I’m working on telling the story of my father’s WW II experience. It’s a saga really that covers two generations and will be three books when completed. I’m going to tell the story two ways. One will be a memoir. The other will be a fictional account of the story. Because I’m writing a war story about an 18 yr old boy who becomes a man during wartime, I’m reading great examples of similar historical fiction. CITY OF THIEVES by David Benioff is a fabulous read for anyone who is interested in just such a story. Because of the protagonist’s age, the book could be classified as YA. But it’s really for a very broad audience. David Benioff is a great writer and has a great gift for detail. He has also written screenplays. I noticed not too long ago that he writes for The Game of Thrones series out on HBO. I love the series. Anyway, here is an excerpt from CITY OF THIEVES that took my breath away. Enjoy!
Here’s a little description from the back of the book: “Instead of being executed, Lev and Kolya are given a shot at saving their own lives by complying with an outrageous directive: secure a dozen eggs for a powerful Soviet colonel to use in his daughter’s wedding cake.” Kolya loves to quote what he says is a very famous novel. That is what he is doing here:
Kolya cleared his throat and switched to his declamatory tone.
“Talent must be a fanatical mistress. She’s beautiful; when you’re with her, people watch you, they notice. But she bangs on your door at odd hours, and she disappears for long stretches, and she has no patience for the rest of your existence: your wife, your children, your friends. She is the most thrilling evening of your week, but some day she will leave you for good. One night, after she’s been gone for years, you will see her on the arm of a younger man, and she will pretend not to recognize you.”
It’s May Day and that used to mean dancing around Maypoles and men leaving flowers at the door of the woman they loved after bathing for the first time in, achem, months. Ah, the good ol’ days. May 1st is all about romance. So I want to find out what makes your May Day red hot romance reads?
HERE’S AN EXCERPT FROM TRANSFER STUDENT, an alien romance:
Her lips are so beautiful. I can’t take it anymore. My peds find the bottom of the lake and I steady myself. I wrap my arms around her warm middle and pull her toward me. I lean in closer, expecting her to tell me no or to push me away, and when she doesn’t, I peck her beautiful, soft lips. The Rhoe in me wants to peck her again. The Ashley in me hesitates.
Tiffany’s red, veiny eyes find mine. I wrap my arms tighter around her smooth skin and we collapse onto each other in one long hug. Her body shakes like she can’t breathe properly. Like she can’t exhale. Her wet skin glimmers. It’s my first peck ever––not counting the dare pecks Tanine and I had at Yuke’s birthday party last ray–– and it’s starjumping-good.
Tiffany’s eyes go wide. “Ashley… what’s, going on?”
Tiffany wipes her mouth off with her hand. I reach out to hold it, as I’ve seen boyfriends do with girlfriends at school. When Tiffany places her hand in mine, I decide I’m ready. I’m ready to tell her that I’m not Ashley at all. That I’m Rhoe, I’m a boy, and that she’s beautiful. I stroke her back and take a deep breath, noticing the way the planet seems to be increasing its pull on me. Like it wants to keep me here.
April went by so fast. I can’t believe it’s May. Later today, my first newsletter goes out. Each month I’m sending my blog subscribers freebies and exclusive content not available anywhere else. YAY! This month there’s a little TRANSFER STUDENT surprise, because nothing says MAY DAY like an alien romance
Dude! Today at the carnival we’re posting 4/20 excerpts. Here’s one from TRANSFER STUDENT, an intergalactic tale of beauty and the geek. Here we meet Ashley, a surfer from Beverly Hills who’s always held a grudge against the yellow stars she never learned how to draw in kindergarten. While on The Field Trip from Hell to the Griffith Observatory, Ashley realizes the person she’s allowed herself to become and wants to make a change, but doesn’t know how. Ashley’s whole life will change in ways she never imagined…
My teacher, Miss Carmicheal, thinks today’s a big deal because this yellow-star mecca has been closed for five years.
