DISTRACTIONS

Where am I? What's going on? Why am I failing at NaNoWrimo? Why haven't I finished the last round of rewrite's to my MG Fairytale?

He's called KOJAK:

Cute, right? Adorable. Fluffy. Huggable. But SO MUCH WORK! I'm running around behind this puppy ALL day long. He's teething and the best toy to chew on, according to Kojak, is MY arm! Just watch the video below and listen closely for the puppy chompers at work.

On another note, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone!

Tick Tock goes the clock

So, I just looked back at my proudly announced finished manuscript post. Goodness! That was May. And now October is almost over. Seriously? Sigh. The good news is that I'm on the fourth draft. So far my beta readers like it. Yes, I have beta readers! Hi beta readers! I love saying that. Beta readers sounds so official. Anyway, I'm getting mighty antsy to send this manuscript out to agents. I have a couple agents in mind, and one specific lady who is going to get the book first. But, I'm still not sure when. Plus, I have some major holes in the book to patch up before I can really seriously think about diving into the Scary Submission Process. Eeeep!

I haven't given out any info about this top secret novel yet, cause I'm not sure how much to say. But I will say this: I love fairytales and this novel is inspired by a bunch of them. I will henceforth begin calling top secret novel "MiddleGrade Fairytale". The reason I'm getting impatient about sending this book out is due to the fairytale TV shows airing this fall. One of them starts tonight! I'm so nervous about these shows! I don't know if they are going to help or hurt me. Everyone tells me not to worry, but I can't help it. I had hoped to have the Scary Submission Process in the works by the time "Once Upon a Time" aired, but unfortunately the editing process is going slooooooow. Plus, the Corporate Place totally kicked my butt during the month of October. Too many late nights preparing for Big Meetings.

And lastly, NaNoWrimo begins November 1st. I'd like to participate again this year, and maybe even make it to 50,000 words by the end of November. But not at the expense of my MG fairytale. That's the danger of NaNoWrimo. The race to win the challenge can throw everything else to the wayside. Unless I can get MG Fairytale ready first. Hmmm. That's only 8 days. Silly me.

Brief update on Dragon*Con 2011

Look!  Look!  It's me as Katniss Everdeen.  Down with the Capitol!  It was so much fun being Katniss at Dragon*Con for a few days.  Some people did not know who I was, but those who did were extremely excited.  I've never had my picture taken that many times at Dragon*Con before.  And I have to admit, it was very satisfying to be called Katniss.

But I didn't go to Dragon*Con just for the extra attention.  I spent most of my time between the Writer's Track and the YA Lit track.  Both had fantastic panels full of valuable writing tips and advice.    The  most common pieces of advice being write and keep writing, and the importance of establishing my own marketing platform.   Wait, what?  Marketing platform, you ask?   Yeah, that's what I said.  I need followers, I need to network, I need to tweet and tumble and blog and. . . whew, I have a ton of work ahead of me.  That being said, this blog is going to undergo some changes and experiments as I try to bring out more of my personality onto these pages.  I might even vlog!  Maybe.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with The Raven and the Hawk yet.  Most of the panelists advised against publishing unedited work because it could work against me. 

Oh, yeah, I also met Tom Felton.  You guys, I shook hands with Draco Malfoy.  TWICE.  Seriously.

*sigh*

I miss Dragon*Con already.  I wonder if I can preregister for next year, yet?

The Write Stuff

During this Holiday weekend, I planned to spend most of my time away from The Corporate Place to focus on the 2nd draft of my Top Secret MG novel. Here is how things really went:

Halfday on Friday. Instead of writing immediately after coming home from work, I watched the last two episodes of Eureka Season 4, this week's Pretty Little Liars, the ending of this weeks The Nine Lives of Chloe King, ate dinner, and watched one or two episodes of Psych season 2. I get sucked into tv a lot on workdays.

Saturday I started writing first thing, however the day was interrupted by buying a new dishwasher and then helping the hubby install the new dishwasher. That evening I watched a borrowed dvd, Children of Men. Reasoning that I needed to return it to my coworker on Tuesday.

