INTERLUDE: Short Story—Get Your Copy for FREE

A wedding proposal, an upcoming promotion, a lifestyle to die for—a woman’s dream come true. But not for Ella. Somehow, somewhere she knows she is missing out on something. That something which the picture-perfect of what the moment has to offer cannot quench the thirst for what she calls life.
Loving life amidst the imperfections for being real…

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The One

I don't have any other terms for these kinds of characters in our lives except for — The One.

Well, The One is not your supernumerary character who passes through your life without you taking notice.   

In fact, The One is such a potent mark in your life that you can only hail him in a pedestal that nobody can ever match. For some reason like a fight, distance, time or even without a why, he does not really stick around in your lifetime to be there for always. And yet you know, he is The One.

I cannot also consider The One to be better than who you are with now. In fact, he can even rate as an ugly duckling. And yet, when he did his cameo role in your life, you are just taken to heights beyond your wildest imagination.  And there's the firm belief that nobody can ever take you there again.

If you have watched John Cusack's movie, Serendipity—somewhere in 42 minutes and 28 seconds (just kidding, I really don't know the exact time frame J) he said something about wanting to see Godfather the original even if Godfather Part II was better! Well, it is a bit like that with regards to one's attraction to The One. Although, you are happier with who you are with in the present moment, there seemed to be that unconscious attachment and endearment to The One.

Is it possible to end up with The One?

I don't know if I got the whole story right or I just conjured the whole thing up but I think my friend, Percy, said, studies show that people don't really end up with their The One.   The ratio would be 2:100 for the odds to bring you and The One to live happily ever after.   

I have my own share of experience with The One. His name's the male counterpart of mine. We were seatmates and became friends. But somewhere down the road, we parted. We are probably both happier now in our present lives. And yet, there remains the nagging awareness on my part,   he is The One.

If you get to read my novel, NOT QUITE GODLY, you will be introduced to a character named Apollion. I built him up as The One. Although, I plan to release the sequel late 2012, I still don't have any idea how it will all end up. Somehow, I would like to enjoy the feeling of having someone in your life that will fill your heart with both sadness and happiness. Call me nuts—but I often associate real joy when I cry and smile at the same time.       

Do you have your own experience of The One? I would love to hear from you. Tell me in the comments below your experience.

Once (A light romantic piece of flash fiction)

Rain began to fall softly, as he gazed around the room. She stood silently in one corner. Her luggage sat beside her. She was wearing the perfume he insisted her to use.

"I don't want to confront you," she said. "I was about to leave this letter when you came."

He looked at her. Then, he looked towards their bed. The covers were neatly tucked, just the way he wanted it. He looked back at her. "Are you going somewhere?" he slowly asked.

She nodded. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She couldn't understand the feelings rushing through her.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked.

"No, I can go by myself, " she said.

"I'll drive you to the bus stop," he insisted.

"No!" she told him.

"To the airport then?"

She shook her head.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because I don't even know where I'm going."

"You're leaving me?!" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," she answered uncomfortably.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said. They sounded stupid to her. This was not the conversation she pictured out to be. She was hoping that he'd beg her to stay. Instead, he was asking her questions she couldn't even answer herself.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" he asked a little annoyed. "Are you having one of your moments?"

"I'm not!" she quipped. "I just can't find words to express what I'm feeling right now."

"Try me," he challenged. "Or better yet, why don't you read the letter you prepared."

"I don't have to," she said.

"I've given you everything you wanted, everything you need - everything!" he said silently.

"I didn't ask for it," she said indignantly.

"I just assumed that-" he started to say.

"You assumed," she cut him off. "You always decide for me. You didn't-not for once-give me the chance to decide on my own. I'm losing me with you."

"I thought you wanted it," he said.

"You thought!" she cried.

"I have to do it. I might lose you..." he said softly.

"You're about to lose me. All you can think of is yourself. I find it selfish," she said.

