We interrupt your lazy Saturday routine to bring you this exclusive news (those chips are not going to walk away, trust me).

My good karma is paying off. This morning, I woke up to another surprise. This time, from my lovely friend Huntress who, by the way, has such an awesome name! When I think of a huntress, I immediately conjure up images of the Greek goddess Artemis, who is known for her hunting prowess and superbly athletic abilities. This goddess is not one to fool around with, I tell you.

I digress.

Back to the announcement.... Huntress aka CD Coffelt keeps a dynamic blog over at Spirit Called. (Check it out, folks, if you haven't already done so.) And this morning, she handed me my second blog award: Blog On Fire Award. How cool is that.

I had a nice surprise this morning. My new blogger friend Lori M. Lee over at You Are The Unicorn of My Dreams (such a cute blog name) passed me The Versatile Blogger Award. Here it is in its beautiful, green glory:

 Woot! Woot!


My very first blog award, yay! I feel so super. Thanks, Lori! <3

There are rules that come with this baby:

1. Thank and link to the person who nominated me.
2. Share seven random facts about myself.
3. Pass the award along to 5 new-found blogging buddies.
4. Contact those buddies to congratulate them.

I've already thanked Lori so I'm just going to say, check out her blog because she is such a cutie, she loves anime/manga (who doesn't, right?), and she loves cheese! (Yes! Yummy cheese.)

Now on to the 7 random facts. Hmm...this one needs more brain power.

#1 I went to geek school for High School. It was a government-sponsored institution and we had to take two different exams (a sort of screening test) to get in. The focus of the school was on Science and Technology (we were the ultimate nerdbots), so all of our curriculums covered advance Math and Science subjects. (We were also on scholarships, which meant I never had to pay a dime and I received a monthly stipend from the school. Sweet!)

#2 Because of said geek school, I had to live in a dormitory for 4 years. I was barely 13 when I entered. I cried into my pillow for several nights, until I made friends and my homesickness lessened. I did get to go home every weekend.

#3 On a not so depressing note, I used to join Art Poster Competitions. I won three times: school level, interschool level, and regional level. I used the prize money to buy myself a new dress and new shoes (I was 12 at that time).

#4 I went to Hawai'i for college. Blue skies, hitting the beach in between classes, it was truly paradise. =)

#5 I worked part time while going to school. I was a waitress, food server, gate greeter at an Ali'i Luau restaurant. Tourists would come up to me and have their picture taken...with me in it. It was hilarious.

Photo by andy castro

Ice Planet Hoth Photo by ulybug

Okay, so technically they're called the Unconsecrated in The Forest of Hands and Teeth; Mudo in The Dead-Tossed Waves; and I don't know what in The Dark and Hollow Places because I haven't had the chance to read it yet (It is sitting on top of my To Be Read stack). 

Carrie Ryan is a former lawyer from South Carolina turned NYT Bestselling Author with her debut novel The Forest of Hands and Teeth (The Dead-Tossed Waves is also a bestseller). This book was chosen as Best Book for Young Adult by the American Library Association, a Best of the Best Books by the Chicago Public Library, and a finalist in the Borders Original Voices program. Impressive, ain't it?  You can find her blog here.

If you're into post-apocalyptic zombie nations, this trilogy is for you. As I've mentioned above, I've only read the first two but I'll give you the blurbs for all three (as found in Author's website).




In Mary's world, there are simple truths.

The Sisterhood always knows best.

The Guardians will protect and serve.

The Unconsecrated will never relent.

And you must always mind the fence that surrounds the village. The fence that protects the village from the Forest of Hands and Teeth.

But slowly, Mary's truths are failing her. She's learning things she never wanted to know about the Sisterhood and its secrets, and the Guardians and their power. And, when the fence is breached and her world is thrown into chaos, about the Unconsecrated and their relentlessness.

Now she must choose between her village and her future, between the one she loves and the one who loves her. And she must face the truth about the Forest of Hands and Teeth. Could there be life outside a world surrounded by so much death?




