Novel and books and words, oh my!

Hello, hello. Phar here with plenty to report!

...First off, I have no finished products to report. I'll get that out of the way right now. Been a little sporadic with my projects as of late.

The dystopian slave novel (which still doesn't have a title - actually, let's also get this out of the way: none of these projects currently have titles) is still in the works, though slow going. I plan to finish the first draft before the end of summer, though fingers crossed that it's sooner! I'm just giving myself a long deadline for my sanity's sake, just in case.

I've also made a bit of headway in a novel exploring a dysfunctional father-daughter relationship, the factors that caused the relationship to be that way, and the effects it had on the futures of both parties. A lot of psychology will be in this one, so enthusiasts, be on the lookout! No current timeline on this one.

I've rediscovered my fantasy novel and am determined to make sure it doesn't get put so far on the back burner again. This one is going to be incredibly in depth (you know, the type of book with a map and family tree at the beginning), with a variety of races and deities and histories. Very exciting, but very intimidating. No current timeline here either, sorry.

A storyboard now exists for a novel about soul mates and past lives, inspired greatly by Plato's Symposium. The plan is to follow two souls through lifetimes - not necessarily as lovers, as soul mates are typically viewed, but in a variety of circumstances that guarantee their paths crossing. History and relationships are obviously going to be the key features here. This may be my National Novel Writing Month project this year.

The fifth novel on the table is the least formed - a story about a man who enters the dreams of others whenever he falls asleep, influencing and exploring their psyches and subsequently impacting the real world. This is the other NaNoWriMo option, though I have far less planned at the moment. I guess you'll have to wait until November to see!

On top of that, I'm also beginning to compile a second poetry volume due to an incredibly fruitful Poetry Month, which I hope to have finished before November. Furthermore, I'm currently working on a short story about mermaids and another about the hierarchy of angels, both of which will be included in a future and distant short story volume.

Focusing on one thing? Who's ever heard of such a thing?

Stay tuned!

Roads Divergent

Five years ago

I envisioned now –

A career beginning,

Writing best-sellers,

Living somewhere dazzling

With no strings attached,

But those fleeting dreams

Were idly made in bed,

My captor and my comfort –

I feared the consuming dark;

I dreaded the looming dawn.

Today

I’m somewhere else –

Career paths changing,

Writing for my sake,

Moving place to place

With a sudden husband,

And though fleeting dreams

Were pushed aside by time,

My heart chose a better road –

Last night, I gazed at stars;

I woke to watch the sunrise.

Themes and chronology.

As I've been saying for a while, I've decided to put together a volume of poetry for publication. Now, I'm nowhere near complete - I know that it's currently a little scant, and I've been feeling like writing more poetry lately anyhow. The problem I've been facing is deciding how to organize all of the poems I have. Chronologically? Alphabetically? Thematically? Some combination of these?

I asked for feedback on my Facebook page, and the answer I got unanimously was to organize alphabetically within themes. After doing so, however, I realized that they didn't read well together. But chronologically in themes? The poems almost tell a story if read in order, and that's too good to pass up. So chronologically in themes it is.

Here are my rough ideas for divisions thus far:

1. Poems about mental health and feelings of depression, etc.
2. Poems about both the good and the bad of a particular past relationship; when read chronologically, it's ridiculously obvious how unhealthy that relationship was.
3. The Feminine Obsession. These poems were written for a project with the same name, and it's about unrequited, nearly stalker-like love towards women.
4. Poems about a hypothetical succubus who makes for interesting subject matter, who I simply refer to as "she."
5. Poems about my current relationship. Hooyah.
6. The rest of the poems. There are quite a few, but they don't fit neatly into themes.

Aside from "The Feminine Obsession," I have yet to name any of these sections. I will definitely keep posting as more happens. Have a good week!

Poetry samples

Pieces
A friend in need is a friend indeed -
A cliche I'll never learn,
For I give and give and give and give
And get nothing in return.

So which pieces would you like today?
Maybe a shoulder for a cry,
Or maybe you need a new perspective
And thus plan to snatch my eyes.

Or perhaps you want hands to hold you,
Or a set of lips that can advise.
Take whatever bit you need, friend,
And leave me cut down to size.

Yet, when I need feet to stand,
No one will lend a pair.
You'll just stare down at me with sad surprise
That there's somehow no one there.

A Day in the Life of the Writer's-Blocked
My cat stares up at me expectantly,
Wondering why my pen's not touched the page.
My focus escapes with her eyes on me,
and she leaves, nose turned up, after an age.
My dog is curled up just beneath my feet.
I ponder, scratch his back with just my toes,
But my project's once more left incomplete;
With touch of fur my inspiration goes.
Thunder rolls deep just past my windowpane,
Echoing with dark, stormy nights to tell,
But all my words wash away with the rain
And lightning puts me 'neath an awestruck spell.
My pen to paper - the world cheers me on!
And, in that cheer...all will to write is gone.

