Crystal Collier: Compulsive Creator

Hello. I'm Still Alive. Are You?

2012-01-24T14:30:00.000-05:00

So apparently I'm allergic to mold. WHO'D HAVE GUESSED?

And do you know where mold grows especially well?

FLORIDA

Picture may be a slight exaggeration.

Or more particularly, our rental home. So while trying not to kill over, we began the home search process, and finally put down an offer. That's my excuse for disappearing off the blog-o-sphere. Yup. Finishing my last semester or serious revisions on my requested manuscript had nothing to do with it--or Christmas. That's right. *shifty eyes*

So here's my future writing haven.
<---------- Isn't it perdy?

Now what dragged this lethargic, thoroughly unhealthy individual back to cyber space? Temptation--in the form of the third Choose Your Own Adventure bloghop. Yay! Participants are invited to contribute as we celebrate the year of the dragon with a whole new adventure. Sign up now, or stop back in March as we launch this fabulous experience upon the world. (Here's hoping it won't happen right in the middle of my move...)

And for those of you who missed our previous journeys, check out:

The Abominable Snowman Expedition
And
Ahoy Sea Serpent

Can't wait for some high flying, scaly, fire breathing fun! Will you be joining us?

Wishing You the Best Darn Merry Christmas...

2011-12-20T09:32:00.004-05:00

and a bowl of cheese. =)

My hubby finally admitted it's a bit hard to believe it's Christmas in seventy degree weather. I finally conceded I miss the snow. We heaved a collective sigh and shrugged.

Well, there might not be snow, but there's plenty of Christmas here. Wishing you the best, my wonderful bloggy friends! Here's something nice to help remember the reason for the season.

A Cup of Cheer

2011-12-13T10:36:00.001-05:00

I'm the lamest lame that ever lamed a lame.

Now that the self-deprecation is done... Hello friends! This sorry turnip-tooshied writer has been thumbing it through revisions for the last two months and horrifically neglecting this blog.

EEK!

I know, I know, gator tears, right? Well, I'm building SLOWLY back up, as life is now somewhat manageable again. Somewhat.

(So what's with the pickle, you ask? Nothing. He's shiny and makes me giggle.)

On that note...

A Cup of Cheer

She raised her mug and looked about

The chorus of chipper smiles

But hers had fallen far past its mark

And instead, become tears.

Heart heavy, she lifted the cup a bit higher

And dared herself to say

"I wish you all the greatest season

And happiest Christmas day!"

While voices echoed her longing strain

A glimmer sparked in her heart.

It stretched and groaned and tore until

It burst full into bloom.

The ray that started first as hope

Rumbled deep inside her chest

And broke through the crowd in radiant hue

Her inner light revealed.

She found, surprised, as you will too,

That joy comes from within

It grows when shared and reaches all

Who turn to see the view.

Where's your cheer coming from this year? (Hee hee, that rhymed.) How are you keeping spirits high, and have you eaten any cheese this week?

I hope you enjoy the Christmas season, and share a cup of cheer, eh?

Loved, but not Lost

2011-11-18T08:25:00.003-05:00

Dear Dad,

It’s been 7 years since I last spoke to you face to face. I speak to you now, sometimes in sleep, sometimes in waking, sometimes in memory. Most often I think of you while high in the mountains backpacking, hiking, spelunking, scuba diving, or while studying your grandson. He has your eyes.

I think of you when in the service of others. How many people did we pack or unload from moving trucks? How many secret Santa deliveries did we make? How many cuts and bruises did you sew up and sooth? I think you chose to be a doctor not just heal people's bodies, but with your calm, gentle words, to heal their spirits.

My first memory of you is teaching me to doggy paddle, empowering me to explore the water on my own, showing me the importance of independence and trust. I recall you holding the back of my bike as I struggled to get my balance. I remember you packing us up for family trips and teaching us the importance of frugality by doing things yourself—like fixing that troublesome van again, and again, and again. You only ever splurged one day of the year. I’ll never forget the light in your eyes on Christmas morning as you watched us filter into the living room and shriek for joy.

I remember the music. You played piano every night. It soothed my soul and made me yearn to find the music within. You championed my singing and quieted my complaining brothers.

You taught us the scriptures. They have been a source of comfort and strength in hard times, a place for seeking answers when I earnestly needed to know truth, and in times without you.

The greatest lesson I learned from you, Dad, is the lesson of family. Because you loved us, you lived your life in such a way that we could one day be together forever, and showed us the way.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for the legacy you left me. When this life is done I will gladly step beyond, knowing that my father waits with a welcoming embrace. I look forward to that day.

Love,

Crystal

Stephen Lloyd Hicken was born May 17, 1950 and is a beloved son, husband and father. He served a mission in Brazil, four years in the air force, as a scout master for 20+ years, and as a doctor. On November 20, 2004 he left this life after a three year battle with lung cancer. He is greatly missed; loved, but not lost.

Halloween Horror

2011-10-27T16:04:00.005-04:00

Flash fiction for Halloween. Enjoy!

An Interview with Death

The reporter fed a paper into his typewriter with trembling hands. “I can’t believe you’ve agreed to do this!” He shook almost as badly as the paper.

“What can I say? I’m a softie for last requests.” I settled into a comfy armchair across from his desk, resting my scythe against the wall.

“I love the sneakers by the way.” He sat.

I glanced down at the old Converse. “They’re a lot more comfortable than my human-skin boots.”

He paled.

I laughed.

He paled further.

I sighed. Why did no one get that Death has a sense of humor? I mean, death is a rather hilarious thing—Jack Daniels died from a toe infection after kicking his safe in anger, and one dictator offed himself on too much Viagra… People are funny creatures.

“So, uh, Mister…Grim Reaper-”

“Death,” I corrected. “I’m not grim, and ‘Reaper’ is so derogatory. I mean, I’m one of the four horsemen—you know, as in there’s four in all of existence?”

He stared, jaw hanging.

I pointed at the typewriter, then tapped my wrist.

“So, Mister Death-”

“Just Death.”

“Death then, how did you come to this…magnanimous position?”

I blinked back my astonishment. Wasn’t that obvious? “I and my brothers work for the big cheese. You know, the guy behind destiny? Don’t tell me you’re an atheist.”

He froze, swallowed, and started typing a little less steadily. “You say you’re one of the four horsemen, but I don’t see a horse.”

I chuckled. “That’s because Donavan is invisible.” Turning my head, I clucked, “Aren’t you, Donny?”

The reporter studied the empty space with wide eyes.

I shook my head. “Who needs a horse when you’ve got mass transit? Busses, taxis, the subway…”

“You use mass transit?”

“When I can.”

He hesitated.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “You’re dead anyway.”

“What happens to the people sitting next to you?”

I shrugged. “They drink their coffee and read their papers.”

“Sitting next to you doesn't kill them?”

“Um, no.”

He sat back. “How do you do it then? Mass transit can’t possibly be fast enough for the thousands of deaths every minute-”

“Approximately 107 to be correct.” I cracked my knuckles. “Time isn’t a consideration when you can hop in and out of dimensions. I mean what kind of guy would I be if I never stopped to eat a doughnut or smell a rose?”

His jaw again dropped. “Dimension travel? There are multiple…dimensions?”

Oh these logical ones who thought they knew how the whole universe operated! “Time. I can step in and out of time. Kind of knocks you mortals over the head, but it doesn’t exist for me.”

“And that’s why people don’t see you coming.”

“No, it’s because of my super cool invisibility cloak—like Harry Potter.”

He stared, blankly. I think he was starting to get my sarcasm.

“Okay fine, I don’t have an invisibility cloak,” I admitted. “I’m made of finer matter than your eyes can perceive, unless I want you to see me.”

“Like when we’re about to die?”

“Or are already dead.”

“What?”

I pointed to his paper. “What you got there? Read it back to me.”

He looked at the paper, squinted, then frowned. “I, I don’t understand. How can it be blank?”

Picking up my scythe, I rose, all twelve feet. “Sorry, Robert.”

“But I was typing…”

“Yeah…no you weren’t.”

He turned around saw his body lying in the hallway, spilled whisky glass staining the carpet.

“So are you ready to head out now?” I asked.

He let out a long sigh, then looked up at me. “You’re actually a pretty nice guy.”

“That’s what I keep telling people.” I pulled out my keys and the door to the other side materialized. “Enjoy the free bagles on the other side.”

He paused in front of the door, eyes brightening. “We can eat on the other side?”

“No.” I would have smiled if Death could smile. “But it's so fun watching you try.”

And for the Halloween Hop:
Scariest book: Fear Nothing by Dean Koontz
Movie: (Okay, I'm not such a fan of scary.) Army of Darkness or House 2
Costume: Mime (Been an "enchantress" or "sorceress" the last 9 years. Change is good.)

Choose Your Own: Ahoy! Sea Serpent?!?

2011-10-23T23:06:00.003-04:00

To go to the beginning, click here.

“Ahab’s ghost!” You blink against the glaring light of those luminous orbs, pulse spiking. Each eye is the size of a cannon ball. Two horns sprout up behind the creature’s gilled jaw, glistening with dripping water. It yawns at you, revealing three rows of flesh-tearing incisors and a flat, slitted tongue.

You gasp and reach behind you for something, anything to defend yourself, not daring to look away from the creature. Its head rises as you back away. Its long neck shimmers in the sunlight like diamonds as it leans over the rail toward you.

Your hand fastens over a flimsy life vest. You grunt.

The beast’s head tilts curiously, giving you the impression you are staring into the eyes of an aquatic Labrador—except it’s bound to strike the instant your back is turned. You feel blindly along the deck with your other hand until it clasps over an air tank—prepped for diving. Smiling innocently, you inch the tank closer.

The creature blinks at you—blinks with snake-like eyes, membranes sweeping across from the sides.

Getting a grip on the neck of the tank you tense to swing.

The thing snorts, spraying you with a fine mist of dripping goo. You freeze, disgusted.

The creature lunges.

Its teeth cut into your shirt, narrowly missing the flesh. It whips its head back and flings you into the air, your hand still clasped over the diving tank.

For a second you glimpse the sun and clouds, then the water’s surface rushes up to meet you. At the last second you hold the tank out in front of you to break the swell. Salty liquid bursts around you.

Before you have a chance to fight for the surface something loops around your ankle. Salt stings your eyes as you force them open.

A snaky tongue—almost purple in this light—tightens on your ankle. You have only an instant to think before the mythical beast tugs you down. You shove the scuba regulator into your mouth, hoping you can equalize with the changing pressure in time to keep your lungs from bursting.

