Livia Ellis's Blog, page 7

Welcome David Dennis - Author of Why She Left Us

If you were going to cast the main characters of your book, who would get the parts?




Over the course of the last few months, I have actually given this quite a bit of thought, and what I came up with is this: I'd have the 3 sisters (Betsy, Monica, & Ellen) played by Emily VanCamp, Nina Dobrev ("The Vampire Diaries"), and Abigail Breslin, respectively. In the role of Carl Peters, I'd go for the young British actor Nicholas Hoult ("Skins"), and while Australian actor Chris Hemsworth ("Thor" & "Red Dawn") is probably a bit too mature-looking for the part, I think he'd be great as Wayne.




What is on the horizon for you? Any interesting books or news we should know about?






Well, I will probably be returning to my series of Brett Cornell comedy-mysteries. A tenth novel in the series is long overdue at this point, since loyal fans of the series are probably anxious to learn how Brett will be able to resolve his differences with Ginger (a.k.a. the Love of His Life), and wondering when and if he will ever get revenge on his formidable nemesis Gil Bailey of the Birchwood Police Department. While each novel in the series can be read separately as a stand-alone work, there are a couple of secondary plot threads (such as the ones I've mentioned) that sometimes carry over from one novel to the next.



(written as part of an entry in Betsy’s Diary)




 

There is no reason for it either. It’s unfathomable, inexplicable that this love should have come over me as it has; and just as I expected, I am unable to deal with it and have now begun to wonder if I should seek to cast it off as an undesirable invasion of the safety and serenity that have always clothed my existence up until now. I know nothing of such matters. I am completely naïve and inexperienced as to the ways a woman adopts in her efforts to please the man she loves. This feeling I have within me may very well never even have the chance to blossom forth, as I am sure my sheer ineptitude and awkwardness will doom it to failure.

 

    Oh, dear Lord, what am I to do? I have spent this entire day thinking about him, fantasizing what it will be like when he returns – if he returns! But nothing material has resulted from any of this. I am alone in this house right now, just as I was alone all day long, although a number of familiar faces were around me from time to time. I am still alone, and I long for the unexpected, knowing that I am doomed in so wishing something to happen that will, no doubt, never happen at all.

 

    He will not come back. This longing inside of me will never be appeased. It will simply remain there, stagnant and distressing and unsettling – yet, at the same time, so sweet and uplifting that it frightens me. When I woke early this morning and realized that I had actually fallen in love with him, I had such an extreme desire to do some good on this earth. I sprang out of bed, threw on some rags, and went outside to do the gardening that Wayne was to have done. I would have painted the whole house, too, except that he had taken everything with him in his van when he left our house yesterday, and I didn’t have enough money to go to the hardware store. And since it was Saturday, I couldn’t gain access to the money I have in my account.

 

   So, I just went out there on my hands and knees and did all the gardening that needed to be done. I even relished doing it, too, because I kept saying to myself: If Wayne does come back and finds that I’ve done all of the gardening for him, maybe he’ll smile at me. God, he might even look right at me. Then I would see the color of his eyes and the glow of his emotions and the piercing and blinding light of his soul. Maybe he’ll come back here unexpectedly and find me here on my hands and knees. And maybe he’ll then put his strong, pure hands under my elbows and lift me up from the ground and tell me that I have found favor in his sight. In his sight, yes, because he’ll be looking directly into my eyes as he tells me this. And then I’ll laugh and tell him that I’m doing all of this for him and that, in doing it for him, it affords me the greatest possible joy. And then it’ll be his turn to laugh, and he’ll suggest that we do the rest of the gardening together, and the two of us will sink to our hands and knees and dip our hands into the dirt. Together.

 

    Later on, I fancied, I would step into the garden against the side of the house while Wayne wasn’t looking. In that garden grow the most gentle and delicate white roses I have ever seen. There is one in particular that is scarcely more than a bud, but it is pure and unblemished and, as yet, untouched by human hands. That is the rose I would pluck, while he wasn’t looking, and it is that rose that I would offer him, quietly and gently, without having to say a single word to him because my soul, not my lips, would be speaking to him as I extended the pure, white rose and watched him take it from me and place it between the curls of his blond hair. And it would stay there for the next few days so that I could always see it there and be reminded of the beautiful intimacy of that moment.

 

    We both would be silent, too, if by chance we were to find a fresh, clear fountain of distilled water in an imaginary park very far from here – a park that exists only in one’s dreams. We would dip our hands into the fountain and cleanse them of all of the soil from the garden. Then, still without saying a word, I would dip my whole body into that holy fountain so that all my past sins would be wiped away; and in that one instant, I could stand before him in total purity, I myself a pure, white rose freshly plucked, and I would extend my heart to him and watch silently as he took it and pressed it against his own, and our two hearts would be joined forever.

 

    I would like to kiss the earth at this time; and if it were humanly possible, I would kiss the sun. There is so much that is beautiful, so much that is heart-stopping in its gorgeous simplicity, so much that I want to share with this man. If God would only let me have the opportunity to do this! If only I could see him again! Just once! I want to open so many doors for him. I want him to be able to see the light of Heaven, to breathe its untainted scent into his lungs, and to hear the divine music that is now in my soul – the music that is known only to angels. I want to give him my hands so that he can press them between his own, my face so that he can hold it against his chest, my heart so that he can consecrate it with his love, and my soul so that he can unite it with his own. These are the fantasies and dreams that form the substance of my longing – a longing which my rational mind tells me can never be pacified. Not in the real world we are all forced to inhabit.










