Waiting on ABNA

The results of the 2nd round of Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award are going to be posted tomorrow. I don't know what time. It's probably because Amazon likes their servers working overtime when thousands of hopefuls check and reload their accounts every 5 seconds. :P

I'm not sure how I will be doing this. If I should give in to my emotions and check as soon as my eyes open in the morning or to wait. It may be easier to wait until the afternoon before I start checking like an insane person who keeps doing the same thing over and over yet still expects a different result. It's weird to think that someone, somewhere already knows who has made it and who hasn't. After all, it probably takes a good day, if not a week or two, to format all the names and reviews to each correct account/book.

At this moment I've either made it or not. The White Lilac excerpt has already been reviewed, the review has been written and the final result tallied. Only two options are available, either pass or fail. In this instant my book has already passed or not passed and I know not which will be proved true. It is a reality I can do nothing about but wait to see for it to be revealed. Either way I'll post when I know.

Amazon Jitters

I have a confession to make.

I wasn't sure I wanted to write about the ABNA on my blog. It's part of the reason I didn't write anything until after I'd heard the results of the first round and knew I'd made it. You see, I didn't want to share my hopes and get everyone excited about the possibilities and then have to deal not only with my own shattered dream but the disappointments of everyone else too. It seemed easier to just carry my own and suffer in silence.  But then I saw this talk. Amanda Palmer's The Art of Asking which is about being vulnerable with others, particularly those who are interested in your art.

What I had been doing was not as much from the desire to spare you as it was to hide me. I didn't want to throw myself out there, because what if no one cares? Or worse what if there are people out there who are secretly glad if I don't succeed? How would I be able to get up the next morning if that were true? And if no one ever knows what I am thinking or feeling then I will never get hurt. But this is a lie. I would still hurt and I was inhibiting the very thing that could catch me and keep me from falling. Namely you.

So in four days I will know the result of the second round of Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award. My mind is clogged with questions, fears and hopes. Will The White Lilac make it? Will it not make it but get a decent review? Will I search for my name only to be crushed moments later? But I would like to share these with you. To be open about my own fears, dreams and disappointments and to share them with anyone who may care. To share them with you.

This is me holding out my hands and saying I can't do this alone. I need help. I need you.

Fadeout is here!

 My second book Fadeout is now available online.


It's the first in a series and it follows the story of Silas Durant, a 13 year old Carillian who has lived on a human farm his whole life and Jamar Pelacroix, a boy of privilage whose father owns the farms. When they meet Silas is in the midst of planning how he can escape along with his older sister, Malina, and he's not sure he can trust Jamar. All Jamar wants is a friend and all Silas wants is to protect Malina from the Machine including the terror that comes with it. But their dreams reveal they are on opposite sides of a class war. Only if they can work together will everyone make it through alive.



Only 2.99 at Amazon, Smashwords and Barnes & Noble.


 
 
Here's a sneak peek at the poem at the very beginning of the book.

And Carillians for the Machine

A darkness filled the nation, little ones beware

Oppression comes to all and torments without care

Chaos, pain and death chase our people every night

We only had two choices: Die or stand and fight

 

The battle that we won was not without its cost

Someone had to pay for the dignity we lost

Tireans, Faans and Ajaks begin new life serene

Justice for all and Carillians for the Machine

 

Ajaks in the chamber, Tireans on the throne

A cow in the stable, a hawk to soar alone

A horse on the battlefield as a Faan is to war

A spy in the branches and a boat on the moor

 

Memory is the answer, emotions are the key

Protection for our cities, light for all to see

A moment of compassion hides a lone wolf unseen

Plague, darkest night and Carillians for the Machine

 

Dangers on the horizon, Tireans beware

Before the foul disease starts spreading everywhere

A dagger in the shadows, bloody and unclean

The answer is Carillians for the Machine

Now for the News!

I entered The While Lilac in Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award back in January. The entry required three distinct parts: a pitch, an excerpt and the manuscript. I had the manuscript and the excerpt was the first 5,000 words of the manuscript so I had that too, but I was really nervous about the pitch and since the pitch was the first thing to be seen I wasn't sure I would make it on to the next round. I put in several days of work over the period of a few months and I finally had a pitch I thought was decent.

Still, I figured my odds were not that good. The YA genre I was entering allowed 10,000 entries, but only 400 would make it to the next round where the excerpt would be judged. Yet, on February 13th when the names were revealed I couldn't keep myself from hoping that I would find my book in that exclusive list. I checked Amazon's site several times for the list and when I saw it I clicked to the link and began scrolling. At the bottom of the third page I found my book. Somehow I made it through the first round!!! I feel like I've won already.

Whew. Now I have to wait until March 12th when the next cut is made, this one from 400 to 100. I'm trying my best not to think about it, because when do it makes the butterflies in my stomach dance around.

Fortunately for me I have a whole other project to keep me occupied. My next book Fadeout is being released tomorrow!! It is the first in a series and my current plan is to have the next book out this summer. I'm excited and I can hardly wait. :)

February Already

Have you ever had that moment where you realized that all these things you planned to say just didn't happen? Yeah, that's me right now. I can't believe I haven't written anything since Dec. And I thought through all sorts of things, pressed publish in my mind and somehow believed it was out there. I dropped the ball and all I can do now is say how sorry I am and I will try to do better.

Sneak Peek of Fadeout!

Here's a look at my next book Fadeout, a YA dystopian.

