No, I have not fallen between the toilet and the tub and expired from thirst....

Publishing the book took a massive amount of energy. I had to copyright, make sure the formatting was correct.. upload... upload again because I'd forgotten the description.. have anxiety.. have more anxiety and then proceed to check the sales every fifteen minutes for an entire day.

It's okay to say I'm neurotic. I am.  Finally after a frenzied bout of insomnia and the resolution that I *would* quit sniffing glue, I settled down and started writing Rifts.

It's going really well. Grace is being saucy and since she's got a new audience, her chattering in my head is nearly constant.  Yes, I've already asked around to make sure that I wasn't suffering from split personality.

For future reference, those who do suffer from multiple personalities aren't usually aware of the others.  So yeah, I'm just slightly schizophrenic! Yay!


Okay, back to the book - Rifts is coming along well and I've done the one thing I said I wouldn't do - I let Grace run away.  With this said, I think that it's integral to the story and in the end, she'll be better off for it.

Teasers (because I'm a tease) are coming soon.  I'm 12k and change words in and trucking on at a decent speed.  The kid is at his Dad's this week so more writing should occur.  That is if work behaves.

So much to do, so little sleep to be had.

That's Gina's awesome final cover. It's beautiful. She's amazing. I wish that she had a website so I could link the hell out of it.

Huntress is published. I've been walking around murmuring, "I'm kinda a big deal now."  Well, and sobbing and laughing and whooping like a 12 year old boy. 

I thought that writing the damned thing was going to be the hard part. No, the hard part is marketing it and getting readers to read it and buy it and review it (hopefully they're good reviews). 

I have amazing friends who went out and bought the book even if they weren't into the genre. I feel so blessed and obviously disconnected because I can't string five sentences together without popping to a different thought or subject.

Anyway.. Huzzah it's up!

Day of Reckoning

Is all of the HTML formatting correct? Did I run a final spell check? Did I swear too much?

All of these things are running through my head as we come to the final moments before I push the button and publish Huntress - A Grace Murphy Novel.   I'm waiting on final cover art and then it's done.

I've been dreaming of this moment for what seems like my entire life. I had my first poem published thanks to Miss Casee Chamberlain who sent it to our High School's newspaper / letter.  I can't remember the name of the Poem or even the words, but I remember that it was full of teenage angst and emotional diatribe. I'd probably be pretty embarrassed to read it now. Yeah.. I was that emo.

I'd wanted to write a book for so long but I was discouraged by people who said "It's so hard to get published. The rejection letters are heinous!"

Now, I don't have to rely on a publisher. I'm going to distribute Huntress through Amazon and SmashWords and try to market the hell out of it and start the next one.  It's a dream that I'm not willing to ignore anymore and thanks to awesome e-book distributors, I don't have to.

I want to thank every single person who has given me encouragement and strength over the last year while I wrote this bad boy.

Thank you and I love you. :)

Female Victims in Writing... WTF?

I'm reading a new book and I realized quite suddenly that females are often made victims in novels. It's something that disturbs and disgusts me.  You see it in bodice rippers - Ramone rips the gown off of Miranda's chest and takes her lips. She struggles at first and then always gives in.. What the fuck Miranda? Seriously, kick the guy in the twig and berries. You don't have to take that crap?

I'm seeing it right now in the new book. The woman's husband is cheating on her and he takes her kids and kicks her out of her own house. Why? Cause she's a vampire and he can't deal. What does she do? She takes it. She just lets it happen. 

This made me realize that Grace gets the crap kicked out of her.  A lot. She's kidnapped, beaten up and tortured at one point. However, never in any of those moments does she give in. She's strapped to a metal table in one scene, completely immobile and what does she do? She smarts off.

I'm not a feminist by any means. I'm too lazy for that title. However, I'm also not a girly girl. I was raised by my Dad and the one time he took me to the mall to buy bras, I ended up in the Navy.  So no, I don't wear dresses and no, I don't burn my bras. I lie somewhere in the middle where I fantasize about sitting under a shady tree, dressed in a sundress with a wide brimmed hat as I type away on my laptop about a badass single mom who does everything she can to provide stability for her kid.

Never in that fantasy am I any sort of victim. I imagine that most of the women I know feel the same. So again, I ask - What the fuck? What's with all of the victimization going on here?

