things I feel like it is being done more because of obligation than desire.Even when I m writing or creating the "high" is passé. The contentment (not happiness like before) is only there during the time I am doing the thing and once I am done ... gone. Just like that. Like a puff of smoke if just fades away almost instantaneously. I shower out of obligation. I hardly care for my hair and only do so out of obligation as well. I don't really want to go out but do so because I have not option. I haven't shaved my legs (or anything) in at least 3 months. I don't want to put makeup on. Jewelry is only used because it is there and probably should be used. I don't feel like dressing up and would walk around in sweats or pajamas all day if I could. I don't really care about what I eat, when or why. I only exercise because I have to do so but find no enjoyment in it like I used to. I talk to people outside of my son and best friend because I am also obligated to.But at the end of the day, the only thing that I really want to do is stay in bed, be a shut in, sleep all day and do nothing else.Honestly, I can't even cry. I want to, but I can't. Literally can't. The tears just won't come.I used to love to cook. It was one of my favorite hobbies. Now, I would eat frozen dinners, candy or sandwiches all day, every day if I could.Again, I cook because my family needs to eat. Truth be told, I don't even exert any energy in trying to make it " taste good" anymore. I don't care that much.
I can't find a reason to care about anything anymore. I don't care what I look like, what people think, what I do and why. I just don't have it in me.Most of the things I do, I do out of pure obligation and that sucks.
There have been some days in between the down slopes that I think I may be feeling better to the point where I even believe it myself. Then, the very next day, boom! In the gutter again.
Each day I try to find something to laugh about. It is so hard to do. I always try to joke around or whatever ... anything to at least smile once a day. But it is so forced that many times it just feels fake.
My biggest fear is that I will never be myself again. That I'll live in this darkness in perpetuity.
The layers go so deep that many times I just don't have the words to explain the why.Imagine going down a very long, seemingly eternal staircase. Every step downward is a different reason why your sinking deeper. That is what it is like. Each step is a reason, but I can't seem to get off of the staircase. All I can do is look up at the light I am leaving behind in the hopes that I can soon turn around and go back up.
I want to find "a reason" to be happy again. I want so badly to get back to my happy place. But my biggest fear is that I will never get there again.
The most frustrating thing is when people say things like ...
It'll get better.Cheer up. You just have the blues.Why are you so sad? Just smile.There is a light at the end of the tunnel.Just look at the silver lining.You can do it. You're strong.Don't worry, be happy.This is only temporary.
So, since I know that the above are going to be the answers I'll get from most people, I just don't even bother exerting the energy to talk to anyone. What's the point? They just don't get it.I rather suffer in silence than hear someone tell me any of the above stated lines, or anything like them.
Sometimes I just want someone to listen and not give me a pep-talk of shit that I already know. Sometimes I just want permission to be vulnerable and sad without any cheerleader giving me some bullshit happy talk.
SOMETIMES I JUST WANT A HUG OR TO BE HELD.NO WORDS. JUST ACTIONS.
Sometimes ...
April 9, 2019
Life is a Convoluted Thing
I had some things on my mind that I wanted to share with the ether. I never really expect people to read my blog, and am always surprised when they do. I usually blog because I have something to say and/or need to expel something from my spirit.
So before I go into the thick of it, I just need to share a baby-bit of background with you. I won't be going into too much detail so I'll just let you use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
Basically, in life I have gone through far too much traumatic and life altering shit. These things have, without a doubt, left some uncured scars that I am only now dealing with. In the attempt to learn how to cope as well as address a variety of mental-illness related things, I opted to seek therapy. About a month ago I started seeing a psychologist. She's great. I like her very much.The other day as I sat with her, she gave me an assignment due to the myriad of mental-emotional struggles I've been confronting head-on as of late.She said, "I want you to stop and do this exercise whenever you are feeling overwhelmed. Think to yourself, 'How am I feeling and what do I need?'"
It was that particular exercise that led me to today's blog post.
I've been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions as of late, and while I am finally on the up-climb, that by no means implies that the entire situation has been mitigated.Last night I had this very realistic dream where I was with a man that loved me and treated me right. In the dream I could feel like my proverbial cup was overflowing with love, care, understanding and companionship. Essentially, the kind of relationship that every girl longs for. It was as real as anything.
Then I opened my eyes. As soon as I did, reality hit me like a ton of brinks.
I was alone. Again.I felt empty. Again.I longed for all the things that I had in my dream, but didn't have in real life. Again.
Feeling overwhelmed with grief I did the exercise.
"Y," I said to myself, "How do I feel?""Lonely and sad." I responded."What do I need?""Love and companionship from a life partner."
Unfortunately, this wasn't a need that I could satiate. Why? Because I don't have that. I do not have a mate, I do not have the unconditional love of a life partner.So that leaves me with one big question ...
What do I do when I cannot find what I am looking for?
And trust me, I've looked for it. I've looked for love in all the wrong AND RIGHT places. Inevitably, I come back empty handed every time after implementing a lot of time, energy and care into attempting to make a relationship work. They never do.This, of course, makes me feel like there is no remedy for me. Therefore, instead of feeling better after endeavoring to do the exercise, I now feel worse.
How do I fix it?