He dug his foot on the carpet. She knew he was nervous. All of a sudden he changed. Gone was the sure-of-himself guy. What stood in front of her was the vulnerable boy she once knew.

"You can do it your own way from now on. Just stay, please..." he pleaded.

She avoided his eyes. She knew that if she met his gaze, she would stay. She loved him so much. "I can't!" she answered.

"Where are you going to stay?" he asked.

"I don't think I have to tell you," she said.

"Will you call me?" he asked shyly.

"Probably!" she said.

"Take care of yourself," he told her.

"Thank you," she said and turned to leave, "goodbye!"

"Bye," she heard him say, "I love you!"

She looked back at him. He looked down and raised his arm in a wave. She was torn between the right thing her mind instructed and what her heart claimed as the right thing to do.

"I'll be back in a couple of weeks," she said. They smiled at each other.

He ran to catch up with her. They walked outside the house hand in hand. When she comes back, a new beginning would welcome both of them.

"Will you marry me- when you get back?" he asked.

"As soon as I get back here," she said happily.

"Give me a ring wherever you may be," he said.

"I'll visit my folks," she said.

"I'll wait," he said as he hailed down a cab. He opened the passenger door for her. "Do you love me?" he asked doubtfully.

"Once," she said as he frowned. "And always!"

Both of them smiled.


Image: graur razvan ionut / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Author Interview: Amy Miles

Eighteen-year-old Illyria Anderson has found the one thing she desires most.  But choosing him will bring about Earth’s destruction.  

A darkness is growing within Illyria’s soul, threatening to assume control of her mind and her unstable powers.  The sinister thoughts that flash before her eyes are filled with images too brutal to put into words.  For a normal person this wouldn’t be a problem.  Popping a few pills before heading to a weekly counseling session would be enough to control the insanity, but Illyria isn’t normal.  She’s not even sure she’s human.  The only thing she is sure of is that she’s dangerous. 

Bastien Lewis, a sinfully handsome stranger, is the only person who can bring Illyria back from the brink of destruction as she struggles to control her powers.  He’s the only one that isn’t afraid of her or the Darkness that threatens to unleash its devastating power on the universe.  But being near him is almost more than Illyria can bear when she learns that her destiny does not lie with Bastien, but with another.  Illyria must decide if her love for Bastien is worth giving up everything, even if the price to be paid is Earth’s enslavement.

Hello, everyone! I am so excited to share with you my interview with Amy Miles, author of Defiance Rising. Amy  lives in Southern Illinois with her husband and son, and is a proud stay-at-home mom.  When she’s not writing, Amy can be found goofing off with family, cuddled up on the couch with a good book, or helping to renovate her home.  Amy is currently working on Relinquish, the second book in her Defiance Rising Trilogy, which will be available Fall 2011.

What kind of reader are you? What are your favorite books? Who are your favorite authors? 

I’m an avid reader of teen books at the moment.  Always trying to do comparisons for my own book, Defiance Rising.  I’m the type that when I get a book that’s really good I will willingly give up a night of sleep just to finish it.  I love Mysteries, Romance, Adventures, Fantasy/Sci-Fi and Christian romance.  Some of my favorite authors are Sophie Jordan, J.K. Rowling, Ted Dekker, Frank Peretti, Janette Oke, Stephenie Meyer and I’m just now getting into reading Amanda Hocking’s books.

Please describe what your writing day is like. (your writing process including schedules, number of words or pages in a day, if any).   

As a stay at home mom my day’s can are never the same.  I write when I can, snatching bits here and there.  Typically my best time to write, which thankfully coincides with my moments of inspiration, are between 9pm and 2am.  The house is quiet and I can truly focus on my book.  Typically I will write for 3 to 4 hours a night, normally finishing a chapter or two depending on how easily it flows.  The one thing I am very strict about is making sure I write something every day.  Even if it’s only a paragraph.

Please describe your process of editing and revisions (including any work with your beta readers or critique partners and your editor).   