“Gather around the obelisk!” Miss C. says, clapping her hands. The class swarms in the creepy shadow of the statue, a black sword slicing the popular kids from the rest.
Six astronomer statues stand in a circle with their backs to each other and look down on my friends and me like all brainiacs do. The statues’ dead-eyed gaze melts my manicured, blow-dried heart. I’m just as trapped, just as lame as them.
The class clip-clops around me.
“Let’s ditch these losers and blaze.” Tiffany puts a couple fingers to her mouth and takes a phantom toke of an invisible joint.
I collect friends. Get high when I can. Drink to get drunk. Do whatever to stay on top. I wear the right clothes, the right make-up. Hook up with the right guys. I’m a fake. A yellow star. But nobody knows. Nobody, but me.
Tiff tugs my arm and points to a hill with a view of the city. “Come on,” she says.
Normally, I’d be right with Tiff, wanting to flee a gum-chewing, screaming crowd of yellow-star drawers. But I don’t now. I’m not even sure why, exactly. “Let’s wait a while,” I say, shrugging Tiff off, knowing she won’t go without me.
I walk in a circle around the obelisk and read the names of the astronomers sculpted in stone: Hipparchus of Rhodes [190-120 B.C.], Nicolaus Copernicus [1473-1543], (Johannes) Kepler [1571-1630], Galileo (Galilei) [1564-1642], Sir Isaac Newton [1642-1727], and William Herschel [1738-1822].
I wonder if people got high in 190 B.C.
“Whatever,” Tiffany says with a sideways glance, like I robbed her of something. “This is beyond boring.”
I examine the brainiacs’ chiseled faces and stare into the eyes of Galileo. His stare over the LA basin draws me in. I take a step closer to his statue. What I read as trapped before fascinates me now. The power of answering the questions of a lifetime.
“Ash, come on.” Tiffany puts her hand on the door to the entrance of the observatory. I almost take out a few yellow-star drawers when I finally open the heavy bronze door and step inside. I’m not used to the end of the line, but from my spot here, the clunky metal monstrosity of a telescope casts a kind of spell over me.
I wring my hands.
“Let’s go,” Tiffany whispers.
I fix my gaze on the telescope.
“Come on! Miss C.’s clueless,” Tiffany whispers even quieter. She tugs on my elbow and eyes the door we came in.
Blazing, getting high, used to sound so much more exciting than being straight or sober… myself. Someone I don’t even know how to be anymore.
“I want to look through the telescope,” I say.
“It’s daytime. What are you gonna see through that stupid telescope?” Tiffany says, rolling her eyes.
“I want to see what the brainiacs saw,” I say.
“What?”
“The astronomers, the ones carved in the stone,” I say.
“You sure you’re not stoned?” Tiff says.
“Just. Chill,” I say.
“I can’t chill when my BFF takes a tragic turn toward the lame.” Tiffany nods to a group of smiling girls at the front of the line.
“Maybe this will be golden,” I say, knowing the irreversible damage a cross into geekdom will do to my carefully crafted reputation. “Don’t judge me.”
Tiffany scoots to the front of the line, taking cuts where she can, smiling at the people behind her like a recently crowned homecoming queen.
Tiffany & Co. snake their way around the hall and out the observatory doors.
The line goes so slow it feels like I’m getting farther and farther behind. I shift my feet and lean up against the wall. A poster hanging there kills the boredom––the moon has mountains, craters and seas that aren’t really seas. Some named Tranquility, Clouds, and Serenity. Others named Storms, Cold, and Crises.
I want to win a signed paperback of TRANSFER STUDENT! “spell-binding” “intergalactic tale of beauty & the geek” http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/152382
Every tweet is an entry, more tweets=more entries! Good luck and thanks for helping to spread the word. Now readers can download & sample TRANSFER STUDENT in any format! Squueeee:)
Check out the other awesome 4/20 posts by the carnis this week! Thanks for stopping by:)
Yes, SPRING BREAK usually means sun & fun. But some teens aren’t that lucky. Winnemucca, a small-town fairy tale, opens with the beginning of Virginia Mae’s enchanted road trip to her true self. It’s SPRING BREAK and Ginny takes a walk to the prison outside of town where she awakens to her own intuition. She listens to it for the very first time and her intuition will take her to very unexpected places. Imagine you’re walking on the side of a desolate desert highway in the heart of central California, doubting your future. With nowhere to go. Every step seems to ask you questions you don’t want to hear. While most kids hit the beach, Ginny hits the asphalt.