Born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island, I attended R.I.College and taught 7th-grade English for 28 years before retiring in 1999. Over the years – especially during the 1980s – I wrote and continually rewrote and revised various novels, mostly of the hard-boiled detective type, although my taste in reading generally veered towards 19th century British literature, mainly the works of Anthony Trollope. With lots more time on my hands, I am presently trying to promote books that I self-published last year and am enjoying all of the (mostly) positive feedback I’ve been receiving.


Links to my book "Why She Left Us" (on Amazon):http://www.amazon.com/Why-She-Left-Us-ebook/dp/B00AHYQ7LA/ref=cm_cr_pr_pb_thttp://www.amazon.co.uk/Why-She-Left-Us-ebook/dp/B00AHYQ7LA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1366021149&sr=1-1&keywords=why+she+left+usFacebook page:http://www.facebook.com/WhySheLeftUs

Sunday Poem: Emily Brontë - My Lady's Grave

Emily Brontë. 1818–1848
  
My Lady's Grave
  


THE linnet in the rocky dells,
  The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
  That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;
  The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caress'd,
  Have left her solitude!

I ween that when the grave's dark wall
  Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
  The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief would flow
  Uncheck'd through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
  And where are all their tears?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
  Or pleasure's shade pursue—
The dweller in the land of death
  Is changed and careless too.

And if their eyes should watch and weep
  Till sorrow's source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
  Return a single sigh!

Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound:
  And murmur, summer streams!
There is no need of other sound
  To soothe my lady's dreams.

Welcome Karli Rush - Author of Daylight

Would you rather win the lottery, or end up writing the next big book?    Definitely, writing the next big book! Describe your writing style.    I write in first person, present tense.  I try hard to exercise the three dimensional method and draw the characters out as much as I can. I want to engage a reader’s senses.Novel you would like to see turned into a movie?    Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. From what I have read it appears I may get my wish in 2014!What music are you listening to lately?    I’m always tuned in to Lana Del Rey and Florence and the Machine.If you could share a romantic evening with any character from romance literature (any genre), who would it be and what would you do to him/her (ahem! With him/her)?   Okay, I have to say Dimitri Belikov!  What would I do to him? I have two words, wine licking! *wink*





Book blurb for Daylight

In a small spectrum of the world is a city full of vampires and a very rare serum. This serum allows a vampire to walk in the light of day. The formula has been guarded for thousands of years, and yet a young female vampire from the north claims to have lived on the serum as if it is common place… This can not be… This must be dealt with.

Mattie desires two things, getting Daylight back and Him. Since mother dearest is no longer pulling her strings and she is now completely self-reliant, she heads for a vampire city. There she hopes to get the serum but she soon learns that she is being stalked and not by whom you think, like I have said before…This is no ordinary vampire love story. 





Author Bio

Karli has always blazed her own trail, whether popular or not. She has three wonderful sons and is contently married to a supportive husband. Her passion outside of writing is photography and all things natural. She is an Autism advocate and enjoys hiking, bike riding and family.
Karli was born deep in Cherokee Nation Indian Territory where she grew up loving everything paranormal and has even, first hand, witnessed a womanly spirit. The sighting, as it is referred to, occurred in Eureka Springs, Arkansas one of the top ten most haunted hotels, The Crescent Hotel. This experience captured Karli in ways that have expanded her beliefs about the possibilities of other realms.

As a teen, Karli was an avid reader, she sought out solitude for her passion in nearby Indian Graveyards. Although writing was something that has pulled at her most of her life, it wasn't until a recent visit to a Shaman, who saw her spirit's need for creativity, that she truly began down the path.

The Crescent Bound series is her first work which will consist of five books in all. Crescent Bound, Raven Bound, Demon Bound, Shadow Bound,and Ice Bound. Two more series will soon be available this year Daylight (The first of her new Vampire series. Pine Needles a Dystopian, Sci/fi series more details coming soon. 

Karli's ideal world would be one of open-minded kindness from everyone.





Daylight buy link - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C00IAVO


Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/karli.rush1



Blog Official - http://rushbound.blogspot.com/

Blog (Fun & Character Interviews) - http://rushboundblog.wordpress.com/

Twitter - https://twitter.com/KarliRush 

Website - http://crescentbound.wix.com/karli-rush

Welcome Laurel Osterkamp - Author of The Holdout

1.
Are you a reader? What are your favorite books?




I
love to read! Some of my personal favorites are anything by Emily Giffin or
Curtis Sittenfield. But probably the best book I’ve read in a long time is Night Circus. I also love dystopian YA,
like The Hunger Games, Divergent, and
the Matched trilogy.




2.
What is your path to publication?




Years
ago, after I wrote Following My Toes and
then Starring in the Movie of My Life
I tried to find an agent and a traditional publisher. I did find an agent, but
after she first contacted me and said she’d represent me, I never heard from
her again! At that point I thought it would be better to just stick with the
indie route. It’s more challenging in a lot of ways, but at least I’m not
waiting by the phone and I’m not sharing potential profits with a huge, wealthy
publishing company.




3.
How much time do you spend writing each day/week?




It
depends on the week. I’m a teacher, so I get a lot of writing done in the
summer. But during the school year, I’m lucky if I get a couple of hours on the
weekend.