So before I go into the thick of it, I just need to share a baby-bit of background with you. I won't be going into too much detail so I'll just let you use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
Basically, in life I have gone through far too much traumatic and life altering shit. These things have, without a doubt, left some uncured scars that I am only now dealing with. In the attempt to learn how to cope as well as address a variety of mental-illness related things, I opted to seek therapy. About a month ago I started seeing a psychologist. She's great. I like her very much.The other day as I sat with her, she gave me an assignment due to the myriad of mental-emotional struggles I've been confronting head-on as of late.She said, "I want you to stop and do this exercise whenever you are feeling overwhelmed. Think to yourself, 'How am I feeling and what do I need?'"
It was that particular exercise that led me to today's blog post.
I've been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions as of late, and while I am finally on the up-climb, that by no means implies that the entire situation has been mitigated.Last night I had this very realistic dream where I was with a man that loved me and treated me right. In the dream I could feel like my proverbial cup was overflowing with love, care, understanding and companionship. Essentially, the kind of relationship that every girl longs for. It was as real as anything.
Then I opened my eyes. As soon as I did, reality hit me like a ton of brinks.
I was alone. Again.I felt empty. Again.I longed for all the things that I had in my dream, but didn't have in real life. Again.
Feeling overwhelmed with grief I did the exercise.
"Y," I said to myself, "How do I feel?""Lonely and sad." I responded."What do I need?""Love and companionship from a life partner."
Unfortunately, this wasn't a need that I could satiate. Why? Because I don't have that. I do not have a mate, I do not have the unconditional love of a life partner.So that leaves me with one big question ...
What do I do when I cannot find what I am looking for?
And trust me, I've looked for it. I've looked for love in all the wrong AND RIGHT places. Inevitably, I come back empty handed every time after implementing a lot of time, energy and care into attempting to make a relationship work. They never do.This, of course, makes me feel like there is no remedy for me. Therefore, instead of feeling better after endeavoring to do the exercise, I now feel worse.
How do I fix it?
March 25, 2019
Q & A: 3/25/2019
Hey y'all, it's be a while since I've done a Q & A blog post. And by "a while" I mean, like over a year, if not more. It's been so long, in fact, that it was probably done when I was still using WordPress.
The other day an author friend of mine asked me the following question:
Is there any thing you have written where the audience loves it but you’re not too crazy about it? If so, which work is it and why?
I felt the need to answer in blog form because I though that there might be some of you out there that might be interested in knowing that answer as well. So, without further ado ... here we go!
Funny enough, I am that author that doesn't confront this issue too much once my works are completed and published. But—whether applicable or not, I don't know—I have experienced hating a project before its completion. I'll elaborate.
Once upon a time, in the year 2014, I was to be part of the first ever All Authors anthology titled "Concordant Vibrancy: Unity". The theme was about the coming together of persons, places, or things. As I thought about the theme of the collection an idea occurred to me; "What if a fictional creature was a combination or coming together of lots of cool things?" How outstanding would it be if there were a science fiction creation that unified both fantasy and science fiction?
Fast forward lots of talking, planning and writing, in come the creation of " Earth 8-8-2 ". As luck would have it, "Earth 8-8-2" never made it to "Concordant Vibrancy: Unit" as the story took on a life all its own and was, in the end, too big of a story to confine to a short story collection.
It took me all of a week to complete the first installment of this story. And, while I was fully enamored with the idea of the story prior to completing it, once it was done, I hated it. I really did. I kicked myself for having invested all that time in writing a story that at the end, in my opinion, was shit.
In order to reassure my assessment, I decided to send the story to a couple of author friends of mine so that they could read it and tell me how terrible it was.
To my surprise, they both came to me and said that the story was phenomenal. I was shocked.
"Are you kidding me right now?" I said, unable to believe that they really liked the story.
They assured me that the story was amazing.
Even with that, I still didn't like it. So, I decided to set it aside for a little bit and then come back to it later. Furthermore, I'd already made up my mind that I would read it from a readers perspective, not an author's.
Letting it sit for some time and working on other things, eventually I got back to it.
Put your readers mind on, Y. I told myself. Having mentally prepared myself, I did just that.
Then I started reading.
Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project
Excerpt
B eep ... beep ... beep.Dr. Scott twirled around his laboratory like a ballerina, having memorized every nook and cranny, every curve and corner. Beaker and dropper in his hand, expertly dripping a few tears of some mysterious chemical into the flask.Mozart’s “Antique Heavy Metal Ballad” blared in the background, and his goggles suddenly became fogged with the puff of fumes that abruptly came spewing from the glass container. It caused his already naturally red skin to momentarily blush into a deep shade of burgundy. His lovely yellow eyes blinked behind the confinements of the plastic as if instinctively protecting themselves from the spatter that never came.Dr. Scott's head pulled back in surprise, attempting to steer away from any substance that might fly out and splash on his face. Luckily none did.Inhaling softly, he blew at the smoke, attempting to clear the air in front of him.Thereafter, the authentic reddish hue of his skin paled the slightest as his stomach twisted into subtle knots. It was a mixture of excitement and worry.This has to work!The mahogany spirals of his shaggy hair were damp with sweat from a full night of laborious experimentation. Yellow eyes twinkled as he coaxed the liquefied substance audibly, “Come on baby, do your thing.” The molten element inside began to bubble and fizz. “Yeah baby,” he nodded absentmindedly, “You're doing it.”With an additional single hard burst, a puff of smoke solidified what was once liquid, turning it into gelatinous matter. “Yes!” cried Dr. Scott, pleased at his achievement.Itwas going to work. His experiment was finally going to become a reality—and those who had nay said against his logic would be proven wrong. He was not inept! He was not crazy, nor was he ridiculous. None of his colleagues had faith in his research, but now they'd see.They would see, and they would honor him. More so, when they saw what his success would do for their world.
