Running with Abandon

I’m usually a planner. I like to know what’s going on, when, where, how… you get the point. I tend to think about something before I do it. ‘If I do X, then Y may happen, and if so, Z…but what if I do Z and Y happens? Then I’ll say X’ and so forth and so on. It is rare that I charge into a situation without a plan.

It’s happened twice in my life. Once was the night that two dogs attacked my cat, Gracie. I was sitting in the front room of our old house and heard some commotion. Knowing my kitty was outside, I glanced out the window and saw them fighting. I flew out the door, through the yard, across the street, and into the neighbor’s yard in nothing but a t-shirt and some undies. Looking back that was pretty stupid for a plethora of reasons. I could have cut my feet on something in the road or hidden in the grass. The dogs could have turned on me, or worst of all, some people could have seen just what Victoria’s secret was all about. But I didn’t think about any of that at the time. I just thought about my kitty who needed me. I’m sorry to say that she died two days later from her injuries. But I tried.

The next time that I literally went charging in was just a few days ago. The alligator that lives in our pond was heading right for the ducks that live in our pond and well, I wasn’t interested in hosting some National Geographic episode in my backyard. I ran toward all of them, totally prepared to throw myself into the water if the ducks didn’t fly away, which fortunately, they did. I don’t think I even need to point out all of the reasons why that was a bad idea.

Now while I am in agreement that these were both really careless ways to behave, I can’t help but yearn for that feeling of complete and total abandon. Looking only ahead, plowing forward at full-steam, tunnel vision for your goal and your goal alone. To be free of society’s expectations, life’s worries and heartaches would take away the fear that holds all of us back. While I can’t live like that, I can sure as hell write like that. And I will. Using adverbs as I please, starting and ending sentences with prepositions, and going crazy with the dialogue because that’s what’s really in my heart.

In memory of Gracie Trujillo2008-2009

Expendable

My friend Monique went to a psychic, the same one who told me my books would be published as a matter of fact, and she was told that she ‘wasn’t from here.’ As in, this was her first time on this earth. Sometimes, I feel like that. Like, I don’t belong here. There are days when I feel like my soul is the pocket of a comfy coat with a hole in it. Nice and together on the outside, incomplete and inherently flawed on the inside. I daydream about being stopped on the street by a psychic and them saying, ‘Hey, this dream you have…don’t give up. This writing thing, it’s for real.” But who knows, maybe that’s not the case and maybe I have nothing to say that’s worth being said.

If you hold your hands in a tight fist in front of your body you will see the mind and soul of the majority of the population. Safe, secure, generally together. And the best part is that this is fine for them. They don’t need and/or want anything more. Now, untangle your hands and pull them back into a large circle, stretching your fingers as wide as they’ll go. That’s me. I’m…more. Everything is more for me. I feel more, see more, love more, hate more, hurt more, and want more. I want enough hours in the day to write proposals, be a mom and a wife, and still have time to be me. As it is, one of those will have to go. Guess who the only expendable one on that list is? Yep. Me.

Blogfest Contest with Agent Ammi-Joan Paquette!

Title: FireFlys
Genre: YA Paranormal
Word Count: 65,000


Pitch: I knew that losing my dad and moving to MiddleOfNowhere, GA would change my life. What I didn't know was how much it would change my heart.


I often think of that summer. When the sun hits the trees just right or the sound of a whippoorwill floats to me on an evening breeze, the memories come flooding back like the Saint Mary’s river after a hard rain. Even after all these years, now that I have children of my own, my memories of those long, hot days are more vivid and clear than they should be. I think they’ll always be with me, reverberating in every movement I make and for that, I am glad.

It’s time to share my story, that’s why I’m writing it down now. Maybe I’ll read it to my girls; maybe I’ll just save it for my own eyes on nights when I can’t sleep. Either way, I’ve started. And there’s no turning back now. Is this a true story? I’ll leave that for you to decide but I can tell you this; it is, without doubt, the story of the summer that I lost my dad and somehow, managed to find myself.

2011 - Year in Review

On the whole, I would say 2011 was…ehh. The mixture of bad
and good blended together like my Granny’s sauce and meatballs so they became an interchangeable dish of…ehh. I’ll break it down like this. Low point – husband losing his job and the threat of losing our house (which is still very real). High point – tie between getting promoted to a writer position at my day job and publishing my fourth novel, True North. There were lots of bumps and bruises along the way. A few fits of joy and moments of bliss, but they were always peppered with…ehh.

