THE PERFECT SENTIMENT

I am struggling a bit this week, as us authors often do. Every word I write sees trite, every scene not quite good enough. It's Second Book Syndrome, or so my lovely pubbed friends tell me; highly curable and short-lived. But still... So, lacking any words of wisdom myself, the lovely Jenni Walsh reassigned her fortune to me. 

This glass is not half-empty, it is just twice as big.  

The timing was perfect, the sentiment spot on, so much so that I may just have to painted on the wall above my desk. Thanks, Jenni

MY WRITING PROCESS BLOG TOUR

The lovely and talented, KristineAsselin, invited me to take part in the “My Writing Process” Blog Tour. You can learn all about her writing process here. It’s an ongoing tour in which authors give a little insight into what makes them tick, what they are working on and why. We  are given four question to answer, then pick-up three authors to join us for the ride. Think of it as a constantly rotating writerly carpool J

So…here’s a little bit about me.

~What am I working on? 
I have a bit of a split personality when it comes to my writing, frequently working on two separate projects at the same time. Such is the case now. On the solo YA contemporary front, I am just about finished with a new manuscript I have tentatively titled NEVER LOST. And that’s all I will tell you. Those of you who know me understand that I am crazy superstitious about talking about my books before they are done.

So, if talking about NEVER LOST is off the table, I suppose it's only fair to give you a sneak peek into the 2^nd manuscript I am crafting. It is a stand-alone YA Sci-fi thriller co-authored with my partner in crime, Lindsay Currie.  It is set to come out with FLUX sometime in late 2015/ early 2016. 

HARDWIRED

The mugging at the bus stop. The shooting at the mall. The carjacking downtown. All acts of violence that our nation once considered unstoppable. Random. Until now.  

After scientists develop a genetic test capable of identifying the gene believed to predispose humans towards aggression and violence, the government begins routinely screening teens, sentencing those who test positive to a month long confinement and a battery of tests designed to break them. And seventeen-year-old Lucas Marshall has just tested positive.

But survival on the inside is hard when you can’t trust the people around you, when every genetic test claims that the kid standing beside you is hardwired to become the next Charles Manson.  

~How does my work differ from others of its genre?
All of my co-authored works, whether they are YA Horror or Sci-fi, are psychologically based.  No creatures, no machines, no special powers, nothing preternatural at all. Nothing but the darkness of one’s mind and society closing in on itself.

As for my solo contemporary works…well those just come straight from the heart.

~Why do I write what I do?
For me, the most terrifying and destructive creatures are already in existence: unadulterated, unenhanced, plain-old humans. My worlds are built around that…they real world and the evil, the pain, and humanity that exists all around us.

~How does my writing process work?
I am not a plotter. I envy those writers can sketch out there entire plot before actually writing it. I’ve tried, God knows I’ve tried, but in the end, my characters seem to take the story wherever they damn well please. So, in absence of a pre-determined road map, I have a pretty ridged daily word count I try and adhere to: 2,000 words a day. And those are new words. The only time that schedule gets put on hold is when I am revising. Now mind you, frequently those words are trash, but every once in a blue moon I will come up with a usable scene, a brilliant line, an emotional chapter that is salvageable. String enough of those together and…BAM! you have a working manuscript.

Now meet my carpool. Joining me on this crazy ride are three fantastic CP’s of mine. They can fight with each other over who gets to call shotgun! 

Jennifer Walsh By day, Jennifer Walsh writes as an award-winning advertising copywriter. By morning and night, a YA author typing away on a YA Historical. All day long, she's a mama trying to keep it all straight. Learn more about Jennifer at jenniferwalshbooks.blogspot.com.

Marci Curtis grew up in Northern California, where she went to college, met an amazing guy in a military uniform, and then proceeded to follow him around the United States until he married her. Two college-aged kids and one dachshund later, she lives in Maryland, where she laughs too loudly and eats peanut butter off spoons. Her YA contemporary debut, THE ONE THING, comes out in 2015 via Disney-Hyperion. Learn more about her at www.marcilyncurtis.com



Kate Conway is one part crazy and one part professional writer. She’s been a journalist since 1999, an editor, graphic designer, critique partner, and book reviewer. She also teaches the devious art of telling lies for money to various impressionable young people (i.e. she teaches fiction craft classes for teens and adults) Her book, UNDERTOW, is out now! You can find out more about her at www.capecodscribe.com

It's Finally Here!!! The Cover to Hillary Monahan's MARY: THE SUMMONING

I have been waiting WEEKS to see this cover, and like most, I had a set idea of what I thought it should look like. It is nothing like I envisioned. Nothing....IT IS A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER. And don't even get me started on the book book...the writing, the suspense, the creep factor. This book is truly an example of YA Horror at it's finest!

MARY: THE SUMMONING

There is a right way and a wrong way to summon her.

