Saturday, November 1, 2014

It's November 1st!

I am participating, once again, this year in NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month).  You should too, it's not too late to start!

Visit: http://nanowrimo.org, set up a profile and start writing.  Your goal - write 50,000 words in 30 days.  Seem impossible?  It's not - though it is hard.  You'll want to average roughly 1667 words per day in order to reach 50k (when you break it down like that it doesn't seem so bad, right?).

Anyway, I'll be writing as much as I can and hopefully accomplishing the 50k this year.  You can follow my progress with the Nano widget on the right of my blog, here down below:


 

If you decide to participate, add me as a buddy!  I go by kristielee on Nano!

Best of luck to us all!!!

Friday, October 3, 2014

Brandon Sanderson Contest on Figment

Figment is sponsoring another contest (as they do monthly) and once again, I have entered - they are too fun to resist!  This one has some pretty amazing prizes if you win!  Here are the deets:

Random House Children’s Books and Brandon Sanderson, New York Times bestselling author of Steelheart and the upcoming Firefight, want to hear from you!

In 1,000 words or fewer, write a story that follows the following prompt, created by Brandon Sanderson himself:
 
“If you were a super-villain, what would your one power be? And how would you use it to conquer the world?”

So, here is my take on the prompt - hope you like it!!



SO WHAT DO WE DO WITH OUR LIVES
WE LEAVE ONLY A MARK
WILL OUR STORY SHINE LIKE A LIGHT
OR END IN THE DARK
GIVE IT ALL OR NOTHING
~Tina Turner, We Don't Need Another Hero


I haven't seen the light in six hundred and fifty-four days.  My cell is dark like the gray haze of smoke rising from a raging inferno.  There is no light that can penetrate the thickness that swallows me; suffocating me, squeezing my neck like a scarf pulled too tight.  My lungs feel as though mud has caked every inch of the spongy surface, my breath comes in short, ragged puffs.  I still have at least twenty-five thousand days of my life sentence remaining.

I'm not sure my body will hold out.  Of course that was the purpose.  To stifle all that I am, what I can do.  But to know why I am here, you must first understand how I came to be.
                                                                *     *     *
They say I am an enigma, a freak of nature and should be put down like a feral beast.  And to them, when they caught me, that's exactly what I had looked like.  I was hunched beside an elm tree, curled into a tight ball, my long, black hair twisted in snarls down my back.  My eyes were wild; pupils dilated filling the entire circumference of my milky blue irises.  I not only looked like a wild animal, but as I snapped my jaw at the approaching men in black, they muzzled me like a rabid dog.  The cold metal grated into my skin, burning my flesh, searing any humanity from my already lost self.  My wrists were shackled together behind my back with the strange metal, eliciting more internal wails from my locked jaw.

The men pulled me to my feet, wrenching my arms up from behind nearly dislocating my shoulders.  Stars danced in front of my face, my head reeled back and my knees buckled.  I collapsed to the ground landing on the hard concrete, jarring my bony knees and jamming my teeth.  Warm, iron tasting liquid pooled in my mouth; I had bitten through part of my tongue.  They pulled me off the ground, yelling for me to stand.  I didn't have any fight left; I was too drained.  I stood on wobbly legs as the men dug their iron-spiked gloves into the fleshy parts of my arms and dragged me across the pavement towards a black van.

The doors in the back opened, two more men in black jumped out holding a metal collar that they clamped around my neck.  They yelled at me to comply, or they would have to use force.  A part of me laughed, is that not what they were doing?

"I was only trying to save him," I said hoarsely to the men beside me.

I had seen the boy in a dream; it was like that every time.  I saw exactly where he would be and how it would happen.  The boy, his face and fingers still chubby with youth, the shock of red curls on his head; was too young to leave this life.  I saw how he carelessly leaped off the curb, how his eyes focused on nothing but the small park across the street.  In my dream, I yelled for him to stop, and searched frantically for his parents but no one was nearby.  I woke with a start, clenched my body and brought up the vision of the dream.  I saw the tree-lined street, the red car parked along the curb blocking the boy's line of sight.  I saw the cracks in the pavement and then lastly I pictured the boy in his navy blue shirt and tan shorts.