To Us
It seems that time has gone and passed us by -
Two children, lost, now women, loved and wed.
Together we did worry, laugh, and cry,
And battled with the thoughts that filled our heads.
You and I, we have faced it all, it's true,
Knowing that we'd always have each other.
My family would be empty without you -
My sister, though we share not blood nor mother.
So, here's to the past and the years to come;
To husbands, children, moves that we'll discuss.
Distance may weather the friendship of some,
But things like that are different for us.
So, here's to us, to sharing joy and strife -
To the best friend I'll cherish all my life.


I've been gathering all my poetry as of late, as I'm considering putting together a collection in the near future. Any thoughts on this idea would be appreciated.

An unedited sneak-peak at my next novel.

Prologue

“The U.N. finally announced today that the evacuation of the remainder of Scandinavia and Japan is eminent, this following a five year period of questioning whether or not it would be necessary. U.N. investigators confirmed that radiation levels are still too high and resources are still too scarce to sustain an economically stable society. As such, it is expected that citizens will be siphoned into the United States and the rest of Europe, with the United Kingdom and French Germany in particular likely to receive a vast number of those refugees.

“In related news, during her State of the Union address on Thursday President Ahlberg indeed confirmed that further expeditions are to be taken into the nuclear wastelands of China to salvage anything else that remains of their cultural heritage. The Smithsonian –”

“Will you turn that bullshit off?”

The man in the passenger seat eyed his driver warily as he turned the radio knob to silence. “If you’d actually listen to any of the music stations we wouldn’t have to hear this garbage, would we?”

“I’d rather sit in silence than listen to the crap this generation calls music.”

“And that’s why it’s always so pleasant to be in your company,” he grumbled. “Besides, some people still think it’s important to know what’s going on in the world. China –”

“China doesn’t matter,” the driver snapped. “The war’s been over for decades. It’s time to move on.”

“Yeah, that’s why we still do what we do. Because the war’s over.”

“We do what we do for the money. Simple as that.”

The conversation warranted no more words, and the only sounds remaining were those of the rain pouring in torrents against the cab and the tires scraping against the road.

The moon hid precariously behind the steel gray clouds as the cargo truck finally backed into the warehouse lot. The driver set the parking break with a sigh before opening his door and stepping out into the storm, his partner at his heels. Methodically the two men rounded the truck and heaved the cargo door open, revealing row upon row of large wooden crates, the word FRAGILE printed in prominent black ink on each and every one of them.

The driver hoisted himself inside and began to shove the nearest crate to the edge. He and his partner lifted it with a grunt, and with eyes turned downward they heaved the heavy box to the side door of the warehouse, where the man in black stood waiting. He looked at the two men coldly as they placed the crate on the concrete before him. “How are they this month?” he demanded calmly.

“Quiet,” the passenger replied uncertainly. The driver said nothing, refusing to even raise his eyes.

Steam hissed from the man in black’s cigarette as he stepped out from under the overhang and into the rain. Like a predator he circled the crate slowly, every step deliberate and every glance calculating. Without warning he stopped, and his steel-toed boot lashed out like a viper, striking just above the FRAGILE label and sending the wood sliding along the rain-slicked ground. A terrified shriek erupted from within.

The man in black smiled in a sickening caricature of emotion as he stomped out his smoldering cigarette. “Bring me the rest.”

More men materialized from the warehouse door as the truck drivers began stacking the boxes just outside. The man in black stood back and watched, arms crossed, as his lackeys pried each crate open with a crowbar and hastily covered the girls’ mouths as they emerged screaming from their claustrophobic hell.

Each waiflike figure was lifted from the boxes by the shoulders, two suited men with guns coercing them to file inside despite some barely alive enough to stand. Somewhere in the middle a small brunette fell to her knees in sobs, her muscles no longer able to support her meager weight. No one had the patience to wait, and she was replaceable. A remorseless gunshot echoed through the night, followed by an uproar of horrified cries and the sound of crowbars striking flesh.

Inside the scene was different. The only sound was silence as the girls viewed the concrete cells that would become their home and the empty women already occupying them. The lady waited for them behind her desk at the far end of the hall, her face expressionless.

The first in line was a quivering blond, so terrified she could scarcely speak. “Name,” the lady demanded impatiently, eyeing the line forming in the corridor. “Skills. Disabilities.”

The girl answered tearfully, shivering as her words were plugged into a database and made her sole identity. She extended her hand at the lady’s insistence, cringing as the tattoo needles pierced the base of her thumb. “57489. All signs point to you being yellow,” she told her. “You’re lucky.”

The lady nodded to the suited man beside her, and with a gloved hand he pushed the girl’s hair aside and wrapped the black leather choker etched with her name around her neck, securing the clasp with a key and cutting off any excess material. A yellow gem was fastened at her throat, and she was ushered off, led by the arm to her own private cell and tossed on the floor carelessly, her key hung on the wall outside as the bars slammed shut.

There she stayed, starving and waiting to be purchased like a dog with the rest.

Outside the truck was being prepped to leave, and the driver stood in the rain without concern as his partner fidgeted beside him. The man in black gave them not a glance as he returned to the warehouse, shutting the doors behind him. A few men remained behind to clean up the mess they’d made of the brunette. “So much for a quiet batch,” the passenger muttered.

