Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Beautiful Nightmares Cover Reveal!!!!

Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Happy Tuesday!!!

So, I am sooo excited to share with you all, the cover for the final book in the asylum trilogy!

This series has been such a wild ride and I'm hoping you guys love Beautiful Nightmares as much as you've loved Insanity, and White Walls.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all the fans of this series! I hope you enjoy the final installment!

And let me know what you think of the cover!

Cheers!

My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century Winners and Beautiful Nightmare News!

Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Hello Readers!

So...

I have a few things to announce today.

First, I asked Rachel Harris to pick the winners of the My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century Giveaway and here are the two winners she selected!

Caterina Torres and Mahlia Khan! Congrats ladies you'll be receiving an email soon.

Secondly, I have an announcement involving Beautiful Nightmares and sadly, most of you will be disappointed by it being that the release date is being moved back. This is out of my control. I do not have the final cover images yet and as most of you know the book is being released as a bundle paperback as well and I do not want to separate the releases of the paperback and eBook. So it will not be coming out until next Saturday....

However if you are waiting for the paperback... All three books will be included in the bundle, Insanity, White Walls, and Beautiful Nightmares along with the bonus scenes.

Honestly, this is my first bundle release for paperback so it has been a little overwhelming and I appreciate all of the support from the fans who wanted a copy of the paperback as well as the eBook.

Thank you so much.

Some more INSANITY.....

Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Hello readers!!!!

I hope everyone is having an epic summer.

I just wanted to share a little bit of news with you...

So 12 Rounds has been released! YAY!

On top of that I'm diligently working on Aurora's novella, So Far Gone, and hope to have that out by August 22.

Beautiful Nightmares is also coming together nicely.

I just wanted to take moment to highlight a few things. A lot of fans keep messaging about Infect Me, and Yelling Out Loud(A whisper to a scream 2) wanting to know when these novels are going to be released. I had originally planned for them to be released a while ago, but things happen. My personal life got in the way. So.... The release dates for both novels will be sometime in October. Both probably toward the end of the month being that they are both dark themed novels and my favorite holiday, Halloween, just so happens to be in October.

THEY WILL BE BOTH BE OUT SOMETIME IN OCTOBER. FOR SURE.

On another note, I'll also be writing a sequel to He Loves Me...He Loves You Not called She Loves Me...I Love Her and it will be written from Henry's POV. I am determined to redeem, Henry. DETERMINED.

There's also a milestone I need to celebrate. To date, I have been putting my books out for a year, and I have to thank all of the readers and fans who love the way I write and continue to spread the word about all of my novels. Because of you, I have sold over 28,000 copies of my books and I don't know how I can possibly thank you all enough.

You have made my dream of writing for a living possible and I owe everything to you all.

So thank you, thank you, thank you.

From the bottom of my heart.

Hope everyone enjoys the rest of their week!

Cheers!

Teaser: Chapter 1 of Insanity

Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Morning readers! As most of you know, I have a few new novels coming out soon! Infect Me will be released from Curiosity Quills press soon.(I'm still working on edits from my wonderful editor.)

 But....
Insanity my twisted, new adult, romantic suspense novel is the next book of mine to be released!

Whoot! Whoot! Honestly, I don't know why I'm drawn to writing tortured love stories, but for some reason it's something I excel at. So I'm super excited to let you get a little taste of what you're in for when you read Insanity.

 Also, I don't know about you guys, but I listen to a lot of music when I write. For some reason, it calms me... really puts me into the character's head. I have an extremely eclectic taste when it comes to music... I love anything and everything... so I thought it would be fun if I let you see the playlist for Insanity before you read chapter 1.

 1. My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence and the Machine 2. Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy 3. Change In The House Of Flies - Deftones 4. Breath of Life - Florence and the Machine 5. Hospital Beds - Florence and the Machine 6. Blood Bank - Bon Iver 7. Climax - Usher 8. Criminal - Fiona Apple 10. Crazy - Stars Go Dim 11. A Drop in the Ocean - Ron Pope 12. Stronger - Kelly Clarkson 13. When I'm Gone - Eminem 14. Lullaby - Nickelback 15. Heart Shaped Box - Nirvana 16. My Heart - Paramore 17. Heart Attack - Trey Songz  

