Posts

The Night Dredes January 4th 2022

Image
  The publishing industry has gone through a wild ride this year. Chain supply issues as well as a bizarre paper shortage pushed my Gothic Horror novel from an October release date to January. Being a writer means being able to roll with the punches, so, without further ado, my blog post on... The Night Dredes ! The island is all Destiny Sallows has ever known. It is her birthright to become the next matriarch and leader of her isolated family. The only catch is that she must marry Daniel, Mother insists on it. It's not that she dislikes Daniel, he's kind and clever. The problem is with her. Destiny suffers from a reoccurring night terror about a monster with green eyes. One glance in Daniel's eyes sends her spiraling into a severe panic attack. Mother calls them the night dredes. Mother says Destiny will get over them, but when the monsters come out, the night dredes come for them all. The Inspiration on the Gothic Horror released by Sands Press January 4th came from a dre

2021 Write Mentee Wish List!

  Hello, potential Mentees! If you reached this blog, it must mean you're thinking of submitting to me. If not, you're a bit lost or an Ex-Boyfriend who couldn't find anything of use on my FaceBook page. Now, lets get into what I'm looking for: Do you read much in the YA genre? Because I do.  If you don't read YA and try to make a book fit into YA, I can tell.  In order to be a successful writer, you must read. In order to get published in the big publishing houses, you need to write something much like the stuff they've been putting out within the last five years. If that's not your jam, no worries! I have experience in Small Press and Indie publishing as well. There are many roads and I can help you determine the best route for you. It's your book, your goals and I'm here for it! My mentoring style: I am a cheerleader. I try to give constructive feedback where it's needed, but I am NEVER going to tear you down. My goal is to bolster your streng

Pitchwars 2020 (Mentor Wishlist)

 It's Pitchwars 2020! Every year, a group of agented writers mentor unagented writers in a contest. It is a huge event in the writing community. More information can be found here:  http://pitchwars.org/new-start-here/ The mentor's wish list can be found here:  https://pitchwars.org/pitch-wars-2020-mentor-blog-hop/ I try to participate every year. There are multiple benefits outside of the agent showcase. Making writer friends may not seem like a *huge* perk, but it really is. One, friends are nice.  Secondly, and most importantly: Books are not made by one person! I work with critique partners. I work with multiple editors for every project. I have beta readers. I have a manager. There is not one point in time where someone isn't holding my hand through a project. The wider a writer's network, the greater the opportunities are to make my stories the best they can be. So, I have to pick four out of a ton of mentors to submit to by the 27th. Fortunately for me, the Gothi

Strangers (Final Draft)

  I never notice the elevation change as you drive through the mountains. The only thing that tips me off is the jolt of the pop in my ears. Blue mountain’s majesty, my ass. What was worse? My girlfriend kicking me out, or the awkward one-sided conversation with someone I hadn’t seen since I was ten? “Plenty of fish in the sea,” my brother said. My side-eye wasn’t enough to stop his attempts at playing dad. I leaned back in the seat and pretended I was asleep. “Plenty of fish…” My brother’s sage virgin wisdom passed down by our father, no doubt. Not like Dad was any better with relationships. The sun burned through my closed eyelids. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I sat up, and as we passed under the shadow of the mountain, the scent of snapdragons blew through the vents. “Hey, do you remember—” “The woman in the shack? Grandpa shit a brick when we told him someone was living there.” It wasn’t something a person could forget. As children, we were told to never speak to stranger

Strangers (Writer In Motion 3rd draft)

  As a recap, in week 1, we saw the rough draft. Lots of typos, emerging theme, but bones to be sure. In week two, Strangers officially became a short story with some self-editing. The theme became more consistent and there were less typos. In week three, two critique partners assisted in banging out some dents. Mostly word flow and things that are really hard to see as the writer but are obvious to the reader. Without further ado, Strangers 

Strangers (Writer In Motion 2nd Draft)

You don’t notice the elevation change as you drive through the mountains. The only thing that tips you off is that your ears start popping. Blue mountains majesty, my ass. What was worse? My girlfriend kicking me out, or the awkward one-sided conversation with someone I hadn’t seen since I was ten? “Plenty of fish in the sea,” my brother said. My side-eye wasn’t enough to stop his attempts at playing dad. I leaned back in the seat and pretended I was asleep. “Plenty of fish…” A virgin’s sage wisdom passed down by our father, no doubt. Not like dad was any better with relationships. The sun burned through my closed eyelids. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I sat up, and as we passed under the shadow of the mountain, I thought of her. “Hey, do you remember—” “The woman in the shack? Grandpa shit a brick when we told him someone was living there.” It wasn’t something a person could forget. Never speak to strangers, adults always say. She was the stranger they were trying to warn us

Writer In Motion Short Story - Woman in the Shack

You don’t feel the elevation change as you drive through the mountains. The only thing that tips you off is that at some point, you’re ears start popping like you’re on a redeye flight out of this hellhole. Blue mountains majesty, my ass. What was worse? My girlfriend kicking me out, or the awkward one-sided conversation with a stranger. “Plenty of fish in the sea,” he said. My side-eye wasn’t enough to stop his attempts at playing dad. I leaned back in the seat and pretended I was asleep. Chelsey and I had been over for months. We were over it, but our lease wasn’t. Towards the end, she moved a girlfriend in and I moved out. “Plenty of fish…” The virgin’s sage wisdom passed down by our father just didn’t have the effect he was going for. The sun burned orange through my closed eyelids. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I sat up and adjusted the seatbelt as we passed under the shadow of the mountain. “Hey, do you remember—” “The woman in the shack?” It wasn’t somethin