But instead of dying you see a light ahead, or below, an ethereal purple glow. Maybe you are dying. Maybe this is the equivalent of that tunnel of light everyone talks about, except under water.

As you near you can see it’s a dome of sorts…a gigantic bubble. It could cover the whole of Manhattan.

There are things moving under the bubble, living things—people or vehicles, you can’t tell.

The leathery tongue unleashes your ankle and the creature’s gleaming eyes meet yours. It nods toward the bubble.

Do you go with the creature

Or turn and swim away as fast as you can—without bursting your lungs?

The Subterranean Cheese Infestation

2011-10-13T13:23:00.000-04:00

Ah, dare you enter?

Beware young one
Beyond these holey walls
Lies a world filled with
Unexpected flavors,
Melodramatic resonance,
Broken cadence
And flourishing fantasy.

For what the cheese knows
It knows with finality.
Let not his secret
Render you insatiable
For his whims
Can drive to madness,
Divine, sweet madness.

But within that madness
Waits a world divine
A place of ripe wonder
Where occupants languish
And pine
And dream
For the respite of sunlight.

Then brave adventurer
Will you enter?
Will you pledge your all
To the silence
Of the underground
Where only the courageous
Survive?

It's been a while since I engaged in drabble poetry--but I do so to introduce...

*drum roll*

The Underground

For a year now I've been working to figure out what I love about blogging and why I should continue. It takes so much time, but I love the friendships. I love the interaction. I love being able to put something out there and hear a response. Tal's Underground is the embodiment of all I love about blogging. It's a place for readers, a place to be entertained, and a place to engage in riotous amounts of cheese. The gates are officially open, and dependent on how quickly it fills up, they may close shortly. This is a place for Middle Grade and Young Adult writers/readers (genre, not necessarily age). Come, and bring your quirkiness with you.

I'll be contributing sporadically at first, as time permits, but in the coming months it will probably become my favorite place to hang, along with all the fictional friends in my head. I need a place to splash their witty banter and freakish fits. The only rule, should you choose to enter, is that you come with wide eyes and an open imagination. Oh, and beware of the gatekeeper. She burbs flame.

How and where do you capture the voices in your head?

Bittersweet Words

2011-10-06T09:45:00.001-04:00

My list begins with: school, writing, rainy days, birthdays, and...

"The End."

I sit here, staring at my latest draft and lamenting that the story has nowhere new to take me. It's so fulfilling, and yet so sad.

"I'm done."

"Finished."

"That's all folks."

*sigh* It's kind of depressing really. Well, or it would be if I wasn't compelled by external forces (*glaring at my hubby*) to write this story into a series.

So, now that I've finished my WIP (again), I find myself going, "Okay, what's next?" Well, let me tell you. October is a busy month. I'll be critiquing and beta reading this book, and on October 24th, come back for the most awesome CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE bloghop ever!

Eighteen authors have come together to present the adventure of a lifetime, and you get to be one of our lucky readers. Look forward to seeing you there!

What's the worst/best "The end" you've ever met?

Goal=Get Out And Live

2011-09-29T09:31:00.003-04:00

Distractions are abundant. Right now an adorable one is padding back and forth behind me, making faces that tempt me to grab the camera and follow him for the rest of the day. Another is wobbling teeth in what I swear is going to be an entirely tooth-less mouth before long. Another is singing a tune he composed yesterday, making me ache to jump to the piano and knock out a few of my own inventions...

But I can't.

See, tomorrow is the deadline. I'm not a procrastinator. I've been nimbly ambling along for an entire month...and now October is almost here. Tomorrow is the last day.

AND (speaking of pleasant distractions) I was awarded the Versatile Blogger by A.E Martin, Cheryl, and Barbara V. Evers. Thank you ladies! Can you feel the love?

The RULES:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post.

2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass this Award along to recently discovered blogs and let them know about it!

1. Bess Weatherby: A NYC nanny who's kicking trash and tunneling out her own writing path while working in a world of total insanity. (Meaning NYC.)

2. Mary Waibel: For surviving the upstate NY cold, I applaud you.

3. Pk Hrezo: If you haven't met her yet, digitally speaking, she's a must.

4. Matthew Rush: Whose blog is all about the acquisition of Query Warrior Monk skills.

5. Rachele Alpine: Being another BUSY individual, she finds time to write meaningful blog entries.

So seven things about myself (as if two weeks ago wasn't revealing/embarrassing enough)...

1. I wrote and illustrated my first book while in the 2nd grade, including a surprise ending. (And no, it wasn't a school assignment.)

2. Once in a universe long ago and far away I was the best unicorn artist in the galaxy. (3 yr old artist, that is.)

3. My brothers were determined to train me into a ninja. (Ask. I know all about stealth and technique.)

4. I had a "My Girl" relationship. Instead of dying he moved to Idaho and builds violins.

5. I auditioned and made it into a madrigal choir with over 350 applicants for 12 spots.

6. I still can't dance, despite #5.

7. The daughter of a 20+ year scout master, I can pack it, hike it, repel into it, spelunk it, scuba it, ascend it, and rough it. High adventure, you are my friend.

See what I mean about distractions? Now I want to go hiking. Oh how I miss my mountains...

*Ahem* Tomorrow is the last day. Enough with distractions (you wonderful blog-a-rific world!), I have a draft to finish.

What's keeping you from your goals today? Have you recently reached a goal? If so, what did you do to celebrate?

Bizarre News You Never Wanted to Know

2011-09-22T09:39:00.003-04:00

The disadvantage of posting only once a week is the build up of exciting things happening on the web, like:

A new UFO sighting in Paris.

The hunt for the serial-toe-sucker in Arkansas.

120 donkeys making the flight from Hawaii to LA WITHOUT jet lag. (I know, right?)

And AC/DC getting their own wine label. (I don't drink, but everyone says you're supposed to have wine with your cheese...)

Of course, while all of this is terribly exciting and productive *ahem* I have some news of my own. One of my fantabulous bloggy friends has awarded me a blog award. *jumping for joy*

Thank you to Claire Hennessy for the Leibster blog award! What a great, funny, spunky writer she is. Her flash fiction piece won a people's choice award in a recent contest--a well deserved award. Check her out!

And now to business.

THE RULES:
1. Show your appreciation to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2. Reveal your five picks with 200 or less followers and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Post the award on your blog.
4. Bask in the camaraderie of the most supportive people on the internet other writers.
5. And best of all have bloggity fun and spread the love.

My five are:

1. Barbara V. Evers: such a motherly heart, and I love, love, LOVE reading her blog.

2. Jaleta Clegg: Jaleta writes Sci-fi. We've been rubbing shoulders for a while now, and when her inner science nerd comes out to play (which is all the the time) I can't help but giggle. You rock Jaleta!

3. Larissa: We Floridians have to stick together, you know. =) She hangs out more on twitter, and I very much enjoy her tweets.

4. Leisha Maw: Such a fresh and honest voice. Her stories make me smile.

5. Loralie Hall: For not only having such a cute blog, but filling it with worthy content.

So, what news do you have to report? Tried any new cheeses this week? And will you be riding a non-jet-lagged donkey out to buy the new AC/DC brand wine?

Tagged! (What are your powers of randomness?)

2011-09-13T10:55:00.001-04:00

*doing a silly twirly dance* Someone tagged me. ME. =) --And that someone just happens to be the AWESOME Claire Hennessy. (Thank you Claire. I adore you Claire. I'm sending cheese in mass quantities Claire. Um btw, what's your address?)

So what does that mean? I have to extrapolate 10 random facts about myself. Whew! Ten?

1. I LOVE CHEESE!!!! (!!!!!!)

2. Speaking of Random, my son is named Random. Yes, it's partially after his Dad's sense of humor, but it's also partially after my special needs brother Randy who passed away a year before our son was born.

3. I wrote a musical. No, I'm not talking roadshow or stage play. I'm talking 2.5 hrs of PURE MUSIC AWESOMENESS. And one day (when we crack down on our producer) it's going to go somewhere. =)

4. My name is literally Chicken. Or was. C (first initial) + (maiden name) Hicken= C.Hicken.

5. I home school my 3 kids. Like, every day. Like, all day. Yup.

6. I'm a total . No, I'm not kidding. I have 4 living brothers who are all computer geeks, and I laugh at every one of their stupid jokes.

7. I used to believe I was one of Santa's elves. Even had a shirt with a rainbow heart on it I could press and open the gateway to the north pole--you know, like a Star Trek call button. (I said I was a geek.)

8. I love living in tourist towns/vacation sites: Spirit Lake (High Uintah's), West Yellowstone, New York City, Oswego NY (but it was only touristy 1 week of the year), and now KISSIMMEE FLORIDA--with Disney fireworks shaking our back yard every night.

9. I grew up in Utah and have STILL never been skiing. That's like a crime, right?

10. I'm more comfortable on a stage in front of thousands than with one or two people at a time.

And now, what you've all been waiting for, five incredible people I'm tagging. This WAS SO HARD, only picking 5. I have so many AWESOME blogging buddies.

1. Susan Kay Quinn--One of the nicest people I have ever met...digitally that is.
2. Wendy Swore--I love Wendy.
3. The Misadventures of Mub--Kim makes me laugh. Always has. Aw Kimmy, if only you didn't live so far away! *sigh*
4. Ali Cross--Because deep down I really want to be a ninja too.
5. Rachel --PERSONALITY+ Everyone needs an outlook on life like this. You inspire me Rachel. =)

Whew! Out of breath!

Okay, your turn. What's one random or quirky fact about you?

Campaigner's Challenge Flash Fiction

2011-09-08T13:17:00.007-04:00

The challenge: to write 200 words or less Flash Fiction starting with the phrase "The door swung open."

All week long I agonized over how to finish this story. So, at exactly 200 words, I hope you enjoy it. *wicked grin*

Butz

The door swung open. She flattened into the open closet, trying not to breathe, not to stir the air. The bare creme walls and vacant rack above filled her with dread, a haunting omen of what she was to become: empty, barren.

Warmth drained from the room like being sucked out by a vacuum. Her hands shook. She closed her eyes, then forced them wide open.

A shadow moved across blank walls, amplified and distorted by the tumbled lamp. In came the cold, the stillness. Her heart echoed in her ears, so loud.

“Mia, Mia, come out!” The perky soprano made her stomach twist. Jenny’s head appeared at the closet opening.

No, Mia shook her head.

“Come on. It’s only a dress.” Jen hefted the beaded white chiffon and satin into sight, grunting against its weight.

That heavy thing? Only a dress. No, it was a prison, a sentence, a hangman’s noose. Or was it?

In the fluffy layers Mia could see a world of possibilities: a reality with true love and security. Yes, she cared deeply about him, but...