Gabry lives a quiet life, secure in her town next to the sea and behind the Barrier. She's content to let her friends dream of the Dark City up the coast while she watches from the top of her lighthouse. Home is all she's ever known, and all she needs for happiness.

But life after the Return is never safe, and there are threats even the Barrier can't hold back.

Gabry's mother thought she left her secrets behind in the Forest of Hands and Teeth, but like the dead in their world, secrets don't stay buried. And now, Gabry's world is crumbling.

One night beyond the Barrier...

One boy Gabry's known forever and one veiled in mystery...

One reckless moment, and half of Gabry's generation is dead, the other half imprisoned.

Gabry knows only one thing: if she is to have any hope of a future, she must face the forest of her mother's past.


It's out now since March 2011!

There are many things that Annah would like to forget: the look on her sister's face when she and Elias left her behind in the Forest of Hands and Teeth, her first glimpse of the horde as they found their way to the Dark City, the sear of the barbed wire that would scar her for life. But most of all, Annah would like to forget the morning Elias left her for the Recruiters.

Annah's world stopped that day and she's been waiting for him to come home ever since. Without him, her life doesn't feel much different from that of the dead that roam the wasted city around her. Then she meets Catcher and everything feels alive again.

Except, Catcher has his own secrets—dark, terrifying truths that link him to a past Annah's longed to forget, and to a future too deadly to consider. And now it's up to Annah—can she continue to live in a world drenched in the blood of the living? Or is death the only escape from the Return's destruction?

Why I Recommend these books:

Carrie Ryan writes beautiful, haunting prose. The first time I picked up The Forest of Hands and Teeth, I couldn't put it down. (How awesome is that title?) We were out on a mini-vacation, and there I was itching to get out of the pool to get back to my room and read. She paints the setting so eloquently that it isn't hard to imagine yourself being there with Mary, surrounded by a moaning forest of undead people rattling the chain-link fences with rotten fingers as they hunger for the taste and smell of the living.

And why were the Sisterhood so hush-hush on matters of the Unconsecrated? See, I like love stories with lots of secrets. It's a sure page-turner. Plus, you have a classic love triangle with Mary and two brothers. Aha, I see you following me now. Throw in a fence breach, an unnaturally fast-moving zombie in red infecting every person she reaches, and there! You have a bestseller.

For The Dead-Tossed Waves, the plot runs parallel lines to the first one, with Mary's daughter Gabry finding herself torn between two guys (just like Mama), and her venture into the Forest to escape the Mudo and the Recruiters.It is another well-written book and it also gives us more glimpses of the state of the world they're living in. Although some of the questions I had from the first book were answered in this one, there are still more mysteries to find. So I was really glad to know there was going to be another one.

I will update this when I get to read the third installment. As always, bear in mind that the book business is a subjective business. If you're not into post-apocalyptic zombies ever, don't read these books and blame me for recommending them. But. Yes, there is  a big but. It never hurts to try new things.

I truly enjoyed Ryan's writing and stories and I'm looking forward to picking up the last one. 'Cause me like zombies =)

This passage is a little creepy. My MC has just survived a near drowning accident when she takes a plunge into the river. As I've mentioned before, she is a teenager diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder. It's similar to Schizophrenia, though they are not quite of the same vein. She's been plagued with hallucinations...or so she's been told.

This is from Chapter 6.

******

Here we are again, sharpening our brains in our quest for the fountain of youth. Okay, sorta...not really.

But if half a century from now you were to find yourself *unable to spell CLOCK backwards, don't say I didn't warn you.

(*A doctor once tried this test on a grandma I know to see if she was getting on with Alzheimer's. True story.)

Actually, I really just want to see what you can do with this new set of words. Here they are, folks.

To see previous word challenge attempt, click here.

Hello Monday!

I have family here for a visit, so no tête-à-tête from me today. I hope you all have a great Monday, and here's a funny for you to enjoy.