He climbed into the cab just as the lackeys finished their work, and he watched sadly as they dragged the body away, taking as much care as if it were garbage. Not a speck of blood remained on the concrete. It was as if she’d never existed.

The driver climbed in with a scowl and turned the key, and the engine roared to life. His partner looked at him seriously as they drove off, unable to erase the scene from his mind. “This can’t be right,” he insisted suddenly. “In fact, this feels inherently wrong.”

Without a word the driver stared ahead for what seemed like a lifetime, before an abbreviated laugh escaped his lips. “You honestly think this has anything to do with right and wrong?”

“These girls are people, Eklund. Girlfriends, wives, sisters, daughters, mothers.”

“They’re a product.”

“Would you be saying that if your little girl –”

“But she’s not!” Eklund snarled, forcing the man in the passenger seat to flinch. “If you think of them as people you’re not going to last long in this job, Mori. They’re a product. It’s not about rights. It’s about money. Leave your conscience at the fucking door.”

Mori shook his head with a bitter chuckle, lighting a cigarette casually as the warehouse disappeared behind a sheet of rain and darkness. “It’s not just about the money.”

“What else would it be about?”

He closed his eyes for only a moment, but the face of the brunette was scarred onto his eyelids – but more haunting was the face of the man who’d fired. There’d been no moral battle behind his eyes at the prospect of taking a human life; he was merely disposing a defective product.

“Power,” Mori finally uttered, a chill shooting through him as he forced the scene from his mind. “It’s about power.”

The final contest update and an apology.

Most of you probably noticed that posting quotes for the giveaway fell by the wayside. I'm immensely sorry for that. Life happened and some stress factors needed to be dealt with; the contest was the easiest one to let drop off because allowing it to do so lacked consequences. Things have worked themselves out a bit now. I suppose I just needed a bit to breathe.

Even with the hiatus, the total number of entries still came to 372, which is nothing to scoff at! Since today marks the end of the contest, I officially had the winning numbers selected using the generator at random.org. The numbers are 108 and 133 - I'll be announcing the winners on my Facebook so I can tag those people today.

Thank you guys so much for bearing with me. Congratulations to the winners!

Contest update for...whatever today is.

The third update, either way.

Day fifteen passed...well, a couple days ago, honestly. As such, once again it's time to announce the front-runners. You all may be noticing a trend by now.

1. Kimberly M.
2. Amelia S.
3. TIE: Anja K. & Courtney H.
4. Harry S. 
5. Sara D.

 Once again, it's important to note that having more entries DOES NOT guarantee a win - on April 21, the winner will be selected via random number generator. Having more entries merely increases your odds. Though these people may have more entries, combined they don't even make up half of the 271 entries thus far.

This book giveaway is still running through April 20, so keep guessing at those quotes and liking those statuses (and reblogging that post, if you're one of the Tumblr contestants), and stay tuned for bonus contests as well. Good luck!

Playing some catch up.

Have to keep up with this whole social networking thing a bit more, I suppose.

So Chasing Falsities is now available for $7.99 in print through Amazon and CreateSpace, as well as for $0.99 on Kindle and Nook. I'm currently holding a contest on my personal Facebook to give away two free signed copies again.

Oh, and I'm also already starting on my next novel. More as it develops. I promise next time I'll be a little more involved.

An update on the status of Chasing Falsities.

Oh hi. I have a giant Great Dane who thinks he's a lap dog pleading desperately for my attention, so I'm going to have to make this quick.

The Red Pen Edit of Chasing Falsities has long been finished, and the Blue Pen Edit quickly followed suit. I then sent it to a fellow writer friend, who sent it back to me with small corrections - I've noticed that most of the mistakes I miss are two-letter words that I either omit or get wrong by a single letter. What an embarrassing problem. I guess they're easy to overlook.

Anyways, Chasing Falsities is currently in the hands of my brother-in-law, who is incredibly observant and will easily catch anything my friend and I missed. After that, it should be off to self-publishing!

Thank you again for your continued support. I love you all.

Back Cover Text for Chasing Falsities

"The proposition seems harmless enough: Maddox needs a girlfriend to keep the bullies at bay, and Cheyenne seems like the perfect fit. With her real boyfriend half a world away and the support of her best friend Pepper, the act should be easy. But nothing stays secret for long. As circumstances begin spiraling out of control, Cheyenne, Maddox, and Pepper soon find themselves fighting for their friendships, their reputations, and their lives.

It's been two years since the Big Bad Alex Incident rocked the small town of Darrensfield. The danger should be dead and gone. But a whole new threat is bubbling beneath this high school's sea of deceit."

Oh, and in case you're wondering - yes, this does indeed mean I am finished with the editing process and am working on steps to self-publish. Stay tuned, my lovelies!

I am definitely not the most reliable blogger.

I've been in Hawaii for a week, my lovelies, and I have just returned to the realm of the Internet!

The night before I left, at 2-some AM, I finished my first draft of Chasing Falsities, the sequel to my debut novel Chasing Faith. I was very sleep deprived and excited.

Now that I'm back, I'm going to be editing and revising that draft. Do you know what that means? It means there will likely be a sample chapter up for reading here in the near future! Stay tuned!