Yay, now for Chapter 1 

I remember my first night here.
I remember the flickering lights on the ceiling that reminded me of bug zappers. The disenchanting vibe that was set from the way the dim lights danced along the neutral colored walls. More than anything, I remember the way they dragged me in here. Two orderly's, dressed from head to toe in white, clutching my elbows and escorting me down the darkened hall, barefoot and sobbing, dirt and blood caked up and ratted through my midnight colored locks, and smeared around the edges of my lime green dress.
I'd screamed in hysteria.
Cried with devotion.
 And kicked with conviction.
They led me to a sanitation area, ripped my clothes from my body, then hosed me down like a pig before it was sent to the slaughterhouse. A bar of soap whacked me in the side of the head after an orderly chucked it at me and told me to wash myself. I was too afraid to do anything. Too afraid to move. So when I sat there for five minutes, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe, legs and arms twitching with spasms. Finally, out of impatience and anger the orderly stomped over and washed me instead.
 I'd never felt more hopeless, more pitiful, or ever felt violated in a dirty kind of way. After my seven-minute shower, without letting me dry off, they plastered a hospital gown on my wet body and led me to my room. Freezing, I'd shivered, teeth chattering, and pumped warmth back into my body with friction from my hands. Nauseous, I swallowed the vomit inching up the back of my throat. Numb, I stared blankly ahead, unable to concentrate. I remembered thinking; if they kill people at this place, I hope they kill me soon.
They put me in solitary confinement. A small shoebox of a room with padded walls. They strapped me into a straightjacket. I fought the restraints. I screamed for help. I kicked one of the orderlies in the jaw.
You're a danger to yourself and others, they told me.
This is for your own good, your safety, they told me.
Here's the first thing I've learned since I arrived at the Oak Hill, Asylum; when everyone thinks you're crazy, no one is going to listen to you. Either that or they'll make you their own personal pincushion and fill your veins with the kind of tranquilizing medicine they use on horses.
That night, my first night here, I'd shrieked all night long, tucked in a ball on my small thin cot, sobbing harder than I've ever sobbed before. The funny thing is; I haven't stopped since then.
Three weeks.
 It has been three weeks.
 I still don't know why I'm here. What did I do to wind up in this place? I ask myself this question multiple times every day and I can never find the answer. Sometimes I hear a familiar voice in my head. Daddy's voice. “You stay out of her head, you little fucker. You stay out of her bed, you little fucker.”
But who is the little fucker?
My daddy was a bad man. He was best friends with Jimmy, Jack, and a Mexican named Jose. He liked to drink with his three best friends. Sometimes he'd even get piss ass drunk with them. On rare occasions he was nice; usually when his friends weren't around. Sometimes he even led me to believe he loved me. I think. When I was little, Daddy used to push me on a tire swing he'd made me. I'd tell him how I'd want to be a bird, a canary, because canaries are pretty and yellow and have beautiful singing voice's. Mommy was around then and she always thought it was funny that I'd talk about canaries. “And where would you fly my little bird,” she'd say kissing the top of my head with a chuckle.
 Then I'd reply with, “I'd fly to the moon.” Mommy, Daddy, and me laughed.
We were a happy family.
 Until one day, I woke up and Mommy was gone. And Daddy was never the same.
His friends used to come home with him occasionally, and after a while they came home with him every day. I asked myself every day where my old daddy went and thought about how bad I wanted him back. But I never saw my old daddy again. He left me, just like Mommy did. I didn't like my new daddy. One time, I'd just looked at him, giving him a sad look, tears glistening in my violet eyes. He'd looked back at me and for a second I thought I might catch a glimpse of my old daddy. He'd stood up from his reclining chair, walked to me, and towered over me, squinting down at me. I'd opened my mouth to tell Daddy how much I loved him and that I missed my old daddy and he's said, “You look just like that whore mother of yours.” And then he slapped me across the face.
That treatment continued for the next eight years, but I'd learned to be quiet, keep to myself. I'd learned to keep away from Daddy and obey him. Because I knew what would happen if I didn't.
Then one night, Daddy's friends were over and Daddy had a little too much of them for one night. Daddy's friends made him do crazy things sometimes. That night, the night they brought me in here, Daddy pulled out his rifle, aimed it...
BANG!
Then everything goes black and the shrieking begins.
Plodding footsteps drown out the sound of my screams.
I try and tell myself to stop screaming, but its like my mind and emotions are at war with one another. Before I know it, the door to my cell swings open.
 Four people.
There are four people approaching me, arms outstretched cautiously like I am some wild, ravenous beast in need of capturing. Four people.
I have nothing to defend myself with except for two arms, two legs, and a sharp mind.
But four to one? I am severely outnumbered. This is a battle I am going to lose. Still, even though I know I'll be defeated, determination pumps through me. I have never been the type to go down without a fight. Perhaps that's why I spent the last eight years letting my daddy beat me within an inch of my life. I never wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing that every time his fist connected with my jaw he didn't mentally break me.
Darting from my bed, I start for the door. Swimming hands swallow me and capture me in a net of firmness before carrying me back over to my cot. Thrashing my arms, I backhand a nurse, knocking the cap off her head and she grips the rounded collar of my hospital gown, cutting off my air supply for a second.
“Hold her down!” At the doctor's instruction a heavy-set nurse digs her kneecap into the small of my back and presses down.
No! Don't hold me down! Set me free! I don't belong here!
 “No!” My voice is raspy and raw and dry, full of pent up fear and anger. “No!” I try to swat at someone behind me, but the two orderlies pin my arms to my cot. Wiggling, I try to free myself from their grasp, but the nurse with her knee in my back puts all over her weight on me, shooting shivers of pain down my spine and immobilizing me.
“Calm down,” my doctor says. He has a soft, soothing voice, but its deadly.
 I peek through stands of my ebony hair, watching the sweet, sweet mind-erasing fluid spout from the tip of the needle like a fountain. The drug speaks to me. Forget who you are. Forget where you are. Forget why you were brought here. Forget everything. I won't let them make me forget. I won't let them neutralize me and turn me into one of their empty robots.
 I won't. I won't. I won't.
“Keep still, Adelaide. This won't hurt. You'll only feel a pinch.” But that pinch will dilute everything.
I panic, screaming louder, and thrash as hard as I can. The orderlies in front of me grip my wrists harder and I can see one clearly through my strands of unwashed hair. Thick black hair, blue blue eyes, and toasted almond skin. He doesn't look at me like the chubby one with pale, ashy hair next to him is looking at me. He's not looking at me like I'm crazy. He's looking at me like he feels sorry for me. Like he wants to take me away from this gloomy prison and hide me from the doctors with needles and metronomes.
 Please, blue eyes.
 Save me.
Be my prince charming.
My knight in shining armor.
 Rescue me from a burning tower of depression, sadness, and misery.
He doesn't.
The needle plunges into my skin and I let out a whimper. The drug blasts through my veins and infiltrates my bloodstream, shutting every organ inside of me down for the night. Widening my eyes, I fight off the effects of the drug as it works its way through my body. I clench my fists defiantly, trying to scream again, but I'm too weak, too tired, and too over taken by the drugs to do anything but moan inaudibly.
I hear the doctor. “Just wait until it takes full effect.” His voice is muffled, fading away, pretty soon I can't hear him at all anymore. I think my door closes.
There's a ringing in my ears that I can't shut out. There's a hand on my wrist that doesn't let go. Before exhaustion takes over I look up. Blue eyes is at the end of the bed. He releases my wrist and laces his fingers through mine. I squint as the sedative blurs my vision, begins to decapitate my mind, and then notice the painful look in those blue blue eyes.
On top of the pain in the two blue gems there's familiarity.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
How could I forget him? Him, of all people. The one person in the entire world who holds the key to my heart. The one and only person who has ever really loved me. Then I remind myself that they feed and inject me with so many drugs, that its a miracle I don't forget who I am.
I struggle to sound coherent, “Damien?”
He mouths something.
Six words.
 Six words that seem too impossible to be true.
Six words that bleed hope into my soul.
Six words.
“You're not crazy. I love you.”

 Hope you guys enjoyed this!

 Cheers!