Why the Dentist and Star Wars doesn't work for productivity

I am a delicate flower. I'm the girl that goes camping and then spends most of the week trying to keep her fingernails clean because sticking dirty digits in your eye is not an acceptable lifestyle choice.  I'm not just talking about fingers here ladies. Keep dirty digits out of your eyes. 

I digress. So I'm the delicate flower who also has a nest of 6 pillows, a down comforter, memory foam pad, air mattress and down mattress pad to sleep on in her tent. All of this creates an uncomfortable place to change, but at least it's a decent sleep.   This spawned a conversation one night around the campfire with my Bestie Michelle that I needed to write a book on Camping for Delicate Flowers.  I think I'd had a few too many glasses of mead. It happens. You get around a campfire with booze and you suddenly become prolific.

So where was I? Oh yes. I had to get some extensive Dentistry done over the weekend and because I'm such a huge wuss, my amazing Dentist said - "Nicole, why don't we try Nitrous Oxide for you? It will help take the edge off."  In case you didn't know, the other known name for this is Laughing Gas.  I being the adventurous type and totally afraid of pain said "Hell yeah, let's do it."

The following is how it played out -

They put a pretty pink mask over my face with huge plastic tubes coming out each side and every breath I took sounded like the Dark Prince himself.  Schoooo  Schooooo Schooo..  I texted it to said Bestie and said - Nitrous Oxide mask makes me look like Darth Vader and her reply to me is exactly the reason she's my best friend.

She replied.. Luke... Luke...

I took a picture.  No, I'm not going to share it. It's not very flattering and her response was - Definitely should NOT be your Facebook photo

She was right. It's not going up there. After about 20 more minutes of giggling and feeling oh so dainty I texted - Hey, remind me to write that book on Camping for Delicate Flowers!  I don't remember why I said it or exactly what was going through my mind that is sounded like a profoundly good idea.

She got it and reminded me today why I wanted to do it.

So here is the moral of the story kids... laughing gas, star wars and the dentist don't mix when you're trying to come up with really great book ideas.

Huntress Teaser

I know that I've got a lot of friends who are anxious to read the finished product. Soon my lovies... Soon. However, I'm not a total troll. I'll give you a teaser...

I was so stuffed.  I'd had to unbutton my jeans or run the risk of putting out someone's eye when it popped on its own.  We'd dropped Dylan off at Brandon's place on the way home from Rose's.  I was decidedly lacking in the Christmas Spirit as I refused to get out of the car.  Instead, I gave Dylan a kiss and told him to remember that I loved him more than there were stars in the sky - and that he also had a secret to keep.

Drew had helped cart in Dylan’s bags and I’d smiled as I heard Brandon ask Dylan who he was as Drew got back to the car. Sue me.  It was petty, but I wanted him to think I had a hot boyfriend.

I yawned when Drew got back in the car and leaned my seat back. "I’m glad that the holidays only happen once a year. I’m so stuffed I feel like I could sleep ‘til next Christmas." I groaned and burped loudly.

"Wow, you are such a lady," he said wryly.

"I know. It’s sexy right?" I grinned and closed my eyes.

"Oh yeah, how you’re not already married again is a mystery."

"Screw you. Oh God. I’m going to burst like an over-ripe melon."

Drew chuckled and slowed down to pull into the drive. The car jerked to a sudden stop and I slammed forward into my seatbelt.

"What the fuck!" I exclaimed looking at him in disbelief. "Where’d you learn how to drive?"

"Shut up," he ground out. "Look at the house."

I turned my head and it looked like someone had blown out every window on the ground floor. I gasped in surprise and quickly unbuckled my seatbelt. I was opening the door when he grabbed my arm.

"Wait a minute. You can’t just go rushing headlong in there. You don’t know yet what did that to your house. Pull out your weapons."

I nodded dumbly and called in my kukri. I added a .45 for good measure and looked at him expectantly.

He nodded his approval and slipped out of the car - calling in a short sword and a scimitar. He’d shown me that jabbing and slicing weren’t generally done with the same weapon. He’d been surprised when I’d chosen the kukri because it was a good weapon; small and very deadly – good for multiple types of strikes.

"Follow my lead and don’t make a sound. If I tell you to run, you run like the Hounds of Hell are at your feet. Do you understand?"

I opened my mouth to protest and he shot me a deadly look. "Grace.  Do.  You.  Understand?"

I nodded but there was a mutinous look in my eyes. I’d be damned if he got left behind under any circumstances. It would have been nice if he’d shown me the blinking in and out trick.

