I'M TOO HUMAN.

I was feeling a little blue last night...all better now, but blogger suffered the consequences.

Did you ever feel so different that the world didn't know quite what to make of you?

I have often enough. It's difficult not to when I've set out on my own journey to create the best in me. Sometimes that freaks people out.

As humans we have the bad habit of condemning what we can't understand. It's natural, but I'm not immune to the effects.

And I've questioned myself.

What drives the thirst to explore beneath the confines of my flesh to the raw amber of my soul? What moves me, defines me?I doubt. I obsess.

I pommel the sand in an attempt to rebuild my own castles.

Then I remind myself that we're all particles of the same starstuff. We're cut from the same mold.

                                                            I'm a zonkey.

                                               Are you a zonkey too?

Happy Friday everyone!

Enjoy the weekend with your loved ones. I know I plan to. ...^-^...

MONDAY

: Don't forget to check me out on Monday. CRIME FICTION (THRILLER) excerpt.

FOR MY SCI-FI FRIENDS...heck it's for all of you.

I write Fantasy, but Science Fiction was my first love. My childhood wishes were filled with desires of being taken out into space by a lovely race of aliens, all because they thought I was just that special. Or, I fooled myself into believing that a group of aliens had dropped me on Earth in the care of human parents so that I could save the planet. Kids have wild imaginations. Isn't it grand? 

I have a short scene with similar creatures in one of my books....book 7 I think.

Here goes...again this is a quick one.
*
*

Sugar, an elaborate taffy confection, that's what the atmosphere smelled like on Traxis. A three-fingered hand reached up and poked at the dense fog. It was the closest Eva could come to saying goodbye to the land of her ancestors. Every planet suffers through an evolution phase, a season of refurbishing. Traxis was no exception.

"Are you ready, Erin?"

What could have been a beautiful voice was merely a form of telepathy. How could a creature without a mouth form words? It was foolishness to expect that they could survive on Earth. How did the elders not see that?

Erin joined her. "Eva, stop worrying."

She glanced at the beloved shape of her lover. For years she'd adored the forest green splendor of his iris. "They'll dissect us."

He patted the bulging vein at the crease of her blue eyelash. "Don't say that."

A pale lid closed over a violet iris. "It's what the humans do, destroy what they can't understand. See what they've done to their own planet."

Three stubby digits laced with hers. "And that's why we're going to take it from them."

She stared down at her three-toed feet and surrendered to her destiny. Gently, Erin ushered her away. The future beckoned.

See you tomorrow.  ....^-^.....

A LITTLE FUN WITH HORROR...and other cool stuff.

For those of you who don't know, I like to play with horror. It sparks my creativity.

Fear plays an important role in everything we say or do. It's the force that keeps us from crossing the street or turning into a dark alley. It's the lurker who keeps us from submitting a query. It can be a useful tool or serve to hold us back and keep us from fulfilling our dreams. In honor of the trickster in question and because I love to tempt fate, I've included a fearful excerpt that just popped in my head.  Bear with me.  I wrote it in just a  few minutes.

Scary huh?  Who the heck comes up with this stuff?

Thunder rippled in the distance. It was a subtle sound like a wheel over cobble stone. Beth sat at the dining room table nibbling on her thumb nail. It was almost time. Any second now her mother would waltz out of the study and demand that she go to bed. Being a senior in high school hadn't rewarded her with any rights whatsoever. She still had a curfew and was expected to be in bed by eleven.

The stairs creaked. A flash of lightning streaked through the clouds. Thunder pounded against the rooftop, or maybe it was just her heart.

"Beth, are you still up?"

She glanced at the woman tapping her foot before her. A scrunched up face accentuated the wrinkles that were previously smoothed by the gel mask. Her mother's hair was in curlers. Tomorrow was the big day, and she wanted to look her best for her own wedding.

"Mom, I can't go to bed just yet," she replied.

The older woman reached out and grabbed her arm effectively lifting her from the chair. "If you do anything to ruin tomorrow I will never forgive you."

Beth tugged on her arm to free it from the clawed grip. "Mom, you don't understand."

"Go to bed now." The tone of her voice had been low, mimicking the rumble of thunder.

Beth hurried to her room and plopped down on the bed. Her mother had no clue of what went on in her head. If only she could stop hearing the voices, but they grew louder at night, specially when she found herself alone. Those evil shrieks tempted her. They tried to get her to do terrible things. Sometimes she listened. Often she was able to ignore them, except when it stormed.

"Elizabeth," came the sultry whisper near her ear. A warm breeze tussled her hair. The windows were closed. "Elizabeth," the voice repeated itself. A swampy breath doused her earlobe with a layer of mist.

"What do you want?"

"Did you get the pills?" the voice asked.

She hopped out of bed and hurried to a corner. "Please. It's her wedding."

Invisible fingers traced a line over her jaw. "There's no better time for a present."

