So, I recently downloaded the new Paramore album, and at the risk of being too old to be listening to it, I. LOVE. IT! There is not a song on the whole album that I don't find myself singing at awkward moments because they're just that good. "Ignorance is your new best friend," is probably not something to be singing at the top of your lungs at the gym, but I can't seem to help myself.
I'm drumming and bobbing my head so much that, more than likely, someone's going to try to save my from a "seizure" if I'm not more careful about when and where I get into the songs. Anyway, this is my way of saying that if you're not familiar with Paramore, Brand New Eyes is a great album to listen to (and to write to).
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Can you ever go home again?
So, my family and I took a trip to visit my extended family in a rural area of West Virginia. I have such fond memories of my grandparent's farm, and feel that much of my current way of interacting with the world, can be traced back to time spent getting dirty, doing risky things, and exploring nature on said farm. Yet now, I find that the adult that I am struggles to stand on common ground with the family that I visit three or four times a year. At one time, my extended family were the people who grounded me. It was the place that I always felt unconditionally loved and accepted. And, to a certain extent that will always be true, but now that I am in a different state, educated with a career, I find that there are certain discrepancies between our values, beliefs, and opinions about how one should live one's life.
Conversations often come to a standstill, and I feel like there's a club I just don't belong to. I'm not sure that it will ever change, so I continue to feel like someone straddling cultures and hoping no one ever calls my bluff because I would feel like I had somehow let them down. Why do I never recognize the moments they let me down? Maybe because they ingrained unconditional so deeply within me, even as they couldn't seem to follow their own teachings. The conditions get stifling sometimes, but I know who I am, and, with love for what has become truth as well as them, I refuse to allow them to affect that any more.
Conversations often come to a standstill, and I feel like there's a club I just don't belong to. I'm not sure that it will ever change, so I continue to feel like someone straddling cultures and hoping no one ever calls my bluff because I would feel like I had somehow let them down. Why do I never recognize the moments they let me down? Maybe because they ingrained unconditional so deeply within me, even as they couldn't seem to follow their own teachings. The conditions get stifling sometimes, but I know who I am, and, with love for what has become truth as well as them, I refuse to allow them to affect that any more.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
No Woman Is an Island
I am so thankful that I have found so many resources for writing recently. When I turn on my computer and get onto the internet, I immediatly visit a blog from an author I enjoy reading and is so gracious toward her fans. She also does an excellent job of keeping up with her blog (unlike yours truly). My first stop is www.genashowalter.blogspot.com .
Next, I like to visit Twitter. Here I follow authors Teresa Medieros, Christina Dodd, Michelle Rowen, Calistrowriter, Jill Monroe, Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and of course, Gena Showalter.
If I am still procrastinating from writing, I like to visit romance writers of america website where I can access so many authors' websites, many of whom are nice enough to give tips, hints, or whole articles about writing.
One of the most interesting and best resources are audio of authors discussing their own experiences. I like Will Write for Wine, AuthorTalk, and Christina Dodd's 2006 speech given at an RWA convention http://christinadodd.com/rwaspeech2006.html
There are always resources out there, and I am so excited to finish my current wip. Now, if I can just get offline with enough time to write, I might actually be able to finish.
Love and pages,
Kiera M.
Next, I like to visit Twitter. Here I follow authors Teresa Medieros, Christina Dodd, Michelle Rowen, Calistrowriter, Jill Monroe, Nalini Singh, Kresley Cole, and of course, Gena Showalter.
If I am still procrastinating from writing, I like to visit romance writers of america website where I can access so many authors' websites, many of whom are nice enough to give tips, hints, or whole articles about writing.
One of the most interesting and best resources are audio of authors discussing their own experiences. I like Will Write for Wine, AuthorTalk, and Christina Dodd's 2006 speech given at an RWA convention http://christinadodd.com/rwaspeech2006.html
There are always resources out there, and I am so excited to finish my current wip. Now, if I can just get offline with enough time to write, I might actually be able to finish.
Love and pages,
Kiera M.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I Was Totally Seduced
Just finished Seduce the Darkness, by Gena Showalter. Let's just say, I loved the pace, the characters, the setting, the romance, the everything. I have read a few of Gena Showalter's books, and I devour each one. This one was far from an exception! I can't wait for Dallas's story, and I keep telling myself that holding my breath for Deep Kiss of Winter is bad for my health, but still find myself getting excited. This is a highly recommended read (for those of you that plan your reading list based on my recommendations, Mom) for fans of Ms. Showalter, romantic fiction, and everyone else who has a heart, pick up a copy.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Excerpt of current WIP
Her heartbeat picked up slightly as candles flashed on around the room, and a large, stone platform rose from the floor.