I’m looking forward to 2012. I’m releasing a book under a pen name. It’s an adult book and I don’t want my YA readers to search for me and get a little surprise so I thought it best to separate myself from it a bit. It will be out it March(ish). I’m also really moving forward at work, which is honestly more than I’d hoped for. I’m currently working on some content for our IT staffing brand and hope to present it soon. You know me; it’s a little…different. If they like it and start to use it in the proposal responses, I think that could be the last push I need to do away with the ‘Jr.’ in front of my title. I keep telling them, “I will write, so you might as well let me write your shit.” ;) I’ve got three YA projects in progress. FireFlys, True North #2, and The Lady, The Lake, and The Locket. By April I’ll make a decision on which one I’ll finish this year. I’m still undecided. Who knows if any of them will ever be published?

My main goal is still to be in print (though I did have an article published in a local paper here) and I won’t give up on that. All I can do is my best. Polish my MS to a pristine manner (i.e. have Courtney edit it! LoL) and hope someone sees the potential in the never-ending array of fictional characters that fight for attention in my head. No, I’m not crazy. That is very normal for a writer.

To all of you I say:

1) Thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for encouraging, thank you for being my friends. My Twitter family: I love you all. Book Bloggers, what can I say? What little success I’ve had is because of all of you. When I’m all famous and stuff, I’m soooo taking all of you with me. Might I add, I hope everyone knows that I love honesty. I love to hear if you think my stuff sucks, because that’s one of the ways I move forward in my writing; hearing your opinions and suggestions. In short, to me, there is no such thing as a bad review.

2) Please don’t give up on me. I’m getting better every day. I’m working hard to master my craft so that one day you’ll read something I’ve written and feel that twinge in your heart that you feel when you’ve read something that has truly touched you. And finally,

3) Don’t forget to believe. Believe in yourself, believe in your dreams. Believe in your family, your friends. Whatever it is that you’re doing, do it 100% because if you don’t, then what the hell is the point of doing it at all? I wish you all a healthy, happy, and prosperous new year.

True North; pages 42-46

This is one of my favorite parts of the book. Sahar and Cameron have their first big fight and we meet Dean, who, if I'm being honest, is my favorite character of all. ;)

“Cameron,” I called to him, “Cameron, hey wait up!” His pace never slowed and I had to run full sprint to catch up to him. My calls must have been lost in the wind and that was why he didn’t wait for me. It had to be.

He stopped and spun around, reaching out to grab my arms before I could put them around him. “Sahar, what are you doing?” he asked in a sharp tone.

“I…well, I saw you walking. I’ve called you a million times today, where have you been?”

“My daily whereabouts are none of your concern. I didn’t call you back because I didn’t want to talk to you.” His voice waivered on the last word. Anger? Was he mad at me?

“Have I done something to upset you?” I asked, stepping backward and away from his grasp on my arms.

“No…yes…no… It doesn’t matter. Look, we can’t be together okay. I’m sorry if I made you think we could, but we can’t.”

It wasn’t normal. The way I was feeling, as if his words were a sharp knife that continued to serrate my soul, in long slow movements, dragging out the pain. He kissed me. That was it. There wasn’t a profession of affection or devotion. It was just a kiss. My rational mind was aware of this. My rational mind was telling him that was fine and I didn’t care, to have a nice life. But there wasn’t anything rational about what I felt for him. So my irrational mind won out and I started to cry.

“But why? I don’t understand.” I sniffled and blotted my nose with my shirtsleeve. Attractive.

His demeanor softened at the sight of the tears and he ran his hands through his dark hair. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay. I don’t want anything to ever hurt you. It’s better this way.”

“Too late for that.” Now I was angry. What kind of cockamamie line was that? I don’t want anything to ever hurt you. “Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Good luck with the pack. I’m sure that dead body won’t stir up any trouble.” Okay, yes, I know my dad had told me not to say anything, but if you recall, I already mentioned that my rational mind had taken a hike.

He froze. I mean, stopped breathing froze and stared at me, his mouth agape as if he wanted to say something, but had come down with a sudden case of laryngitis.
“Whatever.” I turned and walked away from him. He was still standing like that when I glanced back at him over my shoulder. Good. Served him right.

Night had fallen and the streetlights were on. A soft glow from the storefront windows illuminated the sidewalk as I fought the strong winds walking back to my car. I had to lean into it and therefore did not see the body standing beside the car I was parked next to.

“Oh, I’m so sor…” Oh. My. God. My gaze traveled up the broad frame to meet black eyes that were alive with amusement. “I…I didn’t…”

He laughed, an easy going laugh that made me smile. “It’s all right,” he said. “It was just as much my fault as it was yours, I was looking down.” He kicked the tire of the car he was standing next to and I saw that it was flat as a pancake.