Earth 8-8-2 was the 882nd earth discovered by the scientists that ascertained alternated universes. One thousand had been found to date.The Multiverse Theory had been proven and finally accepted by most earths.
As is typically the case, some earths refused to accept the findings. Each one had their independent reasons, most of the time that reason had something to do with religion. Nevertheless, said earths would stamp and seal their individual fates. Moreover, they would remain banal. Nothing was more upsetting than those who chose to remain ignorant.Yet, that was an entirely different matter altogether.
What scientists proved was that the theory which implies our universe is not alone and that there are many universes existing parallel to each other, was correct. Each distinct universe within the Multiverse Theory was called a parallel universe—this thesis was distantly derived from String Theory and The Theory of Everything, which is the fundamental belief that implies that all things are connected.There had been a variety of different conjectures that lent themselves to a multiverse viewpoint however, one remained solid; there were more earths, universes and living beings that spread out to an innumerable amount of macrocosms. More than could be counted.
Wouldn't you know it? By the time I was done reading the story I was absolutely in love with it. I was blown away at how cool this story was. Then I was all like, "Damn Y, you did that!" I had to high-five myself.
At any rate, while I have not (as of yet) been in a situation where I am not a fan of one of my works after published, I have been in that situation beforehand.
The other day an author friend of mine asked me the following question:
Is there any thing you have written where the audience loves it but you’re not too crazy about it? If so, which work is it and why?
I felt the need to answer in blog form because I though that there might be some of you out there that might be interested in knowing that answer as well. So, without further ado ... here we go!
Funny enough, I am that author that doesn't confront this issue too much once my works are completed and published. But—whether applicable or not, I don't know—I have experienced hating a project before its completion. I'll elaborate.
Once upon a time, in the year 2014, I was to be part of the first ever All Authors anthology titled "Concordant Vibrancy: Unity". The theme was about the coming together of persons, places, or things. As I thought about the theme of the collection an idea occurred to me; "What if a fictional creature was a combination or coming together of lots of cool things?" How outstanding would it be if there were a science fiction creation that unified both fantasy and science fiction?
Fast forward lots of talking, planning and writing, in come the creation of " Earth 8-8-2 ". As luck would have it, "Earth 8-8-2" never made it to "Concordant Vibrancy: Unit" as the story took on a life all its own and was, in the end, too big of a story to confine to a short story collection.
It took me all of a week to complete the first installment of this story. And, while I was fully enamored with the idea of the story prior to completing it, once it was done, I hated it. I really did. I kicked myself for having invested all that time in writing a story that at the end, in my opinion, was shit.
In order to reassure my assessment, I decided to send the story to a couple of author friends of mine so that they could read it and tell me how terrible it was.
To my surprise, they both came to me and said that the story was phenomenal. I was shocked.
"Are you kidding me right now?" I said, unable to believe that they really liked the story.
They assured me that the story was amazing.
Even with that, I still didn't like it. So, I decided to set it aside for a little bit and then come back to it later. Furthermore, I'd already made up my mind that I would read it from a readers perspective, not an author's.
Letting it sit for some time and working on other things, eventually I got back to it.
Put your readers mind on, Y. I told myself. Having mentally prepared myself, I did just that.
Then I started reading.
Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project
Excerpt
B eep ... beep ... beep.Dr. Scott twirled around his laboratory like a ballerina, having memorized every nook and cranny, every curve and corner. Beaker and dropper in his hand, expertly dripping a few tears of some mysterious chemical into the flask.Mozart’s “Antique Heavy Metal Ballad” blared in the background, and his goggles suddenly became fogged with the puff of fumes that abruptly came spewing from the glass container. It caused his already naturally red skin to momentarily blush into a deep shade of burgundy. His lovely yellow eyes blinked behind the confinements of the plastic as if instinctively protecting themselves from the spatter that never came.Dr. Scott's head pulled back in surprise, attempting to steer away from any substance that might fly out and splash on his face. Luckily none did.Inhaling softly, he blew at the smoke, attempting to clear the air in front of him.Thereafter, the authentic reddish hue of his skin paled the slightest as his stomach twisted into subtle knots. It was a mixture of excitement and worry.This has to work!The mahogany spirals of his shaggy hair were damp with sweat from a full night of laborious experimentation. Yellow eyes twinkled as he coaxed the liquefied substance audibly, “Come on baby, do your thing.” The molten element inside began to bubble and fizz. “Yeah baby,” he nodded absentmindedly, “You're doing it.”With an additional single hard burst, a puff of smoke solidified what was once liquid, turning it into gelatinous matter. “Yes!” cried Dr. Scott, pleased at his achievement.Itwas going to work. His experiment was finally going to become a reality—and those who had nay said against his logic would be proven wrong. He was not inept! He was not crazy, nor was he ridiculous. None of his colleagues had faith in his research, but now they'd see.They would see, and they would honor him. More so, when they saw what his success would do for their world.
Earth 8-8-2 was the 882nd earth discovered by the scientists that ascertained alternated universes. One thousand had been found to date.The Multiverse Theory had been proven and finally accepted by most earths.