You Might Be A YA Writer If... And... He Loves Me...He Loves You Not...Poll

Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Hello Readers!

Hope everyone's week has kicked off to great start!

I had this super fun idea for a post last week, but I'll get to that in a sec.

First I wanted to take a poll from the readers who've read, He Loves Me...He Loves You Not...

So, I've been toying with the notion of rewriting. No... Not completely rewriting, but writing a second addition and adding Henry's POV to it. I've asked a few people who have read it and some say, "No don't!" While others say, "That might be interesting to read."

Truthfully, I love Henry. He's one of my favorite characters. Part of me thinks he deserves to tell his story. So in the end, I want to know what the readers think. What about Henry? Would you want to read his POV?


Now on to the fun part of today's post?

How many of you watch or listen to comedians?

Personally I love some of the ones that incorporate stuff like this into their acts.

You might be a (insert word here) if....

So I thought, how fun would that be if we did that for today's post? Let's face it. We all draw our inspirations from different places.

And...

If you're adult, sometimes its difficult to find yourself in the teen mind-frame when writing a YA novel. We might think we know what the current trends are in the world of teenagers, but that's not always the case.

Now on to the fun part. Here's how I dip into the teenage mind, lol.

You might be a YA writer if...

1. You casually eavesdrop on a conversation between some bubbly teenage girls while skimming the sales rack at Forever 21. Then you ask yourself,"Did she just say fugly?" Hmm... Fugly? Is that even a word? Maybe I can use that somewhere.

2. You observe your teenage brother with his dudes while they play basketball to catch up on current teenage boy speak.(I have to say, that from doing this I've learned that teenage boys lingo is totally and completely different from teenage girls.)

3. Google becomes your best friend and you've been sitting in front of your computer for the last hour typing in searches like; fashion trends for teens. (Yes, I have done this, lol.)

So let's hear some of yours....

You might be a YA writer If.... Finish this in the comment section.

Hopefully you've had fun with this!

I know I did.

Cheers!

Query Do's And Don'ts

Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Hiya Readers!

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Wednesday!

Today's post is about query do's and don'ts. (At least mine, anyway.)

Now, some of you are in the beginning stages of the query process and some of you are all ready agented so you don't have to worry about this stage at all.

But...

You never know when a few helpful tips might come in handy.

Do's

1. Be informative, but describe the novel in no more than three paragraphs.

Look, here's the thing, and I don't know if this is just me or other agents feel the same way, but I don't want to read a book about you explaining your entire story from beginning to end. Paragraphs in a query should be short, simple, and to the point.

2. Always tell the agent a little bit about yourself.

So you're a member of three great writing groups? Have a degree in Creative Writing? Have a platform? Yeah. We want to know that stuff.

And me personally, I want to know just how many projects you've written.

3. Be professional.

But I'm pretty sure most of you know how to do that. :)

Don'ts

1. Do not. I repeat do not... Tell me that you're the next J.K. Rowling.

This is my number one query pet peeve. I dislike query letters to begin with. I don't like to read them. I think a lot of writers have trouble with them. And 99.9 percent of the time, I skip the query portion and read the writing that's pasted into the email first.

BUT....

If I do happen to skim the query line and see something like that, its an instant rejection for me. First off, its great that you're confident in your skills, I mean it really is, but how much is too much? THAT is too much.

2. If you receive a rejection, do not write back with a snappy, unprofessional letter.

I don't know about other agents, but I avoid rejection letters as long as possible because I don't like writing them. I feel like a giant dream crusher. I know how hard writers work on their craft. How much time they put in. The passion and emotion that's involved. And I wish I could sign everyone that queries me, but sadly, I can't.

Sometimes you might think you're ready to begin querying, but you're not. And all it will take is a little more time, hard work, and perseverance before you should begin building that query letter, perfecting it, and then sending it out. Don't ever be in a rush. Take it from me, I used to be that way. But, I have since learned my lesson and also learned to take a step back, breathe, and take my time on things.

In the end, that will show in your work. And the reader or agent will able to see it to.

Hopefully some of these tips helped.

Cheers!

So...What Are You Writing?

Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Good Morning, Readers!

It's been a while.

I've been away from the blogger world due to some family things, but I'm excited to be back with this post!

Because this post is about WIP's. Yay!

Lately, I'd been in a writing slump. Mainly because of all of things that had been going on in my personal life, but I'm excited to say that I've found my voice again. And I can't even begin to express how good that feels.

It's amazing.

Transcendent.

Glorious.

So I'm going to share a little piece of my new WIP with you. I'm actually super excited because this will be my first adult romance novel, that and... It's hot, steamy, and spine tingling at the same time.

So here is a teaser for my latest WIP- Insanity(Asylum 1)

I panic, screaming louder, and thrash as hard as I can. The orderly’s in front of me grip my wrists harder and I can see one clearly through my strands of unwashed hair. Thick black hair, blue blue eyes, and toasted almond skin. He doesn't look at me like the chubby one with pale, ashy hair next to him is looking at me. He's not looking at me like I'm crazy. He's looking at me like he feels sorry for me. Like he wants to take me away from this gloomy prison and hide me from the doctors with needles and metronomes.

Please, blue eyes.

Save me.

Be my prince charming.

My knight in shining armor.

Rescue me from a burning tower of depression, sadness, and misery.

He doesn't.

The needle plunges into my skin and I let out a whimper. The drug blasts through my veins and infiltrates my bloodstream, shutting every organ inside of me down for the night. Widening my eyes, I fight off the effects of the drug as it works its way through my body. I clench my fists defiantly, trying to scream again, but I'm too weak, too tired, and too over taken by the drugs to do anything but moan inaudibly.

I hear the doctor. “Just wait until it takes full effect.” His voice is muffled, fading away, pretty soon I can't hear him at all anymore. I think my door closes.

There's a ringing in my ears that I can't shut out. There's a hand on my wrist that doesn't let go. Before exhaustion takes over I look up. Blue eyes is at the end of the bed. He releases my wrist and laces his fingers through mine. I squint as the sedative blurs my vision, begins to decapitate my mind, and then notice the painful look in those blue blue eyes.

He mouths something.

Six words.

Six words that seem to impossible to be true.

Six words that bleed hope into my soul.

Six words.

