Note to Self (107) Toy soldier

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I opened a jar of jelly and I dipped a sweet finger deep in my mouth.

You gave me a desperate look, like you wanted to share the sweetness with me too.

But I shook my head. You couldn’t share anything with me yet. Because you were a toy soldier.

A toy soldier. You followed orders and you obeyed, and I could see in your eyes you didn’t like it much but you did it anyway. Because you were meant to serve me the right way. Because I chose you to please me, to tease me, to need me, to beg me, to taunt me, to teach me how to drive you crazy with more favors, more prayers, more tokens of an appreciation I didn’t necessarily own… And you smiled trying to be nice, but I seriously didn’t care about you. I didn’t see you, only used you.

Another piece broke. Let’s not fix you. Your time with me has slowly come to an end, and I must part ways now.

I opened a jar of jelly and I dipped a sweet finger deep in my mouth. I’ll flick another switch and I’ll enjoy a fun ride without you by my side. Don’t cry, don’t pry, don’t even try to come back, I don’t want you near, I thought we were clear, I tossed you to the curb and forgot all about you. Last thing I did was delete your phone number of my contact list. Therefore you’ll fall among the abyss of a place where everything’s dark, cold and humid. All alone, my dear toy soldier, I remain a happy heart you cannot crush anymore.

I want a real man.

Note to Self (106) A small tribute

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Less than a year ago, we didn’t know each other. Sure, we worked in the same building, but we never got to interact. I didn’t have a clue you even existed. 

One day I was asked to help you on a project. No big deal. We didn’t really talk. Maybe a bit on the phone. Maybe we sent each other emails. Nothing happened even after we moved to another building, and again, our offices were not that far from each other, but we still didn’t talk. There was nothing to talk about. 

And then, we were assigned to the same team. The project was bigger and required more time together. We went from not talking at all, to exchanging a few words, to finally breaking the ice and chatting like we were the best buddies in the entire world. And after the project ended, we still kept in touch. 

I call to check on you. I send you funny YouTube videos to lift your spirits when I know you’re stuck late. Life has taken a different turn since we finally found that amazing connection. 

Friendship. I can say we’re friends now. I told you more than I ever told most friends I have. You shared my secrets. You shared my ups and downs. You helped me, you supported me, and you gave me advice. You never judged me. You never treated me like an inferior. You are there. Always. 

This is to you. My little tribute to your generous soul and your brilliant mind because you’re such a great buddy, I don’t know what I’ll do without you. No matter what happens next, I hope we’ll stay friends. Thanks pal. You really rock.

Book Review – Jaguar Sun by Martha Bourke #WomensLiteraryCafe

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Jaguar Sun (Jaguar Sun Series #1)Jaguar Sun by Martha Bourke

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I usually don’t read YA fantasy. I can easily claim I’m a tough cookie when it comes to review books, because my taste level is extremely sensitive to bad editing, bad writing, stupid plot lines and idiotic characters. I say it how it is. Either your book’s great or it sucks.

Martha was courageous enough to ask whether I’d like to review her latest book: Jaguar Sun. I had no idea what the story was until she just told me it had to do with the end of the world and the Mayan calendar. Alright. She convinced me to give it a shot.

Jaguar Sun is definitely a fun book to read. The style flows, the editing is excellent, and the story is really good. She tells the tale of Maya, a sixteen year old girl of Mayan descent, who one day discovers she has become a shifter. In a world where every human being has an animal alter ego, Maya knows the consequences of such a change on her life and the life of her friends. Her fate will soon be revealed to her, and she will understand she’s part of a much bigger picture involving the end of the world on December 21, 2012. Aided by her lovely boyfriend Matt, and her best friends the twins Damian and Lyssa, she will learn how to accept her new condition and how to use her energy to save the world from evil forces. Jaguar Sun is the beginning of a series which will be followed by Jaguar Moon.

If you like witty and strong female characters, Maya is your girl. Matt is simply to die for, and I think every woman will have a serious crush on him after the first few chapters. The twins spice up the story with just the right amount of humor.

So what are you waiting for? Go read!