As is typically the case, some earths refused to accept the findings. Each one had their independent reasons, most of the time that reason had something to do with religion. Nevertheless, said earths would stamp and seal their individual fates. Moreover, they would remain banal. Nothing was more upsetting than those who chose to remain ignorant.Yet, that was an entirely different matter altogether.
What scientists proved was that the theory which implies our universe is not alone and that there are many universes existing parallel to each other, was correct. Each distinct universe within the Multiverse Theory was called a parallel universe—this thesis was distantly derived from String Theory and The Theory of Everything, which is the fundamental belief that implies that all things are connected.There had been a variety of different conjectures that lent themselves to a multiverse viewpoint however, one remained solid; there were more earths, universes and living beings that spread out to an innumerable amount of macrocosms. More than could be counted.
Wouldn't you know it? By the time I was done reading the story I was absolutely in love with it. I was blown away at how cool this story was. Then I was all like, "Damn Y, you did that!" I had to high-five myself.
At any rate, while I have not (as of yet) been in a situation where I am not a fan of one of my works after published, I have been in that situation beforehand.
February 14, 2019
I Don't HATE Valentine's Day ... I Just Don't Agree with it.
Please ... call me bitter if you must. Frankly, I don't care.
The truth is, I don't necessarily hate Valentine's Day. I just don't agree with the politics.
Yeah, yeah, yeah ... I know the spiel.Saint Valentine ordained this day to be a day that we show the people that we love how much we appreciate them. I get it. I do. But let's call a spade, a spade, shall we?Valentine's Day has become so commercialized that you almost feel guilty for being single because you don't have anyone that will give you all the red-and-pink colored stuff. Nor, can you do it in return.The minute you set foot in stores the day after New Years, everything has morphed from holiday cheer to hearts and roses. You're bum-rushed by all the "love" in the air.
It's like the air has puked all the red and pink frilly stuff into our environment and we are being forced to breath it in.
Well, what if you don't have anyone to love or that loves you back? At least, in the romantic way. Then what? You feel like shit about it because everyone around you has gotten all the "sweet and endearing" gifts and you haven't. It makes you just want to get home and cry while getting drunk off your ass.
So ... what do I do to not feel like a huge pile of horse shit on Valentine's Day?I celebrate the people I love; my kids, family and friends. Then, come February 15th, I go to the local Walmart and buy all of the Valentine's Day chocolates at half price.
So, like I said. I don't hate Valentine's Day, I just don't agree.
October 31, 2018
Terror Times Two: Peter Blade and R.I.P.(E). Joint Release
Hello, everyone! Ova View here!
Let me start by saying HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I’m all dressed up and ready to go! Woot!
Welcome to the Joint Release of “Peter Blade” by Y. Correa and “R.I.P.(E).” by Queen of Spades.
It’s been a while since we’ve brought you a book release that we’ve been this excited about. So, without further ado, we’ll get right into it.
I have got to say that I am super stoked to bring your this one on one interview with the duo now known as “Hybrid Seductions”. That is to say, Queen of Spades, the Antiquated Hybrid and Y. Correa, the Literary Seductress. A round of applause is definitely in order!
It’s been a while since I’ve been out and on the hunt for a good read and some interaction with my fellow bookish folk, so I can’t tell you how excited I am to have come across this lovely Dual Release. Let’s hop right into it, shall we?
First, let’s talk a little bit about what prompted to writing of each book.
Y. Correa, what was it that incited the writing of “Peter Blade”?
Wow, great question!
“Peter Blade” came from both a song and a story that my dad told me when I was a kid.
When I was a kid there was a release of a salsa song called “Pedro Navajas” which translated to Peter Blade. The song talked about a true story of a serial killer that hunted prostitutes and eventually was killed by one. What the song does not talk about was the reasons or the intricate details of the events. So, one day out of curiosity I asked my dad about it. He went on to tell me the long story about a serial killer in Puerto Rico that was hell bent on ridding the world of prostitutes because he found them dirty.
One day, already an adult, while cleaning my kitchen I heard the song for the gazillionth time and immediately my mind started swirling with ideas of who Peter Blade was, why he killed, what the essence of his character was. And, before I knew it, I was in the midst of writing a story based on SOME “true events” but mostly a work of fiction.
At one point I’d asked a fellow author to help me with the story—make it a collaborative work, if you will. However, in time I came to realize that that would not pan out so I opted to go forward with the story by myself. What I did not know what that Peter was actually the force behind the wheel. It really was the character that narrated to the story. Every labyrinthine detail was dictated to me by the main character. In the end the story turned out to be a look into the psychopathy of a killer. Terror of the mind.
Amazing! Thank you, Y. Queen, could you please tell us a little bit about “R.I.P.(E).”? Perhaps, what the meaning of the acronym as well …?
Where to begin … where to begin? I have been on a bit of a hiatus. I haven’t done an individual project since Life-O-Suction and the last appearance I made in a collection was Concordant Vibrancy 3. Truth be told, I wasn’t even 100% betting on putting out anything this year.
I have gone through quite a few things since my last publication. Life was keeping me busy. Then I encountered someone whose presence made quite an impact and challenged some of my cautionary approaches towards certain topics. Just as I was reaching my level of comfort, a tragedy happened, putting me back at … square one.
One night, I had a dream, filled with visions I couldn’t shake. It also included phrases and numbers that lingered. Most of the phrases represent titles of the poems. The primary things in the visions developed the cover concept. The numbers link to a bit of perception and symbolism: mostly behind the number 13. These were indeed “Random Inspirations on Paper (R.I.P.)”.