The air was sucked out of the room; the dull light faded into blackness and was followed by a deafening POP, ringing in my ears like a sonic boom.  I collided with the boy, knocking him out of the way of the speeding car only inches before he had been hit.  But then the worst happened; the driver of the car swerved in the opposite direction and jumped the curb speeding toward the small park.  My mouth went slack; the tires squealed and then came to a gruesome stop.  The car had run down the boy's frantic mother, her screams cut short with her last breath from under the vehicle.
The man beside me pushed me into the back of the van releasing the iron spikes from my arms flooding me with a sense of joyous relief.  The set of the man's jaw and the vein pumping rapidly on his forehead told me all I needed to know; he didn't care about the why.  "We don't need another hero," the man growled as the door of the van slammed behind him snuffing out the light.  Something stabbed me in the thigh like a bee sting and I realize have injected me with something.  My eyes grew heavy and my head filled with fog.

I don't understand why they have taken me captive.  I was only trying to help; I've only ever tried to help.  I focus on my bedroom, the buttery yellow walls and floral curtains.  The creamy bedspread my parents bought me last summer.  But the familiar sensation of teleporting doesn't come.  Anger welled up inside of me, burning like acid in my stomach.  How dare they treat me like this, like I'm a threat to everyone.

"I only tried to help!"  I yelled into the darkness.  And as my eyes closed, shutting out the light for the last time, I vowed to take my revenge on these men dressed in black.  I vowed to make them pay for hurting me.  And then a wonderful, horrible thought seeped into my mind; I would take revenge on everyone, make them pay for not understanding.  And from the darkness came a bone-chilling laugh like none I've ever heard.

Friday, September 19, 2014

On revisions and rewriting

I have had my novel, The Phoenix, completed for almost two years now and after much deliberation and two rounds of edits, I've decided it needs to be rewritten.

Ummm...

Rewriting a novel is not exactly what I thought I would ever do, but I love the story so much I know it will be even better after this rewrite.

This is not an official cover, just an artsy one I created using Photoshop.  The artwork I used is not my own.

I feel like whenever I create a book cover it turns out looking like a cover for a romance novel...

So anyway, I've just rewritten up to chapter 9 and have decided to go the alternating point of view style.  I think it gives the reader a better sense of who my main characters are.  Its been a challenge doing this because my original writing was only from one person's point of view, so going back through and adding in the male character's voice has been fun, yet challenging.

Here is a snippet of Chapter 1:

DANE

     I always reek of smoke afterward. The kind of smoke that carries the scent of burnt hair and flesh, a raging inferno so hot nothing in its path can survive. Yet, I always do. None the worse for ware, however. Once, I even played with the raging flames, made them dance along my neon red fingertips, the tendrils wrapped around my skin like silk. It was beautiful, and didn’t even hurt.

     Luckily, the field I’m standing in is damp and green with new spring growth; this burning didn’t have anything to grab hold of. As if I need another fire on my conscious. I can’t see any houses around, just tall pine trees, match sticks really. My clothes have all burned away and the cool spring air is doing nothing for my self-confidence. I shake my leg, and the fireproof box I have chained to my ankle rattles at my feet. Everything I need to start fresh is in there: a change of clothes, my wallet with a fair amount of cash and my driver’s license, though I’ve been on the move so much its outdated.

     I shrug on a fresh shirt and the cool cotton fabric slides down my chest like feathers. As I’m buttoning my jeans a low rumble on pavement catches my ear. There must be a road nearby. The tall grass whips at my jeans as I sprint toward the sound of the oncoming vehicle. I can see it clearly now from behind this barbed wire fence, a beat up older Chevy model truck with two-tone blue paint; its hideous, but it will do for now. Carefully I bend the middle wire down so I can climb through the gaping jaws of the piercing fence and I tumble awkwardly down the sloped ground below coming to a rolling stop at the edge of the road.

     Screeching tires and burning rubber fill my ears and nose. I roll out of the way just seconds before the truck can plow over me. The driver’s door flies open when the truck comes to a jerky stop and a girl jumps out. She runs over to me spewing out questions and worried sobs.

     “Oh my gosh! Are you hurt?” Her hands clasp around my elbow. “Of course you’re hurt, you’re bleeding.” She rotates my elbow around to find the source of the blood; her face twists in confusion. “Wait, there’s not even a scratch. But where did the blood come from?” She drops my arm and backs away from me; fear filling her navy blue eyes.

     My head is throbbing as it always does when my body heals itself. “I’m sure it was just a scratch,” I say. “You probably just missed it.” My stomach growls fiercely and my headache turns to lightheadedness. “I need food. Take me to get some food.” The girl backs away from me moving closer to her truck. She doesn’t trust me, and why should she? “Please?” I ask. It’s against my better nature to be kind, but I try anyway.