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#TheWritersCollection – Brothers Water

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Please visit the Writers Collection site at: http://thewriterscollection.com/

 

I lost sight of you by the lake, where we used to walk, hand in hand, our mind in unison with the world and our hearts singing the same melody of the love we felt for each other then. I lost sight of you when you told me you couldn’t be with me anymore and I asked you: why, but you didn’t respond and turned away.

Now I stare at the crystalline surface of the water and I let my sorrow grow within my chest until it hurts so much I can’t take the pain anymore and I start throwing rocks at the lake. I hate the reflection of my broken face onto the face of the earth, and I want to end it all. I grab my head between my hands, but I refuse to let go, because I think it’s weak to let go by a lake like a wimp after my girlfriend dumped me. I can’t understand why she did that, and then I think maybe she found another guy, better, smarter, stronger than me, and thinking of that crushes me even more. I can’t accept the ugly truth of her leaving me, because I’m nothing without her.

God wants me to suffer, I extrapolate, I speculate, I discover twists in a plot I just made up on the spot, because I want to feel better, and I don’t want to take responsibility for the jerk I really am. Because she left me. Because she didn’t give me an explanation, that must be her fault for not understanding who I really am, she didn’t make any effort to patch things up and she left because she was the coward. Not me! No, I’m the strong one, the alpha dog in the relationship and I’m sure of it now, she’s going to come back begging for me to take her but I won’t, because I’m such a strong alpha dog and she has no idea what I’m made of. I was born in a cradle of awesomeness, I was made of steel and nothing can break me, not even these feelings that are still inside my heart and I can’t get rid of them for some reason. I don’t get it. I can’t let this affect me like this, I’m a man for godsake! I kick more rocks on the beach of the lake and I stop staring at the water because I’m no romantic wuss after all, I’m tough, I’m able to contain my emotions and I won’t fail, and I won’t let her destroy me like this. I can’t allow it. I won’t allow it.

My hand touches the sand and I hold a big rock in my palm, feeling the rough edges and the cold quartz against my skin, and my fingers play with the idea of hitting something with it, something fragile and soft, something I could kill in one blow. I want to get rid of the pain I feel and this pain must go, so I want to end a life to feel better about myself. But all I see is a dead bird on the shore. I don’t care, the dead bird will do, I have too much hate to go home and forget about it all while drinking a cup of coffee and pretending I’m fine when I know I’m not. So I walk toward the bird and I look at it for a long time. I watch the dead carcass rotting on the beach, the feathers once light and beautiful now a blur of an idea, mere remains of a corpse I’m going to kill again. At least God won’t get mad at me for committing a mortal sin.

I breathe slowly, focusing on the bird, and I smile. I smile for the first time, I feel the heat of a grin fill up my face and I keep that smile as I strike the bird hard, and the brains and bones spatter everywhere, and I feel the need to hit more, so I keep hitting until my hand sinks into the sand and my skin is covered in dried blood, sand and feathers. The smile has left my face and I feel better. I feel relieved, at peace, empty of this burden I was carrying all my way to the lake, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think. But now everything’s clear.

Today I finally let go of you and it feels way too damn good. I look at the lake again and I forget about us, I forget about my love for you and I let the rock fall and it makes a loud thump when it touches the ground, and I walk away, leaving the still water and all my memories behind me.

Note to Self (105) My Love

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It took me a while to figure it out, what I wanted in life and what my dreams were made of, and when I finally opened my eyes I knew. Maybe we were meant to meet so suddenly; I certainly didn’t expect you to appear so soon and give me the hope everything would be alright. Distance didn’t matter anymore. My dead relationship and all the baggage I carried didn’t drag me down and I looked up to you, certain it was the right decision to make. I saw clear, and I understood.

I believe in a world where we’ll someday be united. I believe in a world where boundaries won’t matter and we’ll create this place of bliss we’ve been longing for so long. I sense in my heart you were sent as a gift from God, and for that I’m deeply grateful. 

I can’t tell how much we’ll grow together, or even if we’ll have the slightest chance to see a lot of each other but right now I really don’t care. You gave me so much in so little time, I consider myself already blessed to have found you. 

Sweet dreams, my love. You’re a true spark of light in a hell of darkness, and every night you brighten my spirits like no other can do. Thank you.

