On writing

When I first picked up my pen and started scribbling about a man who'd taken a girl to bed and woke up in the morning to find her decapitated head on his nightstand, it was easy. The words flowed like water allowing the characters to jump from my imagination like true people in the world. Then all at once, it stopped. I hit a wall and just couldn't figure out how to pass through it so, I gave up. Then I wrote 30 pages about a boy chosen to protect the world from and evil scientist but when he crossed into a new dimension, I couldn't find the right words and I quit again.

I can continue through the dozen or so stories gathering dust in my documents folder, but we don't have that much time. The truth is I always believed writing to be an easy (an well paying) job. You sit down to a computer, pound out a hundred thousand words and make millions. That's all there is too it, right?

WRONG!

Writing is the hardest thing I have ever done and I'm raising a hormonal over achieving middle schooler, a strong willed pre-teen and a destructive monkey boy. They're cake compared to Katrina and Landon and all the vampires surrounding them. I've found that the trick is in the determination and open mindedness. No matter the storyline, there are going to be hiccups along the way. A writer must disregard social stigma and allow ideas to flow onto paper and those pesky writer's blocks will not be so frequent.


In the four year process of writing Taken, I realized a few things. First of all, writing is debilitating and invigorating all at the same time. You create these characters and these worlds and think you have utter control over them but, you're dead wrong. A strong creation will build their own personalities and take control of the story without you ever realizing. A good writer is simply a typing tool. Katrina is no longer my creation but a strong person herself.

Right now, you think I've fallen off the deep end. I haven't. Katrina was never supposed to be a Hunter and Landon was never supposed to fall in love with her. He was supposed to be turned and she was supposed to die at his hand!

The other, and most important, thing I've learned is that writing does not manifest itself into dollar signs. Simply sitting here and pouring my heart and soul onto paper will not make me a millionaire tomorrow. Don't write for fame and fortune. Write because you love it. Write hard and pray.

Let me return to my point. Writing is hard. You start with an idea that grows with vigor and ease. You type like the world depends on your words per minute. Then, unexpectedly, you find yourself stuck and staring at a condemning cursor blinking insults at you. Determination is the only thing that kept Taken from become an inactive member of the documents folder.

Read for FREE!

If you've read Taken, you most likely threw the book at the wall when you finished. Or, you flipped through the few blank pages in the back searching for more. Or, as many did, sent me messages with horrible names in them. Don't worry, I hold no grudges.

Yes, it's a cliff hanger. And yes, I did it on purpose. I know how frustrating it is now, but just think how much better the reveal will be when L&F2 finally surfaces. Don't fret. It's a work in progress. It took me four years to write Taken. We are turning the corner into year two for it's sequel. Give it a few more... 

That's not the point here. I wanted to show you what I made today. It's not words on a page, though it will help me further understand this world I've created and bring you more words on a page. Maybe it will even help me to write those words faster? (did you see me shrug? I shrugged.)

Drum roll please... What you already scrolled down and looked! Cheater!

Please don't be too upset at the quality here. I took the picture with my iPad. Plus it's quantity, not quality. Oh nevermind.

 So, this is Jarth. I had a big long explanation as to where the name Jarth came from but I will be concise. The Norse word for earth, ground or soil is jǫrð. I've seen it transferred to Latin letters as both jar and jord. In the end, I mashed all my findings together and named it Jarth. In Torian, that means earthen house. There we have the name for the Cole Legacy home.

I am well aware of how badly you want to know where it's located, who lives in it, why it's there, how old it is. I get that so... I guess I will get to putting words on my page.

Don't forget to enter your shelfie for a signed copy of Taken. Enter Here!


*Torian- the official language of Tori!

GOOD MORNING!

Well, it's Saturday. Yesterday was the first day of spring break. While that means I will not be called into work as the schools are closed for the next week, it also means my kids are home all week. It also means, I get to write old school style with pen and paper in the randomest of places. Do you think they would frown on me writing at the zoo?

You may say a good mom would put her writing aside for the week and focus diligently on her children. They are only going to be little once, right? I understand that they will grow up and move out of my house someday and I will look back at the time I sat at this computer typing away and wish I had spent more time with them. Honestly though, doesn't EVERY parent everywhere do that in some aspect of raising kids. I wish I didn't work so much. I wish I had hugged them more. I wish I had taken them more places.

The way I see it, I am forcing my children to be self-sufficient for a few hours a day. So many children are catered to day and night, that many can't do simple tasks such as pour a bowl of cereal or find a way to entertain themselves. Forcing my children to do so while I pound away at this keyboard, does two things. It prepares them for a world where no one will be there to wait on them hand and foot and allows me to create some glimmer of insight or fantastic fiction to send into the universe!

I'm sorry. That soap box is just so hard to ignore. My point? You will probably not hear from me much this week! But don't worry, I will be writing! Hey, I may even post a few reviews of the places I go! There are some wonderful parks in Kansas!

If you miss me too much, find me at any of the millions of social media sites I've taken residence on!

Twitter facebook tumblr Instagram

I am sure there are many more, but here are just a few ways to get your Tori fix! Or, you could read Taken!