“You're not crazy. I love you.”

So now that I've shown you mine, tell me about yours.

What are you writing?

Emotions...How are your characters affected by them?

Friday, March 16, 2012
TGIF!

Whoot! Whoot!

Happy Friday Readers!

Sooo...What is everybody doing for St. Patty's Day?

Today's post is about emotions and how what you're feeling can affect your characters.

I don't know about you guys, but I'm big on emotions and feelings when it comes to my writing.

Professionally too.

As an agent and reader, I want to be able to feel your character. I want to cry with them. Laugh with them. And fall in love with them. Unfortunately some writers fall flat on conveying the emotions needed to make a novel work. Granted, every one who reads a book has a different opinion and approaches the novel with a different view, but ultimately I think this true for everyone, we all want to feel something when we read.

Now, we all know that we are not our characters. We all know that even though we create them, that they have their own personalities and they we as the writer might not do some of the things they do, but I do think it is important for writers to ask themselves a few things when trying to breathe emotional life into our characters and here are few tips that help me.

1. What mannerisms, actions, smells, or even tastes affect my character? What does it remind them of?

2. Strong characters vs. Weak characters. Honestly I don't care what anybody says I find redeeming qualities in both types of characters. You know why? Because they're relate-able. No two human beings are alike.Some are stronger than others. Some are weaker. But what's important when breathing life into the type of character is authenticity. A weak, type of character wouldn't do some of the things a strong type of character would do, so its important to know which type of character you're writing and stick to that.

3. Feelings. This is sooo important. I ask myself 'how would this make Hadley feel'? (Hadley happens to be the MC in the adult romance I'm currently working on so I'm using her as an example.)How does a look, a touch, a kiss, a smell, make her feel? What kind of things make her happy, sad, disgusted...etc. I could go on with that list forever.

In closing I'm sure most of you understand how to effectively convey emotion in your characters, but I hope some of these tips help you if you don't.

Cheers!

Have a safe and Happy St. Patty's Day!

Some Major News To Share!

Thursday, March 8, 2012
Hi Readers!!!

So I feel like it's been forever and a day since I've written a post, but things have been a lil insane on my end and I'm so excited to be getting back to blogging.

First things first...

I have some exciting news! Some of my books have been picked up by a publisher. Curiosity Quills Press will be releasing, Infect Me, Yelling Out Loud(A Whisper To A Scream 2.), and No Rest For The Wicked.

They will also be re-releasing Asphodel. So I'll be taking the version that's currently up down in the next week. If you read the old version and didn't like it you might like the new one because there is going to be some rewriting done.

In the next couple weeks I will also be taking Famished down and rewriting that one as well. It will be put back up some time in May when the sequel Wasted will be released.

The point of taking down Famished is...well, that was the first book I'd written before I really, really found myself as a writer. I know there are ways I can make it better and would like to be able to do so.

Honestly, I think every writer has to write several books before they really know who they are. Before they really find their voice and I'm happy that I finally found mine(Even though it took me about five books to find it,lol.)

On another note, I have two more romance novels I'm going to be releasing on my own in the next two months. 12 Rounds is my first adult romance and I'm super excited about that! The next one is called Straightjacket. You know me, I like to walk on the dark side, lol.

I hope all of you are doing well and keeping busy. What are some of the writing projects you've been working on lately?

Or how are you doing in general?

Have a great day!

Cheers!

Writer's Block and How to Conquer It.

Friday, February 17, 2012
Yay! Happy Friday Readers!

I know it's been a while, but I've been insanely busy lately, so I've little time for blogging.

I'm excited for today's post because it's about writer's block and how to overcome it.

How many of you experience writer's block?

I'm sure quite a few of you have.

Personally, I don't get it too often, but when I do these are some of the things I do to overcome it and hopefully some of these things will help you too.

1. BACK AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD & TAKE A BREATHER. - I get it, you're super excited to finish your last WIP. You've worked so hard on it, put passion into it, and suddenly it feels like you've hit a snag in the road. You can't think. Your mind is drawing a blank.

DO NOT I repeat DO NOT just type anything just finish it. If you have to take a break, for a day, a week, a month even if you have to. Nothing good is going to come from a manuscript that's rushed.

2. START A NEW WIP. - Sometimes it helps me when I start a new WIP and come back to the old one. Then again that probably explains why I have like 50 manuscripts saved on my desktop, but I find that when I'm thinking about a new WIP, it completely clears out the blockage I had with the old one and I can go back to it with a clear conscience and a fresh perspective on where I want to take it.

3. DO SOMETHING FUN - If you're like me, there are a lot of times where I'm so absorbed in writing or working on stuff for my clients that I forget how to relax, let go, and have fun sometimes. YOU need this... TRUST ME.

And a lot of times, a ton of great ideas come to me when I'm out with my friends, taking a weekend trip, or even spending time with my family.

4. GET A BETA READER OR TWO - Beta readers are awesome. Why? Because when they approach your manuscript with feedback they have a completely different outlook on it. They will offer you advice and suggestions that might put that blockage to rest. Well, at least for a little while.

Hope some of these comments help.

Have a great weekend!

Cheers!

<3

Pick A Genre...Any Genre... And Brand Yourself.

Monday, January 23, 2012
Happy Monday Readers!

I hope everyone had a great and relaxing weekend! Well now it's Monday. Time to get back to work!

Today's post is going to be about branding yourself as an author. I know. I know. I was just like you. I'd say to myself why should I limit myself? Why should I focus on one area where there are so many other possibilities?

I don't know about you guys, but I like to challenge myself. I like to pick challenging subjects and write about them. Hence the love triangle in He Loves Me... Or book 2 Love Without Words in the pandemic series.(Which by the way, I'm going to attempt to write an entire book without dialogue. Tricky,tricky, I know.)

But I'll tell you this....

Branding yourself is important. It is where you discover yourself as a writer. And I'll tell you something I learned about myself. I'm a romance writer. Whether it's a dark romance--like A Whisper To A Scream--or an fun summer fling romance like--If I Can't Have You. Romance is what I'm good at. That's my brand. And that's what I'm going to focus on in the future. And do you know how many books written it took me to learn that? Let's just say...A LOT.