Jen looped an arm through hers. “Come on your groom is waiting, future Mrs. Butz!”

“Butz,” she groaned, and surrendered.

And now, if you like it, please click here and give a thumbs up to #317.

Florida has PERSONALITY, do You?

2011-09-01T12:03:00.004-04:00

This is my Top Ten of Florida list.

You know you live in Florida when...

10. You've got "Sunshine" when most people are dealing with rain, snow or other inclement weather.

9. "Eek it's a mouse!" You shriek and jump. "Oh, no, it's just a roach." You deflate.

8. You fear standing water.

7. You can casually say, "Oh yeah, it's hurricane season."

6. To go exotic bird watching all you have to do is pull up a lawn chair, sit in your front yard and wait until exotic birds start picking bugs out of your lawn.

5. You are tan 24/7.

4. You can drive an hour any direction and be at a different beach.

3. CRUISE PORT. Need I say more?

2. The question isn't "What should we do tonight?" It's "Which should we do tonight?"

1. Everything you say comes out in "Disney". You find yourself quoting Disney in every day euphemisms. You refer people to locations based on Disney. Example: (Imagine replacing every "swimming" with "writing".)

Quirks define us. They are what bring out the good and the bad. Setting can be as important as characters, and Florida has plenty of personality--which is why I've based a few scenes in my new book here.

What's your favorite and least favorite thing about where you live? And what about your local defines you?

Reluctant but Excited: Third Writers' Platform-Building Campaign

2011-08-30T10:00:00.002-04:00

I debated a long time before jumping in on this. For those who don't know, the platform building campaign is an AWESOME opportunity for fellow authors to rub shoulders, meet, compete, and grow. There will be 3 writing challenges judged by members of the campaign, links to contests and blogfests, and plenty of opportunity for like-minded lunatics to lend one another credence. In the end, I couldn't say no. The last day to sign up is tomorrow, the 31st, so if you haven't yet, hop aboard eh? Join us for a fantastic trip through writer's-dom and see what all the hype is about.

Will I see you there?

Off Kilter and Dazed--The Result of Success

2011-08-25T09:24:00.000-04:00

Next week I'm going to be funny and engaging. Next week I'm going to laugh about the mad scramble. Next week I'm going to pretend I never wanted to be a writer.

But first, I have to send in a requested FULL.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I made the mistake (fortunate or unfortunate) of twitter pitching an agent at WriteOnCon. She asked to see some pages, and so I had to run them through my group of beta readers. Well, the response was good, and one even encouraged me to start querying. So I did.

Now--after receiving the request from my targeted (and probably dream) agent, I'm a nervous wreck. The next two days will be spent making last minute grammar changes, not sleeping, and staring with angry eyes at that beta reader's response. Maybe I'll thank her. Maybe I won't. Regardless, it's done.

Therefore, if I am a tad bit preoccupied, you'll forgive me. I'll be back soon my wonderful bloggy friends, and anxious (no doubt) to keep my mind off the impending disaster/miracle that awaits this agent's response.

Have you been through this before? How long did you take before sending in your manuscript? AND, what did you change last minute?

On the Wonders of Cheese...and symbolism

2011-08-18T10:10:00.000-04:00

If you've been here for very long you certainly noticed the redundancy of my one fetish. Call it a character quirk, but if I were to be written into a book you can bet I'd been buying, munching, or mentioning cheese at least once a page.

When I think of cheese the first image to come to mind is that 5 lb golden block of cheddar Mom bought once a week. You know, the staple. It's the one food my family would have ceased to exist without. It represents life, vitality, thriving existence. But more than that, cheese=happiness. Besides the many tongue-tingling motivations to love cheese, I honestly think it's the key to solving all our problems.

Above and beyond it's cheery color, that block of cheddar encompasses lunches spent with my brothers, cheese souffles that my special needs brother died for, and bathroom raids to discover where Randy stashed the block this time. (Yes, he really did steal the cheese and hide it in the bathroom...regularly.) Every childhood memory I have of cheese is tied to family.

Families are the ultimate source of joy. And pain. But mostly joy.

Connecting to symbolism:

Complex characters, or real people don't simply latch onto an item or notion for no reason. There are deeper motives. So what drives you? What drives your character(s)? And what outward symbols do you use to exemplify this?

I Believe in Awesomeness: Are you a character?

2011-08-11T09:09:00.004-04:00

So I was going to write this awesome blogpost about following your dreams and believing in yourself. I ran to youtube searching for this great quote from Serenity (one of the goram best movies of all time), and instead I found this:

And I'm left remembering WHY I love Firefly/Serenity. It's all about the characters.

Jayne Cobb is a character through and through. At first I hated him. I really thought he was the weak point of the party. As I got more invested he became my favorite. I mean, Jayne is Jayne. Period. He may not be the brightest but he doesn't apologize, he doesn't back down, and he holds to a standard of principals--although who really knows what they are or how low they go.

I think the same can be said of any great character. We love them when they are who they are, solid and flawed.

Ready to get philosophical?

So what about ourselves? Are we willing to be bold and flawed--and can we come away still loving ourselves? I say that in reference to writing for myself, but whatever you do in life are you willing to take chances, make messes, and occasionally fail?

What hat are you wearing? Do you wear it as proudly as Jayne?

Series VS Stand Alone Books

2011-08-04T09:36:00.000-04:00

My husband and I had our first argument in months. It went something like this:

Hubs: "NO! You have to write this story into 3 book series. The characters are too awesome."

Me: "But this has always been a stand alone story."

Hubs: (clearing his throat) "Stand alone's don't sell as well as series."

Me: Shoot. He's right. "But there isn't that much story!"

Hubs: "Oh yes there is."

Me: Shoot. He's right again. "But I don't want to write a three book series."

Hubs: Yes you do.

Me: It's so not fair that he knows me this well.

Jeni Mawter, a successful MG author, warns: "It takes considerable ego to write a series of novels. You canʹt be in a hurry to reach the big finale, so you enjoy putting it off. A story line that stretches into multiple novels requires extreme passion, commitment, and yes, even obsession."

Best Selling author Rebecca Forster says: “Writing the first book is like having a dinner party with exciting and stimulating guests, carefully planned menu, atmosphere – but the guests get to go home. And you get to put your feet up and relax. Writing a series, the guests stay permanently. You have to think of exciting things for them to do, vary the menu, invite different guests for them to play with.”

If you follow the trends you'll see that publishers are leaning toward series (especially with the uprising of the e-reader). The idea is to hook readers with book one, then turn their wallets inside out because they have to know what happens in book 2 and 3. (Or 4 and 5, but personally if you go beyond that I WON'T finish your series.)

All the practical advice out there says to write a book that can be a stand alone, but with series potential. They want the best of both worlds. I say if you've got enough story to stretch the distance, why not?

Where do you fall on the series vs stand alone scale? What do you prefer to read? What do you prefer to write? And when is a series too long?

Take that Writer's Block!

2011-07-28T11:18:00.001-04:00

So you have writer's block. Calm down. Relax. I've got it too.

"I think writer's block is simply the dread that you are going to write something horrible." (Roy Blount, Jr.)

Cures:

Resign yourself to the fact that you have to write.

Exercise.

Focus your energy. Rehearse the task in your head.

Stop the discouraging mental dialog. That's right. You CAN do this.

Listen to music.

Stretch!

Breathe.

UNPLUG THE INTERNET!!

Snack. (Especially on cheese.)

And if none of those work...well, you've always got wonderful resources like this: http://funstuff.pantomimepony.co.uk/writers-plot-ideas.htm

When I get stuck all I need is one idea, one spark to get me going again. James Scott Bell in Plot & Structure suggested something I'd never considered before: the list.

Dun dun dun!

What is "the list" you ask? It's a collection of nouns, random words that pop out of your subconscious, bringing with them passion-inducing memories. Because writing comes from the heart, these nouns should prompt an emotion, and that emotion should be enough to get your fingers flying.

To illustrate I'll share one of mine: Honey.

My mom would collect "honey" orders from our neighbors and coordinated fresh deliveries once or twice a year. Every time the honey guy came we'd receive a whole bunch of extras, but the very very best part were the honey sticks. Imagine pixie sticks--but clear plastic, filled with golden sticky liquid. One particular year I recall dueling with honey sticks, me and all of my siblings, in the front yard near dusk. Magic.

Now, imagine taking the power of one such memory and infusing the emotion with your current scene. All I can hear is a big fat "WIN"!

Those are some of my methods for kicking writer's block back into his ugly corner. How do you deal with writer's block? What do you do to overcome it?

I love my story, I love my story not

2011-07-21T13:13:00.004-04:00

I've reached that magic point with my WIP (work in progress)--you know, the spot twenty feet before the finish line where you look at the remaining ten steps and collapse screaming, "Why?!"

James Scott Bell warns in Plot & Structure, "You are going to spend a lot of time with the plots you choose to write...passion is the most important for your writer's soul and, almost always, your ultimate success."

Oh passion I've got, but most of it wants me to turn a firehose on my computer and laugh manically as the device sparks to death. Here I stand on the brink, wondering if I love this story enough to finish. I imagine it's like any relationship. We go through ups and downs, times when we want to throttle the source of our adoration, and times when we could die of sheer joy. I'm needing some of that bliss right now.

In consequence, I'm attempting to publicly remind myself WHY I love my WIP with the top five reasons.

1. Faux (Fox) is a freakin fire hazard, and so totally awkward I never stop laughing. Josef (Jason Dohring) said it best in Moonlight, "But this is so awkward. I love awkward."

2. The mysterious Sam. Dangerous. Bad mouthed. Ridiculously talented, but also tortured and careful. Learning what makes him tick and why he's so dedicated to his "cause" has me aching to write the sequel.

3. Greg. I'm too much a nerd not to love Greg.

4. Blowing stuff up is awesome. (Yeah, yeah!) That would be my inner tom boy stepping out. Excuse me while I put it back.

5. The ugly duckling. I LOVE transformation stories... And lest I should give away too much, I'll leave it at that.

Can you feel the love? I'm trying. What do you do to rekindle the spark when all you want to do is scream? And what is it you love most about your WIP?

To Pen Name or not to Pen Name

2011-07-14T13:59:00.002-04:00

What do you think?

I have finally--this morning--discovered what it is that makes my stories tick. (You know, that singular element that connects them all?) I feel like the girl who unearthed the dragon's name and now controls its immense power.

Mwahahaha!

The bizarre idea seeped into my head that now, (knowing my unique niche,) I'm empowered to make a life-altering decision. Do I change my writing name?