You know how we're always told to use proper punctuation? Here's why:


Punctuation Parable

Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior.
You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy - will you let me be yours?

by thefranksterk

My good friend Anita Howard is playing tag over at her blog A Still and Quiet Madness. I loved tag when I was a kid--who didn't? All that running around, adrenaline pumping through your veins, shrieking when the It is about to get you...it's pure childhood fun. We had different variations of the game Tag. There was one where you have to get on higher ground than the It person, and once you're up on a rock, a tree, the fence, the neighbor's patio, they can't tag you. But you can only stay up for a minute, and then you have to find a different place. As kids we called it, Heaven and Earth (Langit and Lupa, in Filipino). It was crazy good.

So here are my seven things:

1. I'm exotic, baby! Haha! No, not really. But I was born and bred in this beautiful, tropical country of swaying coconut trees, white sandy beaches, and salt-tinged air where it's summer all year long. I grew up eating bright yellow mangoes and sweet papayas, their juices running down my skinny arms. On holidays, we'd spent the whole day swimming in clear blue-green waters, diving off rocks, hunting for star fishes until we're baked to charcoal under the sun. I came from the The Philippines.

Photo by Robert Verzo

I've been reviewing my trusty guide Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King. *If you're a writer and you don't have a copy, go. Get. One. Now. You won't regret it.* I'm a multi-tasker (aren't all moms?) so I was reading on Dialogue while looking up Proper Punctuation Usage in the web. My internal editor has been kicking in lately and I just have to get these things out of the way before I resume writing.

Last year, a very competent  writer friend (I respect her command of grammar) pointed out to me my use of comma splices in dialogue.

*Comma Splice: the use of a comma to join two independent clauses where the clauses are not connected by a conjunction, semicolon, or period. Example:

              I have a monkey, he likes to play with me.

By the rules of proper punctuation, this should be:

             -with a semicolon:   I have a monkey; he likes to play with me.
             -with a period:         I have a monkey. He likes to play with me.
             -with a conjunction: I have a monkey and he likes to play with me.

(I really don't have a monkey, in case you're wondering, but my Grandpa did when he was alive. Needless to say, he was a super cool grandpa.)

Okay, now that we've established that, let's look at what Self-Editing has to say about making Dialogue less formal and less stilted (pp.101-102):

********
                Another helpful technique is to use sentence fragments. Consider this exchange:

                "Is she pregnant?"
                "It doesn't matter whether she is or not. She's not going to marry him."

                 It sounds much less formal--and more like real speech--if you edit it to read:

                "Is she pregnant?"
                "Doesn't matter whether she is or not, she's not going to marry him."

                In the second exchange, the writer has used another technique (in addition to the sentence fragment) to good effect: the two sentences in the answer to the question are strung together with a comma instead of the (grammatically correct) period. If not overused, this technique captures the rhythms of real speech remarkably well.
*******

I think the key here is in the last sentence of above passage: If not OVERUSED. Grammarians will still balk at seeing comma splices in dialogues, but for us lesser beings, this is good enough proof that it can be acceptable. As long as we don't overuse it.

As with all things in life, aim for balance. Listen to your gut. Keep yourself true to the voice of your story. 

Happy writing!

P.S. If you have any questions, enlightenments, disagreements, and rantings about above topics, please feel free to comment below. I'll try to answer as best as I can (armed with Google, Strunk and White, and Self-Editing for Fiction Writers).

You know how we always hear about studies saying if we don't exercise our brains, we become susceptible to diseases for the aged, such as Alzheimer's. You know that's how they promote brain games like the Nintendo DS Brain Age, and I came close to buying one.

Image from Amazon.com

The overwhelming facts were against me.

Everywhere I looked, the little blue birdie flashed its cerulean feathers to taunt me.

Tweet, tweet, tweet! it said.

No, no, no, I replied. Too busy. I have a WIP to finish, kids to raise, a house to clean, dinner to cook, books to read, and a blog to keep.

Tweet, tweet, tweet. Accompanied with a glint of its eye. Mocking and enticing me at the same time.