Beth dropped to the floor, crouching. If she could only concentrate hard enough maybe she could make it go away. It was useless. The voice grew louder, so did the thunder. Lighting streaked outside the window. The sizzling spark outlined the dark form of a man beast, the creature hovering over her, chanting her name.  Her eyes met his.  She screamed...

So, what are you afraid of...bugs, the dark, failure?


SCARY MOVIE ALERT.  I watched this last night.  My stepson brought it home.

                                                            It had a few parts where stuff
                                                            jumps out at you.  Made hubby
                                                            scream like a girl...which always
                                                            cracks me up.  :)

Since we're in the horror subject I thought I should post my too cool video of the ghost I recorded by the campfire for anyone who missed it when I first started blogging.  Check out below.  It only takes about 30 seconds.

Hope everyone enjoyed my little bit of horror.  Visit me tomorrow for some lovely Sci-Fi.

FREE SEX ADVICE...about your writing.

You make me giggle.  You are so sweet.  I love your wiggle.  Let me tickle your feet. 

Kids of the opposite sex are drawn to each other.  They don't know why it happens.  The only thing they really know is that it makes them happy to be together.                                                               

Then they grow up and find themselves in a heap of trouble.  Why?  Well there's this thing called sex. 

No, anything but that!

I had a fabulous romance writer friend ask me a question yesterday that got me thinking.  How can I write a sex scene without being too explicit?  Now why the heck would I want to do that?  I've asked myself the same question for the last ten minutes but decided to just go with it for the sake of the blog.

                                  

How would my readers feel about this?  It's a question each writer should ask themselves.  Above all we are storytellers, entertainers.    We should care what the readers think, yearn to deliver the perfect tale.                                                                                                                                                          

I have learned that there are ways to tweak a scene so that it's pretty clean.  Aluding to an act can some times be just as powerful and dramatic.                                                                                                                                             

                                                                               

Let's say for instance that Sam invited Mary back to his hotel room. 

They talk.  They kiss.  The lights go off.  Next thing we know it's morning and Mary is dropping off her room key at the front desk while Sam is still snug in bed with a self-satisfied grin that goes from ear to ear...or he could be smoking in bed....or maybe she's cooking him pancakes while wearing his pajama top and nothing else....or perhaps she stepped out of the shower.   There are tons of ways to alude to the fact that they've spent the night together.  I know a couple that plays scrabble in bed.  They didn't take kindly to me asking them if it was nude scrabble.  Heck, I thought it was funny.                                               

Then there's the whole issue of body parts.  If you're going to refer to genitals please avoid scientific terms.  Vagina and penis make me feel like if I'm sitting in a biology class.  Also, refrain from using funny terminoligy unless it applies to your story. 

To say, "she reached for the one-eyed wonder weasel" might have me laughing my ass off but it will not get me hot and bothered and ruin the whole scene.  Okay, I will most probably keep on reading just because it's me, but I doubt editors will be too happy.  

Speak real English.  Use the words we say behind closed doors.  Don't be bashful about it.  Readers will love you for it.  If you can't manage the actual words consider not saying them at all.

For example:  Mary stepped out of the tub.  Her mouth watered at the sight of Sam leaning against the doorway.  She took a few steps toward him eager to wipe that smug grin from his face.  She lifted her hand to her face while trying hard to maintain eye contact.  Very slowly, she ran the tip of her tongue over the length of her palm.  Then, she reached for him.  (See, no naughty words at all.)

 

Hope this has been helpful or at the least entertaining.  Have a great day!

LITTLE GIRLS HAVE BIG DREAMS.

                                                               
                                                                
Little children can have incredible dreams.  They can believe they can fly, shoot into space, slide to the other side of the rainbow and land in a pool of pink bubbles made of cotton candy.  The dreams grow even more fantastic when there's no adult around to tell them to stop dreaming.  And that's when children become scribes.  My message today is for first time writers.  I want the world to know that I've made mistakes in pursuit of my dreams.  Why?  It's our frailties that render us human.

Years ago I committed a crime that immortalized the words of a horny teenager. I submitted what I considered a masterpiece to be filed in the Library of Congress. Why? It was my first completed manuscript. I was young, and I thought it was the initial step to publishing. Pleased with my achievement, I queried an agent and sent him the first fifty pages only to receive a tiny card with an impersonal refusal. I was devastated. Believe it or not, your first rejection should be gut-wrenching. That’s what makes you try harder.

I purchased a how-to book and educated myself in the art of querying, which for me is as horrible as attempting a sudoku. I learned about manuscript format, spacing, and the dreaded synopsis. I began to search the net for agents, having memorized the common mantra. “The business of publishing is subjective.” Translation: An agent has to love the story enough to toot your horn and get publishers to like it. That’s okay. We want an agent that’s going to be passionate about our writing.

