Enjoying Life with 3 Dogs, 2 Kids & an ADHD Husband.

So, as I head down the homestretch on Demon Gaurd revisions, I decided to post something new for a change. This is a random snip from a story that doesn’t have much of a plot yet. Or any plot at all, really. It’s also totally different than anything I’ve written before.

I’d give just about anything to change that.

Another Teaser from Demon Guard, because, hey–what else to I work on these days? But I finally have a FINISHED ROUGH DRAFT—WOOT!

“For—Goddammit! Can’t you smell that?” Suddenly, he burst away from the wall, his eyes blazing once more with rage.

In case anyone is wondering what DG is about, a fellow crit group member (the amazing Amy Bai) summed it up as Mean Girls meet Harry Potter. That totally works for me–although, I could also go with Veronica Mars meet Something-Vampire-Academy-esque-But-Without-the-Vampires. Um, yeah. Maybe I should stick with my crit partner’s version.

Kill.

So, I just found out that Nathan Bransford is donating by the pound, er, comment, to Heifer International on his blog. And I figured, what the heck–why not spread the holiday beef, um, cheer, and play along? (Seriously–I’m not touching that last sentence with a ten-foot candy cane. My fellow Purgy AWers will know what I mean when I say GIANT PORK CHOP).

Here’s how it works: for every comment I receive between now and midnight tonight December 31st, Pacific time, I’ll donate $1 to Heifer International. We’ll cap it at 200 comments–basically because I know that ginormic holiday Visa bill is already out there somewhere , just biding it’s time before swooping down and giving me a coronary. But that’s another depressingly morbid thought topic. Oh, and also, because that’s what Amanda did, the cool OPWFTer who clued me in to this great idea.

I mean, seriously, wouldn’t it be cool to say you’ve given someone a cow for Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Christmukkah? Even if it’s only like, half a leg? (I know, I know–morbid again. Sorry.)

So, in the comments section, just type your name, city/state you’re from, and tell me either your favorite holiday yummy OR what you’d name one of Santa’s reindeer, if given the chance.

Thanks for stopping by!

Okay, so here’s another scene from The Demon Guard I worked on recently with my fellow AWers in FNW. (*shout out to my FNW peeps*).

The set-up: The MC Summer is in Magics class, where she and Shade are both in the magically-challenged group. She’s a little skeptical of Professor Taggert’s teaching methods. (Oops–should also add–she’s been hearing voices for the past few days.)

Taggert noticed Shade at the same time I did. “Mr. Freemont—that is no way to help yourself tap into your innate abilities. Please, set the pen down and close your eyes.”

Shade capped his pen with a huge flourish and closed his eyes. An instant later, he started humming under his breath. I tried not to snort when I recognized the tune: an old Police song called Every Little Thing She Does is Magic.

“Ms.Chance? The same goes for you.”

I hastily squeezed my own eyes shut.

Taggert’s raspy baritone suddenly turned soft and soothing. “Now, try to envision yourself in the most relaxing place you can imagine. For many it’s water, but some of you with an affinity for other elements might feel drawn to them. Just let your brain take you where it wants to go. Let your muscles relax. Your feet and toes, then your legs—release them. Let them drift away.”

His voiced continued in its mellow pitch, and surprisingly, my body followed his commands. My muscles relaxed and softened into liquid mush at his prompting, like I was lying in the backyard of our old house, soaking up the heat of the sun. A few moments later, and I felt Mom’s presence there, smiling down at me. Relief and happiness crashed over me in tranquil waves. So warm. So peaceful.

“Don’t chase the Magic—let it come to you. Let it slip softly into your mind, filling you up completely. Do you feel it?”

I felt—something. A distant humming, but soothing this time. Warmer.

“Good. Now, gently try to touch the Magic with your mind. Let it lead you to where it wants you to go.”

The humming grew louder. I was still in the backyard, but suddenly, I heard voices. Lots of voices. Some happy, some sad. More and more chimed in, until they filled my brain, expanded it. Too many voices. All shrieking, talking at the same time, commanding me to listen.

The voices intensified even more. They shoved against the inside of my skull, swooping with a crazed frenzy down into the rest of my body, until every inch of me thrummed with electric pain. The pressure—God. It was killing me. It was too loud. Too much.

A gut-wrenching scream stabbed into my head, drowning out the voices entirely. I ricocheted out of my chair and jerked my eyes open. Only to find my hands plastered over my ears, and the entire classroom staring. At me.