I threw up my hands in frustration. Alright, I give up. I'll come take a look.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I did not just take a look. I took a dive. I am now on Twitter and yes, you can follow me. Imagine that.

Thanks to Anita Howard who posted this, and made me think if she's brave enough to take the plunge, maybe I'm brave enough too? Hmm...still not sure.

Another thank you goes to Nina Badzin who wrote a twitter for dummies post here.

If you're already on Twitter, come and say hello. I'm still learning to fly.

Hello Monday!

Would you believe it is Monday and Rainy outside? Now I can crank up the old jukebox and sing Rainy Days and Mondays by The Carpenters. (How many times do you think I can keep referring to this song before you all want me to shut up?)

I know I've said before I'm not a fan of Mondays because I'm a lazy week starter. But. Today is the beginning of Spring Break! I am looking forward to getting a lot of writing done, sleeping in, foregoing early morning showers, staying up extra late, and goofing around with the kids.

And, hello rain! Just another excuse for me to procrastinate running my weekly errands. Which means, I can hunker down in my cozy basement and write, write, write. *happy dance*

Speaking of writing, here's a funny about writing rules. Enjoy!

How to Write Good

Don't run away.

No weight scales here. Promise. The Wasteline Test is a diagnostic instrument taken from the book The Writer's Diet by Helen Sword. It's designed to show you the flab (weak verbs, abstract nouns, prepositions, etc.) in your writing. I did say in an earlier post that even books need to lose weight. Wish I knew about this test back when I first started writing.

SO. Have fun with it, go crazy if you must, and eat chocolate while you're at it. I'm off to finish cleaning my house--a mundane task, I know, but even I can't write in a pigsty. I can do it for three days...after that, my muse shrivels up from the sight and smell of unpleasant, unclean, unfamiliar, unknown substances lurking in every corner of the house. Oh wait, it's called dust.

I told you I can't write in these conditions.

Here ya go: The Wasteline Test.



By massdistraction

Last summer, I was ambitious enough (and totally naive) to join the Summer Chapter Post and Critique Marathon over at the Speculative Fiction Group of AQC (Agent Query Connect). Each week, participants got to post a chapter of their work up for other writers to poke, prod, comment on, analyze, peer at with a humongous magnifying glass, tear apart with their teeth...oh wait, that was Jaws. Actually, my fellow writers over there were beyond awesome. Really guys, you were! At the end of the week, you had to tally up the votes--yeses for getting to post the next chapter; no's for 'um, this is ok but not good enough...revise and repost and we'll vote again'.

I learned so much from that experience. True, I was pumping out words every week to meet the posting deadline, but it helped push my word count. I mean, I had a WIP, but everytime I'd go and review the feedback I would immediately revise my chapters before posting them. It really was a marathon--you know that feeling when you're running and your legs turn jelly on you, and  you're oh so tempted to curl up on the path (oh nice rocky path), or if you're on the treadmill your inner self is yelling Just push that STOP button, for the love of.... Yep, you know what I'm talking about.  True, I was drowning in my sweat everytime I would open my email to see if there were any new critiques, (Hey, it was summer. And I have hyperhidrosis.) but it was all fun.

And of course, when you're taking, you have to give as well. It's the rule of the universe...only, there's not many people who've actually looked this up in the Great Manual of the Cosmic Universe. It's right next to Do unto others what you want others to do unto you. Geez, I'm a babbling mouth today. Sorry! But my point is, in order to get crits, we had to give crits to every other participant in the marathon.

Let's do the math now. If in a week, there were 10 chapters up for critique, then we would have to read 10 chapters and offer crit on each one. No Wow, this is great. The End. We're talking in-depth crits, baby! Show us what you've got! Assuming every chapter averages 10 pages, in five days you would have ended up reading 10 x 10=100 pages. Not including your own, which you would be furiously polishing, waxing, and shining for next week's posting. AND those are just AVERAGE numbers. Some chapters ran the gamut from 5 pages to 25 pages long. Anyone can join in at any week, so I think at one point, we had 18 participants.

