Log in

No account? Create an account

News My Pretties

I've neglected my livejournal, forgive me. I've been focused on getting my website up. As the title suggests, I have news! My next book is coming out in February, I was part of an anthology that came out this week, The Shifting Steam Anthology, along with a bunch of other great authors and I am participating in Nanowrimo again. This will be my third year.

I just moved into my own place, it's amazing! For the first time in my life I have my own bathroom. I have a roommate, we're currently in the "boxes" phase of the move and awaiting furniture. But that's okay.

Cheers folks!

Book Release

The Grave Watchers release is looming folks! August tenth is the day of magic, and prior to that I'll be a guest/interviewee on the TQ Press blog, Romance for the Rest of Us.

If you can't tell, I'm obscenely excited.

Edits, Revisions, Additions

I received the revisions from my super editor this week, and because it is who I am, went through the document in a couple sittings to make the asked for and necessary changes. I'm a minimalist about that sort of thing generally, especially after something has been through several peer/personal edits already.

I think I'm happier with the novel now as it stands, but we'll see what the man with the red pen says. There could still be some tweaking to do.

In the mean time, I'm working on Death's Children, working on beta-ing a story for the person beta reading DC (she's amazingly patient I think) and am looking forward to an end of summer release for The Grave Watchers. 

My dear mother has been showing the cover art off to anyone who will look at it, to which I am pleased and only slightly horrified about. I'm one of those author's that finds it difficult to let family read their work.

Hopefully I'll have more news soon, as well as a riveting article about the pistolsword!

Cover Art!



And here we are! The cover art for The Grave Watchers. I'm really happy, my cover artist did a great job.

Sleep Meter

I am pleased to announce I did in fact sleep through the night last night. My computer is currently located at the end of my bed (because I have no desk and that's where it fits) and actually fell asleep clutching my keyboard.

But I did sleep. I woke up once to shift and shove the keyboard off the bed and fell back into a dreamless wonderland.

Of course, one night's sleep does not a full recovery make so I am now starting to feel a bit achy/annoyed but I think I'll be back to my usual self in a few more days. I went to the library yesterday and picked up a few...nine...books The new Jasper Fforde, a few Terry Brooks and the rest of the Artemis Fowl novels I have yet to read. Plus some films. We have Victor/Victoria, The Searchers, The Librarian: Quest for the Spear, and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

I managed to write 2400 words on one WIP and finished re-writing what I currently have written on Death's Children to incorporate the new back story for my new main character so I'm calling it a day on writing.

Word of the Day: Revivify [ri-viv-uh-fahy] - to restore to life; revive.

Ha Ha!

I thought of titles for The Grave Watchers series!

I'm still debating to be honest

The Annals Umbra
The Skulls
The Necro Files
The Dead Files
Deadman Diaries

Any and all input with be appreciated.

Word of the Day: Osculate [os-kyuh-leyt] - to come into close contact or union.Ha


Despite the fact that's it been a week since I slept more than five hours at a time (or at night) I've managed to write. I'm working on Death's Children, which should be the sequel to The Grave Watchers. (I need a name for this series.)


So, in the spirit of sharing, here's a short excerpt of the first chapter. Enjoy.


Despite the fact that's it been a week since I slept more than five hours at a time (or at night) I've managed to write. I'm working on Death's Children, which should be the sequel to The Grave Watchers. (I need a name for this series.)


So, in the spirit of sharing, there's a short excerpt of the first chapter after the jump. Enjoy.


Word of the Day: Solidus [sol-i-duhs] (n) : technical name for the slash (/) punctuation mark. 

 Read more...Collapse )Read more...Collapse )


Death's Children : Chapter 1


            A heartbeat. I could hear a heartbeat. My very own heartbeat. It pounded faster and faster. My lungs burned with new breath. My muscles ached. But it was my heartbeat that made it all wrong. It beat. My heart shouldn’t be beating. It was wrong. I wasn’t alive. I wasn’t alive.

            But my heart was beating.

            I opened my eyes and I could see. And what I saw sent raw emotion rushing through every thread of me. It was unlike any emotion I’d ever felt. Stronger. Quicker.

            It was rage.

            I sat up, muscles aching and bones creaking with life. I hadn’t moved in so long. I felt the cold of the orbitoclast still stuck through my eye. I grabbed hold of the smooth handle and drew it out like a knight unsheathing his sword. The man stood, facing away from me. His dirt covered shirt offended me. How dare he? How dare he? He wasn’t watching. He didn’t see me.

            He had to see me. He had to know why he was going to die.

            “Hey, asshole.”

            He turned around, eyes widening with something like fear, something like awe. I’d never hurt anyone in my life. But rage was in control now. The disgust. I stabbed him in the throat. He drowned in blood. Gurgling like a fish before his knees shook him to the floor and he died there in his own blood—jerking against the floor just as I had when I died.

            I clutched the cold medical instrument tight and stared at the blood before retching spasms threw me to the floor. I wanted to crawl into a grave. I wanted to rest again. But there was something else, another emotion. I think it could have been passion. It could have been—

            “Hello Augustine.” It was a woman’s voice. Cold and soft like a cat come out of the snow. I turned, fighting to rise. She was so pale, and her eyes—her eyes held wonders and horrors. There was never a face more beautiful.

            “Who are you?”

            “I have many names. What do you want to call me?”

            In truth, in truth I knew who she was. She was Death. The lady death. “Lady Death. You are Lady Death.”

            She smiled, “I think I’m going to like you Augustine. A man will be here soon to get you cleaned up and settled.”