I LOVE my name. How many people can say they're an alliteration? On the down side, there are probably fifty other Crystal Collier's on the web. On the plus side there are probably fifty other Crystal Collier's on the web, and to my knowledge, none of them are writers. But what if by some strange chance of luck...or fate, I land a stalker? Goodness, I have kids!

The list of pros and cons before making a choice:

Pros:

*Gender anonymity
*Genre jumping (Which I do, a lot.)
*Keeping the day job separate from the writing career (The musical world vs publishing)
*Sheltering the fam
*Dual authors for a single series, if I ever tire and want a writing partner

Cons:

*Establishing a new social network (Twitter, blog, facebook etc)
*Possibly losing some of the soft audience (family, friends, neighbors)
*It will inevitably come out (like it or not) that this is a pseudonym
*What picture would I use? Yikes! And book signings...?

Did I miss anything? What is your take on pseudonyms?

See my tamed dragon? I used cheese. =)

Decisions: dream or die?

2011-07-07T11:13:00.000-04:00

I've made the choice a hundred times. The first time resulted in working for a music/video production company. The second time meant learning how to be a studio singer. The third time meant overcoming my fear of intricate computer programs. The fourth time required moving to New York City...

So why is it so hard to make that decision, yet again? Maybe because this time I know it's serious, that other people will be involved, that I'm going to have to fight for my artistic vision or worry about industry scavengers trying to embed their own seal...

If you're new to my blog, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Well, that pretty link on the side there, Immortal the Musical, that's my baby and it finally has a producer.

After a brief hiatus we are about to go into discussions--the scary kind: the kind where we look at that ginormous endeavor (the one we've spent the last 8 years of our lives building,) and figure out how to chop the pie.

Who will be doing what? Who will be paid what? Who will retain the rights for this or that?

*gulp*

When you write a book no one quibbles over lyric royalties vs libretto rights. Granted, these are my shaking knees speaking. I have no idea how this will play out. I only know this is the beginning, the real beginning. There will be no going back. No second guesses. Past the point of no return.

Oh boy. I think I need some muenster to settle my nerves.

Okay professional nail biters, how do you deal with moments like this?

Post 100: Nostalgia and Branding

2011-06-28T11:25:00.007-04:00

I'm the girl who was NEVER going have a blog. Many of my friends had one. Several writing associates had one. Family members kept pressuring me to start one, but what can I say? I'm a rebel. Police put me on edge, politicians turn me to rage, and social "norms" leave me debating arson. So how did I, the rebel, end up with a blog?

This one started as a beta reading forum ONLY in 2009 and has steadily become...

Yeah, I don't have an answer for that, but hitting post 100 has given me pause to think. Why do I blog?

Why do you blog?

Been reading a great deal about branding yourself in the blogger nation, and really finding your niche. So, to help us (pointing to self) in this process, I've compiled a couple questions:

1. What is it you know? (Writing, computers, field mice, parenting?)

2. What is it you enjoy about blogging? (Reading, writing, networking, socializing, learning?)

3. What do you hope to accomplish with blogging? (Taking over the world, selling books, making friends, astonishing people with your fabulous knowledge of cheese?)

Blogging should be tailored to your interests--after all, you are the author. It should be something you like to do, not just another weekly/daily chore. (Heaven knows we all have enough of those!)

To answer #2 up there, I enjoy blogging most when sharing something I'm working on--be it the first 250 words, flash fiction, blurbs, tag lines, books etc. (Ironic--considering that's why I started a blog in the first place.) Right now I'm finishing up another book (#6) to be beta read here at the end of the summer: Faux Pas. Hoping you'll stop back in and join me for that adventure.

Back to my roots. What is your reason for blogging? What do you enjoy most about the process?

Music VS Writing...Yikes!

2011-06-22T13:01:00.004-04:00

Bloggy friends!

I've been MIA for a week. There are several reasons: our last week of freedom before my hubby started a new job, church responsibilities, getting registered for school (for me), prepping a new home school year for the kids...

And as much as I'd like to blame all those, what it really comes down to this one thing: MUSIC.

There is the dark side and the light side to my creativity. I call my writing the dark, and my music the light. That's not to say one is evil and one is good, but they are two opposing sides of the same entity: opposites almost. We all face that battle--which effort deserves priority?

Friday's Song (now lovingly dubbed "Mirror of the Heart") is an unfinished work, but I thought you might like it anyway. This is what happens if I sit down in front of a piano for an hour. (Forgive the performance. Playing piano for people freaks me out.)

My husband can't decide which career path to push me down, music or writing, but he'd like me to get decisive one way or the other.

We all deal with opposing forces, so what are yours? And which voice are you listening to today? (Mine are currently arguing for meuntser vs cheddar. Must be lunch time.)

If the song doesn't load hit http://www.crystal-collier.com/media/fridaysong.wav

Organizing, Cleaning, Plotting, and other Strange Habits

2011-06-14T13:20:00.004-04:00

Summer is here!

For many parents that means kids will be running around the house crazy and asking every five seconds, "I'm bored. What can I do?"

Welcome to our house all year round.

We home school, and despite the "loud" and "busy", it's a joy. So, how do we deal with the chaos?

We get organized. Yesterday we sat down as a family and put together a list of weekly chores, and of course, our new chore wheel. Yay!

That's great you say, but what does that have to do with PLOTTING?

By default, I'm a pantster. The idea of plotting used to make me laugh. Why did I need that? My stories were completely character driven, and when characters hijacked the story, I ran along side cheering and panting. It's not until I completed my first 140k word middle grade novel that the need for plotting really sank in. As an author I needed to know which scenes were absolutely paramount--so I could chop that 140 to its eventual 90k. Whew! Each scene had to build character or the story arc/tension to make the final cut. It would have been so much easier if I'd started with an outline of important scenes before typing a single word.

See my outline of responsibilities on the fridge? Less chaos, less trauma. =)

Pardon. Cheese break. Mmm...Jarlsburg...

So, how do we plot?

Recently I stumbled across a video series I'll recommend to anyone who struggles with plotting.

Even after years of practice I don't sit down (on novel #6 now) and map out every fine detail of who, what, where, when and why. There has to be some wiggle room. It's just like our chore assignments--structure is supplied, but every hour of every day isn't set in stone.

So, how do you write? By the seat of your pants, or plotting? Somewhere in between? Do YOU think plotting is necessary?

On the Subject of Awesome Blog Writers (Yes, you!)

2011-06-08T17:02:00.001-04:00

I've been going through the blogroll today, and the list of awesomeness is bewildering! This community of supportive writers leaves me in awe.

So, that's pretty much it. I just want to say thank you--for your awesome example, for your generosity to one another, for your encouraging words. I wish I could sit here all day and read. You inspire me. =)

Keep up the good work!

Super Short

2011-06-06T14:21:00.004-04:00

I'm participating in the Second Summer in the City Blogfest, which is basically a "let's set some goals for June and all support each other" blogfest. =)

So, my current WIP's are Immortal the Musical, Dark Moon, and my kids, of course. (Goals as follows:)
1. Revise Forever into a blow-your-mind piece of music (-with the help of our kick-trash producer).
2. Finish revising Dark Moon to third person (as opposed to 1st).
3. Smooth and submit The Kiss of Death to a writing contest.
4. Create our home school plan for 2011-2012. (3 kids, 3 grades.)

Is that enough? What are your goals?

It's all about AUDIENCE

2011-06-03T11:10:00.016-04:00

Compulsive... That pretty much sums it up.

Haven't kicked this contest bug yet, so I started browsing writing contests. (Chalk it up to the desire for a few more publishing credits.) I found one for WOMEN in flash fiction. Yay! I'm a woman. I write flash fiction! Not only that, I've got this great flash fiction piece my hubby loves. Done and done, right? Without a second thought I hopped on board.

Then I pulled up the fine print: Women's fiction. The audience and JUDGES are all women!

Shoot.

My piece was written for men.

Double shoot.

How important is audience? (Insert pause for pondering now.) You can have the greatest Science Fiction piece in the world, but if the judge/agent/publisher prefers Historical Fiction, your chances of coming off a cosmic conqueror are a whopping zero. It's like feeding dog food to penguins. Nutritious? Maybe, but not for boy-flipper.

Now I've written an entirely new piece of flash fiction, so help a girl out eh? Toss your thoughts and critiques at me on this 750 word rockin piece of WOMEN's flash fiction.

The Kiss of Death

Marian could not have imagined when she boarded the tram this morning that its derailing and subsequent explosion would result in her finding true love.

With a copy of Glamour and coffee clasped in each hand, she had stepped on, prepared for another mundane day at the office. Her greatest worry had been lipstick smears on her teeth, or embarrassing herself in front of steamy James Laughlin, again. She couldn’t wait to spend lunch proofreading the latest articles, or stealing moments with the boss to get ahead…

Each unrealized routine flashed through her mind as she stood with forty-three other disembodied souls. Their blackened and water-logged remains lay between pools of water and twisted metal, like great lumps of coal.

Firefighters cheered at having put out the flame. People crowded against the police perimeter, trying to get a closer look. Reporters blabbed their take on the “accident” to live cameras, a program she’d watch tonight, if she wasn’t dead.

Dead. Terminated. Over.

She couldn’t believe it. Who would turn off the lights she left on at the apartment? Who would feed Mister Puffkins? Who would teach her yoga class on Saturday?

A tall man pushed through the perimeter. His Valentino suit and tie were oddly out of place next to fireman’s jackets and police uniforms.

He didn’t stop to speak with the police or congratulate firemen. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge them at all, and they let him walk right through their ranks. Dark hair, longer on top, flared in a natural wave about his ears. Prominent cheeks drew notice to his perfect nose and pressed lips. His eyes pinched upward at the corners in a happy way.

He halted in front of we disembodied citizens. “All right, line up, fastest to slowest.”

They glanced about at one another in confusion.

“I see we’re dealing with the latter extreme this morning. We haven’t got all day folks.” He pulled a clipboard out of his jacket and tapped a pen to it. “And what I mean by we, is me.”

In their stunned state no one bothered to ask who he was or why they needed get in a line, just did as instructed, like dumb sheep.

Marian stood over her charred body, unwilling to move, listening as the man interviewed the first person in line.

“Name?”

“Roger.”

“Roger what?”

“Roger Marcum.”

“I see. You are forthwith accepted to paradise. Enjoy the free pastries.” His palm slammed into Roger’s forehead, and Roger disappeared. “Next please?”

A woman hobbled forward.

“Name?”

“Edna.”

“Edna what?” he asked impatiently.

“Edna Barrister.”

“Oh Edna, the summer of sixty-seven, really? I’m sorry, but you have earned a place in prison.”

“But, but-”

He smacked her forehead and she disappeared.