4.
How do you work? Are you an island unto yourself? Or part of a larger
community?




I
have a writing group with two other people, both male, and I find their
feedback incredibly valuable. I also show my work to my best friend, my mom,
and my step-dad. Other than that, I’m an island. My husband has to wait until
it’s done and published to read it!




5.
What is your favorite thing about writing? Least favorite?




My
favorite part about writing is when I’m in the last third of the book, and
everything is coming together. That’s just so exciting. My least favorite part
is the promotion. There are so many people trying to get noticed; it’s like
shouting in a crowded room.




6.
Are writers born, taught, or both?




Both.
I teach creative writing to high school students, and every semester I have
students who didn’t realize they have so much to say! I also have one or two
kids who walk in on the first day of class, telling me about their novel that
they’ve been working on since they were thirteen. I expect to see some of them
as bestsellers one day.




7. What would you tell younger
and less experienced you if you could?




Start writing earlier. This is
what you were meant to do!














Release date: September 12th 2013

Publisher: PMI Books

Purchase: Amazon




Synopsis via Goodreads:

Robin wanted to win The Holdout, a cutthroat reality TV show, so she gave it her all, challenge after challenge. Then she fell for Grant, with his irresistible eyes and heartbreaking life story.




But Grant was only using Robin as they competed for a million dollars. Once home, Robin wants to hide from the humiliation as episodes of The Holdout are aired, and she worries her family was right all along; she’s not a survivor.




Yet she could surprise everyone, and have the last laugh.




Besides, Robin now has jury duty. And as she forges ahead, confronting her demons about bravery, justice, and romance, Robin will come to decide which is more important: the courage to stand alone, or the strength to love again.










About the Author

Laurel Osterkamp’s award winning novels have been hailed as funny, intelligent, snarky and poignant. She is the author of four novels and two novellas, including the November Surprise series, which, like The Holdout, features the Bricker family. Laurel was recently on a federal jury, and she loves watching Survivor.




laurel.pmibooks.com | twitter.com/laurelosterkamp

Sunday Poem: John Donne - Daybreak

John Donne. 1573–1631
  
Daybreak
  


STAY, O sweet and do not rise!
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not: it is my heart,
  Because that you and I must part.
      Stay! or else my joys will die
      And perish in their infancy.

Welcome Patsy Collins - Author of A Year and a Day

Do you already know what to write next? Can you tell us?





I usually have several different projects on the go at once. I've done a draft of another romantic novel about photographers who travel about in a campervan. Fortunately I've found a good looking photographer with a campervan so I'm going to spend the summer with him for research purposes.




I'm also in the planning stages of another novel set on a farm.







Where do you get your ideas?




Everywhere. Anything I see, do, hear or read can spark a story idea. Coming across ideas is no problem, the difficulty is in knowing which ones are worth working on and in what way. An interesting situation might be the basis for a whole novel. Something glimpsed as I walk by might be a tiny, but important, detail in a short scene.




It also helps that I've had a variety of different jobs and met a lot of interesting people so I have memories which can sometimes be expanded into stories.




Do you have only one WIP, or do you bounce around between projects?




Just call me Zebedee.




How likely are people you meet to end up in your next book?




If I just meet them the once and they're interesting then it's quite likely I'll use them to build a character. If I know them well then it's much less likely. People are formed by everything that happens to them. I won't want my character to have the same entire life history as one of my friends or family and as a result of them having a different life they'll be a different person.




Was there a scene that you didn’t add or you removed in your finished work?




I often write scenes that don't make it into the finished book. If they don't add anything much to the story, other than an increase in word count, then they have to go.




Where can we find more information about you and your books?




My blog http://patsy-collins.blogspot.co.uk/




facebook author page http://www.facebook.com/PatsyCollins.writer




What did you do to celebrate when your first book was published?




This .... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CS2eQoYTdk&feature=youtu.be




Facebook author page - http://www.facebook.com/PatsyCollins.writer




blog link - http://patsy-collins.blogspot.co.uk/




Book on Amazon UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Year-Day-ebook/dp/B00B0OWHQU/ref=la_B004O08LRQ_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1365939748&sr=1-8




and Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/Year-Day-ebook/dp/B00B0OWHQU/ref=la_B004O08LRQ_1_9?ie=UTF8&qid=1365939795&sr=1-9

Welcome Melissa J. Cunningham - Author of Reluctant Guardian

~ About the Book ~






Title: Reluctant Guardian

Author: Melissa J. Cunningham

Published: September 20th, 2013

Word Count: 82,000

Genre: YA Mature Paranormal Romance

Content Warning: Topics such as suicide and sexual abuse are implied but not described.

Recommended Age: 14+




~ Synopsis ~




Guarding Brecken Shaefer—a dark and dangerous rebel—is harder than it looks.

Death was nothing like sixteen-year-old Alisa Callahan thought it would be. Resting on pink, fluffy clouds for eternity with her gram and best friend sounded like a dream come true. After all, enduring one torturous experience after another in her short life deserved some kind of reward, right? Unfortunately, eternal rewards aren’t given out so freely when you take your own life.

Required to pay the debt for committing suicide, Alisa must become a guardian. It sounds easy enough, but not when the boy she is forced to protect has a dangerous secret and wants absolutely nothing to do with her.

Brecken Shaefer isn’t any normal teenager. He has special gifts that are sure to make Alisa’s afterlife miserable. When feelings develop between them, everything spins out of control. Not only must Alisa face her own demons— but to protect Brecken, she must face an evil so heinous that it threatens to destroy their souls completely. Alisa is tired of hiding from her past. When the easiest thing to do is run, can Brecken give her the strength to stay?