The “E” was added as an afterthought but necessary. It represented my evolution after everything with this person had taken place. However, because of the work’s presentation as a modern day Adam and Eve, I morphed the “E” into (E)ve-olution.
Hence … R.I.P.(E).
Fantastic, Queen! You never cease to amaze me with the way your mind works!
But, here is the primary question … Why a double release? What was it that made you both decide to come together and not only bring these books to the public in conjunction, but also dub it a “Hybrid Seductions” collaborative? I am super intrigued. Y., would you like to go first?
Sure.
Well, you see … the thing is that Queen and I are very alike in a lot of ways. While I am known as the “Literary Seductress” I feel like that title can easily fit her as well. And, although she sees herself as the “Antiquated Hybrid”, I feel like I can also fit into that category. We both have a very similar approach to writing:
It must be worth reading, it must be a work of art and it must be captivating.
So, after lots of conversation we came up with a label that encompassed us both; “Hybrid Seductions”.
Now, I will let Queen elaborate on the dual release part. Queen, after you.
It goes a bit deeper than “Hybrid Seductions”. Y was going to release hers on October 31st anyway. Yet, when I was thinking of my release date, it was tied in to the skull and the “Day of the Dead” symbolism, which led to 10/31 as well. The idea was as random as R.I.P.(E). Y was the first to suggest doing it jointly but for me, there had to be a tie-in for us to do it together. Peter Blade rang to me as “terror of the mind” while my work depicted “terror of the heart” which is what the elements of heartbreak essentially are. Once all was connected, it made sense for both to be released together.
Y. here again. Also, when we looked further into the works one thing in Peter Blade stood out like a sore thumb … At the end of the day, Peter was “Peter Blade” because he first experienced “terror of the heart”. Then, boom! Just like that it all made sense to me. In my mind, heartbreak has repercussions that changes a person—some for the better and some for the worse. Peter was the prime example of how it changes you for the worse. Okay … I am done. Queen, the floor is yours.
Let me start by saying HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I’m all dressed up and ready to go! Woot!
Welcome to the Joint Release of “Peter Blade” by Y. Correa and “R.I.P.(E).” by Queen of Spades.
It’s been a while since we’ve brought you a book release that we’ve been this excited about. So, without further ado, we’ll get right into it.
I have got to say that I am super stoked to bring your this one on one interview with the duo now known as “Hybrid Seductions”. That is to say, Queen of Spades, the Antiquated Hybrid and Y. Correa, the Literary Seductress. A round of applause is definitely in order!
It’s been a while since I’ve been out and on the hunt for a good read and some interaction with my fellow bookish folk, so I can’t tell you how excited I am to have come across this lovely Dual Release. Let’s hop right into it, shall we?
First, let’s talk a little bit about what prompted to writing of each book.
Y. Correa, what was it that incited the writing of “Peter Blade”?
Wow, great question!
“Peter Blade” came from both a song and a story that my dad told me when I was a kid.
When I was a kid there was a release of a salsa song called “Pedro Navajas” which translated to Peter Blade. The song talked about a true story of a serial killer that hunted prostitutes and eventually was killed by one. What the song does not talk about was the reasons or the intricate details of the events. So, one day out of curiosity I asked my dad about it. He went on to tell me the long story about a serial killer in Puerto Rico that was hell bent on ridding the world of prostitutes because he found them dirty.
One day, already an adult, while cleaning my kitchen I heard the song for the gazillionth time and immediately my mind started swirling with ideas of who Peter Blade was, why he killed, what the essence of his character was. And, before I knew it, I was in the midst of writing a story based on SOME “true events” but mostly a work of fiction.
At one point I’d asked a fellow author to help me with the story—make it a collaborative work, if you will. However, in time I came to realize that that would not pan out so I opted to go forward with the story by myself. What I did not know what that Peter was actually the force behind the wheel. It really was the character that narrated to the story. Every labyrinthine detail was dictated to me by the main character. In the end the story turned out to be a look into the psychopathy of a killer. Terror of the mind.
Amazing! Thank you, Y. Queen, could you please tell us a little bit about “R.I.P.(E).”? Perhaps, what the meaning of the acronym as well …?
Where to begin … where to begin? I have been on a bit of a hiatus. I haven’t done an individual project since Life-O-Suction and the last appearance I made in a collection was Concordant Vibrancy 3. Truth be told, I wasn’t even 100% betting on putting out anything this year.
I have gone through quite a few things since my last publication. Life was keeping me busy. Then I encountered someone whose presence made quite an impact and challenged some of my cautionary approaches towards certain topics. Just as I was reaching my level of comfort, a tragedy happened, putting me back at … square one.
One night, I had a dream, filled with visions I couldn’t shake. It also included phrases and numbers that lingered. Most of the phrases represent titles of the poems. The primary things in the visions developed the cover concept. The numbers link to a bit of perception and symbolism: mostly behind the number 13. These were indeed “Random Inspirations on Paper (R.I.P.)”.
The “E” was added as an afterthought but necessary. It represented my evolution after everything with this person had taken place. However, because of the work’s presentation as a modern day Adam and Eve, I morphed the “E” into (E)ve-olution.
Hence … R.I.P.(E).
Fantastic, Queen! You never cease to amaze me with the way your mind works!