“Next?” He smiled welcomingly.

The line steadily diminished, but Marian couldn’t pull away from her corpse. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in Green Lake, Wisconsin, cheering with cheese heads and wishing her younger brother a happy fifteenth.

Regrets: she could have found work near home rather than graduating from college at twenty and taking this Chicago job. She could have left last winter, her first winter here to help Mom close up the craft store for good. She should have told Mom she loved her…

“Ahem.”

She looked up. Steely gray eyes met hers.

“Seems you are the only one who couldn’t find her way to the line.” The man smiled.

Sure enough, the others were gone.

She looked up into his face, worried.

“Oh Marian, what am I to do with you?” His smile had taken a more tender quality, the lines around his eyes squeezing in agony.

“Have we met?”

“You never do remember.” He stared at his feet. “Tragic, but fair I suppose.”

“No, I would remember you,” she protested.

He frowned. “So, shall we start the cycle again?”

“I’m afraid I don’t…”

“A handshake will send you on. A kiss will send you back, but either way I cannot keep you. Which shall it be?”

“You kissed me before?” she asked, surprised.

“Actually, you kissed me.”

She blushed.

“Several times, and we both very much enjoyed it.” He leaned closer. “In point of fact, I made sure you got on that tram. I had to see you again.”

Hopeless romantic and the guardian of life’s door? She was in love.

“Neither,” she whispered.

“Beg pardon?”

“No handshake. No kiss.”

His grin widened. “I dare say that is the best answer yet.”

P.S. Did you notice the cheese reference? =)
P.S.S. If you are having problems with commenting on blogger (as there's been a lot of that lately), please feel free to e-mail me your thoughts: crystal (at) immortalthemusical (dot) com

Made of Awesome Blog Contest

2011-05-28T12:22:00.015-04:00

They come in twos.

I swear this is the last blog contest I'm going to enter for a while, but this one by Shelley Watters is all about strengthening the first 250 words of a completed novel, and I have one story with 4 different beginnings that could really use a few external opinions.

Title: Dark Moon, 90K words

Genre: YA Historical Fantasy

Blurb:

Devonshire 1768. Noble-born Alexia has never been “attractive.” Far from. Avoiding Father’s push toward betrothal (before the unfortunate prospectives catch sight of her and think better) has been the only concern of her dull existence…until the night she meets him, the night she witnesses an unbelievable murder, the night her own impossible beauty stares back from the mirror, the night she realizes her entire life is a facade. Now she has a choice: step blindly into the unknown, toward him, or spend the rest of mortality wondering about red-eyed wraiths on moonless nights.

I pushed myself off the ground. Dizziness rushed upon me in waves. The swelling in my ankle had returned, only now it throbbed in agony.

The hedges guarding the house from the road blotted Miles from view. He wouldn’t return even if I screamed for him, and I had to return to the house, to safety.

I turned.

A shrouded form stood between me and the lighted doorway. I fumbled backward, staggered, tripped on my skirts, and rolled.

Another creature appeared from around the side of the house, black robes limp in the absence of a breeze. More raven forms surfaced in the night following the first, murderous eyes, a great rolling tide of black.

I had only one course to follow.

Scrambling blindly away on hands and knees, I veered to my right, to the left, landing on my elbows, tearing my skirts.

Why hadn’t they overtaken me? They could move so much faster! Did they enjoy my flight? Perhaps they mocked me with the hope I might escape?

I lunged between gateposts that marked Father’s property and froze.

Multiple crimson pupils burrowed into me from the wooded shadows—hungry, piercing. How many? Forty maybe?

Miles stood only a couple paces ahead of me, whimpering in terror.

They circled us, eyes crushing down.

This is how it would end. I had seen it a hundred times in the prophetic nightmare, but never wanted to believe…

Thank you for reading! Suggestions?

Oh yes, before I forget...now for the random cheese fact of the week: Did you know there are over 1000 types of cheeses in the world? In fact, there are 400 types of French cheese alone.

Anyone who would like to read the final entries to this contest, go here.

Power of Tension Blogfest

2011-05-23T09:30:00.013-04:00

First of all, I'm trying out a new look for my blog. It's been a long time coming, but today, today is the day. So what do you think?

Next, I introduce you to the

Thanks Cally Jackson and Rachel Morgan for hosting an awesome blogfest!

From the completed MS: Neitherlands, Awakening

MG Fantasy

Blurb: When one considers all the poor, miserable, unimportant creatures of the Neitherlands, Kiri doesn’t even make the radar. She has no past. She has no future. She is a child alone… Until the summoning draws her into the presence of an extinct race: a wizard.

According to him, she is the last thing that stands between a mad warlock and her world’s annihilation. She alone knows where to find the missing High King—if she can just remember! Caught between the yearning to reunite with her family and the terror of surviving an ominous adversary’s attacks, she is the Neitherland’s only hope.

The ENTRY:

Kiri dashed up the never-ending staircase breathing hard. She stumbled, slipped, and smacked her knee. It throbbed. In the quiet, hurried footsteps echoed from not far below.

She glanced behind, chest seizing in terror. Limping up, she dashed blindly around the corner and smashed into a solid wooden door.

The magic door...

“Open!” she commanded, throwing her shoulder into it. Nothing happened.

“Open, please!” she begged, and hurled herself at it again. Instead of hitting wood, she tumbled through its opening and onto a moonlit outcropping. Night air filled her lungs.

She got up and rushed to the brink. Distant ground disappeared through forming clouds. They billowed darkly, storm in tow.

It was so high! Sickened and dizzy she stumbled backwards. Now was a terrible time to be afraid of heights.

Kiri turned back toward the open door, reaching for her dagger.

Gone. No!

Lightning split the sky and a man stepped out onto the ledge.

Her heart seized. She couldn’t see his face and she didn’t want to, certain it held great satisfaction for the sinking of her heart.

“Ah, so good to see you again,” the stranger cooed. Moonlight hit his teeth--smiling like a jackal. “I hope he hasn’t filled your head with lies. Damien has a tendency to…exaggerate.”

The seducing tone only pushed her further away. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend.”

Rain began to spatter the mountain ridge.

“I don’t have any friends!” she screamed. “You killed them all!"

“Tut, tut.” He held out a hand, light finally catching those dark eyes. “Come with me.”

She stepped back, and felt the edge of the cliff against her heel.

“Kirina…” The stranger advanced.

"MY NAME IS ANN!" she shrieked and threw herself backwards, over the cliff.

Choose Your Own Adventure Bloghop

2011-05-16T22:53:00.002-04:00

Welcome. This is not the beginning of the choose your own. No. It's the end. To hit the beginning please click HERE and swing over to Kerri's blog. =) Happy adventuring, and may you succeed in your quest for the Yeti.

Fortune favors the bold, and you figure you’re pretty much dead anyway.

Flipping on your camera you point the shot upward. Taking a deep breath you whimper, “cheese”.

The camera flashes. The closest (and largest) yeti leaps to the cavern floor, rattling your bones with a thunderous crash. It roars with rage.

Your finger slips and snaps another picture.

The yeti blinks at you. You blink at it.

You flash another picture.

The yeti shrieks and throws its arms in the air like an angry gorilla.

Your knees buckle. What happened to that cheeky plan to snap a shot and run? You turn and smash into a furry wall of white.

The camera drops to the ground and another flash lights the cavern.

The beast you just ran into leaps back, hands in the air and screeches—like a woman who’s spotted a mouse.

Supercharged, you aim for the cavern entry, but two giant hands clasp around each arm and press inward, threatening to crush your ribcage. Your feet leave the ground. Slowly you are lifted.

Giant black eyes peer into your face. Glistening fangs are bared. A long white cloud of mist hisses between the creatures jagged teeth. Warm air circulates around your goosebumped flesh and you gag on the rancid breath. Garlic?

The yeti giggles.

Giggle? No. That couldn’t possibly be…

It occurs to you that perhaps this baring of teeth is not an act of aggression. From the way the corners of its mouth turn upward… Yup. That’s a smile.

The creature tucks you under one arm and starts grunting at the others. They now stand in a tight circle. Another one grunts back, then a third in a higher pitch. It appears they are having a yeti family council?

Meanwhile the fur against your cheek is becoming rather agitating. Rash, you are definitely going to have a rash from the friction. Hives maybe.

The yeti plops you down in the center and delivers a good smack to the top of your head.

“Ouch!” you cry.

The yeti giggles again. Another one gives you a smack on the head.

“Hey!” you protest.

They all laugh.

Another wallops your shoulder. You flail forward, landing in the paw of the largest one, deafened by the roar of yeti laughter.

***********************************************************************

It’s been three months and six days. You aren’t hungry, although you have no idea what it is they feed you. You aren’t cold—because baby yeti chose to make you his teddy bear tonight. How you hope he won’t roll over and smash you in the middle of the night.

You sigh.

You are resigned to being the family pet, but one day, just one day you might be able to escape. Wow. What story you’ll have to tell then!

GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING

RETURN TO PREVIOUS CHOICE

A Super Cool Project You Really Want to Support

2011-05-11T12:13:00.000-04:00

But first, a quick announcement:

As a group of Crusaders, we've pulled together a special treat for all readers out there. NEXT WEEK join our first ever choose-your-own-adventure blog hop, starting at Kerri's blog! Every one of these talented writers is excited to share this collaborative effort, and hope you will enjoy it as much as we have.

And now on to the find of the week: Cleverer. I stumbled across this while guest blogging about "Daring to Dream" at Misha's mental pensive. (A very fun place to visit--and absolute must if you're a writer.)

First, the project:

Now there's a couple ways you can get involved, and all of them include AWESOME prizes.

1. You can pledge on Kickstarter. (Again, check out the prize roster. Whew!)
2. You can share via twitter, facebook or the blog-o-sphere.
3. You can enter this contest AND WIN:

The mask, not the guy. =) Clark Schaffer actually made this mask for Iron Man 2, no joking! Craziest part? He's offering it to someone who helps spread the word. So what are you waiting for?

Toodles for now my bloggy friends! I'm off to enjoy a week of visiting family--but remember to stop back next week for the Choose-Your-Own of a lifetime!

We've got a PRODUCER!!!

2011-05-04T12:05:00.003-04:00

Immortal the Musical officially has representation!

Let me introduce Fernando Varela, the newest addition to our team, our producer. He's not only a kick-trash get-it-done guy, but an amazing performer as well. He knows both ends of the business, and we have the same taste in music, which makes him the perfect match for the musical. Most importantly, he believes in it as much as we do.

So what does that mean for the show?

First, let's define "producer".