When fear’s as blind as love, how far would you go to find your own happily ever after? One mistake will change Ginny’s life forever. One answer will set her free. Once upon a time Ginny’s road blood ripened, the day she got wise to love.
EXCERPT:
An almond orchard’s branches tangled against the tie-dyed sky. Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I played in the orchard next to our house and turned its creature-like trees into royal knights. Back then, when I dreamed of my Prince Charming, he built owl houses to help control pests, brought me persimmon presents, and knew the best secret hiding places and how to surprise me. I never dreamed of a fairy godmother though. Not one time. Fairy godmothers don’t visit desert princesses, especially ones who fall for uncharming princes. They prefer wiser girls who live in kingdoms with rolling green hillsides, and the opportunity for their ball-gown-wearing-shoe-losing daughters to dance and fall in love.
One foot in front of the other.
How could I escape my happily ever after gone-bad?
“No idea,” I said, fanning the fingers on my engaged hand, flicking them. One. Two. Three weeks until the wedding.
The dusty truth seeped in with every step and made me shiver. My whole life was managed––first by my parents, then by my fiancé Bobby, even by my idiot ex-boss Charlie. I didn’t need my feet chiming in. I stopped walking. Fear’s as blind as love. But an asphalt heat rose through my rubber soles and seared my skin. The ripening made me move. Again. So I dug in my heels, did a one-eighty and headed for home, double-time, to make my date, the date, with Bobby. But my know-it all feet spun me back around. I covered my ears to drown out their trouble-making questions, but all I heard were my own.
What happened to Bobby and me? Why was I listening to my feet? Had I lost my mind?
A dirt devil twisted over a fallow field in the tired sun and spun my thoughts backwards to the second in Tar Canyon when Bobby’s eyes met mine and I knew only death would separate us. My Big, Fat, Lie-of-a-Life churned in my gut like the dirt devil. I doubled over, more alone than ever before, and I tied myself into a knot so tight I could hardly breathe. I’d been wrong about Bobby. Wrong about a lot of things.
When I caught my breath and lifted my head, the sun ricocheted into my eyes. Devil’s Rope twisted around the top of the chain-link fences that secured Avenal State Prison. I had no idea why my feet marched me there. It didn’t look like the kind of place a practically married, straight-A student would find the answers her feet demanded. But the ripening liked to surprise me.
I gripped the steel bars of the roadside prison sign and dangled underneath, swinging my feet, like I used to do once upon a time on the monkey bars. Somewhere between dangles, I stopped being me. Through silver links, in between long buildings with long windows, my eyes settled on what they’d only seen from afar, through the windows of Daddy’s car. Orange jumpsuits walking the yard. Some nights I’d walk like that–convict-style, in circles in my room before bed.
My stretched-out arms ached under the weight of my heart, hanging heavy in my chest. I swayed my feet from side-to-side, imagining our break-up. Saying the words that made me tremble, I can’t marry you. Saying the words that made me tremble more, I do. I’d walk down the aisle toward Bobby at The First Baptist Church of Avenal, where I’d been baptized as a baby by his father, and make the biggest mistake of my life in front of the entire congregation, everyone I’ve ever known. And my gut tensed like it does in the split-second before a person’s about to do the wrong thing.
A convict paused inside the chain-link with his hands on his hips. I let go of the prison sign, dropped to my feet and stood ramrod straight, as different from the wimpy oats as possible. We stared at each other. Him in his prison. Me in mine. We both knew what kept us walking in circles.