Sunday I also started writing first thing, but it was not a good day for writing. I've been struggling with a couple sub plots in the story, trying to decide if I needed to add more to tie the sub plots in better, or cut them and anything related to them completely. I started writing a new chapter to add to the subplots, but all day my internal debating held me back. Hours went by and I only wrote half of the chapter. For the whole day! My morale had dipped pretty low at this point. So I watched a couple more episodes or Psych. Shawn and Gus always make me feel better.

Monday turned out to be the best writing day of all of them. I decided to just write the extra bits and not worry about wether they fit or belonged. Worst case scenario, I could use the scenes later on in the series. Let me tell you, today was a very exciting day for writing. My characters were in peril! There was danger! It was exciting to read! It exhausted me. And it was fun, reminding me of why I love doing this. Maybe the book is too long now, but at this moment I don't care. That's what revising is for.

The Raven and the Hawk- Episode 8

Raven

Raven opened her eyes. Her clothes were damp against her skin. So were the sheets of her bed.

"Raven, how do you feel?" Jesse sat in the chair beside the bed. He looked terrible. His hair needed brushing and the dim light accentuated the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Raven sat up and groaned. "What happened?"

Jesse placed a cold hand on her forehead and stuck a thermometer between her lips. She lay back against the pillows and waited until he removed the thermometer. He smiled as he read it.

"You're temperature is back up." He brushed the hair off of her forehead. "You were delirious."

"I don't remember anything except going to the bathroom at school. Then I got dizzy." Saying the word allowed caused a new wave of dizziness to consume her.

"We found you unconscious in the hallway. I couldn't wake you up, Raven," he swallowed and she could tell he was trying not to show how worried he had been. "The ambulance took you to the hospital where they ran some tests. They said it was just the flu and sent you home. You've been sleeping on and off for two days."

"I have?" She looked at the window and saw it was covered with a blanket to block out the sun.

"Yeah. And you were babbling."

"What did I say?"

"You were going on about flying and the desert and ravens and hawks."

"What?"

"You kept saying, 'the ravens can't find the hawks.'"

"Strange," Raven yawned, tears burned in her eyes. "I feel so grubby."

Jesse gave her such a serious look then, that she laughed.

"You scared the hell out of me, Raven. I thought I was going to lose you."

"You won't lose me, Jess," she chocked a little on the lump rising in her throat. Jesse hugged her tightly, crushing her ribs. "I might be contagious."

"I don't care," he said.

"Jesse, I'm soaked. I need to take a bath."

"Need help?" He grinned.

She smacked him on the chest. "Get out."

"Don't over do it, Raven. You still need to rest. " Jesse kissed the top of her head and then left her alone.

Raven did not stay in the bath long. The water was too hot. Plus she just wanted to get back into bed. Jesse sat in the chair, waiting for her. He jumped up to help walk her back to the bed. He'd put clean sheets on for her.

"I'm so weak," Raven complained.

"It's no surprise. This is the sickest I've ever seen you, Raven." Jesse sat down in the bed beside her. She snuggled up to him. If he wasn't worried about getting sick, then she wouldn't worry either. It felt so nice to have his arms around her, to have his fingers running through her wet hair.

"Jesse?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm glad you were here when I woke up."

He kissed her hair. She was so comfortable in his embrace that her sleepiness grew worse. She tried to stay awake, but she drifted off while he talked about their upcoming graduation. And this time, she did not dream.

* * *

Raven awoke again at six o'clock. Jesse was gone. The chair beside her bed sat empty. She was thirsty, incredibly thirsty. She grabbed the cup of water on her bedside table and drank it all. She was still thirsty, but the weakness she'd felt early seemed to have gone.

She walked downstairs to the kitchen. Her mom stood over the stove, preparing dinner. It smelled delicious.

"Mmmmm. What are you cooking?" she asked and slid into a chair at the table.

"You're dad wanted steak. We're just about to eat."

Raven's stomach growled. "I'm starving."

"You are? That's great. I can make you some chicken noodle soup," her mom offered. She set the plate of steaks down in the center of the table. They dripped with juice.

"No thanks. I'll eat this," Raven picked up a large piece and plopped it onto her plate.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" her mom asked, turning to the doorway. "Scout! Dinner! Get your father."

Raven didn't even bother to cut her meat. She picked the whole piece up with her fingers and bit into it. She swallowed the juice as if it was water.