In stealth mode, he crept toward the entrance, slipping in and out of the shadows. The door was half off of its hinges. I was surprised that one of the neighbors hadn’t called the cops, and said as much in a whisper.

"The house is glamoured. Nobody can see this damage if they’re norms."

He knelt and peered around the doorframe. I knelt too. I wouldn’t have thought to do that. And it was a good thing I had because several darts flew through the space where my head would have been had I just walked into the entryway.

I stifled a gasp. Drew shot me a murderous look and told me to shut up with his eyes. I took a deep breath and nodded to let him know that I had it under control.

He skirted past broken glass and crept into the room. I followed slowly, soaking in the devastation that had been wreaked upon my house.

A taloned foot protruded from the kitchen entry. I touched Drew’s shoulder and jerked my head toward it. His eyes widened in surprise.

He moved so fast toward the kitchen that it looked as though he’d popped from one place to the other. I couldn’t wait until I was able to do that.

Swearing softly, he knelt by the creature. My mouth dropped open. I’d never seen anything like it. Parts of its body looked like they were made of iron. Its gaping maw was filled with razor sharp metallic teeth and prongs of spiked iron protruded from its forehead over a single frost paled eye.

I shuddered and bent over, heaving for breath. The body was missing an arm and part of a leg. A large jagged hole cratered its chest. It looked like Scooter had given this demon a workout. Good dog.

I wasn’t a noob when it came to gore. Hell, I’d killed more Orcs than anyone I knew… Online.  In a game.  But real life has a way of making it all look a little more gruesome.

My eyes scanned the surrounding area and noticed other body parts scattered over the carpet into the living room.  I walked numbly toward where we'd left the loot of Christmas morning and wondered idly if a cleaning service could get these stains out.  I stopped and stared at the utter destruction of one of the happiest days of the year.

"Grace, what are you doing? Get down," he hissed at me.

The tree was shredded.  Presents - so lovingly gifted - were strewn about the room, broken and torn. My eyes fell on the DVD set I’d been so happy to give Drew that morning and it was like someone had flipped a rage switch within my body.

I moved forward, a Christmas ball crunching under my foot. I lifted it to see a miniature picture of Dylan when he was five and closed my eyes, my body burning to murder whoever had done this to my home.

A crunching noise sounded behind me and I whirled, ready to decapitate the intruder. It was Drew. His face was tense. He looked as angry as I was at the destruction.

"Any more?" I mouthed.

He shook his head and nodded at the door to the basement. I took that as a sign that we were going down.

"Don’t forget," he whispered.

"I won’t. I’ll run."

I wasn’t just talking out of my ass this time. After seeing that creature, I was going to run if I had to. 

He silently swung the door open further and I squeezed my eyes shut after seeing what was waiting on the other side. Scooter’s large ebony eyes stared blankly up at me.  His head was lying neatly at the top of the stairs in the same position I’d found him in so many mornings on my way downstairs. Head down, waiting with those soulful eyes for me to come bounding down the stairs for my training sessions.

The problem here was that the rest of his body was missing. I didn’t want to see this. This creature had caused me more terror, pain and agony than any other - but he was mine. He was Dylan’s "dog" for the love of God. Nobody decapitated Dylan’s dog and got away with it. I was going to kill this motherfucker.

Drew grabbed me before I could go storming down the stairs. He took my face in his hands and stared me in the eye, warning me. I shook my head and fought off the tears that were threatening to overcome me.

"I’ll go down first. You back me up," he mouthed.

I nodded and grabbed hold of myself. I could do this. I had to do this. I had to be strong for Drew. I just thanked God that Dylan hadn’t been with us.

Drew glided down the stairs. As his foot touched the last step, iron talons flashed, ripping open his shirt. Had he been any slower, his stomach’s contents would have spilled onto the basement floor.

I stormed after him, raising my kukri as he dodged under the scaled arm, stabbing out with his short sword.

Hello is anybody out there?

The countdown has started. The plan is to publish Huntress on Friday which means that it will be available on both Amazon.com and Smashwords.com Saturday May 21, 2011.   I'm really hoping that the Apocalypse doesn't bork up my plans. Is it cheeky to make the publish date, the same day as Armageddon? Maybe. But I'm nothing if not cheeky.

Here's the latest version of my cover. Isn't Grace gorgeous?