Everyone is different. Some writers are good at one genre, but not so good at another. And I will say the most important thing we can do is write book after book and learn from ourselves. Deep down inside you know what your strengths and weaknesses are.

A lot of times we have to explore our writing capabilities. Sometimes we have to write several different books before we write "the one", and figure out where we want to be as writers. But what's more important than anything is that we dive in head first and never give up the fight.

I hope you've found something helpful in this post. And now for a lil treat! I've pasted a snippet from If I Can't Have You below. I hope you enjoy it and have a great week!

Cheers! <3

For a moment neither one of us moves. We’re mesmerized, swimming in each other’s gazes. Slowly Drake slides his fingers up my waist, locking my hips against his. Then he sits up, still staring, not breaking his focus.There’s sand all over his arms and the rough texture scratches against my burn skin, making it feel raw. He glides a free hand up my spine and I shiver as my shirt slides up and I feel his moist fingers against my back. He gently pulls the hair tie from my hair and my shoulders are covered in waves of chocolate cherry locks. “I want you,” he whispers. “I want you bad.”

And I want him. Oh how I’ve wanted him. For years and years and years. And this moment seems a little surreal to me. That finally, after all this time I finally get what I’ve wanted. What I’ve coveted. What I’ve adored.

I twist the thick straps of his wife-beater around my forefingers and urge his lips closer to mine with each tug. He’s so close his warm breath trails along my cheek bones and heats my face. His lips are so close and if I I move an inch mine will touch his. “You do something crazy to me, kid.”

And he does something crazy to me too. I’m a nut job in a mental institution. Clearly incapable of functioning normally and Drake is the orderly he comes to me every morning to deliver my pills. Without him I’ll be crazy forever. Only he is capable of getting rid of the insanity because he is the cure to it.

How To Grab Your Reader By The Throat....

Friday, January 20, 2012
Happy Friday readers!

I hope everyone has had an amazing week!

Today's post is about pulling in your readers from page one.

Some writer's struggle with an engaging first chapter. I know I am one of them. A lot of times when I'm writing I have to back in and change things at a later time because sometimes our characters don't always speak to us when we want them to. I don't know if that's true for you guys, but it definitely is for me.

Even when I'm reading subs or queries I want to be whisked away from the first page and a lot of times that doesn't happen. Your job as a writer is to dazzle your audience with your story-telling skills and grab them by the throat.

Now I will say that there are some of my books that aren't as good as others, but the important thing is that I learn from every book I write. And I think that most writers do as well. But here are a few helpful tips on how to engage the audience from page 1.

1. Always have something going on. Even if it's minor. Even if it's just your MC brushing their teeth.

2. Put feeling into your characters. It's like a doctor who asks how you feel about something. Ask yourself the same question. How would my character feel about this? Novels are not all about descriptions, grammar, and world-building. Feelings have a lot to do with the way your reader relates to the characters and how are we supposed to like them and relate to them if we can't feel what they are feeling.

3. Bring on the tension.

4. Don't rush it. God, there have been so many times where I've felt like I've rushed things in my books and I wish I could back and change things. Pacing in a novel is very important, so take it from me and learn from some of my mistakes lol.

5. Don't be afraid to cut things. I know. I know. We're all soooo attached to our characters. We love them. We feel them. But...Sometimes we have to cut out some of their scenes. Some things drag your novel down and slow down the pacing and you have to be willing to cut some areas to make things work. I know it sucks, but sometimes it has to be done.

Now hopefully you've found some of these tips helpful.

Have a great weekend everybody!

Cheers.

Asphodel Book Birthday!

Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Yay!!!!!!

So I'm super duper excited that Asphodel releases today! Yay!

You can buy you eBook copy at either Amazon, B&N, or Smashwords and the paperback will be available for pre-order starting Thurs. :)

I also have some more good news!

My lovely client Kelly Hashway's book, Touch of Death sold in a two book deal to Spencer Hill Press for publication in Jan 2013. Yay!

I have got two more deals to announce, but have to wait a little while longer before I announce them. *sighs*

That's all for now, I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Cheers!

Hopefully there's more awesomeness to come in 2012!

<3 Lauren

Asphodel Chapter One! And New Novel Announcement!

Tuesday, December 6, 2011


Hello readers!!!!

I know it's been a while, but I have been a busy little bee.

With the release of Asphodel in 14 days (eeep!) and agenting I've been absent from the blog-o-sphere for a couple weeks and for that I apologize.

Also, I've been working furiously on a new novel which will come out in eBook a week after Asphodel. :)

Remember how I said I was going to write a zombie romance with no dialogue....Well I've decided to split it up into two books and the first one, Infect Me (Pandemic 1) will come out Dec 27, 2011... But yes.... this one does have dialogue... The second book Love Without Words will not. So that should be interesting. :)

Today I' have a special treat for you. Along with the first chapter of Asphodel, I'll be releasing a snippet of Infect Me. And if you want to you can add infect me on goodreads here.

Soooo i'm super excited to share these with you! So let's start it out with Asphodel, shall we?

Asphodel~ Chapter One ~ Hades

Sirens howled in the distance followed by honking car horns and tires peeling out. Hades propped himself up against a building and watched with a blank expression as an ambulance hurled around the street corner, it’s white and red lights turning in a circular motion.

A man lied in the middle of the street. His limbs were twisted and broken and blood oozed from every opening on the man’s face. His chest rose up lightly and even though he was feet away, Hades heard the man’s raspy, wheezing breaths. The Commander of the Dead felt the man’s life slipping away. With every weak breath that escaped the man’s lungs, he crept closer and closer to Hades’s grasp.

The man was hit by a bus. It was tragic, really. Hades had seen it happen, yet he did nothing to prevent it. That was the way the world worked. Mortals were born and died everyday. It was not his place to interfere, even though he could if he really wanted to.

Police blocked off the scene of the accident with bright orange cones and yellow caution tape and a crowd of onlookers had formed to watch as the paramedics placed the unknown man on a guerney. Women cried out and a few of them were being comforted by their male partners. Hades closed his eyes and began to feel bits and pieces of the man’s life flash before his eyes. This occurred everytime a soul was about to cross into his realm. This gave the God of the Dead the ability to administer proper judgement and proper placement once the souls of the departed reached him.