“Oh, my. This can’t be good.” She knew she should turn back around and try to find the way out, but she felt drawn to the platform and what it might have been used for. It was just the kind of place where people were sacrificed. An alter, of sorts.
She approached it cautiously as the two-inch thick stone at the top began to slide to the side. Like something out of a horror movie, Giselle realized that this stone platform was actually a sarcophagus, and she didn’t know if she’d like to find out what was inside, but the curiosity was overwhelming, and she braced herself as she peered over the edge into the shadow of the inside.
With a sudden intake of breath, she was grabbed around her upper arms and pulled inside with a motion so quick, she hadn’t even realized what had happened until she was looking down at the most handsome face she’d ever seen staring right back at her. Impossible!
She had to be imagining this. Maybe she was dreaming in her tent in the jungle, or maybe it was way worse than that. Had she succumbed to some jungle disease that caused delirium?
He spoke, but she didn’t understand a word. With a quick release of her arms, he placed his hands on each side of her head, stared into her eyes for a brief moment, after which she felt hazy and warm. With a slow grin, he stroked her face and released her.
“You must be another virgin sacrifice?”
“Excuse me?”
“I told them not to send me anymore virgins. I need a woman with experience. A woman who knows her way around a man, do you know what I mean?”
“No, I really don’t.”
For the first time, he really looked at her, “Although in your case, I might be willing to make an exception. Yes, I think I would.”
She scrambled to her knees, clumsily putting her hand into a very embarrassing area. She meant to pull her hand away; she really did, but what she felt there fascinated her so much that she continued to rest her hand there to try to figure out if he could really be that well-endowed, and that erect.
“Oh, ho! No virgin are you. They’ve sent me a lusty, young widow. How could I ask for more? Let’s get started, shall we?”
She raised her hands so quickly to each side of her shoulders that she was thrown slightly off balance. “Wait! I’m not here for you. I mean, I’m an archeologist. I’m not a sacrifice of any kind.” Righting herself, she grabbed the side of the sarcophagus and pulled herself over the side, landing on one foot and one knee.
He sprang out beside her and she saw at once that he loomed over her, being at least a foot taller. He was also broad of shoulder and she leveled her gaze at an expanse of naked, bare chest. She had the strangest sensation that she’d like to measure him by spreading her hands out and rubbing them over the lean muscles and planes that undulated before her.
He cleared his throat and her eyes shifted to meet the laughter lighting his face. “Feel free, to drop to your knees and worship me properly, woman.”
She stood up so quickly, she had to steady herself on the side of the sarcophagus. “I think not. Look, I think you and I are clearly not on the same page. I am a scientist, and you, I think you must be slightly delusional.” Yes, that explained it. He must have gotten here first. Maybe gotten trapped inside like she had and went a little crazy. That had to be it.
He poked his lip out, and rounded his eyes at her, “Are you going to play hard to get? I’d much rather you chase me. The other women usually do.”
Despite herself, she could understand where he was coming from there. She felt heat suffusing the tender areas of her body and had a strong urge to get naked. What was going on here? Sure he was gorgeous, but she was a scientist. A rational, real-world scientist. She didn’t do things without days, weeks, years of planning.
He began moving toward her, and she matched his steps backward until she felt the stone wall pressing into her back. Leisurely, he rested his arm, cocked at the elbow above her head, his other hand pushing against the rough stone beside her shoulder, and leaned over her. His masculine scent filled her nose, and her head began to spin.
“I need you, mi amor. Will you lay with me?”
“Oh, my. This can’t be good.” She knew she should turn back around and try to find the way out, but she felt drawn to the platform and what it might have been used for. It was just the kind of place where people were sacrificed. An alter, of sorts.
She approached it cautiously as the two-inch thick stone at the top began to slide to the side. Like something out of a horror movie, Giselle realized that this stone platform was actually a sarcophagus, and she didn’t know if she’d like to find out what was inside, but the curiosity was overwhelming, and she braced herself as she peered over the edge into the shadow of the inside.
With a sudden intake of breath, she was grabbed around her upper arms and pulled inside with a motion so quick, she hadn’t even realized what had happened until she was looking down at the most handsome face she’d ever seen staring right back at her. Impossible!
She had to be imagining this. Maybe she was dreaming in her tent in the jungle, or maybe it was way worse than that. Had she succumbed to some jungle disease that caused delirium?
He spoke, but she didn’t understand a word. With a quick release of her arms, he placed his hands on each side of her head, stared into her eyes for a brief moment, after which she felt hazy and warm. With a slow grin, he stroked her face and released her.
“You must be another virgin sacrifice?”
“Excuse me?”
“I told them not to send me anymore virgins. I need a woman with experience. A woman who knows her way around a man, do you know what I mean?”