"Raven! For goodness sake, slow down. You're going to make yourself sicker," her mother placed a fork and knife beside her plate.

"Sorry." Raven dropped the steak onto her plate and used the knife and fork to cut it properly.

"How are you feeling?" Scout asked as he sat down across from her.

"Much better."

Scout scowled at her plate. "You don't usually like steak, especially when it's pink."

Raven shrugged. "Maybe my illness changed my taste buds."

"Do you want to play Mario Kart after dinner?" Scout asked.

"Christopher! You're sister is still sick. She needs her rest," said her mother.

Raven winked at Scout. He smiled and tried to wink back at her, but he hadn't managed to master a one eyed wink yet. The rest of dinner consisted of pleasant chit chat, but Raven barely heard anything. She ate two steaks. Afterwards, Scout ran off to play Nintendo. Raven got up to follow him, but her father stopped her.

"Sit down," he said, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.

Raven looked to her mother. Her face had turned gray. She suddenly looked tired and ill, too.

"What is it?" Raven asked.

"You don't have the flu," answered her father.

The hair on the top of her head crawled. "What do you mean? What is wrong with me?"

"The doctors don't know," her father sighed. He reached for Raven's hand over the table.

"They don't know?"

"Not yet. They ran tests while you were in the hospital. But we are still waiting for the results."

"Am I going to die?" Raven felt unwanted tears slide down her cheeks.

"Of course not!" Her mother clasped her other hand. "We won't let you. The doctors will cure you."

"But what's happening to me?"

"We just have to wait a bit longer," her father said.

"Wait? How long?"

"I don't know." He stood up and paced around the kitchen. Her mother began to clear the dishes off the table.

Raven was beginning to feel sick again. Maybe she should not have eaten. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. She poured a glass of water and drank it down. And then another. Still she was thirsty.

"I don't feel well." She sagged against the sink. Icy chills spread through her body. Her father wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. He carried her like he used to when she was a little girl and had fallen asleep on the couch.

"It's best for you to rest," he whispered as he lay her down on the bed.

Raven nodded, her eyes already closing. Darkness covered her like a blanket.

A voice cut through her peace. "Don't worry, darling. It happens to all of us." And then she laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. Raven was afraid. More afraid than she'd ever been in her life.

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 7

Malcolm

"Mr. Trent. How are you this evening?"

Malcolm grunted at the little man. He couldn't stand Bobby Brady. His name was bad enough. What kind of parents named their child after the Brady Bunch, anyway? Malcolm cringed as Bobby held out a hand for him to shake. His skin was always clammy. The bony fingers wiggled at Malcolm and he cringed again. Bobby might as well be a skeleton. His tight uniform accentuated the rattly bones underneath. His face was so long and narrow that he looked like a weasel. Bobby's tiny beady eyes watched Malcolm as he waited to shake hands. Malcolm ignored him and continued down the white hallway. He imagined the white walls splattered with blood and smiled. They would be sorry they chose white walls. He would be gone by then, of course. But not Bobby. Bobby would probably be scrubbing these walls. Scrubbing and scrubbing, terrified of the death that blood could cause.

"It's her dinner time, Mr. Trent," Bobby called, scurrying after Malcolm. "You shouldn't go in there."

"Don't tell me what I shouldn't do." Malcolm passed by the armed guards lined up on both sides of the hallway. The hall twisted and turned until it ended at a cage door.

"Mr. Trent," Gary Fisher, the scientist in command of her scrambled from his chair and peered through the metal bars. "No one alerted me to your visit."

"Open the door," Malcolm demanded.

"You'll have to wait at least an hour."

"Why? She can't do anything to me. She's locked up behind three feet of steel!"

"I know, Sir, but after she eats she's always ten times more powerful, you know that. We can't chance the odds, Mr. Trent."

"Listen, Mr. Fisher. Don't tell me about her as if I don't know anything. I was the first to have her, I was in charge until they brought you in. I know everything about her--"

"Well, Sir. There must be a reason they hired me and took you off--"

Malcolm reached through the bars and grabbed Fisher around the throat. Fisher's eyes popped wide open and he chocked and squirmed like an ant between Malcolm's fingers.