Amazon | GoodReads




~ About the Author ~









Melissa J. Cunningham began writing five years ago when she decided, out of the blue, to enter a community writing contest and won first place. From that moment on she had a new love: Writing. Melissa is a member of the League of Utah Writers. Her past publication experience includes a recurring opinion column called Writing Reality, for her local newspaper: The Leader

Melissa’s first novel: Reluctant Guardian, was accepted for publication through Clean Teen Publishing in August 2013.

When Melissa is not writing you can find her spending time with her family and her horses, cats, dogs and chickens or reading. Melissa is also a local music teacher.

Some questions for Melissa








Are you a reader?
What are your favorite books?




Absolutely, I'm a reader. I don't believe there is any such
thing as a great writer, if that writer isn't also a reader. As for my
favorites... that list is long. I LOVE YA paranormal and dystopian, but I also
LOVE books like The Help, The Poisonwood Bible, and The Egyptian, by Mika
Waltari. I love silly romances and middle grade adventures too. See? I like
everything. Even Stephen King. I LOVE a good scary story. Anything that can
make my eyes water. If someone said I could only name one, It would be, The Jester,
by James Patterson.




What is your path to
publication?




I submitted query after query. Slogging my way through
agents and publishers until I was picked up by CTP. Honestly, when I checked
them out, I didn't expect much, but what was there to lose? What was one more
rejection? I'd just add it to the other 45? LOL




How much time do you
spend writing each day/week?




It depends. I try to write most of the day while my kids are
at school. I don't always make my goal, but I try to write at LEAST a chapter a
day.

           

How do you work? Are
you an island unto yourself? Or part
of a larger community?




I have a critique group, if that is what you mean. Please
kill me on the day that I am so arrogant that I say that I don't need anyone's
help. It's just ot possible to catch all of your own mistakes. Plus it's nice
to get the opinion of others, because “others” are the ones who will read your
book!




What is your favorite
thing about writing? Least favorite?




I love being creative. I love getting a story down on paper
that my kids absolutely love! That is the best thing of all. Seeing their
excitement over a new book! I LOVE that!




Are writers born,
taught, or both?




Both. There is NO talent that doesn't have to be cultivated
and practiced. A child that would be a prodigy at the piano, will never be a
prodigy if they don't HAVE a piano. You see? Many people probably have the
talent to write, but what they may not have is opportunity, desire, or the will
power to make themselves write. All of these things need to be present to make
someone a successful writer. At least that's my opinion. And are you measuring
success in the amount of money a writer makes? I don't. That's a sign of
popularity, but not necessarily talent.




What would you tell
younger and less experienced you if you could?




Hmm. Good question. I would say, “Don't go camping when you
are eight years old, and then you won't get Lyme disease!” LOL There are many
things I would like to change or do different, but on the flip side of that
coin, there are a ton of things I'd do the very same. I don't believe in
wishing I could go back to change things. I've done what I've done, and the
smart thing to do is keep going with hope for a sunny day tomorrow. :) And lots
of books sales!







Thank you!




Livia




Thank you so much for having me!



Melissa







Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog




~ Excerpt ~

I should have realized that suicide was not my best option. But like most teenage girls, I hadn’t planned ahead. I never pictured my parents and brothers picking up the pieces of my broken life, or the empty hole I would leave in my wake.

I honestly didn’t think anyone cared that much.

The medication I’d been taking hadn’t helped matters either. My doctor prescribed it after the death of my beloved grandmother who’d lived with us since I was a baby. Three months later, my best friend Natasha, died from a brain tumor. Nothing could have shattered me more. Not just because Natty and I were closer than Siamese twins, but because we shared a dark, horrifying secret.

Something I’d never told anyone. Not even my parents. Once she was gone I didn’t know how to shoulder that weight on my own. I was drowning in sorrow. I’d fallen into a dark pit and had every right to take that antidepressant. My parents thought it would help too.

I should have been more open about my feelings. I should have confided in my mom and dad. Explained that the medication wasn’t working. That in reality I felt worse. But I didn’t. I didn’t realize the drug was affecting me adversely . . . until it was too late.

The only thing I wanted that night was to not feel anymore, to not have my heart ripping in two, and to not cry so hard that my whole body ached.

Would it be painful if I rammed my car into the tall pine at the curve of the road? Would it do the trick or just turn me into a vegetable for the rest of my life?

I gambled. I took a chance and got what I wanted. Death.

~ About the Publisher ~






Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter

Welcome Heidi Joy Tretheway - Author of Won't Last Long

Setup: On Melina and Joshua’s third date, he invites her to a mini-Grand Prix racetrack. Melina is skeptical—this is a date for 16-year-olds, not for someone who’s 30. But Melina’s competitive spirit kicks in and Joshua does his best to beat her.




Melina slammed on her brakes at the stop line in a rush of adrenaline. She unsnapped her seatbelt and popped out of the racecar’s seat, turning as Joshua pulled up behind her.

She’d won.

Melina pulled off her helmet and shook out her hair, which had pulled free of the ponytail and tangled in the wind. She unzipped her down jacket and sauntered to the side of the track, putting an extra sway in her hips, letting him watch.

Victory lap.