Well, um–I kinda think the title says it all. Crap. Now what do I do?

Oh, yeah–I guess I could give you a linky:

Old People Writing for Teens

Oh, and come back soon–I’ve got more great writing tips to share from the Big Sur Children’s Writing Workshop.

Sparkle Out.

Okay, so I was named in this Thanksgiving meme by Amy Bai over at PurplePatch, about the 10 Things I Am Thankful For. Yeah, yeah, I realize I’m a wee bit late, but just go with it, okay? We’ll pretend it’s still timely. Anyway, every even numbered item has to be related to writing, and the rest can be about other stuff. Like mounted heads.

And we’re off!

1. I’m thankful this is my blog and nobody can give me smack for not doing this meme on time. My blog, my timeline. Yay!

2. I’m thankful for the awesome 10 inch laptop hubs bought me for X-Mas last year. It’s super light, which is a must, since I cart around about a billion pounds of paper in the same bag, and oh-so-cute. Although, its cuteness factor actually gets in the way of writing sometimes—people often interrupt me mid-thought to ask me ridiculous questions. Like, “Does that really work?” (um, no—this is just my new mime routine) or “Wow—can you SEE that screen?” (of course not—computers with actual visuals are passé). Maybe I need to knit a disguise for it—like, a little computer sweater. That way, they’ll think I’m nuts and leave me alone.

3. I’m thankful my house hasn’t burned down, flooded, or otherwise imploded while hubs has been on kid duty lately. If you’re familiar with my family life, you’ll understand.

4. I’m thankful for my amazing writing peeps on AW—both my Purgies and my OPWFTers. There’s no way I could undergo this crazy writing process without you—at least, not and preserve my sanity. No, the latter part of my statement is not up for debate. Oh, and I’m especially thankful for freaky Krampus Kringle making an appearance in the forums last night—because it means somebody’s sense of humor is more warped than mine.

5. I’m thankful for my wonderful family—the kidlets, the hubs, and yes, even the doggage–although there are times I think the small demented Rottie might look good mounted over my fireplace. In fact, there are times when I think hubs and the kids might look good there, too. But that’s only like 5% of the time—okay, 6%. Which means I don’t think about how peaceful the house would be if they were stuffed and mounted like, 94% of the time—and I consider that a major victory. And no–my sanity, still not up for discussion.

6. I’m thankful for Boudin, the place where I go to write and terrorize the staff. Their caffeinated iced-tea has saved me from permanently imprinting my keyboard on my forehead on many occasions. I’m especially thankful for the baker there, who gives me free chocolate chip cookies.

7. I’m thankful for chocolate, without which the baker could not give me free cookies. We wouldn’t want to put a damper on her altruism. Or my expanding tushy.

8. I’m thankful for my laser printer, cranky and decrepit as it is. Even if the blasted thing does decide to take unscheduled breaks halfway through printing my manuscript—only to start over from the beginning.

9. I’m thankful for my AWESOME husband, who is more supportive of my writing than I could ever hope for. Also, I’m convinced there’s no other father alive who spends this much time with his kids and enjoys it so much. No, you may not have him—go find your own.

10. I’m thankful for all of the wonderful YA writers, agents, editors—everyone in the industry who makes those YA books come to life. Without you, there’d be no wonderful stories to read—and no dreams of publishing my own one day.

Here’s a scene I worked on in Friday Night Writes with my AW peeps awhile back.  Still needs some finessing, but I think it’s kind of fun.  Hope you enjoy!  

            My mouth gaped open, and my heart froze in my chest. Holy shit—it was porn. Only somehow, I was the freaking star.

Okay, so today I’m posting a cut scene from Demon Guard.  I actually ended up going in a whole different direction with the plot.  I hadn’t even remembered it until about two hours ago, when I dug it up in all it’s unedited glory.  I did spend some time trying to revise it a bit– because, hey, how else was I going to procrastinate working on REAL scenes?–but it’s still mighty rough-ish.  Maybe I can find a home for it in my sequel. *snicker*  Hey, a girl can dream, right? 

Anyway, here’s the set-up.  Summer (the MC’s) old friends Kat and Allie go to spike demons in a parking lot to join the Academy, only–they’re not the meek little Stage Ones they’re supposed to be.  Rather, it’s an ambush, with three fully embodied demons waiting to attack.  Kat and Allie are captured.  Summer and her friends Cody and Shade try to fend them off and save the girls, but will their efforts be enough?  Read on:

When I was only a few feet away, I tossed my spike to Cody, who immediately feinted left.  The demon followed the spike with hate-filled eyes.