Malcolm was surrounded by guns in an instant. One of the guards tore him away from the bars and tossed him down the hall. Malcolm stood up slowly, straightened out his suit, smoothed his hair and glared at the guards. He turned and walked down the hallway, head up, stride perfect as if nothing had happened. He'd be back later. Yeah, he'd be back.

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 6

Hawk

By four o'clock Hawk's illness had him in bed. At first it was just a dull ache, but now he could barely stand the intense pains that coursed through every inch of his body. It felt as if his insides were stretching and bulging. Michelle was gone. She had left long before Hawk almost fainted on his way to bed.

Hawk lay flat on his back, arms and legs stretched taught. He gritted his teeth against the pain. And suddenly he was terrified, terrified of dying alone. There was something he had to do. Something he needed to...to what? Fear allied the virus and a cold rush of ice froze his blood. Hawk cried out, arching his back. He clawed the headboard, leaving scratch marks in the wood. He blacked out.

Hawk floated, suspended in darkness for what seemed an eternity. A voice whispered in his mind, so softly he could barely hear it.

"Who are you?" Hawk's voice echoed loudly in this emptiness.

"...know..."

"I can't understand you!" He reached out to the darkness and began to fall. Down, down, down he spun in an endless spiral. His hands reached for something to grab, anything. But there was nothing. Abruptly, the darkness disappeared. Hawk no longer fell, instead, he stood in a vast red desert. He knew where he was! He'd been here many times, for as long as he could remember.

"Someone, please help me!"

He heard the voice clearly this time. It was a girl. Hawk ran towards the sound, towards a huge cavern, gapping like a mouth in the red mountain. Fire immersed the inside of the cave. And the girl was standing in the middle. Her horrified cries cut into Hawk like a serrated knife. Without thinking, he rushed towards the flames.

"I'm here! I'll help you!"

She turned her head towards him. He braced himself in preparation of her burned and blistered skin. Instead, she was beautiful. Untouched by the flames, even her long black hair only reflected the firelight. He stood transfixed, forgetting about saving her. When her frightened eyes met his, she disappeared. And so did the fire.

"Hawk! Wake up!"

Hawk stirred, and he opened his eyes. The room was dark. His clothes were soaked with sweat, plastered to his skin as if he'd been drenched in a rainstorm. The pain was subsiding, not nearly as intense as before the dream. The dream. He couldn't remember the dream.

"Hawk! Are you okay?" Michelle leaned close to his face. The green light of his alarm clock illuminated her face so she looked almost alien.

"I can't remember the dream!" he said, agitated.

"Don't worry about that. There are more important things to be upset over. Like, what is wrong with you? Jimmy, come here."

"I'm sick," Hawk tried to stand but his limbs turned to jelly and he fell back onto the bed.

"Is he awake?" Jimmy asked as he opened the bedroom door. Light from the hallway chased away some of the gloom.

"Why is it so dark?" Hawk switched on the bedside lamp, squinting against the brightness.

"He's awake, but not well." Michelle put a hand on his forehead. "He does not feel feverish."

"But I ache everywhere," Hawk complained.

"We should take him to the hospital," Jimmy whispered to Michelle.

"Don't talk to me as if I'm not here. And I'm not going."

"Listen, Hawk, you've been delirious for the past two hours. Just now you were rambling about the desert being on fire." Michelle said.

That fragment of his dream came back. Red rocks, orange flames licking them...and...and...

"I'll start the car," Jimmy said. He turned towards the bedroom door.

"No! No hospital!" Hawk stood up, his knees threatened to buckle, but he fought the weakness and remained standing. "I'll be fine tomorrow. If I'm not, then you can take me to the hospital. Right now, i just need to take a bath. A nice hot bath."

"But--" Jimmy protested.

"It's no use," Michelle said. "As stubborn as he is, we'd never get him into the car."

"You're doing it again. I'm not dead yet." Hawk slammed the bathroom door shut. He filled the tub with hot water. As soon as he slid into the water, his aches melted away.

The song he'd been composing echoed in his mind. Desert Dawn. That's what he should name it. Desert Dawn.