Using his invisibility cloak, Hades faded into the chaos of the crowd and hovered over the dying man. He reached out, prepared to latch onto the man’s wrist and pull him under when he’d heard a wild shriek in the crowd. “Jake! Jake!” Hades straightened up and looked over his shoulder as a woman sprinted through the crowd of onlookers, pushing and shoving the ones in her way. Her strands of chestnut hair slapped against her cheeks, her ivory cheeks were flushed and her eyes were rimmed in red. She howled out another painful shriek. “Jake! No! No!”

Hades stepped back as the woman reached the guerney and hurled her body over the dying man’s. Agony flashed in the woman’s hazel eyes as she ran her trembling fingers over the man’s mangled face. She sobbed, her voice strangled as the paramedics and police officers tried to pull her off the man. “No! No!” She fought them off, her arms flailing, her legs jetting out as she tried to kick the cops and paramedics. “Don’t die on me, Jake! Don’t die on me! I love…I love you!”

“Ma’am, we have to get him to a hospital!” a paramedic cried. “He needs medical attention!”

After a few more strenuous attempts the cops were able to pry the woman off of the man, they escorted her to the ambulance and helped her into the back. And she sat there, sobbing into her palms while the paramedics loaded the body. Once the guerney was secure, the woman laced her fingers through the man’s, lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed the man’s fingertips.

Hades waited until the paramedics closed the ambulance door before appearing inside. He watched the woman, a fierce loving look in her eyes as she brushed her thumb against the man’s limp hand. Her emotion struck Hades in a way he hadn’t been struck in centuries. He felt for her. Normally when he witnessed death he remained indifferent and just accepted what had occurred, but for some reason he couldn’t understand this situation seemed different.

Maybe because he knew what it was like to love someone and watch them slip through grasp eternally. He’d been after his love for at least five thousand years. Chasing her from state to state, city to city, and from continent to continent. He’d suffered in pain every time he lost her. And he’d lost her a lot.

Standing there in the ambulance, persuaded by his own feelings Hades did something he rarely ever did. He leaned over the dying man’s mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and breathed life back into him. The man’s eyes flew open and he coughed out, gasping for air. The woman’s eyes bulged out and she cried tears of joy as she kissed every bruise on the man’s face.

A soft smile crawled across Hades’s lips as he vanished from the ambulance and returned to his realm. He sat down, rigidly still on his throne and gazed out into the black abyss of nothingness known as the underworld. The realm in which he was the tyrannical ruler of. He peered over his should to his right, then to his left. The quiet engulfed him until all he heard were his own thoughts.

At times he cursed Zeus for damning him to a realm of nothingness, death, and despair, but then again there were times where he’d also praised Zeus. Hades had never been like the other God’s and Goddesses that previously dwelled on Mount Olympus. The wicked and despicable things he was capable of would haunt them to the core. He was sure of it.

Through the centuries, the tasks of running his realm had become tedious and repetative to Hades. The task of damning the souls that had crossed the river Styx into his domain was becoming tiresome for the deceitful king. Of course he still had Cerberus, his dog, man’s best friend. Cerberus had proven to be extremely loyal. At times the three headed beast’s howling and barking would annoy Hades to the point, where he considered cutting off all three of Cerberus’s heads. But that was only a mere thought.

The gentle giant of guardian hobbled into the throne room, all three tounges hanging out. The dog whimpered and let out a soothing yelp as Hades gently stroked the dog’s middle head. “Good boy.”

The God of the Dead’s attention averted to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room and Cerberus’s spine stiffened as Hades rose up from his throne. “Stay,” he commanded the three headed dog whom Hades called his only loyal companion over the last five thousand years. Cerberus howled and lied down on the floor, lowering all three of his heads in a gesture of obiedience.

Hades lips turned up into a wry smile as he walked out of his throne room. Perhaps his kindness today was a sign. Perhaps he was close to getting her. The one and only person he’d ever loved. The Goddess he’d been chasing for the last five thousand years.

****


It was fifteen minutes to midnight and Hades, God of death and destruction, paced along the banks of the river Styx with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Charon was late with today’s shipment of souls and that left Hades feeling uneasy. Hades didn’t like uncertainty. He ran a tight schedule in the realm of the dead and when the impervious schedule was interrupted, well, he knew Charon would be wise to stay away from him for the rest of the day.

He stopped mid-pace, kicking grey sand and focused on the fog, rising from the brownish, green murky waters of the Styx. There was an internal clock in his brain, ticking and as Hades closed his eyes he envisioned the hands of the clock moving as the minutes dwindled by. Filled with worry and impatience, Hades tapped his foot, folding his arms and drummed his fingers against his elbow. Anxiousness unfurled beneath his skin like a flesh-eating parasite. “The one day that I need him to be on time and he’s late,” Hades growled as he began pacing again.

Sand crunched as the rubber soles of his boots smashed it down and the noise richocheted off the walls of the cavern—the opening—the crossing where the land of the living met with the land of the dead. The slick brown stone walls glistened with sludge, a slmiy residue from the Styx’s choppy waters. Hades’s eyes centered on that sludge as he thought about all the punishment’s he’d have in store for Charon if he took any longer. But, before he came up with one, the soft plunking of wooden oars throbbed in his ears. Then the plunking intensified turning into slapping. Charon was close.

Hades stood on the edge of the dock as the old, feeble ferryman parked his ship, full of the dearly departed and descended down the rope ladder. Charon stood before his master clutching the brim of his hat, his fingers trembling. “I’m sorry master. So sorry.” Charon lowered his head and few wisps of white hair stood up while the lighting bounced off the bald parts.

“What was the hold-up?” Hades asked, gruffly.

Charon kept his head low, talking at his feet.“We had an indecisive soul, sire.”

An indecisive soul was the soul of a mortal who was stuck in the between, not quite in the land of the living, but still not able to cross fully into the land of the unliving. Hades scanned the row of occupants on the ferry, infuriated. “Which one was it?” His tone was flat and cold.

Charon lifted his head and nodded at a teenage boy in the back of the ship. “Him.”