“Do you need a ride?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I knew this must be Dean. Small town, remember. And he fit the H-O-T description Rachel had given me. Of course I didn’t know anything about him other than the physical reaction my body was having looking at his gorgeous features that rivaled any famous movie star I had ever seen, but what the heck. I dared a look over my shoulder, searching the night for Cameron, but he had vanished.

“Hey, that would actually be great, as long as you aren’t some serial killer or something,” he said.

“I was just hoping the same thing about you. I’m Sahar North. It’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand and he took it in his, but just held it instead of shaking.
“I know who you are. Dean Anderson, nice to meet ya. That’s really a cool name, I’ve never heard it.”

“Thanks, it’s sort of a family name,” I told him.

He didn’t let go of my hand and I thought about pulling away, but didn’t want to be rude so I just stood there, feeling the warmth of his skin on mine.

“We should get going,” I told him, gently pulling my hand away to grab the car door in a surreptitious manner. “I didn’t expect to work today and need to get home before my dad does.”

I held the passenger side door of the Camry open and he slid in. What are you doing, I asked myself as I walked behind the car to the driver’s side. This was perhaps the single most reckless thing I had ever done. Hey, hot guy, I don’t know, hop on in my car and let’s drive down these dark roads. Ughh.

“Where to?” I asked him once inside and buckled. I knew where he lived, the house on Grover Street, but I couldn’t let him know that. He would think I was some kind of stalker or something.

“896 Grover Street. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah, sure.” Awkward silence followed. Well, awkward for me. Dean seemed perfectly content with his long legs stretched as far as they could go and his arms pulled back behind his head. I turned the radio on to fill the quiet. My mom was the last person in the car and it was set to an easy listening station.

“Nice tunes,” he said, a note of humor in his voice. “Maybe we can swing by the bingo game over at the rec hall.”

“Sorry, this isn’t really my kind of music,” I told him frantically flipping for something with a beat. “This isn’t my car, I just turned sixteen and don’t have my own car yet.”

He looked over at me, “Huh, you sure look older than sixteen. I guess that means you’ll be going to TNH then?”

“Yeah, junior year for me. What about you?”

“Senior. Finally. I only need one math credit to graduate, then it’s so long to parental domination and hello to my freedom in college.”

“You don’t like your parents?” I asked him, turning on Grover Street. My foot eased off the gas. What was the speed limit on this road anyway?

“It’s just me and my dad and he’s okay, I’m just sick of moving. We move all the time. He works for the government as an environmentalist. They send him all over, testing the ground and shit. Needless to say I’ve been to every rural, nothing town in these here United States. No offense.”

“None taken,” I assured him.

“This is me,” he said, pointing to the driveway off the main road that I was already heading to. It had been a while since I’d come this way, the house was spooky looking in the dark. “Hey, it was nice to meet you, Sahar. I’ll see you on Tuesday. Who the hell starts school on a Tuesday anyway?” He laughed at his own joke and hopped out of the car.

I saw him throw a backward wave as he danced up his driveway to some song he had begun to sing. I think it was something about a bad moon? He seemed to be in an awfully good mood for your average run of the mill I-hate-my-parents-and-can’t-wait-to-get-out-of-here teenager.

He was odd.
I liked him.

Cameron & Sahar

True North

Time to Write

I am officially suffering from Literary Schizophrenia. I think I need an intervention. How have I come to such conclusions you ask? Let’s look at the facts, shall we? Currently I am writing:

FireFlys – 66,000
The Lady, The Lake, and The Locket – 23,791 words
Timeless Love – 7,590 words
Dreams – 1,940 words
Be Nice Nerina (Short Story) – 955 words
True North #2 (East) – 765 words

That is a lot of words. Completely…useless…words. One of those could very well be the one. You know, the one that allows me to break out of this mundane life and be a ‘professional’ author – as in, get paid enough to consider it my full-time job. *Sigh* I don’t think it will ever happen, but I can’t give up. I saw this movie once where these people were trapped in this maze and they finally just sat down, giving up, and died. Little did they know that the exit was right around the corner so if they’d just given it that extra ‘umph’ they would have made it. I believe it’s time for me to give it some extra ‘umph’ and finish a damn book. Any suggestions? Lady, Lake, Locket was my Nano idea and when I randomly closed my eyes and pointed to one, that was the winner, but I just can’t seem to get going with it. There is drama in my life (shocker) so perhaps that’s why. I’m so emotionally drained at night that all I want to do is lie in bed with the covers over my head and cry. The only thing to do, is to just make up my mind to do it. Right? Yes, no need to respond. I know I’m right.

So here we go. Here’s the ‘umph’: I will write 1K words a day until I’m done. Not edit. Not revise. Write. Word goal, 60K. Are you with me? Ready? Set… Go!