Author vs Manuscript

Still in the ring Me vs Top Secret MG novel. I got in a few good punches this weekend. This editing stuff isn't as hard as I initially thought. Although, I almost deleted an entire chapter by mistake tonight. That's what I get for trying to work on a Monday night after a full day at the Corporate Place. Luckily, I have back ups, and back ups of my back ups.

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 5

Raven

Raven was awed by her own painting. The image chilled her, it looked so real. As if the painting was a window and not a canvas at all. Satisfied, she signed her name.

Sunlight shone through the windows onto the painting. Dawn had come and gone. Raven stretched and opened the studio door. She found her mother in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Hey, Mom," she greeted and poured herself a glass of orange juice. The first sip was sour, it made her stomach churn uncomfortably. Raven dumped the juice down the sink.

"Raven, it's after twelve. You really need to stop this. You're missing too much school."

"I didn't realize it was so late."

"You never do."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but you should see the painting I did."

"I'm sure it's lovely, but you only have one month left until graduation, Raven."

"Mom, I'm not going to fail," Raven said. "You should have more faith in me."

"Get dressed and go to school," her mother ordered and patted her hair at the same time.

Raven arrived at her locker just as lunch let out. She hummed as she collected her notebooks for the next two classes.

"What are you humming?"

Raven turned and smiled at her boyfriend. "Hi, Jesse. How has your day been?"

"Horrible, until now," he grinned. "What were you humming?"

Raven shrugged. "I don't know." The song echoed in her head. It reminded her of her dream. A desert at dawn. Haunting.

Jesse frowned as he studied her face.

"What?" Raven asked.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale."

"Now that you mention it, I am feeling sort of funny. I was fine while I was painting."

"Raven, if the world blew up while you were painting, you wouldn't even know it."

Raven giggled, sheepishly.

The warning bell rang and the halls grew crowded as students hurried to classes. Jesse slid his fingers into hers and walked down the hallway. "So, what do you want to do for your birthday?"

"We still have five days to decide."

"But it's your eighteenth birthday. It has to be special."

"You surprise me, then."

Jesse grinned and kissed her goodbye before hurrying off to his Physics class. Raven entered her English class and sat down. It seemed that acknowledging her illness had made it worse. Her nose started to run like a faucet. She ran out of tissue and had to leave class for the bathroom to use toilet paper, which scratched the skin of her nose. Her head grew heavy, her skin suddenly clammy, and she was having trouble breathing.

"It's so hot in here," she said to her reflection. Her face was dripping with perspiration. Her dark almond shaped eyes shone with a reddish sheen, or was that just an illusion? Her vision was blurring. Raven pulled a yard of toilet paper off a roll and hurried into the empty halls. It wasn't any cooler in the hallway. The lockers and tile floor spun around her. Raven leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. The dizziness gave way to nausea and she wished she had stayed in the bathroom. She gritted her teeth until the nausea passed, but her consciousness was slipping. Can't...stay...awake...

A dream unfolded as soon as her eyes closed.

She was young. A fire crackled and danced and soared before her. It was as tall as she was. It mezmerized her. Through the dancing flames she caught a glimpse of a glimmering green pool. On the other side of the pool stood a dark figure. She did not know who it was, but she was afraid, nevertheless.

A hand on her back pushed her around the flames and into the shallow green water. The water swirled around her feet unpleasantly. Raven did not know how to swim. She hated water. And she wanted out, now.

"It's okay, Raven. Don't be frightened. Remember what you have to do."

But she was afraid. As she waded deeper in the warm water, the harder it was for her to move. The other figure moved towards her, the one she was supposed to hurt...

Raven screamed, bolting upright.

Jesse was shaking her. Faces surrounded her, swimming in and out of focus.

"Thank God! Raven, you scared me to death!"

"Jesse? What happened?" She tried to stand up, but fell back, too weak. Jesse caught her. Everyone was talking at once, making her head spin.

"What's wrong with you?" Jesse placed a hand on her forehead. "You're freezing!"

"I don't feel so well." Raven shut her eyes, falling unconscious again. Jesse shook her awake. "The world is spinning."

And it was. She was dizzy and so tired. So tired.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Jesse yelled. "Stop crowding her!"

"Did she OD?" someone asked.

"Is she dead?" someone else asked.

"Jesse? Why can't I fly?" Raven whispered.