Standing there all eyeball-to-eyeball I felt closer to the convict, heck, the whole Errant Brotherhood than I did to anyone. It wasn’t in our nature to be free. Staring down that wimpy fact for the very first time gave me a clarity. The kind that takes hold when a person peels back their lies.
When the convict slipped back into the circular crowd, I grabbed a handful of San Joaquin soil and swirled the fingers of my free hand in the little mound of dirt in my palm. I touched my soil-stained fingers to my heart and became a Child of The Road. My hair let loose in the same sundowner breeze that caressed every inch of my skin and every people-pleasing part of me blew toward The Sierras and up over The Great Divide. Some take to the road to tame a squirrelly nature, or take to it as a tonic, but for me the ripening was more than a simple call to the road.
Which way? Left? Or, right?
I held tight to my dirt. Sweat beaded up under my bangs. I eyed Highway 33 in both directions. To the left was home––Bobby’s enchanting smile should be enough. But I’d never find my answers as Mrs. Bobby Jennings. To the right, God only knew. There was no guarantee I’d find my answers on the road. The wild oats bowed to the left. I turned right. Into the wind. Tiny rocks worked into burst blisters under the plastic between my toes. Quail flushed out of the pistachio orchard beside me.
A police siren wailed, coming up from behind. Uncle Earl slowed his patrol car to a creep and yelled over the siren before he switched it off. “Virginia Mae? Where in the hell are you going?”
“Didn’t know walking’s a crime Earl,” I said, my eyes fixed on the white line under my feet.
“That’s Uncle Earl, Virginia Mae…and look at me when I’m talking to you…”
But I didn’t hear the rest of what Earl said because the white line brought me back home in my mind to when the horrible-wonderful ripening first buzzed through me after school. I had pulled my bangs back and stroked my next-to-invisible lashes with brown-black mascara when my feet twitched, unsteadying my hand. A prickly heat tickled my toes and crawled up my thighs. It made me move when I most wanted to sit still. So I bunched my white sundress up, unhitched my strapless, boob-crushing, employee-discounted leopard bra and scooted out of its matching thong. I wadded up my sex-wear and buried that perfumed ball of lace and silk in my wastebasket between unwrapped Slimfast pills, crushed wedding-present boxes and crinkled Snickers wrappers.
My heart leapfrogged me back to the road when a gust of wind just about blew the whistle on my commando-self, right in front of Earl. I tripped on some weeds at the side of the highway as I patted down every inch of my churned up skirt, my face hotter than the asphalt under my feet.
“Your momma called two hours ago,” Earl said, leaning out of his patrol car, his face as red as the pomegranates Momma grew in the backyard. “Bobby took you for dead.”
I’d done the worst thing possible by standing Bobby up. Because doing that one true thing meant the rest of the truth wasn’t far behind. I’d have to tell Bobby I didn’t love him and that buzzed the heebie-jeebies through me. The kind I’d get when I’d rush to kill a black widow before it killed me. I had no idea what Bobby would do when I told him. I had no idea what he was capable of. But, in the end, nothing would frighten me more than myself.
Don’t forget to have your own fun this SPRING BREAK at the YA SCAVENGER HUNT this weekend!
Thanks for stopping by! Check out what FABULOUS tales of SPRING BREAK these amazing carnis have to tell:
Check out his blog for today’s EBOOK/SWAG GIVEAWAY! TODAY’S EBOOK WINNERS ANNOUNCED 12 PM PACIFIC!
Now ON TO THE CARNIVAL!!!!
I’m Irish. Who isn’t on St. Patty’s day? But I’m so Irish that my protestant Irish mother made me wear ORANGE to school on St. Patty’s Day. In Chicago. Yes…it scarred me for life. Maybe that’s why I became a writer. And maybe it’s why I write about luck. A LOT. It’s funny how these weekly questions have helped me sort out patterns in my writing. All us carnis randomly suggest the post topics every week so I think it’s funny that last week’s post topic on the season we write and this week’s have evoked such epiphanies. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I’m carb-deprived, due to diet. Continue reading →
Hey y’all welcome to this week of the YA INDIE CARNIVAL! Can I just say how AMAZING my fellow carnis are? I feel so lucky to be able to read all of their inspirational posts! SQUUUEEEE! Today’s topic kind of made me go…what??? I mean, do I tend to write a season? Of course not. I don’t just write one season. FAGETABOUTIT. But then I skimmed my books and I noticed a pattern.