Producer to Musical=Agent to Writer

No, this doesn't mean we're going to magically be on Broadway next week, just as landing an agent doesn't automatically equal publication. Now the real work begins. A producer suggests revisions, attracts other industry professionals who are needed, lines up the right talent and rounds up money for production. Finding a producer is the first step.

How did we meet Fernando?

We've been in negotiations with Phat Planet Studios on a new concept CD, and the manager, Ed, likes our show. He's been around a long time. He's seen all kinds of projects, and he had nothing but encouragement and good to say about ours. Good guy, that Ed. On their first meeting, he suggested to my husband that we get in contact with Fernando--because he's a phenomenal tenor. He also sent Fernando to our website.

We took Ed's suggestion and attended one of Fernando's concerts, and he blew our socks off.

Ed set up the meeting, and we approached with trepidation. From moment one Fernando pitched himself to us as a producer. Come to find out he produced the concert we attended, and he currently produces shows for Mascioli Entertainment Corporation. He knows his stuff.

So now what? We have a number of directions would could go from here: the new concept CD, fundraisers, concerts, a musical based reality TV show... All I know is, great things are about to happen.

Who are you?

2011-04-27T09:00:00.047-04:00

Writing can be a lonely endeavor.

Some days I'm like a hermit--one bursting to share everything I've penned, but frightened to pull back the curtain and expose the stitching before it's finished. Sometimes I forget there's a big world beyond my dual monitors and stack of reference books. Truth is, I'm feeling a bit...lonely.

So let's be social eh?

Hello. *waving* (Yes, I'm hiding behind my computer.) I like cheese, writing, mountains, and periodically answer to "chicken".

I also occasionally pen a song or two. (You can listen to a few here.)

But today isn't about me. It's about you.

Yes, you.

Who are you? Leave a comment and tell us a little about yourself. I'm excited to get to know you!

1. What are you working on right now?
2. What's your favorite cheese?
3. Where is the neatest place you've lived/would like to live and why?
4. If you could have one wish, what would it be?
5. What are you especially good at?

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life: Deep Thoughts

2011-04-20T11:34:00.000-04:00

Life gets so crazy. I find it hard to round up a quiet moment and just sit. When I was a teenager I had a "thinking rock" conveniently located in the back yard. It was large enough to sit on and presented a panoramic view of the rocky mountains, my mountains. I'd go out there when life got too loud, plop down, and wait for the crazy to abate.

It's been years since I've had that opportunity. NYC didn't exactly have any "quiet" places--not even in Central Park. Upstate New York was temperate about one month out of the year, and Florida for the most part has been the same story--but reverse. Too hot to go out. Well, that and I've let myself get busy.

Today I took a moment, a quiet moment while waiting for my son to take a "state" test at the local school. I ran away to a park and sat.

For me, sitting is when inspiration hits. When I'm listening, when I clear the distractions away there are voices. No, I'm not talking the crazy characters in my head. I hear music: choirs, orchestras--incredible melodies, sounds so grand they can't be fully voiced by any mortal experience. They turn my mind to where answers lie.

My husband tells me I'm a bit of an anomaly. I don't believe him. Everyone has access to that channel of inspiration if they can just get still enough to hear it. It may not come through music. Yours might be a path of poetry, or observations, or conversation, but inspiration is out there. It's waiting for all of us in a most personal form. The question is, when will you stop to hear?

Absent & in Trouble

2011-04-14T16:48:00.003-04:00

That would be my mind--the absent part. Oh, and indecisive.

Bad, bad combination.

I've spent countless dedicated hours preparing for a film shoot in three weeks. Among sundry organizational things, that has resulted in crunches. Lots and lots of crunches. Like it or not I'm going to be SINGING in this video. Yikes. AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR!

Help! What do you suggest?

Forever is the song, and the tentative storyboard can be viewed here. Yup. I'll be the mysterious vocalist.

So now my stomach is sore, and I'm going to lock myself in a closet and write for a while...lest the nerves strangle the rest of my brain.

Magic: A Good Laugh

2011-04-08T20:37:00.000-04:00

Quotable from Random: He accidentally spilled some water, then said,

"I'll make it disappear with my magic."

After waving his hands over the water several times he paused, thought, and retracted,

"My magic's not very strong."

I'm going to disagree. His magic left me giggling for the next hour, and has several times since. Yay for cute kids!

What has gotten you giggling lately?

Hello Blogfest, Goodbye Cheese

2011-04-01T11:20:00.064-04:00

Shelley Watters is hosting a "Twitter" pitch blogfest for completed MS's. The prize? A full manuscript request from Suzie Townsend of Fine Print Literary Management. See more here. In 140 characters, not words, characters, here's my pitch:

Title: Faux Paw

Genre: YA Urban fantasy

Word Count: 70,000

Socially inept Faux only wanted a boyfriend, until she burst into flame and initiated the apocalypse. Now all she wants is to go home.

The non-scaled down blurb goes a little something like this:

Ugly, socially inept Faux (Fox) never hoped for more than a boyfriend by the time her seventeenth birthday rolled around. Alone—abandoned by both career-parents on her special day, she lit the candle. “Make a wish!” she sighed, blew out the cake, and exploded, literally.

Seems there’s one or two things Mom and Dad hadn’t mentioned—like the freaky way she could imitate the human torch, or the reaper-like creatures on her trail, or the two opposing and steamy misfits working to psychologically win her over. Now uncovering the truth about her past is the only thing that may save her from the monsters on her trail—all of them.

AND ON TO THE CHEESE:

I keep hearing it, and so my "youthful" days of wishfully thinking I'm above the law...

are over.

What law? Oh, the law of name branding. So, (as much as it pains me,) I'm retiring the profile name of "Happily Cheesy" (*don't cry, don't cry!*) in favor of my real name.

It's not that I don't like my name. Actually, I love it! When I realized I was going to marry a Collier, I leapt for joy. I mean--besides the fact my hubby rocks, I'm now an alliteration. =)

Counting Rays of Sunshine

2011-03-29T13:12:00.001-04:00

It's so easy to get stuck in the rainy day rut. Yesterday we celebrated my daughter's 6th birthday. Our plans included:

1. Going to Universal Studios
2. Swimming in our pool for the first time this year, and
3. Taking our daughter out on her NEW training-wheel-free bike.

Well, our day ended up looking like this:

Okay, maybe not quite that bad, but stepping outside for 10 seconds would have resulted in total saturation.

No Universal. No swimming. No bike riding. Yet, to our amazement our daughter had the most fabulous day. She said it's the best birthday she's ever had!

Lesson? Kids are amazing. I want to be more like mine. Especially today I'm trying to focus on the good, and amazingly, the day looks like this:

Here's to getting back up when life kicks you hard!

What are you especially grateful for today?

A WINNER! And a Bout of Flash Fiction...

2011-03-23T00:00:00.010-04:00

One HUGE

to everyone who submitted ideas for the Music Video contest. There were so many awesome ideas that we had a difficult time choosing. It came down to a team vote, and our winner is... (*drum roll*)

Kay Em Evans!

For the picture frame idea.

And now for the second Crusader Writing Challenge: parameters, 100 words (not including title).

That Kind of Day

The goldfish bowl teetered and crashed to the linoleum. Water coursed around my sneakers, orange bodies flopping helplessly through deadly shards.

A gun cocked.

“You can’t kill me.” I stepped around floundering bodies toward the wide-eyed man, hoping he wouldn’t try.

He looked down the barrel of his revolver. “Oh yeah?”

The gun fired.

A bullet smacked me between the eyes. Ouch.

“You can however seriously piss me off.” I speared him through with my scythe and lifted his squirming soul away. “Now I’m going to have to dig that thing out...! Say hello to your fishes, in Hell.”

(From my short stories collection: Death Goes to Hell. Read more here: http://angiesdiary.com/stories/shortstory/death-goes-to-hell/ )

CONTEST: Ideas for a Music Video

2011-03-15T14:31:00.006-04:00

As I may or may not have mentioned, I'm a multitasker, and this week that includes storyboarding a music video.

I have a few ideas, but the problem is I'm too close to this project. All I can see is the scene that goes with the song. I need some FRESH ideas. SO, genius that I am, I decided to seek outside perspective from the greatest writerly brains I know. (That means you.)

This is the song:

(requires quicktime plug in)
http://immortalthemusical.com/index.php/forever

Background: Justine, a rather forward girl for 1802, has finally met the man of her dreams. He just so happens to be a vampire, and her uncle just so happens to be a vampire hunter.

That's all I'm going to give you. How do you imagine this music video? (Setting? Action? Etc?)

Now, this isn't some random contest where you sign your name in the comments and magically get picked. The best idea wins. Period. So, throw them at me. Leave a comment or send an e-mail to crystal@immortalthemusical(dot)com. Oh, and be sure to "like" the show on facebook: http://facebook.com/immortalthemusical

And now for the prize... A genuine pot of gold!

Okay, not really, but almost as cool.

1. (If your concept ends up being used,) Your name in the credits on the music video.

2. A free download of the current soundtrack for Immortal the Musical. (It's not even available for purchase right now, so, you know, really special.)

3. One free book of your choice from Amazon. (Up to a 20$ value.)

Contest ends Tuesday the 22nd.

Happy writing, and keep in mind two words: "budgetary restraints".

More Awards!!

2011-03-11T11:30:00.002-05:00

Recently on facebook we held a poll for which song from Immortal the Musical should be made into a music video. Here's our winner! (Now go "like" it on facebook!)

On to the real business for today.

Continuing from last week... Thank you Lady Jai for this award! You rock.

The rules for the Stylish Blogger Award:

Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award

Share things about yourself

Award recently discovered great bloggers

Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award

I'm good with all but part 2 there. Things about me...

1. I LOVE CHEESE. That's an easy one.

2. I have about fifteen nicknames, but the most common are Chicken and Crystal the Pistol.

3. Unlike my hubby, I vividly remember about 60% of my childhood. (Thus the YA/MG writing angle.)

4. I learned how to sing by mimicking Sarah Brightman, aided by 4 yrs of voice lessons, and hindered by one of my brothers. (I have 5.) I couldn't open my mouth without him storming, stomping, screaming, threatening. He's probably the reason I persisted--the whole "underdog will conquer" mentality. Incidentally, he's fine with it now.

5. I never had a "clique" or group. My collection of best friends come from very different backgrounds, ethnicities and even countries. (Russia, China, Columbia, and Haiti to name a few.)

6. My favorite and least favorite place to live was New York City.

7. Home schooling my 3 kids is the greatest challenge I have yet faced. I waiver on a daily basis, but it's what they need--especially in light of our propensity to move.