When I was writing Defiance Rising, I actually completed my entire rough draft in 3 days.  But…it took me 2 years to complete the book.  Most of that was because I doubted myself as a writer, but a lot of it was rewrites, editing and more rewrites.  Even after all of that work I still found silly typos.

Editing is far more critical than writing the book.  If it doesn’t flow, if your threads aren’t tied together perfectly or if people find themselves stumbling over typo after typo, then no matter how good your content is, your readers will get a negative impression.  So even though it may feel tedious, put in the time to make your manuscript perfect. 

Who are your writing mentors or models?  

I learned a lot from reading Sophie Jordan’s books.  I’ve always been a descriptive writer, but her books opened my eyes to just how powerful words can truly be.  Sometimes reading a historical romance is all you need to expand your vocabulary. 

I grew up reading countless books by countless authors and each one of them impacted me as a writer.  Each one taught me a new style, a new idea or expanded my skills as a writer.  I’m a firm believer that in order to be a good writer you have to be a good reader.

How would you describe your work?

The word work isn’t even in my vocabulary.  Doing what you love, what you’re passionate about is never work.  I spend a couple hours throughout the day promoting Defiance Rising, and working on my blog www.self-published-authors.blogspot.com to help promote other authors.  Self promotion is by far more tiring than writing a book!  But all of it is necessary to make a name for yourself.

           

What do you want your readers to take away from Defiance Rising? 

I didn’t want Defiance Rising to be another “in-thing.”  I didn’t want to write about vampires, werewolves, angels or any of the other fantasy themes swarming the teen sections today.  I wanted to write a book filled with action, excitement and also a love triangle to complicate things. 

Defiance Rising is a tale of one teenage girl’s journey to self-discovery, self-sacrifice and learning the ultimate meaning of love.  Illyria Anderson is just a normal girl faced with extraordinary circumstances.  I want teens to be able to sit back and think “what would I do if that were me?” 

What keeps you writing? 

I’m one of those authors that if I don’t write I feel like I will burst.  My mind never shuts down, never stops writing.  I can be standing at a bus stop and see a near miss of a car accident and my mind already begins playing out the scene, writing every detail of what I would jot down if I had a piece of paper. 

I had to learn early on that if I wanted to make sure my ideas were remembered the next day I had to keep a notebook beside my bed.  I could write pages of really good material while I lay tossing and turning at night but it’d be completely forgotten the next day. 

Writing is a passion of mine.  It’s not what I do, but who I am.  It’s an extension of me.  So writing could never just be a job, it’s a way of life.

Thank you, Amy! I can't wait to get a copy of your book.

     

All Night Long, I Remember You— Ebook For Free

They fell in love when their past wouldn't have allowed them to. Two friendship crossed the boundaries of a horizon where only a few had gone. Those who survived vowed never to return again.

When Ricah met her thesis mentor,Juffy Howe, in college, she never expected to fall in love. But she did.
Unknown to both of them, they both shared a past that has not ceased to gnaw them until the present.

With such a potent emotion for one another, they attempted to get over and heal themselves from the past only to realize, they cannot forget.

Will the future be kinder?

Get All Night Long, I Remember You for free!  Available only for a limited time.

Unleash the Genius Within: How to be a Writer

Ask a writer how to be a writer and you can bet that the cursory response would either be knitted brows or a scratch in the head. Honestly speaking, the how-to of being someone like how to be a writer, how to be an artist, how to be a mother, is not really defined but lived. That is probably the reason why it is be-ing in the first place. It is because it is a process that is ongoing in the present moment.

So when you ask someone how to be a writer, you can only recommend a few tools that he can use to guide him in his endeavor in becoming a writer. These guiding tools may include the following:

1. Think of an idea

Best-selling author of Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert gave a talk on Ted about nurturing creativity and discussed that all of us "have" a genius. And this genius is forever giving each one of us ideas. There are some people who believe that the same ideas are given to various people. The ones who listen are the ones who give life to these ideas.
The first guide on how to be a writer is to think of an idea, to capture the gift from the genius that is within us. You will be surprised that the one thing that has been bugging you is the very idea that you are meant to give life to— to write.