Jess had done the research. Success requires precision: a dark room, a mirror, a candle, salt, and four teenage girls. Each of them--Jess, Shauna, Kitty, and Anna--must link hands, follow the rules . . . and never let go.

A thrilling fear spins around the room the first time Jess calls her name: "Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. BLOODY MARY." A ripple of terror follows when a shadowy silhouette emerges through the fog, a specter trapped behind the mirror.

Once is not enough, though--at least not for Jess. Mary is called again. And again. But when their summoning circle is broken, Bloody Mary slips through the glass with a taste for revenge on her lips. As the girls struggle to escape Mary's wrath, loyalties are questioned, friendships are torn apart, and lives are forever altered.

A haunting trail of clues leads Shauna on a desperate search to uncover the legacy of Mary Worth. What she finds will change everything, but will it be enough to stop Mary--and Jess--before it's too late?

The Dust Jacket Art

The Cover Art

Having read this book...correction having devoured this book in one day, I can tell you that the the words between these covers are as astoundingly haunting as the covers! Now go forth and pre-order this book. Trust me, you will love it!

Mary on Goodreads        Mary on Indiebound       Mary on Amazon

Feel like stalking Hillary....here's where you can find her.

Hillary's Blog          Hillary on Twitter       Hillary on Facebook

MY ULTRA-SHORT, SOMEWHAT ATTAINABLE BUCKET LIST

The sweet and insanely talented Julie Murphy has a book dropping next week. March 18 to be exact.  AND. IT. SOUNDS. AMAZING!

What if you’d been living your life as if you were dying—only to find out that you had your whole future ahead of you? When sixteen-year-old Alice is diagnosed with leukemia, her prognosis is grim. To maximize the time she does have, she vows to spend her final months righting wrongs—however she sees fit. She convinces her friend Harvey, whom she knows has always had feelings for her, to help her with a crazy bucket list that’s as much about revenge (humiliating her ex-boyfriend and getting back at her arch nemesis) as it is about hope (doing something unexpectedly kind for a stranger and reliving some childhood memories). But just when Alice’s scores are settled, she goes into remission. Now Alice is forced to face the consequences of all that she’s said and done, as well as her true feelings for Harvey. But has she done irreparable damage to the people around her, and to the one person who matters most?

BUY LINKS:
IndieBound
B&N
Amazon


A bunch of us fellow One Four Kid Lit members thought it would be kind of cool if we showed our support for Julie by posting our own bucket lists. I mean, who doesn’t have a list of aspirations waiting to be ticked off, right? So here it goes….my someday, maybe-it-will-happen bucket list.

alpineshop.webconnex.com

I want to hike the Appalachian Trail from start to finish. All I need is a few good friends willing to take the trip with me…ones that are okay going long period of times without a shower and using leaves as toilet paper. I will supply all the Cool Mint Cliff Bars you can eat if you are in!

artifacting.com

I want to cuddle up with one of these. But I doubt that is EVER going to happen. Plus I hear sloths have some crazy long and sharp claws, so moving on...

imgur.com

I want to challenge (or rather re-challenge) Lindsay Curie to a trampoline dodge ball match, which I all but guarantee I will win this time around. Taking bets on this one!  BRING IT LINDS, because you are going down!

So that is it -- my ultra short, somewhat attainable bucket list. What's top of your list?

IMPERVIOUS COVER REVEAL

IMPERVIOUS

Coming MAY 2014, from BookFish Books

Fran's dark labyrinth may lead to the truth, but can she reach the truth before the Beast gets to her?

About the Author:

Heather considers herself but a worker in the field with a desire to share truth through the art of good story. In real life, she’s the proud mother of two grown sons and lives part-time in Northern Illinois with her husband, but scurries off to warmer climates when the mercury takes a dive on the thermometer. As well as The Ascension Series, Heather contributes to WHOAwomen magazine, The Fit Christian, Tween Girls and God, Devotion Magazine as well as Swagga for Christ Ministry.

Facebook

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BLURB:

The residents of Impervious are the remnant—survivors of the War of Annihilation. And though the city is chockfull of pleasures to tantalize and entertain, a beast lurks in its corners haunting the residents with its presence. The Beast—a mysterious and terminal illness--has killed off most of Generations One, Two and Three. And as Gen-Four prepares to take the stage a provocative, yet questionable, new method to avoid an untimely death becomes a cultural rage.

But Fran is counter-cultural. And living off the grid in true rebel fashion, her life is far from opulent. Scurrying through dark tunnels, searching for hot meals and ditching the holographic security team encompass most of her day. However, she views it as a healthy trade-off. Unaccountability means The Council can’t steal her sliver of hope--a belief that she’ll see The Epoch arrive before the beast can pull her into its fetid embrace.

After losing her mother and then her Rebel mentor, however, she grasps painfully onto the splintered sliver, until a new hope is born. First through Pete. And then through a miraculous discovery.

But the question still haunts her…

Can she outrun The Beast?