            “Settled? I am dead. I—” I looked around the cabin, staring at the floor with its disturbed boards and the dirt moved. Where I’d been buried, dropped into the ground like garbage. The wood had been fresh when I had died, not so now. How long had I been in the grave? I had flashes of memory, things I had seen or heard. Voices echoing above me. People walking on the floor but…had I been trapped there? Had I been in Hell?

            “But you feel something else, don’t you?”

            That strangeness in the pit of my stomach. Lingering emotion. “Something after the rage…something after the disgust. I don’t know.”

            “It is the calling. You rose because you are one of mine. A child of Death. It is your duty to protect the resting dead. To aid the restless and keep the worlds separate.”

            Duty. Passion. Calling…no. Purpose. I had purpose. Purpose in death I never had in life. “Purpose. You have given me purpose.”

            She nodded, “That’s right.” Her eyes flickered to the door and she smiled. “Ah, here he is.” She sighed softly, “Take care.”

            She was gone. Like fog burned away by the morning sun.

            “You must be Augustine Fluhr,” a man entered the cabin—through the door. He was tallish, handsome. Hair gold and curly, eyes brilliant blue. He smiled, revealing amazingly white teeth. “I’m Sebastien Crowle. We should hurry; the police will be here soon. Believe me, you don’t want them to find you covered in blood with a dead body on the floor.” He sounded like one speaking from experience. What kind of man did that make him?

            He took my hand, “Everything is going to be all right.”

            For some reason, I believed him.

One of the Other Dwarves

So I'm currently a combination of Sleepy, Grumpy, and Dopey. I've never had insomnia this bad, so it's sort of beating the hell out of me. Really, I ache all over and I'm starting to think the lamps are talking about me behind my back.

All right, the sleep deprivation hasn't resulted in auditory hallucinations yet, but I'm starting to wonder.

You would think I'd have gotten writing done, but seeing as all I and my body (as evidenced by the achy-ness) wants to do is sleep and possibly eat on occasion, that hasn't happened. Which is disappointing on another level as I have anime to watch (Trigun, lent to me by Sine (her name has an accent over the i I can't seem to put on here, and is pronounced She - nah) and currently unwatched. I haven't ever watched it so...) and a pair of library books. The first being Magical Kingdom for Sale, Sold! by Terry Brooks, one of the Landover novels. Oddly enough, I have read one of them, Tanglebox, which is like, the fourth book. Silly me never went back and read the others so I'm trying to remedy that.

The other is Bloodhound, the second Beka Cooper book by Tamora Pierce. Despite the fact that I am no longer a teenager, I still read them.

Yesterday morning/lunch I went and saw Sucker Punch. I was pleased to see, after, that my friends were just as unsure as I was. It is, undeniably a stunning film from visual and technical aspects. It has very neat transitions, I think it was well written and well acted.

I'm just not sure if I liked it. Seeing as I was the only sleep deprived one in the group, I thought perhaps it was altered state of mind, but the others were of the same frame and we tend to agree on films. (Not always though, there is the issue my love for John Wayne and adult comedies of the Hangover variety which Sine finds to be weird). I think I'll have to watch it again to make any cohesive decision.

Word of the Day: Somnolent [som-nuh-luhnt] - sleepy, drowsy. Tending to cause sleep.


Today is the first day I will call Spring, because it is the day my allergies have determined to make me miserable. In addition to insomnia (which has been rampant this week) I now have sneezing, ear pressure, sore throat and fuzzy headedness to deal with.


In good news, I'm still writing! I shall not let a mere attack of allergies interfere with my writing. That said, I finished a chapter of one project, and wrote a grand total of somewhere around 4K words all told on the three projects I'm working on at the moment. (Because if I don't write on all three right now, I'll get blocked on one and laze about bemoaning my lack of creativity)


Tomorrow I am quite busy, I have a job interview, because I currently cannot support myself (IE, I have no current income) and am living on a fold out futon in a guest room/office of a friend's house out of a pair of suitcases (one of which is my computer desk and made of metal. It's very awesome). I am, of course, supremely grateful for the kindness, and therefor need income to help out around the household I have become a part of.


It's a bid mad here, but that's all right. A bit of madness helps stir the creative stew pot in my brain.


In other news, The CFM (an e-zine I help edit and write the occasional article for) has obtained a delightful interview with C.E. Murphy for the May Issue, though we are still looking for more literature to put into it. Short stories, monster movie theme. The blog has more information.


Well, that's it for me today.


Word if the day: salubrious : [sa-lou-bree-us] : a food stuff of healthful nature

A Childhood Memory

Dianna Wynne Jones, author of Howl's Moving Castle, The Crestomanci novels, and many more, died this Saturday.

To say this is upsetting news would be an understatement of her books' effect on me as a writer and a person. I found Dianna's books when I was a library page, just branching out from Xanth and the Forgotten Realms, to find out what YA fiction was all about. On the whole I remember being disappointed.

Until I picked up The Lives of Christopher Chant. That twisty, wonderfully weird book showed me another side of fantasy that has influenced me and my work to this day. I can see elements of it whenever I pick up a pen and dive into one of my own weirdly wonderful worlds.

I did not pick up Howl's Moving Castle until much later, but it renewed my interest, forgotten like so many things from my childhood, in Ms. Jones' books.

It's difficult to know how one is supposed to act, having never met the woman or corresponded in any way, but every single person who read one of her books got to know her at least a little bit, and I for one will miss her wit and I know the community as a whole will do the same.

Is it odd, that my first thought was, I wish she'd had just one more match?