8. I quit piano lessons because I was sick of playing other people's music. Six months later (at 13) I wrote down my first composition. Who knew that quitting lessons would one day lead to a FULL BLOWN MUSICAL!!!

Enough about me. Now on to the deserving subjects of today's post!

1. The Lit Express

2. Eternal Moonshine of a Daydreaming Mind
3. Ghost Horses Gallop for the Earth!
4. A Writers Work is Never Done
5. Dunhaven Place
6. Girl Unpublished
7. Carole Anne Carr
8. Freckle Head
9. Dark Angel Fiction
10. Clarissa Draper
11. Damsel in a Dirty Dress
12. Heather Justesen
13. Ink Spells
14. Fabulous Reads
15. Jenni James

Everybody Scream with Me Now

2011-03-08T14:59:00.005-05:00

This first month since going "public" with the secret project has been such a rush; like a blind date. And a roller coaster. Or a blind date on a roller coaster.

"Hi." I extend a hand, battling the g-force. "I'm Crystal."

Teeth rattling, he reaches to shake. "I'm Exposure. Nice to meet you."

For the rest of the whirlwind ride we keep our heads forward, fighting the urge to raise our arms and scream, or puke--which ever comes first.

Of course after stepping off the ride we're reminded that mother earth is actually solid. We stand back to evaluate. Are we ready for another go? Do we have the guts/stomach to face the whip-lashing neck-twisting fury?

Yup. That pretty much sums it up, except this ride doesn't stop. It doesn't slow down either. Here we go, month two, clinging to our centers and wondering when the buzz between our ears will end.

How do you cope with the excitement and hope, the disappointment and setbacks of going "public"?

Award, Awards, Awards!

2011-03-04T09:00:00.022-05:00

(requires quicktime plug in)

But first, a quick share: "Forever" from Immortal the Musical. Like what you hear? Then go "like" it on facebook, please.

I'm REALLY behind on this. Some awesome friends have been kind enough to give me blogging awards...and I negligently let them sit too long. So, I'm fixing that now.

Back in August--when I was MIA Jessie Harrell gave me this award. If you haven't checked out her blog, this is a must. She's so optimistic, fun and supportive. In my writing community she's not just a support beam, but more like a pillar. Thank you Jessie!

Along with that I'm supposed to do 3 things:

1. Accept the award, post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link. (DONE!)

2. Pay it forward to fifteen other blogs you have newly discovered. (...HOW TO CHOOSE?)

3. Contact those blog owners and let them know they've been chosen.

1. Leisha Maw: Fun blogger.

2. Just the Cheese: He makes me LAUGH!

3. Goddess of Corn: What a writer! If you haven't checked out her flash fiction, you need to!

4. Involuntary Smiles: Because life is sometimes like that.

5. Pen, Paper, Lots of Coffee: One of my new favorite bloggers.

6. Sharp Pen/Dull Sword: because it's true.

7. Mary Brebner: Besides having a great couple stories in the cupboard, she's an amazing reviewer

8. The Far Edge of Normal: Jaleta is a total science nerd, which rocks the world of writing. Love it!

9. Elizabeth Mueller: Similar roots. I've "known" Elizabeth for a while, but only recently started following.

10. .W.I.P. It: Definitely new to this one, but loving what I've read!

11. Buffy's Write Zone: Journalist and great writer.

12. Capricious Existence: For wittiness.

13. Snippets From My Mind: Lady Jai and I share 2 traits, a love of writing and fairytale romances.

14. Cheekyness: What can I say more? Title says it all.

15. Kay M Evans: Never met a more encouraging author/friend.

More awards to come tomorrow!

WANT, WANT, NEED

2011-03-02T09:15:00.000-05:00

So it's a rare thing that I do this, but it's also a rare thing I'm this sucked in after 1.5 minutes. The wording is phenomenal, the story basis intriguing, and I can't wait to get the book. Congrats Rane Anderson! (To learn more, go HERE.)

Life is like Riding a Bike

2011-02-26T17:26:00.000-05:00

This is Random. Yes, Random. He's named after his father's sense of humor...or it's the only name we could agree on...or he's somewhat named after his one-of-a-kind uncle, Randy. Pick whichever story you prefer. Regardless, this kid's a genius. He'll either be a phenomenal architect or an advanced engineer of some kind. He's teaching me new things every day.

So I took him out to ride a bike. First time. After explaining the three necessary functions of successful bike riding (pedaling, steering and balance) he hopped on. Coordination is difficult for a 4 year old. He kept reversing the pedals and bringing us to a dead halt.

Finally I pulled him off the "machine" as he called it
(--sometimes this kids astounds us with his comprehension--), and lifted the tire off the ground so he could see that when we pushed the pedals the bike would work.

Back on the bike he went, but he was too fascinated with the chain to do any pedaling. Again he hopped off. We examined the chain and gears until he was 100% satisfied he knew exactly what made that bike tick. Then after a successful circle of the driveway we retired to our air-conditioned home.

In life we hop on the bike just like Random, trusting the education and authorities we've known. For most things (parenting, writing a book, executing a surgery), no amount of classroom experience can adequately prepare us for what's coming. Life hits hard. We fall down. Occasionally we need to climb off that bike and reevaluate what makes things tick. The problem may be our outlook on life, based on the patterning we've received. (Or understanding how the gears really work.) It may be how we're pedaling. (Or back peddling.) And sometimes we need help, someone to hold the handlebars while we get the feel.

No matter how discouraging or how many times you have to try again, do it. The process may be painful, but the joy comes in that final ride.

The Secret Project: Pull Back the Curtain

2011-02-19T03:07:00.000-05:00

Eight years ago I wrote a musical about a vampire. For the last 4.5 years we've bouncing between NYC, Upstate NY and Florida in pursuit of this project, including several false starts.

That's not the secret.

INTRODUCING THE SITE:

www.immortalthemusical.com

Highlights:

Intro: front page--listen to the opening number...except for the vocals. They will be added shortly...relatively speaking.

1. Story: Read the teaser.

2. Music: Listen to 7 selections of the 34 songs. People who have experienced the entire musical will tell you what you hear represents only a minor dynamic of the show. It is much more varied, and in the next several months we hope to add MANY more numbers (including updated ones of the current features).

3. Characters: Meet the characters. They have been with us eight years. We love them. You will too.

4. Volunteer: SHARE THE SHOW!!! E-mail a link to everyone! Like it on Facebook. Share it on Facebook. Twitter it! Sign up for a newsletter and receive updates instantly. Donate...if you feel so inclined. In the future there will be more opportunities to get involved. (Contests, events, etc.)

5. Creative Team: Say hello to our AWESOME support group. They totally rock.

6. BLOGS: A general news blog will keep you up to date, and you can get to know our fabulous team through their own words. BEST OF ALL, get the inside scoop from the characters! They've agreed (though some very reluctantly) to share their story with the world, and you could be the first to learn it.

THE FUTURE HAS ARRIVED (Where you come in): We are not shopping the show through conventional means. We don't have money, and we don't know anyone with clout. SO, the only other method at our disposal is a viral approach. We will be promoting the site through contests, youtube videos, and potentially, through an online reality show. If we have enough fans (because we really deserve them, we hope), then we don't need money or clout. We just need you. AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW!

My Eternal Valentine

2011-02-14T11:30:00.000-05:00

Today was supposed to be my wedding day.

Well not today, but today 11 years ago. 2-14-00. We referred to the date in code "twenty-one, four-hundred" so none of our family or friends got it. It was our "one day"...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

At sixteen I went on my first ever blind date. I never thought my date might end up being twenty and sporting a stylish goatee. In fact, I was such a straight arrow that the facial hair made me leery, but no more than a twenty year old who didn't have anything other than work going in his life. My dad was a doctor. I had high expectations!

And then he made me laugh.

Magic. We talked, we laughed. During our "activity", a volleyball game, (since he was on the opposite team) he served right to me every time! (He swears that wasn't his intention.) Granted, I was not overly impressed, but on our second date I knew.

We dated 5 months. He went away for two years on a service mission and we wrote every week, all the time planning toward this perfect 21-400. Finally after two and a half years of waiting, we were reunited--and his family wanted us to hold out for ANOTHER 6 months!!!

I came home from college, and we got married in January--because his parents planned to be out of town over our coveted date. Oye! Well, what can you do? I got the man, and two weeks sooner than I'd anticipated, so now we have an extended celebration: every year we celebrate an anniversary, and laugh about 21-400.

Here's to the sweetest man in the world who supports my dreams and tells me he loves me every day! Happy Valentines day Matthew.

Exploiting Children: The fine art

2011-02-08T11:25:00.000-05:00

Yes, I may very well be evil, but I believe adorable children are placed upon this earth to help promote our artistic projects.

Meet "Kaily Bugg". She's so darn cute!

Writer's Crusade: Building a Platform

2011-02-07T19:26:00.000-05:00

This one goes out to all those writers who are desperately trying to find their place and peers. The Crusade is for linking aspiring writers, beginner bloggers, industry people, and published authors together with the aim of helping to build our online platforms. Basically, we're building a network. Jump on board and be a team player!

Pop on over to Rach's blog (the woman who's heading it all), for the details, and happy writing!

How to Get to Broadway

2011-02-01T14:16:00.000-05:00

When people find out I've written a Broadway bound musical, the next question out of their mouth is "How do you get a show on Broadway?"

I laugh and respond, "Do you want the long answer or short?"

THE LONG ANSWER: How You Get a Show to Broadway

This is a subject of much musing for my husband and I. We've spent 8 years trying to figure it out. Typically a musical begins when one industry artist turns to his friend (I did specifically say "his") and says, "You know what? We should make this story into a show!" They track down a composer, a lyricist, and a scriptwriter (also known as a librettist,) and chart the high points of the plot. (Where it really sings.) Then the composer goes away, writes a song, brings it back, and everyone gives the thumbs up, or thumbs down. Rinse and repeat.

Step two is to record a CD: the musical's hook. (Costing between 10 and 100k, dependent on the number of instruments/voices involved.) After the CD is complete, a "reading" is in order. This is a dry run of the script with the music. Typically there are a few of these and many many edits between. Finally the show is work-shopped with actors one scene at a time, then test run in front of an audience.

Staging: Here's where someone foots the bill for production and invitations go out to every major voice in the community. The goal is to get rave reviews so some NYC big wig will pick up your work. If that doesn't happen you move to New York City and pound the pavement until you run into the right producer. Hopefully he even cracks your script open. Then hopefully he loves it. (Again, he, there are no she's in this industry.) The other approach is to hit California and work your way in with a major film company, like Wicked did.

The expected journey from conception to production (if it ever gets produced) is 7 to 10 years, and the cost for a Broadway run is 10 to 20 million.