There are rules to follow. Know your genre. If you find an agent that represents your genre, it’s a good idea to check out the books on his site to see where you fit. Obviously, I’m still searching. There is an overwhelming amount of information available on the internet alone for anyone who wishes to master the art of writing. Don’t ignore it. Show respect. Know your grammar. Demonstrate your willingness to learn. Whoever said that ignorance is bliss was a fool.

Some books are meant to be shelved. None of us are born with a quill in hand ready to execute the perfect novel. Your first few attempts at writing serve a purpose, to chisel away the rough edges. You’ll find you’re telling instead of showing, going crazy with the adverbs, accidentally writing porn scenes, and losing all track of the plot. When all else fails, just write because it’s what you love to do.

The best advice I can offer: Don’t view an obstacle as an opposing force. Instead, see it as an opportunity to better yourself and ultimately achieve the much coveted literary glory.

Happy writing, and don't forget about your dreams.

　

Villain 2 and Other Stuff.

Tetrixon was my second villain.   He's a warlord, someone who follows orders from a deeper darker being.  He no longer knows of any other way to survive.  The following excerpt describes him at the moment of his first arrival without explaining where he came from. His second in command argues with him in regards to their presence in the strange galaxy.

*

One could fantasize that his exterior resembled death in a cloak and bony mask; maybe his skin oozed out ashes or blood. Perhaps he breathed out a poison that could demolish complete societies with a single trickle, but that wasn’t the case for Tetrixon, as is seldom the case for any killer or murderer. No. He was tall, robust, and put together like a ragged warrior. His hair was a silvery blond. His rich topaz eyes were vivisected by cross-like pupils. His lips hinted at a slight pout; it was a mark of passion shared with a certain woman.

*

“Can’t we coexist with people for once in our

lives without trying to exterminate them?”

Tetrixon sighed. “We’ve been through this before, Ferina. It’s not our decision to make, and it would do you well to stop sympathizing with the enemy. We are the Fury.” 

*

Now for some more drawings. 

*

                                                         There's a lot of story building involved in writing this
                                                novel.  I've filled it with animals, real and fantastic.  This
                                                little guy is not in the book.  His name was Kismet.  I had
                                                him for six months, then had to put him to sleep due to an
                                                incurable desease.

                                                            This is Xanadu.  Are there shelties
                                                             in my book?  Well yeah.  I couldn't
                                                             resist.  This little guy is mine only
                                                             in spirit now, but he's the reason
                                                             why I love dogs so much.

                                     
                                          This was my dookie attempt at self protrait with Xanadu.

Everyone have a nice weekend!!!

Villain 1 and Other Stuff

I had mentioned on an earlier blog that I had two villains in my book. The death of the first opens the door to the second. Cassia is my first. She starts off innocent enough, until I transform her into a self-centered, power-hungry, downright cruel bitch. Here is a brief piece of a conversation she has with Craven’s best friend after her betrayal.

*

“Damon, let’s be realistic. How could I possibly harm Craven? He has Pantheas, strength, thirty five years over me, and armies at his back. What do I possess that could inflict the least bit of damage upon your darling brother?”



“His heart,” was the simple answer.



She flinched. It was brief, barely noticeable. “That’s redundant. Things are already set in motion.”

*

I always hated Cassia too much to draw her.   She was everything a man like Craven could ever hope for.  You know the type they show on TV, the trophy wives with the fake lips, store-bought boobs, and the tiny tattoo of a devil with a pitchfork pointed at the crease of their ass.  (Okay, I made that last part up, but she does have a tattoo, and I always thought it'd be hilarious to have one like that.)  The point is that she was his dream woman.  He was blind, lovestruck, and she tried her best to ruin his life.  I was thrilled to kill her...so no pictures of her.


Instead, I will post a drawing of a more personal nature because the mention of the tattoo reminded me of  an old friend. 

This is Janine. She’s a friend from my past, the woman I spoke about that had the brain tumor when she was a child. It managed to disfigure half her body. She was always afraid of having me draw her.

“I’ll just look ugly,” she said.

“No you won’t,” I assured. “That’s not what I see when I look at you.”

She finally yielded. It was simple to make the necessary alterations so that both sides of her face matched. When I was done, she held the drawing up to her, eyes misting over.

“I’m beautiful,” she said, “but it’s not me.”

“Sure it is. Don’t argue with an artist. That’s the you that I see.”

We were friends for a long time, and yet we haven’t spoken in years. Maybe it was her outspoken envy of me, or the fact that after she downed half a bottle of tequila she tried to make a pass at me.

I remember running out of her apartment and making a long distance phone call to would-be hubby.

“She wanted you to do what?” he nearly shouted, then paused, voice softened. “Well, did you?”

The man had a one-track mind, still does.

That was about it for our friendship. Still, sometimes I miss her. It’s not everyday you make a friend that allows you complete honesty without judging. I don’t hold her audacity against her. Total acceptance can be irresistible, with or without tequila.