Wow, you say? Yes, wow indeed. And I had an incredible Gandalf moment.

What do you mean you've never heard of Gandalf? Go watch the Lord of the Rings Trilogy and come back when you're done. That probably takes a whole day...9 hours? 10?

Okay people, eyes here now. So Gandalf the Grey theoretically died but came back as Gandalf the White. He picked up more awesome powers after his fight with the Balrog (and his demise), so he turned into this White Shining Dude. My WIP was essentially the gray version of Gandalf until I went and did the marathon, had a 6-month writing hiatus, and came back with a stronger, whiter, version of my story.

Ta-daa!

So, if you think critique groups are scary, you are absolutely right. But you'll need one. Plus, I hear they pass out virtual cookies every now and then. Don't be afraid. You are guaranteed to make friends along the way, and tighten your prose at the same time. How cool is that.

You can thank me later...by er, following my blog? Okay, okay, I'll leave it to karma. BTW, there's another Summer Chapter Posting and Critique Marathon coming your way over at AQC. Check it out, if you've a mind to! Maybe a picture of Gandalf the White will inspire you-->

Image is from a poster.

My main character is a 16-year-old girl diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder and psychotic depression after her father's death.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 3:

In Kindergarten, my first taste of reading came from tediously going through each page of the phonics textbook. Every night, my mom (who is ever patient by the way, and reads my blog so Hi Mom! *waves*) would help me sound off each syllable ba, be, bi, bo, bu. Followed by the list of sample words underneath it: bat, barometer, barrista, and er...batman? Okay, I'm sure they were simpler, more age-appropriate words but it's been years since I was five and I just woke up, alright?

Anyway, it was grueling. I'm not kidding. Each page was covered with words and more words. This was work, people. No goofing around the -ghts and the -ings. It was a memory test, a drill to get those sight words embedded into the soft, mushy part of your head that is your brain. (I told you my mom was patient.)

I'm sure I cried, protested, feigned sleep a dozen times to get out of it. The only consolation I got was from the little snippets of stories included after rows and rows of gag-inducing words. I remember vividly this one about the milk maid who was off to town to sell the bucket of milk sitting atop her head. While she's walking, she's dreaming of what she can do once she gets money for it. First, she'd buy an egg, which would turn into a hen. The hen will lay her more eggs, which she will sell so she can get a cow. The money that she gets from the eggs and the milk will be enough to buy herself a dress. She would then go to town and dance, and a handsome young man will ask her to be his partner. She would tilt her head and curtsey like so and...down went the bucket of milk she had on top of her head. No milk, no egg; no egg, no hen; no hen, no eggs, no cow; no cow, no milk, no dress.

So before I became a writer, I was a reader. Still am. Reading is easy. Reading is fun. But writing can be a grueling, tedious endeavor, and it is sometimes easier to dream like the milk maid. We sit down to write and muse on dreams of grandeur, of seeing ourselves signing books like a rockstar, maybe even throw in some fame and fortune (and a brand new car!) while we're fantasizing. Daydreams take a chunk off your time and imagination, just so you know. Before you know it, the kids are awake and demanding to be fed; the house is a pigsty; the chore list is three miles long; and hey, what is that strange-looking stain on the carpet, and down goes the bucket of milk atop your head.

Still, I write and keep on writing. 'Cause I know if I'm patient enough, if I can endure the ultimate phonics test while only five, I can turn that bucket of milk into a dress.

One of the greatest fantasy writers of all time, Diana Wynne Jones was a British writer who wrote children and adult fantasy novels. She passed away last March 26th from cancer. Her passing is a great loss to the writing community.

When I heard the news, I was shocked and saddened. I haven't read all of her books (though I will be combing the library for any available copies) but the ones I've read I have truly enjoyed. My particular favorite series is Howl's Moving Castle and the two companion books, Castle in the Air and House of Many Ways. Jones' writing is brilliantly witty and the characters are entertaining as well as endearing. When you read Jones' books, you'll feel the magic come out of the pages.