THE SHORT ANSWER: How You Get a Show to Broadway

Most people don't.

BUT WE WILL.

HELP:

2011-01-24T15:49:00.000-05:00

A video studio has expressed interest in producing one of our songs as a music video, and I need help choosing which ONE. Oye. Help please!

These are our options:

MY FIRST

TAKE MY HAND

MY DREAM

FOREVER

NEVER SAY GOODBYE

To vote go to our fan page:
http://www.facebook.com/immortalthemusical?v=app_19827163485&ref=ts

Or leave a comment!

----Thank you-----

P.S. If you can't reach the music here, try http://immortalthemusical.com/index.php/music

Sheesh. All I Want is Your First Born Child

2011-01-19T09:33:00.000-05:00

...or for you to listen to this song:

Yup. That's it for this week. No raving. No crazy diatribe. Just listen, then tell me what you think.

And if you really really like it, please "like" it on facebook. http://www.facebook.com/immortalthemusical

Whichever is easier for you. Kid, or music?

The Secret Project: Revealed

2011-01-11T11:49:00.000-05:00

This will not come as a surprise to some of you, but 8 years ago I wrote a musical about a vampire. For the last 4.5 years we've bouncing between NYC, Upstate NY and Florida in pursuit of this project, including several false starts. If you want to read about that I've blogged it in my blog section (the one on the website).

That's not the secret.

INTRODUCING THE SITE:

www.immortalthemusical.com

Highlights:

Intro: front page--listen to the opening number...except for the vocals. They will be added shortly...relatively speaking.

1. Story: Read the teaser

2. Music: Listen to 6 selections of the 34 songs. People who have experienced the entire musical will tell you what you hear represents only a minor dynamic of the show. It is much more varied, and in the next several months we hope to add MANY more numbers (including updated ones of the current features).

3. Characters: Meet the characters. They have been with us eight years. We love them. You will too.

5. Creative Team: Say hello to our AWESOME support group. They totally rock.

6. BLOGS: This is where content will change EVERY WEEK. A general news blog will keep you up to date, and you can get to know our fabulous team through their own words. BEST OF ALL, get the inside scoop from the characters! They've agreed (though some very reluctantly) to share their story with the world, and you could be the first to learn it!

THE FUTURE HAS ARRIVED (Where you come in): We are not going to shop the show through conventional means. We don't have money, and we don't know anyone with clout. SO, the only other method at our disposal is a viral approach. We will be promoting the site through contests, youtube videos, and potentially, through an online reality show. If we have enough fans (because we really deserve them, we hope), then we don't need money or clout. We just need you. AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW!

The Secret Project

2010-11-04T12:43:00.000-04:00

http://dmc89.deviantart.com/art/Secret-Agent-Man-25614982?q=boost:popular+secret+agent+man&qo=129

There are few things worth putting your entire life on hold:

Marriages

Deaths

Births

...Secret Missions...

My life is officially on hold for the sake of a SUPER SECRET PROJECT.

One to eight hours a day fold beneath the horizon as we (me and my STELLAR team) whittle away at the enormity of our task.

Can I tell you what we're doing?

No. Not yet. But it's going to be awesome, and big.

The Anywhere's 4: The Book

2010-09-02T14:55:00.000-04:00

http://mosshead.deviantart.com/art/Elmhurst-27875755?q=boost:popular+suburban+street+night&qo=160

Kaitlyn stood on the darkening curb, framed by a box of light from a window, clinging to her ancient treasure, mammoth backpack threatening to tip her onto her backside.

Biology study group. She hated Biology. Especially the study group. How many times a week could she stand to be laughed at for mistaking chloroplast for chloroform, or mitosis with osmosis? No matter how she dedicated herself, the ideas wouldn’t stick and her private school chums were ruthless.

“Stupid biology.”

Her focus at piano lessons earlier had been abysmal. Karate was no different, and she had the bruises to prove it—not that she didn’t always take a pounding in Karate. She’d earned “Kamikaze Kaitlyn”, or Kamikaze for short, or Kami (which really bothered her because of the political connotations, comi for communist). ‘Steer clear of the Kami!’ they’d whisper when she entered the room.

“Stupid Karate.”

The window shades dropped, leaving her in shadow. That chipper little house promised a full night’s humiliation. Unless…

She slid the invitation out of her new-old book. Decorative parchment made her fingers tingle. A special symposium, rare artistic opportunity at her favorite place on the planet…

Her phone read 8:25 pm. If she hopped back on the bus she could be there with five minutes to spare—

But then, what about Mr. Strange?

The backpack finally won, pulling her onto her rump.

“Stupid gravity.” She set the invitation aside, sliding her backpack off sore shoulders.

Instant light smacked her in the face. She raised an arm to shield herself, peering around it at the circle of radiance, a headlight. The car sat parked on the curb not ten feet away, but no one started it. It just sat there, blinding her.

Paranoia clenched her throat. A hundred stories about stalkers and kidnapping raced, unwelcomed, through her mind. Strange cars, watchers in the darkness, and an abandoned street…

Snatching up her invitation, she leapt to her feet, racing blindly for the stairs of her dreaded biology inquisition.

Smack. She landed again on her rear.

Black leather boots stood over her, leading up to denim jeans, a black T, fitted leather jacket, crossed arms, and black hair with vibrant red streaks.

The woman, probably only five or six years older than herself, smirked. “Hello Kaitlyn.”

She frowned. “How does everyone know my name? Who are you?”

“You’re wanted at a convention tonight.”

She blinked out her astonishment. “Did Mr. Strange send you?”

“I’m here to escort you.”

“You mean kidnap me?”

The woman laughed. “You have the book. That’s a good thing, but don’t think it’s going to protect you. You have absolutely no idea what’s at stake tonight.”

Kaitlyn swallowed. “Who sent you?”

“Come on, get up. We have to get moving.”

She shook her head. “I-I have to go to biology-”

“There are very few things you have to do Kaitlyn Strom.” The woman offered a hand. “Coming with me is one of them.”

Climbing to her feet, Kaitlyn clasped the book closer.

“You have the key too?” her kidnapper inquired.

She nodded.

“I’m Rose.” Throwing the chevy door open, she pointed at the seat. “And this is your chariot, oh child of paper.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I’m not the bad guy,” Rose promised.

“There’s a bad guy?”

“Get in.”

Kaitlyn hesitated.

“Or I can force you.” The mischievous smile was enough to convince her to obey. She landed on a black padded seat, clinging still to her book, door snapping shut.

Rose pulled away from the curb, examining the rear view mirrors carefully. “I work with an association of agents, talented ones like you.”

“I’m not talented.”

“Then you don’t know yet? It will happen, and soon. I’m betting tonight.” Rose turned onto a main street. “At any rate, I’m not like you, but I know what you can do. Pretty crazy stuff.”

Reaching into her pocket, Kaitlyn realized her cell phone waited back on the curb somewhere. So much for calling 911. She was at the mercy of psycho lady.

“Have you even cracked that book yet?” Rose asked.

Only to read the inscription on the inner cover. Loosening her hold, she stared at the worn cover.

Dad disappeared after reading it. This was the only clue she had to his sudden departure, and although she was dying to search for leads, half of her feared she would find one. Half of her feared she wouldn’t. Truth is, the superstitious side of her warned that danger waited in these aged pages—which was ridiculous, of course.

Her fingers brushed over the old leather, shivers running up her arms. She brushed at the goosebumps. Whispers tickled across her mind.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” Rose watched the road intently.

No. She must have imagined it.

“What are you afraid of Kaitlyn Strom? It’s just a book.”

What was she afraid of? She flipped the tome open, landing on a page with a wood-engraving print. A man stood on the prow of a fishing boat, spear raised, helmet gleaming against a stormy sea. Behind him sat another man, balancing the vessel, face half enshadowed by a hat.

She squinted closer. His eyes turned to her.

“Dad!” she gasped.

The Anywhere's 3: Books vs Reality

2010-08-27T11:51:00.000-04:00

A rusted Chrysler sat under the carport. Not a good sign.

Kyle-Ferdinand slowed as he neared the sixties rambler, debating if he should turn back and face more middle grade trauma, or try his fate. Locking his backpack firmly over one shoulder, he pushed through the six-foot privacy fence and rounded to his bedroom window.

With no screen, the window made for an easy ground-level escape at any hour. Of course, chances are no one would attempt to stop him from exiting through the front door—even in the middle of the night, but this way he didn’t have to risk running into his father.

Speaking of whom, he wondered how he’d be able to get out of hot water this time. Maybe if he pretended not to be home until Dad left for work—where he should be now…

He landed in a pile of discarded candy bar wrappers, wadded paper and dirty shirts. Dresser drawers stood ajar, contents spilled half way across the floor. Random shoes emerged from beneath a sea of blankets, Pokémon cards, and old forgotten action figures.

He stood a moment, bewildered by the disaster of a room. He remembered leaving the blanket a mess—but he left it on the bed, rumpled. The rest? He wasn’t this much of a pig.

He bent to turn the garbage can upright, and noticed the crinkled paper that had been uncrumpled, his failed “Hans von Aachen” reproduction pencil sketch. The lions head was still very wrong.

He frowned. It should be balled with the rest of his failures.

But all of them lay open, strewn atop the disaster, spaced evenly, organized in the pattern of…a diamond? No, an arrow—pointing to the door.

Dad didn’t do this.

An empty water bottle crunched under one foot as he crept forward. He froze.

A snore rattled in from the open door.

He slipped out of the disaster, into the hall, then living room. Books framed the walls. Giant mounted shelves made the place look like a library—seriously not what visitors expected from the look of the place—more like a private English study, except not as elegant. The shelves even came from a library—when the local one shut down five years back. Having grown up with this, he didn’t know how people could exist any other way.

Dad lay, passed out in a recliner at the center, several empty beer bottles surrounding him.

Kyle-Ferdinand scratched his head. Dad rarely drank, so what was this?

A book lay across his parent’s chest, open. He lifted the ancient volume, turning it over. The pages rustled. They touched his skin like the caress of an old friend. Whispers echoed past his ears.

He dropped it.

Turning in a circle, he searched for the source of noise, but the only potential culprit lay in a graceless heap at his feet.

Pulse racing, he reached for the auburn cover. It warmed his fingers. The pages flipped, almost on their own, to an illustration.

A woman in white hid her face from the oncoming lightning bolt as it struck a tree. Her shepherd protector rebuked the storm, dog cringing at their feet.

Goosebumps started up his arms. A shiver trickled down his spine.

“Ferdinand…”

He would have turned to see who spoke, but the word had come from the book. From the book.

The woman on the page uncovered her face.