But, here is the primary question … Why a double release? What was it that made you both decide to come together and not only bring these books to the public in conjunction, but also dub it a “Hybrid Seductions” collaborative? I am super intrigued. Y., would you like to go first?
Sure.
Well, you see … the thing is that Queen and I are very alike in a lot of ways. While I am known as the “Literary Seductress” I feel like that title can easily fit her as well. And, although she sees herself as the “Antiquated Hybrid”, I feel like I can also fit into that category. We both have a very similar approach to writing:
It must be worth reading, it must be a work of art and it must be captivating.
So, after lots of conversation we came up with a label that encompassed us both; “Hybrid Seductions”.
Now, I will let Queen elaborate on the dual release part. Queen, after you.
It goes a bit deeper than “Hybrid Seductions”. Y was going to release hers on October 31st anyway. Yet, when I was thinking of my release date, it was tied in to the skull and the “Day of the Dead” symbolism, which led to 10/31 as well. The idea was as random as R.I.P.(E). Y was the first to suggest doing it jointly but for me, there had to be a tie-in for us to do it together. Peter Blade rang to me as “terror of the mind” while my work depicted “terror of the heart” which is what the elements of heartbreak essentially are. Once all was connected, it made sense for both to be released together.
Y. here again. Also, when we looked further into the works one thing in Peter Blade stood out like a sore thumb … At the end of the day, Peter was “Peter Blade” because he first experienced “terror of the heart”. Then, boom! Just like that it all made sense to me. In my mind, heartbreak has repercussions that changes a person—some for the better and some for the worse. Peter was the prime example of how it changes you for the worse. Okay … I am done. Queen, the floor is yours.
October 4, 2018
Free Only Until Tomorrow
Hello Lads and Ladies,
Get your copy of "MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis" free until tomorrow only! If you haven't savored the ecstasy of why love is the result of all things conquered then you should pick up this book. Here is a quick look inside.
Blurb:
The year 1585. The Anglo-Spanish War. England’s greed for Spain’s crops, land, and supplies gives birth to the inertia of intolerance on both sides. Yet, even then, Love surges forth.
MarcoAntonio, a Spanish gentleman and knight, defied all boundaries of color and culture, when setting eyes on the English lady Amaryllis. Although to others, he may be a bit reserved, he dares to lower his defenses solely for her.
Amaryllis is an English lady. One with an open heart, gentle spirit, and shining eloquence. She knew that she should not desire MarcoAntonio. Still, a love feeling so right couldn’t be so horribly wrong!
Travel with MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis as they duel with internal and external forces threatening to tear their powerful love apart. In the midst of troubles the likes of which have no compare, MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis find themselves having to fight the most unexpected of adversaries, just for the right to love each other.
Discover why their LOVE is the result of ALL things conquered!
Excerpt:
Chapter 2
“Amaryllis! What are you doing?”, his voice was dry, raw, and unemotional.“Nothing father. I just stepped out to get some fresh air,” Amaryllis quickly walked back into her room. She could hear her own insecurity in her voice, and her heart thumped in her ear, and she was certain that her father also noticed her nervousness.“Are you sure?” his eyes became hard with suspicion. “'Tis not like a lady, to walk about gallivanting in the middle of the night, when she is well aware that there are putrid, Spanish vermin, running about looking for an opportunity at infringement,”“Father, I was not gallivanting about. You do not trust in my word? I was just out on the balcony getting some fresh air. As you must know, it gets stuffy in here at times,” she was trying hard to hide the fear in her voice.Her father squinted his eyes to a mere sliver, “Very well,” then turned his back to her and commenced his march out of her room. However, just before leaving, he left her with just a few words “Why would one ask if one is not being trusted, unless one would have a reason to ask such a question?”, then while closing the door behind him, he spoke for the last time “Good night, child.”This time feeling her knees knock together, and certain that her fear was obvious, she spoke quietly, “Good night, Father.”
MarcoAntonio had departed just in time. Had her father walked in just a few minutes earlier, that would have been the end of MarcoAntonio, and in turn, of her as well. He was so stubborn, she thought. Just like a Spanish man! Then again, just like an Englishman as well. As a matter of fact, she knew not of any man that was not as stubborn as a mule. At least MarcoAntonio made being stubborn, cute.She was so madly in love with him. Even from the moment that she first met him at the market.They'd just arrived here from England—her family and herself. Her mother decided that she wanted to shop in the Spanish market for some things, which in her mother’s language meant that she simply wanted to spend money.As they browsed along, when Amaryllis turned to look at some baskets, there he was. Standing like a soldier on guard, just behind a sweet older lady. His mother, Amaryllis found out in time.They had money. Lots of riches. Yet, his mother was so settled in her ways that she refused to retire from her employment. Whateverthat particular employment would be, at whatever given time. That day in specific, it was basket selling.Amaryllis, looked up at him, and he gazed upon her, and that was it. That was all it took for both of them to know that they wanted to be together forever. “Love at first sight”, indeed.
Copyright 2015, Y. Correa
GET YOUR FREE COPY TODAY AT THE LINK BELOW!
Get your copy of "MarcoAntonio & Amaryllis" free until tomorrow only! If you haven't savored the ecstasy of why love is the result of all things conquered then you should pick up this book. Here is a quick look inside.
Blurb:The year 1585. The Anglo-Spanish War. England’s greed for Spain’s crops, land, and supplies gives birth to the inertia of intolerance on both sides. Yet, even then, Love surges forth.