Her face was flushed with excitement, her forehead slick with sweat from the helmet, her lips chapped and nose red and raw from the cold. Melina peeled off her gloves and watched Joshua launch himself out of his car’s seat, pulling off his helmet and walking with it tucked under his arm.

“You think you’re pretty hot, don’t you?” Joshua said, giving her a smoldering look as his eyes cruised the length of her body.

“You think I am.”

“I do, it’s true. And probably more so now. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my allowance on this as a kid and I don’t have respectable racing skills to show for it.”

“They were more than respectable,” Melina admitted. “We tore up the track. I just did it with a little more style.” She flashed a grin of mock conceit.

“I used to race my brothers. They’d give me grief if they knew you’d passed me using one of Charlie’s dirty tricks. I should have seen that coming.”

“That hairpin turn on the back stretch was hardly a trick. It’s calledmaneuvering,” Melina licked her lips, watching Joshua watch her. His warm brown eyes darkened. “But I admit—it was a little bit dirty.”

Joshua caged Melina against the chain link fence with his arms and she held his gaze, daring him to make a move. “A little bit dirty is just the way I like you.”







Author bio: 




Heidi Joy lives in Happy Valley off Sunnyside Road. She swears she did not make that up.

Heidi’s obsessed with storytelling. Her career includes marketing, journalism, and a delicious few years as a food columnist. Media passes took her backstage with several rock bands, where she learned that sometimes a wardrobe malfunction is exactly what the rock star intends.

You’ll most often find Heidi Joy with her husband and two small kids cooking, fishing, exploring the Northwest, and building epic forts in their living room.

She loves to hear from readers via messages at facebook.com/author.heidi.




Find Heidi here:




·         Website: heidijoytretheway.com

·         Facebook.com/author.heidi

·         Amazon.com/author/heidi

·         Goodreads.com/heidi.tretheway




·         Twitter.com/heiditretheway

Welcome Deborah Nam-Krane - Author of The Smartest Girl in the Room

Title: The Smartest Girl in the Room

Author: Deborah Nam-Krane




1. Are you a reader?
What are your favorite books?




I am a HUGE reader, and I'd like to think that my reading
has helped my writing. I read a lot about a wide variety of subjects- my
friends know I have this economic history and policy habit- but my absolute
favorite books are mythology and, lately, mythology fan-fiction. Right now I'm
reading Diantha Jones' Oracle of Delphi series, and I'm blown away.




2. What is your path
to publication?




After two or three years of research and meeting some
wonderful self-publishers on Twitter, I knew that was the route I wanted to
take, but I didn't think I would have enough money to afford an editor and a
cover illustrator, which I knew I would need if I wanted to put something out
there that people would read. One of my writer friends recommended a Facebook
writers group, and from there I happened to glance someone recommend the editor
they used. I checked her out, got up the courage to contact her and then almost
fell off my chair when she told me what her prices were. Even I could afford
that. Emboldened, I checked that groups "yellow pages" and found an
illustrator whom I could afford as well.




As I've put my ear to the ground even more, I've found so
many editors, illustrators, formatters and publicists in all price ranges. In
short, if you'd like to publish but you're worried that you can't afford the
necessary services, take a good hard look and you might be surprised.




3. How much time do
you spend writing each day/week?




Funnily enough, I wrote a post about this a few weeks ago. I
call myself the Inconsistent Writer, but sometimes I write for 30 minutes, and
sometimes I write (or edit) for three hours. Basically, as much as I can, but
since I homeschool my children, it's not always as much time as I want and it's
never predictable. I get around that by taking the time to plan as much as I
can. That way, when I can sit down at a keyboard, I can make the most use of my
time.




4. How do you work?
Are you an island unto yourself? Or part of a larger community?




When I come up with ideas and do the actual writing, I'm a
one-woman show. But I'm part of a couple of communities that help keep me in
touch with trends, best (or improved) practices and what good resources are,
whether it's websites, software or other people.




5. What is your
favorite thing about writing? Least favorite?




Being a storyteller is a license for me to let my
imagination run away with itself. There's something liberating about that, and
maybe we should all do it more often. The hardest part of the writing is making
sure that I'm being true to the characters. Sometimes that's a tough order,
especially if they're very complicated.




6. Are writers born,
taught, or both?




I think storytellers all human beings are storytellers, but
maybe what separates writers from other people is how long a story stays with
us- or how easily it can let us go. I don't think I’m the only writer who's
ever said "I can't get these characters out of my head!"




There is, however, definitely a part of this that's taught,
or at least practiced: making words flow, getting the rhythm of a good story,
the conventions of your genre and, of course, the mechanics of writing.
Spelling and grammar may be open for discussion in the real world, but when
it's on a page someone else is going to be reading, stick with the accepted
rules.




7. What would you
tell younger and less experienced you if you could?






Not to worry if you don't have everything tied up in a bow
at a certain time, and that when you're ready, you'll know what to do.

~ Synopsis ~




Nineteen year old Emily wants her college diploma fast, and she’s going to get it. But when the perfect night with perfect Mitch leads her to a broken heart, Emily is blind to her vulnerability. When the person she cares about the most is hurt as a result, Emily’s ambition gives way to more than a little ruthlessness. She’s going to use her smarts to take care of herself and protect the people she loves, and everyone else had better stay out of her way. But shouldn’t the smartest girl everyone knows realize that the ones she’d cross the line for would do the same for her?




