Book Release: The Grave is out!

Book 2 of "In Caves & Catacombs" is finally out! To preorder, click the book cover image to the right.

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The viral outbreak has reached the northern California town of Oceanside, where Damian, an Iraq veteran and his dog, Wolf, have been living on the streets for years. With the majority of the town either evacuated or infected, Damian, Wolf, and his long-time friend Frog must rely on more than their usual skills to survive.

An indirect sequel to “The Boat”, “The Grave” takes readers through the apocalypse with new eyes, bringing them one step closer to where it all began.

PRE-ORDER NOW

Download "The Boat" for free, now through the end of the week!

Looking for a new short story series? Get your copy of "The Boat" for free--it will be available today through April 28th in preparation for the upcoming launch of "The Grave" on May 2nd.

Reviews are appreciated!!

Updated Countdown: Two Weeks to the Grave!

Okay so listen. I know I said Book 2: The Grave would be available for pre-order on the 20th (in two days, eek!). BUT! I am a writer of fiction, so... it'll be out for pre-order on May 2nd instead!

I know, two more weeks, but trust me, it'll be worth it. I'm taking it through the grueling process of edit-edit-editing and despite being thoroughly sick of it, I must to do my characters and story line justice. Indulge me, dear readers, and stay tuned for more announcements!

Evolving Process

As I edit the draft of my novel, I've noticed my writing process is evolving. My previous process went something like this:

Me, staring angrily at my computer screen instead of writing.

But my writing process changed, and now I've been able to write a full length novel and several short stories. There were two Big Things that changed to liberate me from angry staredowns with my laptop. The first is outlining, and the second is counting my words.

Outlining. *Shudder*. The word brings me back to middle school. All of my English teachers taught me that step one was to create an outline for my essays. I hated it. I much preferred writing out all of my ideas, and then going back to organize them. I hated outlining so much that when I had to turn in my outlines for points, I sneakily wrote the essay first, then crafted the outline to turn in. Thus, when I began writing creatively (not for points, and not for dollars), I still shunned the very idea of an outline. It seemed antithetical to include something so academic in my creative outlet. 

I don't even know how I'm going to finish this blog post with this image in here, it's that uninspiring.

Eventually, I decided that I would finish a novel, but I didn't know how. I had so many beginnings, so many ideas scribbled on looseleaf, so many chapters saved onto my hard drive, and not one full story arc to my name. So I began outlining instead. I found it deeply satisfying to create a story from beginning to end, and it made me excited to fill in the gaps. It directed my energy, because I knew what had to come next, and even if I wrote like crap to get from Chapter One to Chapter Two, at least I got that far.

Outlining gave me direction, but it was counting words that pushed me to follow through. I became obsessed with my word count when I began NaNoWriMo, but what's in a word count when you're writing something that's not a minimum of fifty thousand words? Motivation, that's what.

Not that kind of motivation. REAL motivation.

But if outlining is academic, surely adding math would ruin the artistic process, right? Nope, not for me. I'm so Type A that I find meeting my word count goal inspiring. And the truth is that I tend to think I'm finished with a chapter with only half of my needed word count. That's where I push through. I look at my count, review my outline, and more often than not, it turns out I haven't written enough or described enough, and my characters haven't developed enough. And that's where my best writing comes from. When I'm motivated to meet this tiny little chapter word count goal, it gives me what I need, piece by piece, to meet my hundred thousand word novel goal.

So try combining that crap from school that you hated with your writing. You might be surprised by the results!

Late night love thoughts

I met with a woman today who knows my husband. "He's a good one," she said, and I smiled and agreed. But there was a moment time stopped, and she looked and saw right through me, imperfect and insecure as I wondered if she thought I was worthy. She nodded once, acknowledging the exchange, and I knew that she saw things for exactly what they were, that I'm lucky to have him and at least I know it.