“No, I really don’t.”
For the first time, he really looked at her, “Although in your case, I might be willing to make an exception. Yes, I think I would.”
She scrambled to her knees, clumsily putting her hand into a very embarrassing area. She meant to pull her hand away; she really did, but what she felt there fascinated her so much that she continued to rest her hand there to try to figure out if he could really be that well-endowed, and that erect.
“Oh, ho! No virgin are you. They’ve sent me a lusty, young widow. How could I ask for more? Let’s get started, shall we?”
She raised her hands so quickly to each side of her shoulders that she was thrown slightly off balance. “Wait! I’m not here for you. I mean, I’m an archeologist. I’m not a sacrifice of any kind.” Righting herself, she grabbed the side of the sarcophagus and pulled herself over the side, landing on one foot and one knee.
He sprang out beside her and she saw at once that he loomed over her, being at least a foot taller. He was also broad of shoulder and she leveled her gaze at an expanse of naked, bare chest. She had the strangest sensation that she’d like to measure him by spreading her hands out and rubbing them over the lean muscles and planes that undulated before her.
He cleared his throat and her eyes shifted to meet the laughter lighting his face. “Feel free, to drop to your knees and worship me properly, woman.”
She stood up so quickly, she had to steady herself on the side of the sarcophagus. “I think not. Look, I think you and I are clearly not on the same page. I am a scientist, and you, I think you must be slightly delusional.” Yes, that explained it. He must have gotten here first. Maybe gotten trapped inside like she had and went a little crazy. That had to be it.
He poked his lip out, and rounded his eyes at her, “Are you going to play hard to get? I’d much rather you chase me. The other women usually do.”
Despite herself, she could understand where he was coming from there. She felt heat suffusing the tender areas of her body and had a strong urge to get naked. What was going on here? Sure he was gorgeous, but she was a scientist. A rational, real-world scientist. She didn’t do things without days, weeks, years of planning.
He began moving toward her, and she matched his steps backward until she felt the stone wall pressing into her back. Leisurely, he rested his arm, cocked at the elbow above her head, his other hand pushing against the rough stone beside her shoulder, and leaned over her. His masculine scent filled her nose, and her head began to spin.
“I need you, mi amor. Will you lay with me?”
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Books Galore
I have been so bad lately. I haven't done enough house work to even keep it sane, but I have been enjoying some pretty amazing reads. Nalini Singh's Psy/Changling series is AWESOME! And, I never realized how great Kresley Cole and Gena Showalter's books are until recently. Now, I can't seem to put them down, much to my husband's frustration. What he doesn't realize though, is that the heating up of our love life is probably directly related to the love and romance I'm reading.
So, should I start a new book? Ooooh, I'm so bad because of course I will.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
No Dice
Well, I didn't finish my manuscript (but I got well over where I thought I would). However, it didn't matter anyway because my idea wasn't chosen. Not only that, but when I went to twitter to see who was chosen, I saw that Deidre Knight posted a tweet that basically said she doesn't like my kind of story anyway. So, I never had a chance.
Back to the where I started.
Friday, April 10, 2009
What have I gotten myself into?
Ok, so I'm in quite a pickle. I went and entered a writing contest that requires a complete manuscript for the second round. Ha-Ha! Funny thing about that is I have a little over half of a manuscript. You can see the humor, right?
The reality is that I have three weeks until the second round, so it's possible to finish the manuscript (I have an outline after all) in two weeks and revise in the third week. Yeah, I could do that, except that's not all I have to do. I have a day job, a husband and three kids, and on top of it all, I have a large presentation and paper due about the same time. Doable? Yes. Easily doable? Probably not without ticking off some people I love dearly.
Well, I do love pickles, usually the ones that are dill (crunchy and a little sour), but this one might be just what I need to give me a good kick in the butt to get my book written. And, just to be realistic, there are thousands entering this very same contest. My odds of getting chosen are slim, so I really don't feel a need to break out into an itchy rash or anything just yet.
I'll keep updating on the *fantastic* progress I'm making.
The reality is that I have three weeks until the second round, so it's possible to finish the manuscript (I have an outline after all) in two weeks and revise in the third week. Yeah, I could do that, except that's not all I have to do. I have a day job, a husband and three kids, and on top of it all, I have a large presentation and paper due about the same time. Doable? Yes. Easily doable? Probably not without ticking off some people I love dearly.
Well, I do love pickles, usually the ones that are dill (crunchy and a little sour), but this one might be just what I need to give me a good kick in the butt to get my book written. And, just to be realistic, there are thousands entering this very same contest. My odds of getting chosen are slim, so I really don't feel a need to break out into an itchy rash or anything just yet.
I'll keep updating on the *fantastic* progress I'm making.
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