EXCERPT:

Fran thought for sure they would notice the hum when every venting slid open. She at least assumed there might be shouts from onlookers as thirty-one rebels emerged into the barren courts.

And she really hadn’t counted on hearing Pete’s voice. “Wolf. Go back!”

She her feet froze in place, and her head turned to view the expanse of The Agora. It didn’t make sense. What was going on? Not one Graphie emerged. Not a single pixelated presence or computer generated voice declared each rebel become accountable.

Every tiny hair on Fran’s body rose, and her head buzzed with an intense electromagnetic manifestation. Overhead lights dimmed, and a holographic scene unfolded. The smooth flooring of the shopping courts morphed into a desert-like terrain―just like the scene when she watched Nissa perform Mission Perdition for Ted. The Lunch Hut became a jagged butte with sharp rocks jutting out from its face. Hot wind burned her cheeks while pelting sand blew through the air. Artificial warmth engulfed her body. Her hands glowed.

“Ladies and Gentleman. Welcome to the Desert…”

The voice boomed like thunder and echoed off of the high ceiling.

“Tonight’s debut performance, brought to you by way of The Council, is the ultimate in the gaming experience. Be prepared to go to the brink. Ready yourself for the show of a lifetime. You will find yourself on the edge of your seat as fantasy becomes reality and reality turns to fantasy.”

Every rebel lit up like a glowing Graphie. Her mind reeled.

What the….?

A gritty substance scratched at her skin. She rubbed the heated surface and recognized the smell of magnetized dust—the technology that turned a live man into a gaming avatar. Highly-charged metallic receptacles pelted her skin, not desert sand as she assumed earlier.

Although from her vantage point, Fran clearly recognized each Rebel housed within the glow of the holographic cameras, she realized that on the video screens, to the spectators watching in the stands, they were nothing more than gaming pieces.

Thirty-one vents hummed closed as Zombies emerged—dreadful holographs with open wounds and rotted flesh. Fetid odor permeated through the courts; their shrieks and groans became a nightmarish audio backdrop as the announcer continued.

“Tonight, the battle of Behemoth and Queen Xyphon continues, as well as the fight between the dead and the Unaccountable. The Queen will rule with the Zombies, and the dreaded Behemoth will wreak havoc with the Rebels. Sit back and enjoy the entertainment as we present to you, Mission Perdition II–Nightmare of a Rebel.”

Music sounded as the words “Mission Perdition II” floated through the air.

This can’t be happening.

Fran’s head whipped from side to side. A few Rebels scurried back to the openings from where they had emerged. Fran shook herself from the shock-inflicted paralysis. A human instinct, as basic as breathing, overtook her senses.

Fight or flight.

She ran to the venting and swiped in the code.

Nothing.

Her hands shook. Maybe she swiped the wrong numbers. She tried it again.

Nothing. The grating remained stone cold. Unmoving. Locked up tight.

She looked around as her comrades struggled for the safety of the dark maze. They scurried as they tried to dodge the ethereal light draped over them to no avail.

About twenty-five feet away, Derrick, one of the newer Rebels, huddled against his venting and pounded on the opening with balled fists. His face contorted, and his mouth moved as he screamed. The crowd cheered when growls of death rang out from the hidden speakers, drowning out his desperate cries.

A grisly, yellow-faced Zombie lunged at the rebel brother and covered him in a mound of snarls and rotting flesh. Holographic blood squirted out from beneath the Zombie, painting a nearby wall with red pixelations.

Fran’s heart stopped.

But it’s not real.

She closed her eyes.

It’s not real. None of this is real.

She repeated it over and over. In their insane minds, The Council believed they could use The Rebels as human avatars. Fran knew it took more than holographic teeth and claws to kill a real man.

Finally, the Zombie stepped away from Derrick. He lay on the ground in a helpless pile. Unmoving. A pixelated stream of blood trickled from his body.

Fran screamed, “Derrick, get up!”

Her cries couldn’t be heard over the surrounding roar as the crowd went wild. The Zombie lifted two hands over his head in the sign of victory as he lumbered away from Derrick, toward Fran.

“Derrick, get up!” She screamed the command over and over as she raced toward his body. As she lifted her hand, a spade pixelated in the air as if she held it. It stayed with her as she ran, and right when she moved past the Zombie, the spade came down onto his head. When it sunk, a deep, gloppy, squishing sound heralded through the speakers. Holographic gray matter oozed, leaving Fran sick to her stomach.

It’s not real; it’s not real.

She continued running blindly toward Derrick almost collided with Folsom as they both made the approach. Derrick still lay unmoving.

He can’t be dead. It was just a holograph.

She smelled it first―the odor of seared flesh. Her gaze locked in on his body. He remained wide-eyed as if in shock. His arms jerked once or twice, and his legs followed suit, giving Fran a moment of hope. Yet, as she neared, she saw the absence of breath— no rise or fall of his chest.

And a soft coil of smoke as it rose from Derrick’s body.

He had been cooked… from the inside out.

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