She could feel his arms around her, lifting. Her head pounded. She was so thirsty, so thirsty. She needed a drink or she was going to die.

"Jesse?"

The world spun again and then grew dark.

Author vs Manuscript

Currently in the ring: Me vs First Draft (aka top secret MG novel). First Draft is winning.

Whew, this is much harder than I anticipated. Got to keep fighting . . .

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 4

Malcolm

Malcolm Trent walked swiftly down the hallway, his shiny black shoes echoing like gunshots in the empty passage. He tugged on the sleeves of his suit, pulling out nonexistent wrinkles, then did the same to the hem of his jacket. He smoothed his hair. He despised this place. Despised the white walls, despised the glaring lights, and despised the smell of bleach that always hung thickly in the air. It gave him a headache.

The hallway ended at a metal door. Malcolm slid his hand into the black identifier attached to the wall next to the door. He waited for the familiar prick as it drew blood for analyzation. After series of beeps and blurts a green light shone, confirming his DNA for identification purposes and that he was currently disease and virus free. The lock clicked and groaned. Malcolm pulled the door open and entered the quarantine room. The bacteria killing vapor enveloped him. Worthless. A waist of money. Nothing he carried on his clothes could harm her.

His heart beat fast at the thought of her, and a nervous sweat sprung up on his skin. Soon, he thought. Soon, she would realize why she belonged with him.

Soon.

Feeling Proud

In trying to decide the best route to take to edit the first draft of my novel, I decided to print it out and read through it that way. This turned out to be a great idea. I've been working on this book for approximately two years, writing usually only on weekends. Just seeing text on the computer screen in no way prepared me for what it looked like printed out. I mean, seriously, this look like a real book. With lots of pages! I am suddenly awestruck by my accomplishment. Sure it needs work, maybe a lot, but look. Look!

The Raven and The Hawk - Episode 3

Hawk

Hawk hummed the new song he was creating as he dusted his bookshelves. The tune was soft, haunting. And he could not get it out of his head. Later, he would try out the tune with his guitar. But first, he had to finish cleaning the apartment. He had started an hour ago and he was only on the third shelf. He was getting distracted by the books, pulling them out one by one and rereading some of his favorite scenes.

Hawk did not even realize Michelle was in the apartment until she tapped his shoulder.

"Hey, what's up?" He replaced Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire onto the shelf.

"I knocked three times."

"Oh. I guess I was concentrating too hard." He yawned, running a hand through his messy hair.

"What are you doing?" Michelle asked.

"Dusting."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I missed you yesterday."

Hawk stood up, stretching. A dull ache was creeping through his bones. Maybe he was coming down with something. Hawk had the worst immune system. He seemed to catch every single virus going around.

"So. What did you do?" Michelle asked, following Hawk into the kitchen.

"When?"

"Yesterday," she sighed audibly.

He shrugged, thinking back to yesterday. What had he done? "Oh yeah, I started a new song." As he reached into the cupboard for the coffee grounds, Michelle hugged him, smacking a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Hawk tensed and squirmed out of her grasp. He held up the coffee pot to her. "Do you want some?"

Michelle shook her head, making a 'yuck' face. Hawk yawned again. He needed the caffeine more than he'd thought.

"So, what's the new song about?"

"A girl."

"Really?" Michelle swayed on her feet grinning at him. "Anyone we know?"

"No."

Her smile froze. Too late, Hawk realized she had hoped the song was about her. He looked away from her face and glared at the coffee pot, willing it to brew faster.

"It's about Becky, isn't it!"

"What makes you say that?" Hawk was stunned by her accusation.

She shot him a cold look. "What am I supposed to think, Hawk? You never want to spend time with me anymore. And Becky . . . well, you know her. She'd do anything to get you back!"

"Michelle, I swear, I'm not getting back together with Becky. I haven't even seen her for months!"

"Just admit it! You don't want to be with me!" She turned away, her blonde hair falling over her face. The dark roots were beginning to show. She should dye it back to her natural color. He shifted from one foot to the other, the right thing to say lost to him.

"I care about you, Hawk." Her voice was quiet. She faced him again.

Hawk was surprised at the tears on her cheeks. Michelle never cried.

"But I'm worried. You never want to go out anymore. I thought . . . I mean . . . is it me? You don't want to spend time with me?"