Note to Self (104) My 2012 Resolutions

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It has become a bit cliché to write New Year resolutions because everybody keeps telling me nobody sticks to them. Well… I couldn’t disagree more. This year in particular, I want them to mean something.

One year ago, I started fresh. I decided to take control of my life again, and to be happy instead of miserable. It was tough. It was difficult to fight against the demons of my past but with discipline and friends’ advice, I made it through in one piece.

For 2012, I made a few resolutions I wish will help me stay strong and focused, not only as a writer, but also as an individual.

I choose to not waste time with unreliable and untrustworthy friends. I don’t even call them friends anymore.

I choose to not waste time hanging out with people who don’t bring me anything.

I choose to not let alcohol steer my nights out.

I choose to pray more and give thanks for all the good I received from God.

I choose to stay true to myself, no matter what.

I know 2012 will be a great year, and I know it won’t be the end of the world for anybody. 2012 will only be the beginning of something great, you’ll see.

#TheWritersCollection – Beaches

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To read the other authors’ posts, please go to http://thewriterscollection.com/

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I didn’t grow up near a beach. I grew up in the countryside, surrounded by cows and corn fields. I always imagined the meadow by the house would take me far away to a place where the water looked absolutely transparent, and I could dive in it, swim naked in it, forget about my boring life and focus solely on my dreams. This meant not only fun, but mostly freedom and infinite possibilities.

When I turned fifteen, my father retired and decided to move to the South of France, so from that age up to twenty-two years I lived by the sea. Did my childhood dream come true? Yes and it actually morphed into something deeper than I thought. The water became my element, something I needed to breathe and feel whole. I loved driving down the Moyenne Corniche in my tiny little Fiat Seicento to find the empty beaches where no tourist went, and I stayed there all morning, from eight until noon, swimming most of the time. I also loved to snorkel and one day I even discovered a shipwreck underwater. Seeing that boat at the bottom of the sea made me feel weird inside. I thought of the people who sailed that ship, the storm that smashed the stern into pieces, and I imagined ghosts wandering on the deck, scaring curious witnesses like me. I felt one with the water, one with the world, and I wanted time to stop so I can enjoy it forever.

But the best experience I had happened in Corsica. We were vacationing with friends at the bottom of the island, by Bonifacio. The city sits on a cliff and offers an impressive panorama of the Mediterranean Sea. You feel like the horizon never ends when you stand there and you’re mesmerized at how much beauty Mother Nature throws in your face without you even asking for it.

 

One day we decided to go for a walk on the cliff to take pictures, until one old man driving a car down the road halted and asked us if we wanted to see the most beautiful beach in the world. At first we thought he might be a pervert or a psychopath, but after chatting a bit, we decided to follow him and jumped in his car. We were maybe crazy, certainly adventurous, but there was nothing to regret once we reached the shore he talked to us about.

bugbog.com

White sand for miles. Nobody on the beach to disturb us. Water so warm and so clear you felt you had landed in a surreal environment. I believed only my imagination could have created a world like this one. That day I was proven wrong.

The beach marked my life forever. I will always remember the tiny waves hitting my toes, the tiny fish nibbling my legs, the white sand sticking to my feet, the sun hitting the water surface and creating a perfect mirror, and the little bit of the Sardinia coast I could see on the horizon. That day I was set on leaving France and settling in the United States because I knew in my heart everything was possible.

I’d like to return there someday, maybe with my best friends, maybe with my children, because that beach wasn’t only magical, it was heaven.

Guest Post (15) Frank C. Balara #WomensLiteraryCafe

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Hello everyone and happy new year!

On this January 4, 2012, I have the pleasure to feature an amazing author – please welcome Frank C. Balara! I’m promoting his latest short story on my blog and on the Women’s Literary Cafe blog as well. As you know, I have the honor to be an elite blogger for the WLC hosted by the extremely talented Melissa Foster. Please visit the WLC website for more details on the WLC’s elite bloggers and other opportunities for readers and authors. www.womensliterarycafe.com

Without further ado, I present to you Frank C. Balara!

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Q: Tell us a bit about yourself and your current projects. 