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~ About Book Two ~









~ Synopsis ~




Miranda Harel has been in love with her guardian Alex Sheldon since she was five years old, and Michael Abbot has despised them both for just as long. When Miranda finds out why she wants both men out of her life for good and questions everything she believed about where and who she came from. Finding out the truth will break her heart. Without family or true love, will her friends be enough? The Family You Choose is Book Two in The New Pioneers Series




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~ About the Author ~









Deborah Nam-Krane was born in New York, raised in Cambridge and went to school in Boston. You’re forgiven for assuming she’s prejudiced toward anything city or urban. She’s been writing in one way or another since she was eight years old (and telling stories well before that). She first met some of the characters in this story when she was thirteen years old, but it took two decades- and a couple of other characters- to get the story just right. In 2012 she wrote the History section of her sister Suzanne Nam’s Moon Thailand (Moon Handbooks). A blogger since 2006, she can be found in a number of places. Please check http://writtenbydeb.blogspot.com for more information and to join her mailing list.




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~ Excerpt ~

Emily closed her book and stood up, yawning as she did so. It was time to leave the library and meet her best friend Zainab at Princess Cappuccino.

The café’s owners were indebted to Zainab Oginabe-Kensit. Not too many guys were tempted to go into something called “Princess” anything at first. But within one month of Zainab’s discovery of the little café it was filled with men. While not all of them were friends of hers, many of them were friends-of-friends-of-friends. Every small business grows by word of mouth, but Zainab’s was the first mouth.

So Zainab was often there, surrounded by friends and acquaintances. She frequently reminded Emily that meeting new people was an important part of the college experience. “So is studying,” Emily would always reply.

Emily believed in studying like it was a religion. The first year of college she was content to divide her time between classes, the library and her room at her mother’s house. All places that were conducive to making sure her work was done on time and done well. That strategy had earned her a very good grade point average despite her ambitious workload.

Now Emily was out of class and out of her room, and that was because of Zainab. She had a way of making Emily feel like she didn’t have to assume the worst about people (well, not everyone). It was nice to look at the world with a smile. But Emily thought she should repay the favor by making sure Zainab spent less time in cafés- and bars.

She tried not to criticize Zainab every time she disapproved. She couldn’t be sure her initial reaction wasn’t concern but jealousy. Zainab could go out, party and still do well enough in her classes. Her parents were still going to pay for school and her apartment in Brookline no matter what. And if she failed? Zainab would still be taken care of. She, however, had to get through not four but five classes per quarter. Her mother had made it clear she wanted to leave her job at the university. So Emily didn’t even have time for a job. Even with her savings she could barely afford to have tea with Zainab a few times per week. Emily was grateful that coffee, which she despised, was always more expensive than her tea. She sighed. Who was she to tell Zainab not to do what she couldn’t? She wrinkled her nose. Actually, Emily hated the taste of alcohol anyway so it was good that she couldn’t afford to go out often.

Emily had just thrown her scarf around her neck when someone tapped her shoulder. “Oh!” When she turned around there was Drew Strand. He was a cute, tall, blonde from Comparative Literature.

“Heading out?” He asked holding his books in one arm and his half-empty bag on the other shoulder. It seemed almost as if he’d rushed to pick up his stuff.

“Uh, yeah. Just going to grab some decaf tea.”

“Over to…?”

She hugged her bag closer. “Princess Cappuccino, of course,” she replied, trying to be friendly while hoping the gods of any persuasion were watching out for her.

“Anything good there?” He asked. It seemed that tonight the gods were on a break.

“You’ve never been?” Emily asked. Zainab would protect her. “What’s your poison of choice?”

“Considering my first class is at eight tomorrow, I should take the decaf too.”

“Brutal. To what do you owe the pleasure?”

“Poetry. And that’s not even as much fun as it sounds.”

“Are you an English major?”

“Actually, a Physics major with a minor in English. How’s that for obscure?”

“Better than obtuse,” Emily smirked.

“Hey, I may not be a Math major, but I do know what you’re implying.”

“Did I mention that I was a Math major?”

“First day of class; ‘Now class, tell everyone why you came and where you’re from.’ Must be why you thought I was an English major.”

No, Emily thought, it’s the way you keep going on about the most obscure and obtuse points of the text with Professor Hazlett, like you’re trying to get a gold star from the department head, that makes me think you’re an English major. “Must be,” she said. “Oh, here we are.”

Emily waved to Zainab. Zainab, beautiful with dark golden skin and wide, expressive eyes, waved back. She was in the center of everything, as usual. “Hey, gorgeous!” Zainab called as soon as Emily opened the glass door. “Shove over, everyone!”

The crowd rearranged themselves so Emily and Drew could find a cramped seat. They put their bags down while Emily quickly made introductions.

“What are you having?” Drew asked once they were at the counter.

As broke as she always was, she still did not want him buying her anything. Unfortunately she couldn’t find a graceful exit. “Just some chamomile tea, thanks,” she mumbled.

While Drew was ordering she turned around, caught Zainab’s eye and mouthed “Help!” Zainab started laughing, and Emily turned around quickly so she wouldn’t be noticed.

A few moments later, Zainab smiled when they came to sit down. “So, how do you know Em?” Zainab asked Drew the second they sat down.

“We both ended up in the same Comp. Lit. class this semester, and she’s definitely the highlight. I’m afraid whether Ann Boleyn was an evil schemer or a martyred mother doesn’t hold my interest that much,” said Drew.