Randomness

The polar bear make me feel better. He's kinda cute, huh?

Good Morning!! I have something embarrassing to share. Actually, I don't get embarrassed easily, so I guess I just have something to share.

Let's frame it out. During my talk with the middle schoolers Friday, one of the students asked me when I write and I told him all the time. Anytime something comes to me, I rush to put it on paper. (I didn't share with him the time I was writing on an envelope on the highway. shh.)  I also told him how my kids have learned when to speak to me and when not. They've also learned to do a lot more for themselves because I will not stop in the middle of a thought to cater to them. Said student wasn't quite sure how to respond. His facial expression was somewhere between amused and appalled.

Ok, so this is what happened. I went to put Aidan's lunch box in his backpack this morning and guess what I found. All the school work he was supposed to have finished from his sick day Thursday. I totally forgot because I was so focused on revamping Taken. To make matters worse, my oldest comes out crying at 7:20 because she had homework too! I would say that is a serious mom fail! 

Epic. Mom. Fail.

Moral of the story? Tend to your children before diving into a book! Yeah, right. I'm sure it will happen again . . . Don't judge. I still have three very happy and healthy children (and their homework will be done tonight).

Change of subject. What do you think of this? It's just a thought, but please, comment. It's better than Taken, right?

 

Happy Monday! 

May your day be filled with-- Who am I kidding it's Monday. I hope you make it, through!

 

Am I successful?

I'm going to speak to a few middle school students today about being a writer. These are students who have vocalized an interest in such a career. A large part of me wants to scream from the rooftops about how good it feels to be recognized; a larger part of me wants to hide under the covers.

It's just so intimidating. I'm not a successful writer. Yes, I can write. I sit at my computer and write all day some days. On Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, even here occasionally. On a very rare occasion something of substances flows from my fingers into a word document. Truthfully, I don't get paid to write. I submit works of fiction that are often unpublished. I made a whopping, wait for it, $12.54 off my eBook on Amazon last year. I do so because it brings me pleasure.

I said I'm not successful. Some days I agree with that and some days I heavily disagree. What is it to be a successful writer? J.K. Rowling is a fluke. Yes, she gave us the most read work of humankind, but this happens once in a millennium. Authors rarely make such ridiculous amounts of money. Let's look at Suzanne Collins. Few people know she wrote for children's television shows before creating Hunger Games. And withe the cult following of that work, her other series, The Underland Chronicles, came out of the woodwork.

With all this in mind, can I consider myself a successful writer? I mean, I can string sentences together and sometimes in logical order? I may not sell many books, but each day I learn new things. Each day, I tweak my craft just enough to see myself blossom.

I believe there are two levels of success. First would be the ability to put forth legible, interesting works of literature. Second being the ability to make some kind of income doing so. The second very much depends upon the first. If you can not create the work, you can not make money doing so.

OK. I am pretty sure this post is very much all over the place. (If you made it this far, pat yourself on the back!) Consider it a bit of stream of consciousness with some true insight splattered throughout! I have, however, managed to pump myself up for today's meeting. Now, just to shower and leave before I lose my nerve...

Gemini

“Just do it.”

“Do you think I’m afraid? I’m not some timid ten year old boy, Jay.”

“Then prove your manlihood, chicken.”

Rob chugged the last half of his beer and crushed the can.” This is ridiculous,” he said to his twin brother in the seat next to him.

Jay followed in suit, draining the can and throwing it behind him. He heard the clang of it hitting the existing pile and rolling to the floor as he slammed the passenger door of the beat up Chevy Cavalier.

Shoulder to shoulder, the twins stepped to the entrance of the abandoned trail. The light of the full moon shone on the backs of their heads casting two identical copies ahead of them. Rob swore he saw Jay’s shadow wink at him. 

Impossible, he thought before taking a step forward. Jay, again followed in suit, dropping behind him and marching in cadence.

All was quiet, eerily quiet. The only sound in the forest was that of their steps on the rocky terrain and the occasional gust of wind. On either side of them, the trees thickened. Rob could feel the innumerable eyes penetrating his shell and scratching his very soul. He just knew somewhere in those trees lived the thing he was most afraid of, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Jay that.

Somewhere deep in the tree line, a screech owl broke the silence. Rob nearly jumped right out of his combat boots. His could feel the tiny hairs on his neck stand on end and his knees begin to shake. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he was going to throw himself on the ground and play dead or run back to the car. Lucky for him, Jay’s hysterical laughing reminded him of exactly what they were doing here. 

“Afraid of a little bird, Robbie Boy?”

“You don’t have to be such an ass, you know,” Rob growled back. He hated it when Jay called him that. It was just so demeaning and it took that endearing quality he connected with his mother away from the nickname to hear it from his angry twin brother. 

Rob picked up the pace as he fought the urge to turn around and deck Jay. He could only think of his mother’s last words, “Keep an eye on JayJay, Robbie. He’s not as strong as you.” 

“Yes, Robbie. Do watch out for your poor brother. We’d hate for anything to happen to him.”