If you haven't already been blessed by fate, go find someone like that. A partner that you feel lucky to have, and a person who reminds you of it unexpectedly, profoundly, in an otherwise unremarkable moment.

"Throwaway" Writing

I am easily distracted. I tend to get started on something big, then when that long-awaited moment of writing inspiration strikes, it has the potential to sink me into a whole new project. I have a word for these harried, late-night scribbles--I call them my "throwaways". These are the dream inspirations, character examinations, setting descriptions, or illustrations of a feeling, like so:

If you click the photo, you can support my writing habit

“We’re almost there,” I say cheerily, strutting ahead despite my own frustration, and we continue along the road, withdrawing from the seasonal colors of the meadow into open countryside, complete with lush, fruited grapevines lining the road. I approach a climbing vine on the wire fence and stare at one dark, fat cluster of grapes that dangle obscenely. My mouth waters and the color skips like a missed heartbeat, it’s purple purple purple blue, and I have to raise my eyes away before it lifts me off the road.

I got in trouble for calling that a "throwaway". An author friend of mine had to sternly set me straight on it, not once, but twice in the last week. And honestly, does this particular scribble have promise? Heck, I don't know. But I do know that referring to these as "throwaway" pieces is a terrible misnomer. It's self-deprecating, it cheapens the work, and it fails to highlight the opportunity they present. Sometimes it takes someone outside of ourselves to point it out.

Don't be afraid to scribble, even if it's just an exercise. But don't sell yourself short. Every moment you spend creating shouldn't be thrown away. And maybe, if you're really onto something, it'll be the seedling for your next poem, short story, or novel. Whatever it is, don't let it wilt and die. You never know what it can become if you take the time to breathe a little more life into it.

Book 2: The Grave Release Date

Alright folks, I am back at it and finishing up "The Grave", which is the second book in the "In Caves & Catacombs" series of short stories. In fact, I've made so much progress that I even have a pre-order release date:

May 1st, 2017

Woohoo! *tries not to panic about what feels like a lofty goal* In preparation for launch (and to make sure I stay on track), I will be releasing new, unedited, pre-release teasers here, so be sure to subscribe to get the latest information.

If you enjoyed the "The Boat", get ready for "The Grave", which will feature a whole new set of characters in the same apocalyptic universe setting, in a similar quick-read format. Here's a tidbit from Chapter Two:

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        “Of course I’m listening,” she declared. “But you have to understand, this isn’t news to us. We’ve got three of them in the back right now that we’re tending to. It’s happening everywhere.”
        “So it is contagious,” he reached out his finger to scroll down the screen as he continued to read.
        “Sure as heck is. They say if it goes airborne they’re going to start quarantining areas to ‘clean it out’. You’re former military—you know what that means,” she waved the possibility off like it wasn’t real. “Right now it’s just like any virus, you gotta get all up in somebody’s business to catch it. Spit or snot, stuff like that. I don’t need to paint you a picture, do I?”
        He looked over the bright screen into her crows-feet framed blue eyes. They had the kind of brightness he used to see in the mirror. He frowned. Was she… excited by the possibility of the apocalypse? Or just excited to catch him up on the grim state of the world?
        “Nah, I think I got it. So don’t get up in anybody’s business that looks sick, huh?”
        “That’s right. If I were you, I’d skedaddle. Go to the beach or the woods, wait until this all blows over.”
        “Why dontcha come with me, Cyn? We could have a hell of a time on the beach.”
        He leaned over the desk again, approximating a wink. He hadn’t done it in so long, he probably just blinked.
        She guffawed, slapping her knees and waving him off, just like she’d waved off the possibility of martial law and government-sanctioned mass murder. Still, it was a better response than he’d expected.

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Conscious Writing

Years ago, I had the terrifying epiphany that many young adults experience: that life was happening faster than I was consciously aware of. I couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, and there I was, contemplating my own powerlessness in the face of time. It was too heavy then to process, and so I didn't, and instead descended happily back into focusing on my anxiety over the "small things".