-----------------------

Hope you like it!  I have about 20 more chapters to go before it's finished and then a few more rounds of edits.  Maybe I'll be done by Christmas...maybe?

Monday, June 23, 2014

Writing challenge

In addition to being a part of the online community at Figment.com, I'm part of the FNTW (Figment's Next Top Writer) summer camp.  It's fun - you should try it.

Anyway, within the summer camp there are miscellaneous challenges for your "house" (imagine Harry Potter houses; Gryffendor, Hufflepuff, etc.).  Here is a prompt for the current challenge for the summer camp:

Write a short story that involves all of your house mates. You must mention the mascot of your house and incorporate it into your story's plot somehow.  Word count minimum: 200 words Word count maximum: 999 words

Here is my submission:

Three days is always too long; and I would know.  Mom and dad are running around the house, like scenes in a movie on fast forward.  Two suitcases and a small travel bag later, they are hugging and kissing me goodbye and out the door all before I have time to breathe.  The house already feels empty; eerily quiet and immediately the chills set in.

I can do this.  I haveto.

I push the linen drapes away from the window, press my fingers against the cool glass and watch as my parents drive away to God knows where.  My breath leaves a foggy haze on the glass and suddenly I feel like I'm six-years-old and want to draw goofy pictures in the fog with my trembling fingers.  I really need to pull myself together.  I've done this dozens of times; I'm not sure why I'm kind of freaking out right now.

My cell vibrates in my back pocket and I stifle a scream.

iiLov3Yuhh!!  C ya in English :( 

Its Sierra, my best friend.  I send her a quick text back, shoulder my backpack and flick the light switch off.  The living room darkens and the shadows spread over the furniture like monsters waiting for me to turn my back so they can attack.  I've never been happier to get to school.

My car purrs to life, and I blare the radio when a song by one of my favorite singers, Sarah Ashlee, comes on.  I can't help but sing to the lyrics even though my voice cracks when I try and stretch to the high notes.  By the time park at school I only have five minutes to get to class.

It’s a foggy, gray type of day with a chilling breeze and I make a run for the two-story brick building.  The less time I have to spend in this gray wind the better.  The green tiled halls are nearly empty except for a few remaining students who don't care if they are late to class.  I drop my backpack in my locker, grab my English notebook and run for class, sliding into the room just as the last bell rings.

"Perfect timing," my teacher Melanie Camacho says as she taps a pen on the palm of her hand.  "I was hoping to have a volunteer this morning."  She smiles and the red heat of embarrassment rises to my cheeks.  "Why don’t you read your essay for us."

I stand at the door with my mouth hanging open; classy, I know.  "Here, in front of the whole class?" I ask.  Ms. Camacho nods and sits down on her squeaky wooden chair.  I lay my book on her desk and pull out my essay and begin reading.

"The life of Kiamesha Sims by B.K. Rivers," my voice cracks.  "Kaimesha Sims was a child prodigy in the psychic community..." When I finish my essay the whole class actually looks like they enjoyed my writing, even Ellie Williams, who is a talented writer.

"Great job," Sierra says as I take my seat next to her.  "I never knew how much you really believed in all that psychic stuff."  I nod and will my burning cheeks to go back to normal.  "Hey," she whispers, "do you have a copy of J.C. Marie's new book, Shackled that I can borrow?

"Sure," I say.  "It's really good!  Come over after school and I'll give it to you."  I’m not going to pass up an opportunity to have Sierra come over especially given how freaked out I was in my own house this morning.

The final bell rings at 3:15, and I am more than ready to go home.  I pass Lexus Ladelle on the way to my car and my heart drops in my chest; I miss my friend.  She joined the cheer leading squad with Sarah Rose and dropped me the second she made the team.  I wave hello as I walk by and she turns away ignoring me.

I take it back; I don't miss that wench at all.

Sierra trails behind me in her beat up Honda Civic and parks next to me in my driveway.  "Thanks for coming home with me," I say as we climb the front steps.

"Where did your parents go this time?" Sierra asks.  I shrug my shoulders as the keys turns in the lock.  The room is dark and as I turn on the lights I see the whole house has been ransacked.  "Holy sh..."  The door falls off it's hinges and lands with a crash on the floor.  Furniture is torn apart, turned upside down, glass is shattered all over the floor.  The television has been knocked to the ground; pages from books litter the room and framed photos of our family lay broken in pieces.  "I’m calling the cops," Sierra says as her elbow locks around mine.