 

Thirteen year old Silas and his older sister, Malina, have lived on futuristic human farms their whole lives. They have no future. They know it’s just a matter of time before the day guards come to take their memories and emotions leaving them shells. And Malina’s day is much closer than either of them would like to admit. Silas realizes they have to escape before this happens, but it’s not going to be easy and he’s running out of time.

 

I plan to release Fadeout in February 2013 with the sequels to follow shortly.

 

 

 

Fadeout

Chapter 0.5: Silas

The guards brought the fifteen year old boy in yelling and kicking. They forced him down on the table in the center of the room. Two guards held him while a third secured the straps for his arms, legs, chest and chin. He was left alone for a few minutes, but the time did nothing to calm him. He strained and pulled and screamed.

There was a nervous hush on the other kids that eight year old Silas could almost taste. All 27 of them had been locked in the adjacent room for over two hours, but no one wanted to move. They were frozen, watching the boy through the glass wall. It was the first time Silas had been taken anywhere without his parents and now they said he wouldn’t be living with them anymore.

Silas leaned closer to the glass. The boy on the table looked a little like his parent’s neighbor, Mrs. Dowell. He had her light brown eyes and the same lips. Although he had several strands of dark hair growing on his upper lip, that weren’t quite enough for a mustache. Silas knew Mrs. Dowell had children and her youngest had been a boy. She didn’t like to talk about it but she had left a teddy bear in the old crib and boys were always given teddy bears. It struck Silas deep inside that this could be her son.

A man in a white coat walked calmly over to the boy and began attaching some kind of head gear to his forehead. A thick strap went completely around his head. Two studs were connected to the straps and a visor was hooked to them so that it curved around the top of the boy’s head. Lastly, a sensor on the top of the visor was screwed to a large metal box with a clear tube running to a deep rectangle container. The man stepped back and went to monitor the numbers on one of the screens.

Now that the boy was connected, he struggled even more. The man in the white coat clicked several sections of the screen and different colored lights reflected off the table. The boy stared up at them and his muscles began to shake involuntary.

“Please, don’t,” he begged.

Silas couldn’t see what the boy was watching. It was higher than the top of the glass would allow him to look. One of the other boys in the room tried to press himself against the glass, but it must not have worked because he gave up after a minute.

“Stop please. I won’t do it again,” the boy repeated over and over. Tears began to form and slipped down the side of his face.

Something flashed on the screen the man in the white coat was watching. He glanced up to a small room made from darkened glass with metal stairs leading to it.

“He’s ready,” was all the man in the white coat said.

There was a loud click, a speaker crackled and a deep voice said, “Start the Machine.”

At those words the boy began struggling again. There was a grinding noise. All the lights in the building brightened and the boy screamed. He kept on screaming as small glass balls rolled down the tube from his head to the container.

Some of the girls in the room began to cry. Soon it seemed as though everyone was screaming or crying. A girl ran to the door and began pounding on it, but no one let her out.

Silas swallowed. He tried to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. The process lasted for hours. Most of the kids huddled together in small groups as far away from the window as they could. Silas wanted to hide with them, but he was motionless. He wanted to cry or scream, yet nothing would come out.

The more glass balls that rolled away, the quieter the boy got until he was completely still and then everything became too quiet. The boy’s eyes were dull and unseeing. His fingers limp and his mouth parted. His chest breathed so softly that Silas kept watching to see if it would stop, but the boy kept on breathing, in and out. Then the man in the white coat came back and unhooked the completely unresponsive boy. Another man came, lifted the boy into a wheelchair and took him away. There was no need for restraints. Silas didn’t think the boy even knew what was happening to him.

A speaker in their room crackled and several of the girls started crying again.

“This is your only warning,” the same voice from earlier said. “Fall in line, obey the rules and don’t make waves or this will happen to you.”

The kids struggled to their feet and lined up by the door. Silas joined them secretly relieved to be moving again. They waited in line for another hour until a guard came and escorted them to their new rooms, a ten by ten foot cell with a double bunk, a toilet and some cubbies. Boys were taken to one ward and girls another.

That night Silas huddled in his new bed. He couldn’t sleep. He kept picturing what had happened earlier. Every sound made him jump. Even the hissing of the hallway light was strange. So when footsteps sounded down the hall, Silas was immediately tense. The door to his cell slid open and Silas watched in horror as two guards entered. They grabbed him and moved him out of his cell, away from the boys ward and into the building where the Machine was kept.

No sound would come out of Silas’ mouth and he felt like he wanted to collapse, but somehow his feet kept him upright and held his weight. There was a spotlight on the empty table where they had strapped the boy. It made the chrome seem shiny and dangerous. Silas could hardly take his eyes off it, but then he heard someone talking in the corner.

“This one might be damaged. See how he’s not crying or shaking.”

“Test him anyway.” It was the voice from the speaker.

The man in the white coat appeared out of the darkness and held a scanner near Silas’ head. It beeped and whirled but did not hurt. Silas stood still holding his breath and hoping that whatever they planned to do would happen quickly.

There was a final beep. The man pressed the button and held the scanner to Silas’ head again. When the final beep sounded once more the man grunted.

“He doesn’t even register.”

“Test him again.”

“I tested him twice to be sure. This boy has no emotional registry at all. He must be defective.”

There was silence from the darkness, then a sigh. “Not necessarily. I’ve heard of cases like this. We’ll have to keep our eye on him and I want to get regular updates sent to me, my eyes only. Wipe the last hour from his memory and take him back.”

Book Trailer

Here's the new book trailer for The White Lilac! I really like how this turned out. :)