Emily bit her lip. Comp. Lit. was her favorite class so far, and she found the historical implications of Ann Boleyn’s execution engrossing. Before she could say anything, Drew asked, “And how do you two know each other?”

Emily and Zainab looked at each other. “Student Government Council!” they burst out, then laughed.

“Am I missing a good joke?”

Zainab giggled. “Yes, but don’t worry, SGC will take you anyway if you want to serve.”

“Shut up, Senator Oginabe-Kensit! And when are you quitting?”

“I told you, as soon as the Budget Review is complete.”

Emily grimaced. “The BRC: the stepping stone of one Mister Joseph P. Welles.” Joe Welles was the Vice President of Student Affairs and oversaw the Budget Review Committee. It was something of a tradition the VP of Student Affairs was the leading candidate for President the next year. Emily didn’t really care that Joe didn’t seem qualified to lead a class discussion, much less a student government body; she was more irritated that Zainab was so smitten with him.

Zainab cocked her head. “Yes, and what did Giles Reichart like the SGC for?”

Emily blushed. “Touché, mon ami, but I left.” She noticed Drew sitting up straight. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. But did you say Budget Review Committee?” Drew asked.

Zainab sighed. “What did we do now?”

Drew seemed to relax. “If I said I was the Vice President of the Solar Car Club would that clear it up?”

Zainab put up her hands. “Don’t look at us. We voted last year to increase your funding, but the administration didn’t feel like you guys were ready for primetime. I think our advisor also said it was a wash. Someone on the team was connected enough to secure the funding themselves, but I don’t know.”

Drew shifted in his chair a little bit. “They don’t know what they’re talking about but what a surprise at this school. Last year we really improved…”

Emily did her best to stretch out small talk with Drew. Innocently, she looked at the clock and noticed that it was ten, about an hour before she was going to turn into a pumpkin. Drew saw the look on her face and turned around. “Damn! Eight o’clock class. I’d better go. Maybe I can stop in at the lab now and develop a strategy to woo the administration.”

“Now?” Emily asked as Drew stood up. “Isn’t it hard to test a solar car at night?”

“These guys are true believers. I’m sure they’d love to show off their work. Really, anytime you guys want to see it, let me know.”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Emily was genuinely interested- in the car.

“Cool. And thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Thanks for joining us. Next Monday in Professor Hazlett’s room?”

“I wait with baited breath,” Drew replied.

Emily blinked. “Yeah, well, Henry and Ann have a way of doing that.”

As soon as Drew was out of sight, Emily pointed at Zainab. “You didn’t help.”

Zainab couldn’t stop laughing. “I wanted to, but it was too funny.”

Emily narrowed her eyes. “As funny as SGC? Z, how are you going to do that and school? From here? And what about finals?”

Zainab rolled her eyes. “Still a while before finals.”

“Uh huh. And Joe isn’t exerting more pressure than he should be, is he?”

“I don’t know. Ask his girlfriend.”

“Right, because he’s so faithful.” Joe was such smiley smarm, and she couldn’t understand Zainab’s crush.

“Jesus!” Zainab snapped. “For the last time, I am not sleeping with Joe Welles!”

“That’s good to hear, he’s a clown!” Emily turned around and found herself staring into the most gorgeous pair of green eyes she had ever seen. Zooming out, she noticed dark, thick, eyebrows, then the olive skin, high cheekbones and wavy light brown hair. Not to mention the perfect teeth on full display in a wide-open smile. “And why would someone as lovely as you be worried about Zainab being with such a dork?” said the gorgeous stranger in a nice deep voice.

Emily found her own voice after a moment. “Got to watch out for my girl in that SGC cesspool.”

“Should I be insulted before we’ve even been introduced?” said the stranger.

“Emily, Mitch- Mitch, Emily,” said Zainab. Emily stuck out her hand and it was enveloped in Mitch’s warm, strong grip.

“Pleased to meet you,” Emily said and looked at Zainab, then looked back at Mitch. “And how do you know VP Welles?”

Mitch winked. “Apparently the same way you do if you’re using that overblown title.”

Emily shrugged. “’Popularity Contest Winner’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

The perfect teeth again. “But I like that. Why don’t we shorten that to PCW so we’re all on the same page?” suggested Mitch.

“Agreed. So tell me, who are you in the SGC?”

“Mitchell Graham, member-at-large, doing time on the BRC.”

“Since when?”

“About two months ago.”

“I must have just missed you.”

“My loss,” said Mitch.

Zainab cleared her throat. “Mitch, babe, why don’t you get yourself a drink while Emily thinks of a comeback?”

“Did you plan this?” Emily whispered as soon as Mitch was out of earshot.

“I might have mentioned that he should meet me here tonight, right about now, when I know you’re usually done at the library,” Zainab whispered back.

Emily looked down at the ground and laughed. “Aren’t you thoughtful?”

Mitch returned and sat down next to Emily. “So, what made you decide to leave the SGC?”

“I thought Star Trek was a better use of my time,” Emily smirked.

“Star Trek?!?” His eyes popped. “Oh my God, no one told me this was one or the other!”

“You’re a Trekkie?” Emily gasped.

Zainab shook her head. “Em, the twenty-first century word is ‘Trekker.’”

“Zainab, you too?” Mitch said excitedly. “How come you never mentioned this?”

“It doesn’t usually come up in civilized conversation. Besides, I’m not into The Original Series. Kirk is such a womanizing caricature.”