It was all the opportunity I needed.  I launched forward, whipping my leg around when I got within striking distance to do a foot sweep.  Whack!  I caught the demon above the ankle, with just enough force to make him stumble.  As he toppled forward, his grip on Kat loosened, and Cody jumped him from behind.  The spike glinted in the sun as it arched to pierce the demon’s skull.  His scream rent the air while he tumbled to gritty asphalt, Cody clinging to his back, Kat crashing down beside them.  I rolled and grabbed her around the waist, hoisting us both to our feet so we could leap back and out of danger.

Several yards away, Shade wrestled the lone demon into a headlock. His spike flashed.  Then, he hefted up the demon and tossed it good twenty feet across the parking lot.  I felt my jaw go slack. What the hell?  But I didn’t have time to ponder that physical impossibility.  We had a third demon to take down. 

The remaining demon’s brawny arm still circled Allie’s neck, her feet dangling a foot off the ground. Her ragged gasps for air grew weaker. I raced toward her and, out of the corner of my eye, saw Shade do the same.  But even though I was sprinting, I felt like I was moving in slow motion. Like I was trying to force my way through hip-deep sand.  My heart thumped in time with my footsteps as I struggled to reach her in time. 

The demon gripped Allie on one side of her chin. Metallic fear coated my mouth while a scream of terror echoed through the parking lot. 

Mine.  

Allie’s tear-filled eyes pleaded with me.  My body responded, and a new burst of strength powered me forward. But I was too far.  Too late. Helpless to do anything other than watch.

A quick jerk of the demon’s wrist.  A crunch of snapping neck .  “NOOOO!”  The tortured howl burst from somewhere deep within me.   Allie’s eyes flickered once, twice—and then their light dimmed to a sightless stare.  Seconds later, her limp body slumped in a heap at the demon’s feet. 

            Everything after that was a blur.  I dove for Allie’s body while Shade tackled the last demon.  I shook her, laying my head over her chest to see if any air was going in.  Nothing.  Utter stillness.  Tears filled my eyes, even though I’d known before I checked it was futile. 

People with broken necks didn’t breathe.

            As I laid there with my cheek still pressed to her chest, the warmth of her body felt both familiar and cruel.  I caught Kat’s horrified gaze from across the lot.  Fuzzy little black dots danced in front of her face.  I prayed for darkness to take me, to give me a brief respite from the pain crushing my heart.  But fate had no such kindness in store.  Though the parking lot wavered like a mirage, it never disappeared entirely.

Neither did the body of the dead friend cradled in my arms.

As some of you may know, I’m eyebrow-deep in revisions right now for Demon Guard, with serious hopes of finishing the main stuff before NaNo starts.  So, in the interest of procrastinating whipping my muse into shape, I’ve come up with a little blog post.  It’s a list of the Top Ten Reasons Why Revisions are Better than Sex.  Feel free to add your reasons as well, and procrastinate whip your muse right along with me.  Giddy-up!

10.  You don’t have to get naked to do revisions (Although, you can if you want–just be sure to switch your webcam off first.)

9.  Your revisions don’t care if you pause in the middle of the action to check out Glee or Gossip Girl.  I mean, it’s Chuck Bass!

8.  Performing revisions in your favorite coffee shop will not result in you being booted, arrested, or getting latte with extra froth in unmentionable places.

7.  The satisfaction of a good revision won’t wear off in, say, five minutes.

6.  You won’t feel bad about eating that extra piece of chocolate cake before jumping into revisions.

5.  Your children can be present during revisions without fear of scarring them for life.

4.  Multiple partners can help with your revisions—and you won’t be labeled kinky.

3.  You can curse your revisions with as many creative obscenities as you like, and it still won’t affect your chances of getting lucky with them.

2.  The only way revisions will result in an expanding belly is if you pig out on Haagen Dazs Dulce de Leche and In-N-Out burgers while writing.

1.  You never know—the perfect revision may lead to a long-lived and prosperous career.  The perfect sexual encounter?  Not so much.  Unless said career involves thigh-high boots and a tube top.  (Okay, so maybe the second career is more prosperous, but still…..)

Now, quit being so productive and take a moment to name yours!