"No. No, that's not it," Hawk held his hands to her. She just stared at his palms, scrutinizing them it seemed. "It's just that I value my time alone," he said lamely.

Michelle sighed. "But you are always alone. I like to be with you. I like to go out, not stay cooped up in this apartment all the time. And it would be nice if you actually invited me over, rather than just wait for me to show up."

Hawk fell onto the couch and ran his hand through his hair. His mind was whirring. He couldn't think of the right words to say to her.

"Hawk?" Michelle sat cross legged on the couch, facing him. She ran her hand down the left side of his face. Her hand was warm and soft. Hawk breathed deeply, savoring her touch. But why couldn't he tell her that? Why did words fail him? Because he knew that one day she would leave, and then . . .

"Do you know how much I adore you?" Michelle whispered, tugging at his hair.

He dared to look her in the eyes.

She smiled and shook her head in amazement. "You need a hair cut. But the shagginess suits you." She sighed again, her smile sad. "Why do I put up with you?"

Hawk shrugged and leaned in to kiss her.

FINISHED

Guess what?????

Yep, I just finished the first draft of my MG novel. Yes I said FINISHED. I'm stunned. I'm in shock. I think I want to cry. There is no way I'm going to sleep tonight. Oh my goodness. Breathe, breathe.

Oh my goodness.

FOREVER by maggie stiefvater

Isn't it amazing? If you haven't seen her previous trailers you should check them out at her website. Besides being a fab writer, Maggie is also an artist and musician. Everything in the trailer is hers. She is scheduled to come to Little Shop of Stories in Decatur August 1st and I am super excited. I'm looking forward to reading FOREVER, especially after the way she ended LINGER. And if you are like me and covet signed books, here is where you can buy an autographed copy of FOREVER when it comes out July 12, 2011.

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 2

Raven turned off the light in the bathroom and tiptoed downstairs to her studio. Early in childhood, Raven exhibited an exceptional talent in the arts. She could transform a blank canvas into another world. Her parents converted the basement to a private studio when she was ten years old. As she closed the door behind her, the comforting scent of oil paint surrounded her. All the anxiety left her as she moved about her sanctuary, stepping over canvases, her bare feet sticking to drops of paint on the floor. For Raven, painting was a mental and physical experience that demanded privacy. With the door closed, no one would bother her. She turned on the portable speakers and chose a rock playlist on her iPod. The music helped her move out of herself and into the artist.
She slopped a generous amount of red, blue, and yellow on the palette and used her fingers to mix until a rich red resulted. She prepared for the first stroke. The brush hovered over the white canvas for a brief moment. Then her hand moved with the first, and hardest stroke, leaving a reddish orange curve. Raven lost herself. As she painted, the rest of the world disappeared.
Finally, hours later, she stepped back to survey her work. She stood before a desert at sunrise. A red desert, with velvety red mountains and a storm brewing in the distance.

The Raven and the Hawk - Episode 1

Episode 1

5.7.11

Raven

She stood among the desert life, lost. Home swirled in a black hole of a lost memory. In spite of the heavy heat seeping from the soil, cold tears froze on her face. The desert was ablaze with a deep red heavenly fire. Cacti stood, silent, like ancient soldiers awaiting a war. Or maybe the end of time. They flourished in the ancient dirt, the tiny sediments from millions of years past, eroded from the surrounding red mountains. The mountains themselves caught the sunset rays, absorbed them and emitted the light to the surrounding desert.

A whispering called from far away, from the mountain shaped like a giant bell. She paused, listening, straining to understand. The sound reminded her of millions of insect legs scuttling across rock . . . rushing deliberately towards her. In an instant, the whispering turned to a ferocious wind that battered dirt and rocks against her skin. It tore her clothing, got tangled in her hair. It would bury her. She would become part of the desert forever, lost.

She hugged herself tightly, weeping.

And suddenly, a light shone down through the dust storm and she realized that this was not a sunset at all. It was a sunrise. The light touched her toes and traveled to the top of her head, bathing her in the warm rays. But it burned! Her pale skin turned red and blistered. Run! She thought, desperately. Run! Find darkness! She turned to the towering mountains and ran. The wind tugged her backwards, grabbing her with grainy fingers.