“Ugh!” Emily and Mitch both laughed at the same time. “Okay, first of all,” Mitch leaned forward, “can’t argue with the womanizing, but he’s got some standout episodes. I mean, ‘City on the Edge of Forever’ chokes me up every time-“

“Well, yeah!” Emily nodded. “It’s one of the few where he isn’t all ‘My ship!’”

“Exactly!” Mitch almost shouted. “And, I don’t know about you, but I was always much more into Spock than I was Kirk.”

Emily sighed and put her hand on her chest. “Oh my God, Leonard Nimoy. Spock was the most perfect character ever. Handsome, brilliant, tortured… what girl wouldn’t want to rescue him from himself?”

Mitch grinned. “I had no idea dysfunction was so attractive.”

Emily blushed. “Anyway… are you a Next Generation and DS-Nine fan?”

“DS-Nine rocks- Sisko is awesome, and Worf and Kyra and Dax- but The Next Generation is just ‘eh’. I’ve got all of them pretty much memorized because I’ve seen them so many times, but unless the ship is in danger or Picard is saving the Federation or meeting Spock’s dad, I can’t make myself care.”

“Yeah, DS-Nine’s much better,” Emily nodded. “I think I love Garak.”

“Argh!” Zainab put her hands on her ears. “Guys, I’m going to turn into a Tribble or whatever if you don’t stop!”

Emily lifted her arms. “I win the Geek-Off!” She threw her head back in triumph, but as she did she saw the clock. “Oh no!” She stood up and started gathering her stuff. “I’ve got to run to the train or I’m going to be stranded. Sorry to meet and leave, but-“

Mitch looked up. “Where do you live?”

“Newton.”

“That’s on my way,” Mitch said, standing up. “I’m in Natick. I could give you a ride.”

“I’d love that! And, um, Brookline’s on the way too,” she added quickly.

Mitch looked confused. “Brookline?”

“Yeah, that’s where Zainab lives.” Emily turned to Zainab. “I mean, I’d feel like a jerk getting a ride from Zainab’s friend if she had to take the T.”

Zainab made a face. “Em, I’m fine.”

“I know you don’t have as far to go as I do, but if you don’t catch the T soon, you might have to walk down Huntington, and it’s getting cold.”

“Walk down Huntington? Not on my watch.” Mitch put his hand on Zainab’s shoulder. “I would never forgive myself if anything happened.“

“Nothing is going to happen, I’ve done it a bunch of times.” But Zainab started getting up anyway.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Mitch said earnestly. “Did I mention I was mugged twice? One time some guy shoved me over and took my wallet, the next time another took my backpack and slammed me into a building so hard I had to be taken to the hospital. Joke was on him though. All he got were my Sociology notes.”

Zainab’s eyes widened. “You never mentioned that. Where?”

“First time was right at the bottom of South Huntington and Huntington. The second time was near, of all places, the Christian Science Center.”

“In that tiny little tunnel?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“I used to live around here, and I walked by the Reflecting Pool and through that tunnel all the time. I never had a problem, but I used to see all sorts of stuff in there.”

Zainab blinked. “Stuff?”

“You know, sometimes you’d find paraphernalia, sometimes you’d see partners.”

Zainab pulled back. “Gross!”

Emily sighed. “If that’s how you feel, avoid the magazine stacks at the Boston Public Library. Me, I never let a little depravity get in the way of enjoying a good public place.”

“Are you serious?” Mitch shook his head. “I grew up in New York, but I never saw any of that.”

“New York?” The three had packed up their stuff. Zainab lingered behind to say goodbye to the others while Mitch and Emily slowly walked toward the door. “Which part?”

“Queens, of course,” Mitch answered matter-of-factly. “If you’re from New York, you’re either from Queens or Brooklyn. The other boroughs are just there for the tourists.”

“Right? I was born in Manhattan, but I lived in Queens for a few years before we came to Boston. And my mom has family in Brooklyn.”

“No kidding? My dad is from Brooklyn.” Mitch smiled. “So,” he said after a few seconds, “what brought you to Boston?”

“Long story.” Zainab joined them at the door. Emily put her arm around her neck. “Zainab’s is much more interesting.”

“Let’s hear it!”

Zainab launched into the winding story of her life: the idyllic first years in Africa, her father’s tragic death, her mother’s whirlwind remarriage in London and her crazy combined family’s adventures through South America and California.

By the time Zainab was finished, the three were warming up Mitch’s car: Mitch in the driver’s seat, Zainab in the back, and Emily in the passenger seat. Emily sat back and sighed. It was so nice to be in a car and not the bus or train. Better not get used to it.

Mitch was impressed. “Wow. So where’s the family now?”

“They’re in upstate New York, where all respectable people end up eventually.”

Emily gagged. “There is nothing respectable about the suburbs. Most of the people who live there are so bored they’ll do anything, whether it’s open marriages, swapping or hard core dealing. I’d feel safer being in a crack house in the roughest part of Boston than the most elite suburb.”

Mitch laughed. “I can promise you that there is no dealing or swapping going on at my house, and I’m not sure my parents could get an open marriage going. I had a great time in Natick. Maybe I lived in a parallel universe?”

“Oh God, stop!” Zainab threw her head back. “I feel a Trek recap coming on.”

Sunday Poem: Ben Jonson - To Celia

Ben Jonson. 1573–1637
  
To Celia
  


DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
  And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
  And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
  Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
  I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
  Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
  It could not wither'd be;
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
  And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
  Not of itself but thee!