We sit on the cold steps outside until a black and white cop car pulls up and two officers exit the car.  "Miss Rivers?" the woman asks.  I look up and give her a faint smile.  "I'm officer Alexis Duong, this is my partner office Brent Davis."  We spent the next two hours filling out reports and going through the house looking for things that may have been stolen.  Funny thing is, nothing is missing.

"These things happen," officer Duong says as she prepares to leave.  "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

"She's coming home with me," Sierra says quickly.  I nod and watch numbly as the officers drive away.  "What do you think they were looking for?"

"I don't know.  I need to call my parents."  I dial my mom's cell and get a quick busy signal and then dial again.  "What's the really fast busy signal mean?"

"Um, I think that means the number has been disconnected or something."  I dial my dad's cell and get the same fast busy signal.  "Something's wrong Sierra; both my parent's phones aren't working."

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Figment: June Writing Contest

I've been a member of the writing community over at Figment.com since December.  It's a great place to have your writing read and reviewed or just to have people comment on it.  Figment holds monthly contests and this month I jumped on board.  Here is the info:

June Writing Challenge!
junechallenge
Join us in our #JuneChallenge! Write a short story beginning with the first line of The Maze Runner by James Dashner in celebration of our first author Q&A with him on June 23rd.  You will have exactly one week to submit your short story. GOOD LUCK!

Prompt
In 250 words or fewer, write a short story beginning with the line, “He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale dusty air.” Your story does NOT have to be about The Maze Runner, let your imagination create a whole new story beginning with this line.

CLICK HERE to visit my contest entry page.  Or, just read below:
ASHES TO ASHES
He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale dusty air.  This of course, was unusual.  In his previous lives they had all but started with a BANG, literally.  Then bursts of colors, marked liked prisms danced with happy chirps and lackadaisical beats.  He always woke to beauty.  This was not beauty.

This was definitely the opposite of beauty.
Rank Fischer knew he was different.  All his lives, he never quite fit with the in-crowd, nor with the stoners or geeks.  He was gray, as if he stood in a low-setting sun and he was tall and thin as a wisp of hair.  Which, speaking of, was charcoal and could never be tamed so he always looked like he just woke up from either a horrific nightmare or had a wild night with multiple women.  Of course the latter could not be true because he was never in one place long enough to meet any wild women; or tame, for that matter.  He was constantly moving, always unsettled amidst the beauty of the world.
He stood now in a scorched and decimated land, where tall grasses and bushes had once reached for the sky and were now reduced to ash and soot.  Burnt fragments of once well-loved cars and buildings now blown to bits littered the ground.  The damage was all around, as far as he could see.  He noted as he stood in this place, void of beauty, that it looked a lot like him.
Thanks to fellow Figment writer, Dendrofilous, for the great cover art!

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Devouring books whole

Do you go through spurts where you read like a fiend and then burn out? I do. A lot.

In the last 3 weeks or so, I think I have read 10 or more books. That's so many more than I have read in a while. I keep an Amazon wishlist updated with books I want to buy or read and lately, I've been booking (no pun intended) it to the library to grab the sequels to many series I have started. Sadly, I'm not sure if I could name them all - I wish the library kept a record of the books you reserve. Anyway, here are a few that I know I have read recently (Amazon links for your convenience):
Under the Never Sky by Veronica Rossi
Through the Ever Night by Veronica Rossi
Into the Still Blue by Veronica Rossi

Toxic Heart: A Mystic City Novel by Theo Lawrence (this is book 2, read book 1 a year ago)

Deception: A Defiance Novel by CJ Redwine (this is also book 2, read book 1 a year ago)

Scarlet: Lunar Chronicles (book 2) by Marissa Meyer
Cress: Lunar Chronicles (book 3) by Marissa Meyer

Ignite Me (Shatter Me Trilogy, book 3) by Taherah Mafi

Shadow of the Mark by Leigh Fallon (book 2, read book 1 6 months ago)

Enclave by Ann Aguirre
Outpost by Ann Aguirre
Horde by Ann Aguirre

Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson

Obsidian (Lux book 1) by Jennifer L. Armentrout

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
Well, that's considerably more than 10 books - and now I am a little burned out.  Except I really want to read the other Lux books, they are pulling them from the library shelves for me as I type and should be in my hands tomorrow.

I have in my possession books 2 and 3 of the Girl of Fire and Thorns series and I haven't opened them yet, I just wasn't that into the first book, so I'm having a hard time wanting to finish reading that series.

Also, it's killing me, but this fall books 3 in the Mystic City, Defiance and Mara Dyer series comes out and I can't wait to finish those!  What are your reading now?  What books are you waiting to be released??