Hades glared at the boy pre-adult boy, whose hazel eyes glistened with tears. Seconds later, Hades disappeared, reappearing in front of the boy. Fear crept up the mortal’s spine and he stiffened, unable to move. Then he started shaking. Hades examined him, hoping to scorch him with his gaze. Rage bubbled inside of the mighty God and Hades boomed, “Aren’t you a man?” The boy lowered his head and Hades blanched as he sniffled. But the boy did not answer.

“Answer me!” Hades screamed, shaking the entire ferry. The other passengers turned, eyeing Hades, fearfully.

“I’m, I’m only fifffteen,” the boy whimpered, stuttering at the same time.

Hades exhaled as the rage inside of him died down. He relaxed his stance slouching over, slightly. Even though, the young boy had taken too much of his time and Hades contemplated sending him to the depths of Tartarus, he knew couldn’t. Not because he wasn’t able to, but because despite his cold demeanor and mischevious ways, He had always been a fair and just God. And the boy didn’t deserve to spend an eternity being tortured endlessly. “Stand up,” He instructed the teen, calmly.

The boy rose from his seat, trying desperately to lock his trembling knees in place. Hades placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and the young teen blanched, turning away. “Do not fear me,” Hades said boldly. Slowly, the boy turned toward Hades, peaking up at him from the corner of his eye. Then the God of the Dead closed his eyes and recited the same thing he’d recited for the last five-thousand years. “The realm of the dead welcomes you. Go forth and find your home in the Field of Asphodel so that you may live out your eternity in peace.”

Every soul on the ferry vanished. They’d been assigned to their forever. And then Hades vanished, appearing in his throne room. Walls of black and matching black marble tile floors engulfed him and he sat back on the red, velvet cushioned throne. He looked up at a cast-iron clock on the wall. Seven minutes to midnight. In seven minutes, he’d have another opportunity to take her, hopefully his last.

He recalled the first time saw her in the Hall of the Gods, trailing behind Demeter. Her mahogany hair glistened red in the sunlight. Her skin was a creamy peach color. And her eyes were the most stunning shade of Jade-green he’d ever seen.

Hades had been chasing Demeter and her daughter for five-thousand years. And in the past, Demeter was always able to out-smart him. Demeter had always kept her daughter close—too close.

But Hades had a feeling that during this seventeen year span it would be different. He would finally get what he’d always longed for. A queen. Or who he’d always longed for, Persephone.



And now a snippet from Infect Me(Pandemic 1)

“Good morning, beautiful.” Trevor’s voice fills up every part of me. I hear him in my head, in my ears, and in my heart.

I exhale as he clutches on to me tightly. “I’m sure beautiful is way too much of an overstatement.” Even I’m frightened of my own relfection when I stare at it first thing in the morning.

Trevor hovers above me and smells clean like fresh water and dove soap. I roll over, facing him and he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear before placing a soft kiss on my forehead. My eyelids flutter and I gaze into his melted sapphire blue eyes that are only an inch away from my face. “Did you sleep at all last night?” I ask, concerned.

“Some,” he answers me in a soft voice. I know he’s lying. He’s like a hardass who lies about the pain that accompanies a broken bone. He’s always trying to make things seem less than what they really are. And when he says he got ‘some’ sleep in Trevor code that means he didn’t get any.

“Why don’t you try to go to bed?” I sit up. “I’m going to go shower.”

He folds up his arms and nestles them behind his head. “But it’s so bright out. You know I can’t sleep during the day.”

I stop on his side of the bed and lace my fingers through his. “Just try, for me. Please. I’ll feel better if you do.”

“Fine,” he sighs, defeated. “But only because I hate to see you upset.” I try to pull away from him, but he lets out a soft laugh, yanks on my arm, and playfully clutches my waist before pinning me down on the bed.

His fingers glide up my shirt and wander over my stomach as goosebumps rise all over my skin. He’s half on top of me and my knees go up instinctively as his fingertips dig into my stomach. “Trevor,” I giggle. “That tickles.” He crushes his lips to mine and brushes his tongue over the tip of mine before backing out of the kiss and falling back on the bed. I prop myself up on my elbows and frown. “What was that for?”

“The kissing?”

“Yeah.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying that I can’t kiss the love of my life?”

“No.” I crawl toward him and caress my lips against his. “I’m saying that you’re a tease.”

He smiles brightly. “No I’m not.”

I straddle him and slide my hands up his abdomen. “That kiss was very tease-worthy, Trevor George.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease you,” he says sincerely. “I was trying to give myself something good to dream about.”


Hope you guys enjoyed this!

<3 Cheers!

Creative Writing Goals... What are some of yours?

Friday, November 18, 2011
Hello.... Literary Land!


With Turkey Day quickly approaching... (and let's face it, I'm sure we could all use a few days to relax, have some turkey, and spend time with family) that will also give us some down time. So what do you plan to do with it?

Today's post is about Creative Writing Goals. I know everyone has them. But what exactly are they and what do they mean to each person? Take mine for example, I like to write off the wall books... and I'm always striving to write something different. Books that really have something to say.

Among my slew of idea's I'm determined to write a zombie romance without dialogue. Challenging, huh? What's a book without dialogue? How can it be pulled off? I think as writers we always try to challenge ourselves with every book we write. And Imo, a challenge is a good thing.

So what are some of the challenges in writing you'd like to cross? What are some of your goals for 2012?

Have a good Friday, everyone!

Cheers!

Finding Your Inner Voice....

Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Readers~

I hope everyone is having an awesome Tuesday!

Today's post is about finding your inner voice with your writing.

Voice in writing is key. Let's face it, if a person can't connect to the voice of your MC your book is going to fall flat.

Sometimes, you can find your voice right away. Sometimes it takes years. Me personally, I just found mine. And it took me eight years to find it.

Below I've provided several helpful hints that might help you in finding your inner voice.

1. Test out different tenses - One thing I've learned is that testing out different tenses is a good thing. Some people are better at past tense, some are better at present. This whole time I thought I was a past tense writer and I'm not. I'm much more comfortable with present tense. It flows easier and I'm able to put more emotion into my characters.

2. Test out different POV's - Some writers are better at third person, while others are better at first. Write your characters from all of POV's then decide which one works best for you or which one flows more freely.