I’m a stay-at-home dad moonlighting as an independent author. As I write this, I’m busy publishing my first short story, Manufactured Pleasures, as a Kindle Single.

Q: When and why did you begin writing?

I started writing in earnest at the age of sixteen. It was heartbreak that got my pen moving. I created some of the saddest, sappiest poems and stories ever written. I think I managed to destroy most of it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow became required reading for writers who go to hell.

Q: When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I first felt like a writer during my third and final attempt to finish my English Literature/Creative Writing degree. I was 25 and my classes and teachers were opening my eyes to so much beyond the self-absorbed writing I had been doing since the age of 16.  I was learning new ways to write and new subjects to write about. I was finally able write something besides a tragic love story about myself.

Q: What inspired you to write your first story?

When I was in the 3rd grade, a 6th grader had managed to have his mystery story published in our local paper. He got his photo in there and everything. I thought that was pretty cool. So, instead of reading his story, I went to my room and started writing my own story about a “vanpier” that lived under my bed. I never managed to get it in the paper, but I did scare myself silly and refuse to sleep in my room for a week.

Q: How did you come up with the title of your work?

The title, Manufactured Pleasures, and the idea for the story both come from John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. There’s a chapter in there – I think it’s 21 or 22 – about the dispossessed Okies having to manufacture their pleasures as they headed to California. They would stop at campsites each night and pool what little they had to entertain each other: someone might play the guitar while someone else sang, the kids would all make up games to play together and there were storytellers, too. It seemed to me that they weren’t doing anything I didn’t do as a kid, but I wondered if kids today could say the same thing and that was the idea that got me writing my story.

Q: What’s your writing style? Is there a message in your story that you want readers to grasp?

I’m not sure what my style is or if I even have one. I know each story I write seems to sound different from the others, so maybe the stories themselves dictate their style of writing? I hope that makes sense.

I think my biggest message in Manufactured Pleasures is to unplug now and then and talk with your kids. I know everyone pushes the drug, sex and bullying talks, but talking doesn’t always have to be so weighted. It can be light and fun and silly sometimes. Share a funny thing that happened at work or an embarrassing moment or just make up a story.

Q: What books have influenced your life most?

Each for different reasons:

Wild Mind: Living the Writer’s Life by Natalie Goldberg

East of Eden by John Steinbeck

For The Time Being by Annie Dillard

Q: Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?

I have several favorite authors, but if I had to pick one I’d say, John Steinbeck. What really strikes me about his work is that while it has many serious themes there’s always room for some humor and kind-heartedness.

Q: Do you have any advice for other writers?

My advice to other writers is to not sit in a vacuum like I did for so many years. It’s so easy to find writing groups online these days. Find some other writers and share your work with them.

Q: Do you have anything specific you want to say to your readers?

Thank you for taking the time to read my work! I hope I made you smile at least once and maybe gave you something interesting to think about. That’s my goal with every story I write.

Please check Frank’s website at http://frankbalara.blogspot.com/

 

To read more of his intriguing short story Manufactured Pleasures, please visit Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006SHW3C2

Thank you Frank for taking the time to answer a few of my questions and good luck with your future endeavors!

Until next time! 🙂

Guest Post (14) Renee Pawlish #SunStoppedShining

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On this last day of the tour (sniffles), I welcome bestselling author Renee Pawlish!

Why is Renee Pawlish a bestselling author? Because she kicks ass, that’s why. If you want to read her work, go check out her latest book, Nephilim, on Amazon. Did I mention Nephilim was on the bestseller’s list?


Renee has also written the Reed Ferguson mystery series (This Doesn’t Happen In The Movies and Reel Estate Rip-off), a short story collection (Take Five), a non-fiction account of a haunted house investigation (The Sallie House: Exposing the Beast Within) and she has a story included in Dark Moon presents: Vampires!

Check Renee’s website http://www.reneepawlish.com

Phew. Ok, now I can tell you’re impressed. 

Renee has been kind enough to provide us with a few tips on how to be a horror writer. Thank you Renee for sharing your knowledge, I know readers of this blog will certainly enjoy learning from you. Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, Renee Pawlish!