“Stay out of my head, Jay,” Rob snapped as he pushed his way through the thickening underbrush. He’d been so busy trying to keep his fear in check, he hadn’t been watching the path ahead. Now that he looked, it had utterly disappeared. In its place were briar bushes and saplings.  

Jay took advantage of Rob’s distraction and probed his mind. “Robbie? Are you afraid? Is this too scary for you?”

“Seriously, Jay. I’m out here with you. The least you could do is stay out of my thoughts.”

“What good is my twincense if I can’t peek into your head? Come on? Just a-” 

Jay was cut off mid-taunt with a yelp. Rob didn’t slow to see. He knew he’d caused his brother’s pain. Just a mild shock now and then to remind him who’s in charge. 

“Was that necessary?” the second twin whined.

“Yes. Now have I made myself clear?”

“Fine,” Jay said kicking a rock out of his path.

“I can see the tower rising ahead of us.” Rob pointed toward what looked like a needle protruding from the haystack that was the forest line. “Just another mile or so. Can you make it.”

Jay scoffed. “Of course.”

Rob reached into the sheath strapped to his back and withdrew a machete. Jay, again, followed in suit, raising his hand strung bow over his head and withdrawing an arrow from the quiver. Jay readied himself for an attack from either side. He could tell from Rob’s stance there was bound to be something in the trees. 

“Do you hear them?” Jay whispered.

“Panting. Look to the left.”

 Jay did as he was told. “The eyes, Rob.” He forced tremble into his voice.

Shoot them, Rob thought loudly. 

“I can’t do that. It’s like…”

I know what it is. You must shoot it.

“But…”

If you don’t, it will hurt us. Quickly, between the eyes.

Jay lined the arrow against his finger and prayed it would penetrate the skull for the instantaneous kill. He let the arrow fly and watched as it hit the target. Within seconds, the two amber lights went out. 

“Good job, brother. On we go.”

“Are there more?”

“Most likely.”

“How many?”

“Reach deep, Jay. Can you feel them?”

“I feel you and me?”

“Use your twincense, JayJay. Are there more?”

Jay gasped.

Rob lifted his machete and wacked the overgrowth in front. “Stay close. If you see one, shoot it. Always between the eyes. This is what we trained for.”

“Do you have your shield up?”

Rob nodded. He knew his twin would be able to see the slight movement. Together, they pushed through the forest, one cutting the trees while the other flying arrows. 

The more arrows Jay let fly, the freer he felt. Like with each one he killed the more of him was free. He briefly remembered his mother saying, If you stretch yourself too thin, you will never keep up. If only she knew…

“I think I see the base of the tower,” Rob said, breaking the rhythm. Jay looked past his brother and grunted an agreement. 

The end of the trail lay a hundred feet from them. Retaining the lead, Rob skirted to the right into the dense trees. He couldn’t hear any panting in that direction and if all else failed, he had his machete. Again, Jay followed in suit.

“How many guards?” Rob asked. 

“None. But they are everywhere. How are we supposed to pass them.”

Rob smirked. He let his hands fall to his side and closed his eyes, trusting his brother to protect him. He held his own mirror image in his mind, replacing his own baby blues with the glowing ambers of the others and let the electricity fly. The howling came from all around as the targets fell to the ground in pain. 

He opened his eyes and barked the order. “Run. Straight to the door.”

Rob broke through the door and latched it behind Jay just as the shock war off. Wasting no time, the brothers climbed the spiral stones ahead of them. It was something they’d done millions of times in their childhood but never in the dark and never without Mother. 

As remembered, the stairs opened into a circular room filled with state of the art computers and buzzing machines. We’re not alone, Rob thought. 

Jay raised an arrow and scanned the room. In the center of the room, strapped to a stainless steel work table was Gemini. 

Jay sprang into action. He threw his archaic bow to the floor and ran to the side of the table and began undoing the straps. First his ankles, then his wrists and lastly, the headpiece.

From behind a mirror stepped a graying man in a blood stained lab coat. “Hello, my boys.” 

“I have done as you requested, Father,” Jay said. 

Rob’s face smushed up in a look of utter confusion. Father was dead. He saw it happen.

“I’m sorry, Robbie Boy. Did you really think it was going to be this easy? Did you really think you could just swoop in from your high class life and rescue me?”

“But he’s just…”

“Gemini is part of me. You left me. You asked for this.”

“Sorry it has to be this way, son. Your mother did ask you to look out for JayJay. Consider this your ultimate act of obedience.” 

Gemini flew from the table and was on top of Rob before he could raise his machete. He lifted the young man over his head and slammed him onto the steel table, hard enough to render him immobile but not enough to shake his consciousness. 

“I want you to feel each burning jab. Every grating strap. I want you to hurt,” Jay said. “Oh, don’t worry. There was nothing you could do to change this. I was the original. From me, you came. You robbed me of my life and now I will take yours.”

With that, Jay reached above the table and pulled the life force wires from their hook and snapped them into a needle the size of his arm. “If I miss your heart, I will have to do it again, I suggest you be still.” 

Rob felt immense pain spread from his chest outward and all went dark. 

Happy Halloween he thought before he lost consciousness.