3. Know your characters inside and out - Fully flesh out your characters. Know their likes, their dislikes, know their feelings. Most importantly, know how they'd react in a situation... And remember this; even though sometimes we put pieces of ourselves into our characters. WE ARE NOT THEM. You are not your character. And it's important that you know how to separate yourself from the character. Because let's face it, we put our character's through hell and we wouldn't necessarily do what they do.

Hopefully some of this helps!

Cheers! <3

Five Top Tips When Querying An Agent

Friday, October 14, 2011
So you've done it! You've completed your masterpiece, fine-tuned it, added a few things here and there, now your finally ready to query and start looking for an agent.

Below, I've posted five helpful tips on what to do when querying.

1. Write a good book. One line I like to use is don't be sloppy. DO NOT just throw a bunch of words together just to get it finished. I know. I know. You're excited and sometimes that makes writers impatient. Slow down... Take a deep breath. Let everything flow. So what if it takes you a little longer. Most of us will still be here.

2. Again be patient. Agents get flooded with queries. Sometimes it may take us a while to respond.

3. Be able to take constructive criticism. Let's face it, nobody gets to be J.K. Rowling over night. And nobody is perfect. There are going to be specific areas of your manuscript that need to be re-written whether your agents suggests you do it or editors do.

4. Be prepared. Don't go into your agent search blindly. Have everything you might need prepared. Query. Manuscript. Partial. Synopsis. If you get that magic hmmmm I'd like to read this, I usually request the partial and synopsis first. That's just me, though, but you never know what we're going to want. Maybe we'll want everything... So it's always good to have everything in order.

5. Never be afraid to ask a million questions. So you're excited. You've written the manuscript, and now you've gotten the call... BUT be careful with that pen. Ask a million questions before you sign that contract. Anytime I'm on a convo with a client I'd like to sign, I ask them do you have any questions? And I answer all of them as thoroughly as possible and they can ask as many as they want. When you sign a contract with an agent, you should never go into without asking questions or getting to know your agent a little better. This is a partnership and both parties need to make certain they are making the right decision.


Hopefully this helps some of you in navigating through literary la la land.

Have a good weekend!

Cheers!

Blow Me Up. Break Me. Shatter Me Into Pieces.

Thursday, October 13, 2011


I have to start this review out by saying this was one of the novels that I had been anticipating the most as far as new releases go. Well...I have a top ten list actually, lol.

Anyway, Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi is the story of Juliette, a teenage girl whose touch kills.

Juliette hasn't touched anyone in exactly 264 days. The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette's touch is fatal. As long as she doesn't hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don't fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.

The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war- and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she's exactly what they need right now.

Juliette has to make a choice: Be a weapon. Or be a warrior. (summary from goodreads)

I don't think there are enough words to describe how much I loved this book. The two things I loved the most; One, Mafi's writing style is brilliant. So poetic and beautiful. And two, Adam, Adam, Adam. Seriously. He's a tatted up bad ass--which I think is awesome. But there's so much more to him and you're honestly surprised by it. You think he's one thing, but he's not... He's the complete opposite.

Shatter Me will leave you breathless, make your heart race, and leave you wanting more. Much..Much.. MORE!

Shatter Me is Tahereh Mafi's debut novel and you HAVE to check it out! It drops 11/15/2011


*ARC was provided by the publisher for a fair and honest review*

Cheers!

The 411 on Famished...

Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Dear Readers,

It has been brought to my attention that there are some formatting errors and typos in Famished. Honestly, when it was uploaded, I had no idea. And I don't think author ever intends to upload a book with errors in it.

So.... I will be dropping the price on Amazon. And I will also be taking down the version with the errors, correcting them, and then I will be putting it back up.

For the readers who bought the version with errors, I apologize.

eBooks are a lot different format-wise than paperbacks and takes some getting used to.

But I am confident that in the future, this will not be a problem.

Thank you to everyone that bought a copy!

Cheers!

Fly Me To The Moon......New novel teaser.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Do you ever get an idea for a novel and it stays with you and it feels like you'll never shake it?

That's how I feel with my current WIP. I can't shake it. Maybe that's because it's kind of steamy. And I've never tackled writing a steamy novel. So this is kinda fun for me.

How many of you love old movies? I always have. Probably always will. There's something special about them. The way everything is portrayed. Society. Culture. Romance.

One of my all-time favorites is Splendor In The Grass. It stars Natalie Wood and Warren Beatty. And if you haven't seen it, watch it because it's one of those movies that sticks with you. And I could watch it repeatedly and never get tired of it.

Anywho, its about a young couple in high school, an obsession, a changing view of relationships in the world. And lastly, a twisted tragic love story... A good tagline to describe it. Love makes you crazy.

Where am I going with this? That movies reminds me of my current WIP... Of course the book is different, but it is about that crazy, obsessive kind of love.

And my inspiration, aside from thinking of the move. Stay by Sugarland. The song is amazing and sometimes it just takes the smallest thing to send a writer's imagination reeling....

And it seems like Mine is reeling more often than not.... LOL... So here's a teaser and a picture of the cover for....

He Loves Me... He Loves You Not.


As the tip of his tongue brushes against the roof of my mouth, I’m seeing fireworks. An explosion of colors. Brilliant and beautiful. And the explosions of beauty leave a trail of colored smoke in the sky. And a trail of colored smoke in my heart. Red. Bright red. The color of passion. The color of love.

He pulls away. “Come back.” I’m panting. His kisses knock the wind out of my lungs. I crave him, like chocolate, I want to taste him.

My legs are wrapped around his back and he places both of his hands on my cheeks and just stares. Two sets of blue eyes, gazing intensely into one another's. We’re gone. Swimming in seas of blue on some deserted uncharted island.

I’m fascinated. I can’t move. He’s a hypnotist. One snap of his fingers and I’ll be clucking like a chicken.

We’re both breathing. Soft and slow. And he reaches up and yanks the hair-tie from my hair. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

Then his lips caress mine. It’s only a brush, but the warmth overheats every part of me. Leaning back, my elbow bumps into the power button on the dryer and the old appliance starts moving. Spinning. Spinning like my head. Like my heart.

My hands are in his hair and his arms wrap around my waist tighter. I know what Henry does to me. I’m space bound. A rocket about to blast off. And I want Henry to send me to the moon.