MarcoAntonio, a Spanish gentleman and knight, defied all boundaries of color and culture, when setting eyes on the English lady Amaryllis. Although to others, he may be a bit reserved, he dares to lower his defenses solely for her.
Amaryllis is an English lady. One with an open heart, gentle spirit, and shining eloquence. She knew that she should not desire MarcoAntonio. Still, a love feeling so right couldn’t be so horribly wrong!
Travel with MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis as they duel with internal and external forces threatening to tear their powerful love apart. In the midst of troubles the likes of which have no compare, MarcoAntonio and Amaryllis find themselves having to fight the most unexpected of adversaries, just for the right to love each other.
Discover why their LOVE is the result of ALL things conquered!
Excerpt:
Chapter 2
“Amaryllis! What are you doing?”, his voice was dry, raw, and unemotional.“Nothing father. I just stepped out to get some fresh air,” Amaryllis quickly walked back into her room. She could hear her own insecurity in her voice, and her heart thumped in her ear, and she was certain that her father also noticed her nervousness.“Are you sure?” his eyes became hard with suspicion. “'Tis not like a lady, to walk about gallivanting in the middle of the night, when she is well aware that there are putrid, Spanish vermin, running about looking for an opportunity at infringement,”“Father, I was not gallivanting about. You do not trust in my word? I was just out on the balcony getting some fresh air. As you must know, it gets stuffy in here at times,” she was trying hard to hide the fear in her voice.Her father squinted his eyes to a mere sliver, “Very well,” then turned his back to her and commenced his march out of her room. However, just before leaving, he left her with just a few words “Why would one ask if one is not being trusted, unless one would have a reason to ask such a question?”, then while closing the door behind him, he spoke for the last time “Good night, child.”This time feeling her knees knock together, and certain that her fear was obvious, she spoke quietly, “Good night, Father.”
MarcoAntonio had departed just in time. Had her father walked in just a few minutes earlier, that would have been the end of MarcoAntonio, and in turn, of her as well. He was so stubborn, she thought. Just like a Spanish man! Then again, just like an Englishman as well. As a matter of fact, she knew not of any man that was not as stubborn as a mule. At least MarcoAntonio made being stubborn, cute.She was so madly in love with him. Even from the moment that she first met him at the market.They'd just arrived here from England—her family and herself. Her mother decided that she wanted to shop in the Spanish market for some things, which in her mother’s language meant that she simply wanted to spend money.As they browsed along, when Amaryllis turned to look at some baskets, there he was. Standing like a soldier on guard, just behind a sweet older lady. His mother, Amaryllis found out in time.They had money. Lots of riches. Yet, his mother was so settled in her ways that she refused to retire from her employment. Whateverthat particular employment would be, at whatever given time. That day in specific, it was basket selling.Amaryllis, looked up at him, and he gazed upon her, and that was it. That was all it took for both of them to know that they wanted to be together forever. “Love at first sight”, indeed.
Copyright 2015, Y. Correa
GET YOUR FREE COPY TODAY AT THE LINK BELOW!
September 15, 2018
"Peter Blade" Cover Release
Greetings, all!
It has been quite some time since I brought you all a Cover Reveal. So, I am ecstatic to announce the Cover Reveal for a story that I have been working on for some time ... "Peter Blade".
Without further ado, here you have it!
Title: Peter Blade
Author: Y. Correa
Genre: Psychological Drama
Release: October 31st, 2018
Available: All major book retailers
Blurb:
Autumn 1970, Manhattan, New York
“♫ Life gives you surprises but Surprises give you life, oh Lord ... ♪”
A single night can carry both contempt and horror.
The notorious Peter Blade is on the hunt … just like many nights before. Adhering to his father’s words, “You've got to get deep into the gut, that's how you'll be able to bleed the animal. It's the only way to get him clean ...” Peter ensures that every hooker he kills is bled to pristine flawlessness.
Dancing with the phantasms of a murky past and the reality of an ominous present, Peter Blade trades places with his victims for the foreboding remembrances which cometh after dark. This night is entrenched in the unexpected and Peter finds himself contending with life and death. From dusk to dawn, Peter Blade is inescapably haunted but to what end? Which could be worse, living the terror or dying by its hands?
Excerpt:
Having taken Maribel out of the house, Fausto wrapped his uncle’s dead body in plastic bags and dragged him to the garage. Carefully Fausto tore the front of the bags open guaranteeing that when pulled apart they would remain under the body. Meticulously he covered the remaining area of the room with more plastic, assiduously safeguarding that spatter would drip on the plastic and not the surface underneath. Finally, Fausto covered himself in plastic bags.As is normal for most Puerto Rican men Juan was not a tall man, standing at about five-foot-six, but he was on the thick side. His plump belly was the only part of Juan’s body that protruded the bags.Like a pig, Fausto mused.And like a pig Fausto handled him.First, tying Juan by the feet with rope Fausto managed to dangle him head down from a beam in the garage. Immediately, after having hung his uncle's lifeless body, Fausto grabbed a large bucket and placed it directly under the body. This was a trick he’d learned years before by Juan himself during the sparse times when Juan helped Fausto’s father kill pigs.Reaching for a machete Fausto held it high and looked at it intently. The shine and shimmer jumped off the blade like stars sparkling in a dark night’s sky.She is my mistress, Fausto considered.Words could hardly express the fulfillment this entire procedure gave Fausto. It was something along the lines of heaven on earth and soulful satiation. A place where real met surreal and completeness was attained.A tingle of jubilee- No … of keen and satisfying captivity … ran up and down Fausto’s spine as he began the painstaking process of butchering the meat.A jab deep in the gut, pulled upwards; then a slit from ear to ear across the throat.Fausto’s eyes varnished and coiled with enchantment as the thick, warm, red broth leaked. All at once the gushing sonorous of rushing fluids banged against the bottom of the bucket. As the stream grew lesser the sound lulled to a trickle, then a pitter-patter.Dreamlike, all of it. But this was no dream.It was precisely this that mesmerized Fausto—the fantastic manner of it all. Enthralled by the technique therein, the methodical words echoed in his head. Those words that would remain encrypted like a red-hot, cast-iron brand in his cerebral cortex, “It's the only way to get him clean ...”In so doing, Fausto bled the body dry.Removing the bucket aside then untying the rope, the body dropped to the ground. The flop sounded like a captured and dead baby whale plopping atop the firmament of a boat. Slippery, strident and heavy all at once.Next was the severing process. With every hack and jolt of Juan’s body, Fausto did not flinch. His countenance remained unwavering, transfixed.