2. Record the ideas that come up from your original idea

Should you be gifted with an idea by your genius, you need to listen some more and a myriad of other ideas will come rushing forth. Like a tree that suddenly grew millions of branches, your idea gives birth to other ideas and you need to record them.

3. Get the string of ideas organized

After you have gathered the ideas springing forth from your original idea, get them organized. Pruning and tweaking takes place. Discard what is redundant. Put in order what is important. And behold, you have your skeleton of chapters before your eyes.

4. Write

The last guide on how to be a writer, which is really an endless step, is to write, write and write some more. This is where praxis meets the theory. And the how-to becomes a process. This is when how to be a writer becomes real.

How do you write? Do you listen to the genius within you? What do you want to write about?

Meet Pilcrow, the Best Tool Indie Book Authors Cannot Do Without

Gone were the days when self-publishing has been scoffed at because it was believed to be the simpler alternative to an impatient or rejected author who wants to bypass the processes of traditional publishing. 

In its place is an era about authors taking charge with what they would often consider their “babies,”  “pride and joy,”  “glory” and more.  Would you think that these authors will undermine the handling of their precious ones?  While traditional publishing will limit the authors about their say on certain aspects of their books, independent publishing is a call and commitment to excellence in editorial, cover design and more.  For then again, majority of authors are artists and less of business people. Their works are manifestation, often revelation and extension of who they are as individuals. For this impetus, the readers can expect a work of art which goes beyond mediocrity from a real author…a self-published author.

I have recently joined the rostrum of authors who have chosen the independent publishing route.  By independent publishing, we can categorize it through print books and electronic books.  In this article, I would like to discuss the ebook platform and publishing.

Contrary to what others may think, self-publishing is not a simpler route. In fact,  it can be a daunting journey if one focuses on the aspect of being “on your own.” However, it is also a great and rewarding experience. When one has conquered the first step, going up the other levels is like opening a gift encased in different wrappings— coaxing and intriguing one to mystery, joy and fulfillment.   

Keep on reading at Goodreads

Untitled Poem #35

I want to shield
Myself from you
The necessity of it so
Emphatic
It’s hurting me…
Then you surprise me
By saying
You have penetrated
Invaded
And you found out
How disgusting
My world is…
Now, what is left of me?
Not my shield
Not myself
Not even my disgusting world
I have nothing…
You took what I had
Once I had everything
I thought I
Even had you…

Untitled Poem #34

I don’t know
When I am going
To die
But I know
When I am
Not going to die…
I just wish
I don’t live
Long enough
To learn how
To hate life…
I also wish
I don’t live
Short enough
To hate death…
As it is…
I keep holding on
To life
Or to the
Shadow of
Death.

Sleeping Child - Get Your Copy Now!

SLEEPING CHILD is now out. This is a decade of poetry collection mostly about life, love, death, faith and relationships. Join our mailing list and you will have access of SLEEPING CHILD for free.

Just like a sleeping child, the poems included are a mixture of tranquility and mystery. For then again, looking at the face of a sleeping child draws us to both awe and peace.

Untitled Poem # 33

I must bid

Farewell

For my own sake

And yours, too,

Perhaps…

Leaving

Wouldn’t mean

Loving you not

For in fact

I have come to

Love you more

In fact

More than

You can

Ever think of…

But because of this

I have come

To fear

Myself…

Because I know

You will never be mine

And mine you’ll not be

Foolish me to keep

What is not mine

But was meant for me

in the first place…

Untitled Poem #32

It hurts
Me to think
That I can do
No more
Than stare
At death
As it slowly
Snatches
Your life
Away from you
From me…
I feel so
Helpless
For I cannot
Protect you
For I too
Am powerless
From death
Not even God
Can help it
It seemed…
For He, too, died…