Then he was there. Too far away to see clearly, but close enough to feel . . .

Raven awoke from the dream confused. Her throat was filled with sand and something was holding her so she could not move. It took her a few panicky seconds to realize she was only tangled in her own bedsheets. The sand in her throat was just a plain old sore throat from her cold. Perspiration dripped off her skin and her heart was racing dangerously fast. Raven held her pounding head, closed her eyes, and waited for her breathing and heart to slow. The darkness of her bedroom was cool and comforting after the intense heat in her dream.

Even as she thought about it, the dream faded away until all she could grasp was the fear. Nothing more. Disgusted, she threw her comforter aside and got out of bed. The clock read 4:00 am. She was beyond sleep now. And hot. Why was it so hot?

Raven pushed open her window. The humid air was heavy and still a little too warm fall. She held her hand out into the night, letting the foggy humidity flow between her fingers. As she inhaled the night's perfume she convulsed into a coughing fit. After it passed, she threw on a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt and crept into the hallway. The grandfather clock ticked annoyingly, too loud in the quiet house. She passed the clock and paused at the door on the left. She quietly pushed the door open a little and peeked in on Scout. He was sleeping in a tight ball, his blond hair falling over his face. Raven smiled as she watched her brother. He was special, a surprise really. Raven had been adopted when she was six years old. Her parents had tried for many years to conceive a child, without success. No one expected Raven to be anything except an only child. But then Christopher Aaron came along, a biological baby for her mom and dad and the sibling Raven had always hoped for.

"Raven? What's wrong?" Scout sat up and rubbed his eyes. Raven had given him the nickname, Scout, after reading To Kill a Mockingbird.

Raven approached his bedside and hugged him. "Nothing. I can't sleep."

He yawned. "I had a nightmare."

"You did? What was it about?"

"People were taking you away."

"What people?"

His blue eyes widened as he stared into her face. "People like you."

"What do you mean?"

But Scout had already fallen back to sleep. She kissed his cheek and tucked him in.

She wiped a film of sweat off of her forehead. Maybe a cold shower would help.

In the shower, Raven stood under the cold water until she was shivering. The water whispered as it shot out of the shower head. Whispered . . . like insects . . .

An image of her dream overpowered the harsh white tiles in the shower, and Raven stumbled. The dizziness swept over her so quickly, she collapsed.

A desert. A red desert. A feverish heat brought a renewed layer of sweat to her already damp skin. She closed her eyes and the vision washed away in a blur of red. Slowly, the dizziness passed. Raven turned off the water and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel, which still held the fresh scent of fabric softener.

After she dressed she stood in front of the mirror, brushing her long black hair. As she gazed at her face, she felt troubled. Maybe it was remnants of the dream, but she was suddenly acutely aware of how odd she looked compared to her brother. In contrast to the tan skin and fair hair of her family, Raven was bone white pale with large dark brown eyes speckled with red. The older she got, the redder her eyes became. Compared to her family, Raven looked exotic. Being from a closed adoption, Raven did not have any information of her heritage, and she suspected it was not American.

The house creaked and settled, leaving her in silence again.

Too quiet.

Much too quiet. She could hear the clock again.

And so it begins

In an effort to break through the binding fear of sharing my stories, I've decided to start this little experiment. On this blog I will periodically post small sections of one of my novels. I wrote this particular book back in 1996. Is it any good? I have no idea. But the characters are alive in these words, and they are still very real for me, even today. Regardless whether the book is good or bad, maybe just the act of putting these words out in the world for anyone to read will help me conquer my fears.

I've been writing since the fourth grade. I have spiral notebooks full of these scribblings that span years and years and years. Now, at the age of 36 (ugh! almost 37) I'm wondering how I've let so much time pass without even once querying for publication. Seriously, if I want to keep calling myself a writer it's time to live up to that title. Oh, I have tons of excuses. My high-pressure-full time-corporate-artist-job, the hours I spend each day commuting in traffic jams, I'm not good enough, I'm tired, and on and on and on.

I can't promise you the best grammar, punctuation, technical stuff like that. The purpose is just to share what I have and hopefully make some friends along the way. So stay tuned. The experiment will commence shortly.