Now Available for Pre-Order on Amazon Kindle!
It has been quite some time since I brought you all a Cover Reveal. So, I am ecstatic to announce the Cover Reveal for a story that I have been working on for some time ... "Peter Blade".
Without further ado, here you have it!
Title: Peter Blade
Author: Y. Correa
Genre: Psychological Drama
Release: October 31st, 2018
Available: All major book retailers
Blurb:
Autumn 1970, Manhattan, New York
“♫ Life gives you surprises but Surprises give you life, oh Lord ... ♪”
A single night can carry both contempt and horror.
The notorious Peter Blade is on the hunt … just like many nights before. Adhering to his father’s words, “You've got to get deep into the gut, that's how you'll be able to bleed the animal. It's the only way to get him clean ...” Peter ensures that every hooker he kills is bled to pristine flawlessness.
Dancing with the phantasms of a murky past and the reality of an ominous present, Peter Blade trades places with his victims for the foreboding remembrances which cometh after dark. This night is entrenched in the unexpected and Peter finds himself contending with life and death. From dusk to dawn, Peter Blade is inescapably haunted but to what end? Which could be worse, living the terror or dying by its hands?
Excerpt:
Having taken Maribel out of the house, Fausto wrapped his uncle’s dead body in plastic bags and dragged him to the garage. Carefully Fausto tore the front of the bags open guaranteeing that when pulled apart they would remain under the body. Meticulously he covered the remaining area of the room with more plastic, assiduously safeguarding that spatter would drip on the plastic and not the surface underneath. Finally, Fausto covered himself in plastic bags.As is normal for most Puerto Rican men Juan was not a tall man, standing at about five-foot-six, but he was on the thick side. His plump belly was the only part of Juan’s body that protruded the bags.Like a pig, Fausto mused.And like a pig Fausto handled him.First, tying Juan by the feet with rope Fausto managed to dangle him head down from a beam in the garage. Immediately, after having hung his uncle's lifeless body, Fausto grabbed a large bucket and placed it directly under the body. This was a trick he’d learned years before by Juan himself during the sparse times when Juan helped Fausto’s father kill pigs.Reaching for a machete Fausto held it high and looked at it intently. The shine and shimmer jumped off the blade like stars sparkling in a dark night’s sky.She is my mistress, Fausto considered.Words could hardly express the fulfillment this entire procedure gave Fausto. It was something along the lines of heaven on earth and soulful satiation. A place where real met surreal and completeness was attained.A tingle of jubilee- No … of keen and satisfying captivity … ran up and down Fausto’s spine as he began the painstaking process of butchering the meat.A jab deep in the gut, pulled upwards; then a slit from ear to ear across the throat.Fausto’s eyes varnished and coiled with enchantment as the thick, warm, red broth leaked. All at once the gushing sonorous of rushing fluids banged against the bottom of the bucket. As the stream grew lesser the sound lulled to a trickle, then a pitter-patter.Dreamlike, all of it. But this was no dream.It was precisely this that mesmerized Fausto—the fantastic manner of it all. Enthralled by the technique therein, the methodical words echoed in his head. Those words that would remain encrypted like a red-hot, cast-iron brand in his cerebral cortex, “It's the only way to get him clean ...”In so doing, Fausto bled the body dry.Removing the bucket aside then untying the rope, the body dropped to the ground. The flop sounded like a captured and dead baby whale plopping atop the firmament of a boat. Slippery, strident and heavy all at once.Next was the severing process. With every hack and jolt of Juan’s body, Fausto did not flinch. His countenance remained unwavering, transfixed.
Now Available for Pre-Order on Amazon Kindle!
August 6, 2018
I Am Only Human ...
I am tried of feeling like everyone expects me to be perfect all the time.
Guess what, folks!? I AM ONLY HUMAN!
I have worries, fears, concerns, complaints and situations too. I can't save everyone from everything. I too get tired, sick, upset, depressed and anxious.
Give me a damn break! I AM ONLY HUMAN!
That is all.
Guess what, folks!? I AM ONLY HUMAN!
I have worries, fears, concerns, complaints and situations too. I can't save everyone from everything. I too get tired, sick, upset, depressed and anxious.
Give me a damn break! I AM ONLY HUMAN!
That is all.