For a list of her books, click here.

Blurbs for the Castle series: (blurbs and images from Goodreads.com)

Since I'm a goody-goody and I'm hoping that the karmic universe will somehow, someday, recognize my tiny contribution to helping the less fortunate, I've been doing volunteer work for this awesome non-profit organization called the Oulessebougou Alliance. It works in partnership with the villagers of Mali, Africa to provide healthcare, education, and to teach their people ways to be self-reliant. I love this concept because all too often, when we have a charitable situation where the people involved are only doing the taking, and not learning how to get themselves out of their circumstances, they become too dependent on the organization providing for their needs. And it becomes a vicious cycle. People need to learn that they can help themselves, no matter where they're from, who they are, or what level of education they've attained in life.

I'm not trying to be preachy. I'm just 100% impressed with the Alliance's management of their charity.

Anyway, like I said, I've been volunteering. The annual fundraising dinner auction is this Saturday (I get to wear pretty clothes and pretty shoes, hooray!). I've been helping out since the year I got married, so a good long while now.  =)

What I do is simply this: make the donated certificates (usually from restaurants, theater companies, recreational places, etc.) look good for the silent bidding part of the auction. I have to mount them on pretty papers, coordinate color schemes...it's like a big scrapbook party/sleepover/whatever-scrapbookers-do-when-they-get-together-thingy. Some of the certificates or gift cards are already nice and pretty and those are no-brainers at all. I can finish them in 5-10 minutes. But then there are those...ugly er...more challenging pieces that make me want to: scream, run, cry, whine, sleep, and repeat everything in the same order.

I'm doing this for Africa. I'm doing this for Africa. So goes my mantra. I'm really hoping the great karmic universe is listening, 'cause I might need it one day when I finish my WIP and start querying. (Oh be still my quivering knees!)

Here are some pics of the mess I made:

Cliches.

Hey, I saw a couple of you cringed.  :)

Cliches have the ability to slip in our writing because of their familiarity. We use them, we hear them used all the time and around us, and we cling to them because let's face it, trying to think of an apt metaphor for a particular scene in our novel can be intimidating. And cliches? They're part of our comfort zones.

But for a writer who wishes to get published, cliches are the plague. Run while you can. *grin* As Salvador Dali once said: "The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot."  (I got that from Wikipedia. Hope it's true. You never know with internet sources these days.)

Interestingly enough, these phrases used to be regarded as striking or beautiful before they became overused and turned into, well, cliches. Just goes to show that fame and beauty is fleeting, even for words.

So. I have a game. Let's play Who Can Spot the Cliches in the Narrative Below. [I had fun making this up.]


Disclaimer: The author of this blog is not responsible for any physical damage the readers may contract while reading this piece. Proceed at your own risk.

******

Photo by Christi Nielsen

Tuesdays are generally considered “blah” days. Nothing ever happens on a Tuesday. People are tired and cranky, their adrenaline already spent on the grueling demands of the day before. The weekend seems so far away. No wonder restaurants have “Kids Eat Free on Tuesday” posters plastered all over their front windows. Because business is agonizingly slow on a “blah” day.

Hello Monday!

I must confess, I'm a reluctant, would-rather-stay-in-bed, week starter. I deplore Mondays. I groan, I ache, I slap myself awake while the song "Rainy Days and Mondays" by The Carpenters play incessantly in the back of my brain. (The Carpenters? I'm so dating myself here. I'm not that old folks--my mom was just a big fan. *grin*) And yeah, while it's not actually raining outside right now, there is snow on the ground.

It's April, for crying out loud.

*taking deep breaths...

Alright, so I say to myself: Monday Funnies. Why not start the week with a laugh, a smile, a toothy grin? Anything to get me out of the funk and start moving.

So here it is. Enjoy.

A linguistics professor was lecturing to his English class one day. "In English," he said, "a double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative."


A voice from the back of the room piped up, "Yeah, right."