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I never intended to write horror.  I started out as a mystery writer because those were the stories I loved reading, so it was natural to write novels in that genre.  But then I had a dream that turned into Nephilim Genesis of Evil.  And suddenly I was a horror writer as well as a mystery writer.  But I knew very little about writing horror…what to do?  First off, I did research.  And then I read a whole bunch of horror to see what other authors were doing.  Here are a few things I learned from this process.

 

The Horror, Of Course

Any horror book has to have some kind of horror in it.  Duh, right?  But I was surprised at the number of “horror” novels that I read where this element was missing, or it wasn’t evil and scary enough.  Lately horror seems to be about violence – get as much blood and guts in the story as possible.  That may be all well and good, but I prefer a story that lets the reader’s imagination create the images of horror because, let’s face it, our minds can dream up much more that words on a page can.  So it’s important to set your scenes well so a reader can imagine up even more terror than you intended.  Take a tip from the master:

Never state a horror when it can be suggested.  H.P. Lovecraft

 

Pull Your Readers In

A successful horror story will intrigue the reader right from the start.  I’ll give you an example.  I read a work by an indie author a number of years ago.  He’d written a book with a compelling storyline, but the horror part didn’t appear until page 87 of the book.  He had a bunch of back story about his hero and so on.  It was written well, but it didn’t scare me, nor did it keep me interested (I only finished the book because I was helping him edit it).  Your evil needs to be introduced right away, it needs to be sufficiently menacing, and it needs to stay hovering there until you pound your reader with the evil itself.

 

Keep the Suspense High

Once you’ve pulled your readers in, keep the story flowing with copious doses of suspense.  Fill in your back story carefully so you don’t slow your story too much.  Remember that you are entertaining your readers.  In this day and age, people want a fast-paced story, so give it to them.  The spooky tone you set at the beginning of your story should be continued right until the end.  Don’t throw in violence for the sake of violence.  Yes, some readers will like this, but the vast majority will feel cheated (even if they can’t put their finger on exactly why, they’ll feel like something in the story doesn’t work).

 

A Great Ending

Above all, give your readers a great ending.  People like twists and turns in stories, and they love an ending that they weren’t expecting.  Many horror stories have a wrap-up as well, where things are back to normal.  Unless you have a story like Nephilim, where it’s leading to a sequel.  Then you have a great cliffhanger.

 

Final Thoughts

I’ve left out a whole slew of other things that help make a horror story great.  And for every rule, there is an exception.  Just remember, if you’re going to break the rules, do it well because your readers will know if you don’t, and they’ll be disappointed.  So get cracking and scare the pants off your readers.

Guest Post (13) Alesha Escobar #SunStoppedShining

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Hello all! 

Today as part of the Sun Stopped Shining Blog Tour, http://sunstoppedshining.blogspot.com, I have the immense pleasure to welcome author Alesha Escobar on The Manicheans. 

Please check her blog for details on her giveaway, and to read more of her work. 

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I still haven’t completely made up my mind as to what I’d do if the sun stopped shining. I’m the first to admit that if a post-apocalyptic situation went down, that I’d love to be like one of those badasses you see in the movies who dual wield weapons and effortlessly find food and shelter. The truth is that a chipped nail bothers me, and I don’t even want to slink out of bed if there’s no coffee around (caffeine addicts, back me up!).

Though my real world skills and experience may make me less of a heroine in such a scenario, it never stopped me from imagining “What if?” This simple question can have the writer in me spinning answers that make for great stories. Fellow writer Matthew C. Wood has done the same with his web series The Day the Sun Stopped Shining, and he’s invited us all into his world.

Welcome to our blog tour, where writers and readers of fantasy, horror, sci-fi and paranormal stories all get together and tackle one of humanity’s most pressing and intriguing questions–when will it all end? Don’t just stop at one blog, visit them all and check out the other guest posts, flash fiction, contests and interviews all centering on the theme of the End of the World.

Let’s make this a blog tour to remember!


Alesha Escobar is the author of The Tower’s Alchemist (The Gray Tower Trilogy, #1). She writes fantasy and urban fantasy to support her chocolate habit, and enjoys reading, writing, movies, and crafts. She lives in California with her husband and four children.

Please visit her blog at http://www.aleshaescobar.com/