I love the HEAT. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Chicago. Maybe it’s because I raised my family in LA. I don’t know the reason why. But when you open the pages of my books, you will sweat! Ah, wait a minute. Maybe that came out wrong. Yeah, there’s lots of that stuff in my novels too, but back to weather…hee-hee.
But I didn’t hear the rest of what Earl said because the white line brought me back home in my mind to when the horrible-wonderful ripening first buzzed through me after school. I had pulled my bangs back and stroked my next-to-invisible lashes with brown-black mascara when my feet twitched, unsteadying my hand. A prickly heat tickled my toes and crawled up my thighs. It made me move when I most wanted to sit still. So I bunched my white sundress up, unhitched my strapless, boob-crushing, employee-discounted leopard bra and scooted out of its matching thong. I wadded up my sex-wear and buried that perfumed ball of lace and silk in my wastebasket between unwrapped Slimfast pills, crushed wedding-present boxes and crinkled Snickers wrappers.
My heart leapfrogged me back to the road when a gust of wind just about blew the whistle on my commando-self, right in front of Earl. I tripped on some weeds at the side of the highway as I patted down every inch of my churned up skirt, my face hotter than the asphalt under my feet.
“Your momma called two hours ago,” Earl said, leaning out of his patrol car, his face as red as the pomegranates Momma grew in the backyard. “Bobby took you for dead.”
I’d done the worst thing possible by standing Bobby up. Because doing that one true thing meant the rest of the truth wasn’t far behind. I’d have to tell Bobby I didn’t love him and that buzzed the heebie-jeebies through me. The kind I’d get when I’d rush to kill a black widow before it killed me. I had no idea what Bobby would do when I told him. I had no idea what he was capable of. But, in the end, nothing would frighten me more than myself.
I grip the coconut tighter, hoping it will bring me some kind of luck. But I never really heard of lucky coconuts. I reach into my back pocket. And when I don’t have pockets, since I’m wearing the same linen dress as the last time, I can’t catch my breath. The message and the rabbit’s foot are gone. They didn’t AP with me. Duh, neither did my clothes. Continue reading →
I got an ice cream maker for Christmas and I’ve been totally obsessed by ice cream! I’ve made peppermint and lavender so far and I’m super excited to make some chocolate next:) So, it gave me an idea. I wanted to post some ice cream excerpts from the latest young adult fantasy fiction. I got so many that I need to post them in two parts! So, grab an ice cream cone and enjoy Part 1 of the Ice Cream Teaser posts:)
I’m super excited for 2012′s new releases! And, being Teaser Tuesday….I thought I’d feature my upcoming release, TRANSFER STUDENT, a Sci-Fi Coming-of-Age Romance.
Transfer Student is a Freaky-Friday story of two normal teenagers struggling to survive high school and deal with their parents… typical rites of passage. The twist? One teen is an alien from the planet Retha. In a galactic teleporting experiment gone wrong, Ashley, a Beverly Hills High surfing fashionista, and Rhoe, the biggest geek on planet Retha, swap lives. They must survive this nightmare to discover their dreams. How far would you go for someone you love?
Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:
Grab your current read
Open to a random page
Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!
Today I’m sharing an excerpt from Pyxis by K.C. Neal!
“I knew Ang’s lunch bag contained an egg salad sandwich. I also knew that, despite her deep love of egg salad, she wouldn’t want to eat it today because Toby Ellison was standing down the hall at the brownie table. Not that Ang would have the guts to march up to him and confess her undying love or even start a conversation about the weather, but just in case she talked to Toby, she wouldn’t want to smell like egg salad.”