Years later, I experienced it all over again as an abrupt, unwelcome awareness of myself and the unyielding passage of time. But this time I remembered that this sense of overwhelming consciousness had happened once before, and it felt good, as if I had slowed time just by being aware of it. It was a revelation, and I felt that by being conscious, I was somehow cheating death. And I continued thinking about it and wondered if perhaps there was a way to maintain that awareness, to stay awake long term, and maybe it would make my life feel longer. So I did what any Type A overthinker would do--I penciled it into my schedule. Literally. I added it to my daily calendar as a reminder to "WAKE UP!" every day at 6pm, and for about a year, I did just that. I would stop what I was doing at 6pm damn near every day, and think about where my life was and where I wanted it to go. I also took those moments to be happy for the successes I'd had or witnessed, no matter how small, and reflected on my failures and how I could grow from them.

I don't have that reminder set anymore, and I'm no longer focused on cheating death. And although it's not every single day that I practice "waking up", I'd like to think it's become a part of my lifestyle. I do my best to live with my eyes wide open. And I love being able to explore the world around me and connect with the earth and the people that inhabit it. Life is beautiful, even at its most challenging. And as I feel pressured by myself to write, to finish, to not miss an opportunity by delaying any further, I must consciously remind myself to stop and wake up. Look around. Look at the beauty here, even in pain and imperfection. Take a moment to process it. Then I can write about the world, and maybe I'll be able to do it some justice.

To my fellow writers, dreamers, family and friends: don't forget to be aware. As we write and live out our dreams, our fantasies, and our own unique versions of reality, we must remember to pop our heads above water for a look around and a gulp of air. Our world is, after all, where we draw our inspiration to create in the first place.

Announcing "The Grave", book 2 of "In Caves & Catacombs"!

More news! I've been deep in writing-land and as I move forward with my full length novel, I keep finding myself drawn to add more to the short story series, "In Caves & Catacombs". Enter "The Grave", book 2 in the series! An indirect sequel to "The Boat", the second installment in the series explores a new set of character experiences of the same apocalypse from the mainland in the USA. It focuses on Damian, a homeless veteran overlooked by the system, and his dog, Wolf, who find themselves struggling to survive as the world falls apart around them.

Look for a release date for book 2 to be announced in the coming month! Or, you can join my mailing list here.

Music that inspires

I can't imagine writing without music playing in the background. When I'm writing--and I mean really writing, where I lose myself in the narrative and forget who I really am--I always have some kind of music going. And I don't mean pleasant, boppy music. I'm talking deep, dark moody music that drowns out the nonsense of the real world and rips your heart out through your throat. I'm talking Tool, Nine Inch Nails, Metallica, Marilyn Manson, or Korn. I'm talking the Queen of the Damned soundtrack, or any Deftones album ever created. (Yeah. I write about merfolk to metal.)

In pursuit of inspiration, I went to see my all-time favorite band, the Deftones, a few months ago. They performed at the Berkeley amphitheater, and it was one hell of a show. And what made it great wasn't the lights or the stars overhead or any measured, choreographed routines like you see all the popstars doing now. It was all about the shared experience of the music. The lead singer lost himself in it, like he was putting himself up on a pedestal in front of God and everyone, turning his face to the sky and closing his eyes, then doubling over with the beat as it rocked through his body. Everyone watching became a part of it, crooning along with him as he belted the lyrics we've all lost, and then found ourselves in.

There's something surreal about sharing that experience with a stadium full of strangers. It strips us down to what we really are, just a group of animals that crave connection and search for meaning in the ordinary. I think about what it must've taken for him to write the music. How much of his deepest longings went into the lyrics? How much pain, how much joy? We forget how much of artists are in their creations because we put ourselves in it instead. And I suppose that's part of what our motivation is to write. Even if it's not perfect or planned or polished, we want to be able to lose ourselves in our own creation. And we want to provide others with a space in which they might be able to find themselves.