Untitled Poem #31

‘twas Being
That I sought
‘tis nothing
That I found
‘tis a journey
Without end
‘twas even
Without
A why-
Let it be…

Untitled Poem # 30

I pray fervently...
Fearful thoughts have invaded my mind.
Making my heart so scared.
Prompting my body to be restless.
You said, “Peace be with you.”
I claim that peace.
Calm my thoughts.
Appease my heart.
Let me be still.
Let me hold on to your bleeding hands.
Let me look at your bloodied face.
Let me embrace your weakened body.
That your blood may give me strength and vitality.
And your Christic peace fill me.
Your lordship and friendship crucified, glorified Jesus
protects.

Untitled Poem # 29

How could one express
Such
Pain
Such
Sorrow
Such
Anguish
For live
For love
For death
If
Crying
Seemed
Insufficient?
Would
Laughing be enough, then?

Untitled Poem # 28

There’s something
Unknown to man
Which keeps
Him
From asking questions
and believe
something unfamiliar
something called
faith…
I have asked
Searched for so long
Now, I simply
Submit to faith
I believe…

Image: Photography by BJWOK / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Untitled Poem # 27

I would like to think
I am the very
First mortal
He has ever revisited
From the land
Of immortality
His growing beard
So vividly pressed
Against my cheek
His grasped, fatherly embrace
Warming my fearful
Soul
Then, tears welled up
In acceptance
He is dead
The encounter retold
Re-enacted
Yet, mine and mine alone
Let it remain
Mine and mine alone…
For he was mine
And I was his
Yet he’s dead
And I still live…

Untitled Poem # 26

Each second is fleeting
The rapidity of it almost unconquerable
I became explicitly aware of
The air which enters my nose
The very same air which my life
Depended on…
Each minute is a toil
The burden of waiting
Yet, I continue to breathe
Not giving up on dear life…
Each hour seemed like a race
Between a team of turtles
And a herd of snails
That it seemed difficult
For me to live another minute
Therefore
I will love myself
Because nobody can ever truly
Love me other than myself
That way
Every second, every minute
Every hour
Would be bearable
That way,
I can continue to live…
Even if I have nothing
And nobody
Even life itself is not worth living for.
For in reality
I live alone
And I die alone…

Untitled Poem # 25

I am filled with anger and resentment
Towards the life I have now
Not because I am not satisfied
Because somehow I am
But because I seemed to have not
Satisfied the world, the people
And life itself
I am filled with sadness
Not because I have never felt
Happiness before, for certainly I have
But because of the sadness that goes
Along with the happiness which
Seemed inseparable, inescapable
I am filled with despair
Not because of a life suddenly turned wrong
Because everything seemed right
But because nothing more can be done…
I seemed to be dead
Not because of a lifeless life
But because I continue to live…
Life is filled with emptiness
Not because of nothingness
Because everything seemed full
But because of that fullness itself,
That suffocating fullness…

Untitled Poem # 24

Look at the flowers
They are so full of beauty
So full of hope
So full of passion
So full of life
For now
For tomorrow
For the next ten to fifteen days
Then, comes
The inevitable…
Listen to me
Hear me speak
I sound so real
So full of thoughts
So full of life
So full of dreams
For now,
For the fleeting now
Then, the unexpected…
Flowers live for days
I live for years
Flowers live for butterflies
For nature, for people
For bees
I live for nothing, for nobody
For years…
Flowers are merely flowers
I am a human being
This world does not deserve me
The world deserves the flowers
But the flowers deserve me
One day, I went to the cemetery
Stopped in front of a deathbed
Which cuddles
An unknown person
I saw flowers with blood red
Petals, picked two of them
And brought them home
Look at the flowers…
Look at the flowers again
By this time perhaps they don’t look that
Beautiful anymore the way they once were
Listen to me again…by this time perhaps
I don’t sound so alive
For the inevitable, the unexpected
Has finally arrived.

Image: luigi diamanti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net