Why I Write

Many people claim writing as a hobby. Which, in a way, I suppose it is. But to me, writing as a hobby is journaling, expressing your feelings and ideas so no one can see. Like when you draw for a hobby, you don't go out and show the world your pictures (prime example: me).

No, writing is not my hobby. Writing is my passion, my release, my escape, my own little separate world where I can just be me but not really. My characters most definitely are not me. If anyone has read Unpredictable Prophecies, I am nothing like Acadia. I made some of my experiences hers but she's a thousand times stronger than I am, and a lot more vocal. I would never be able to do 90% of what she does in the book, same for the next one (that I am currently working on). Several of my characters range throughout the entire spectrum of personalities.

I say writing is a passion because it is. If I didn't love it, I wouldn't do it. If I can't put my whole mind and soul into doing something, why should I continue to do it? Because that's what writing is. It's the soul. The thousands of tiny, microscopic pieces of your soul which you share with the world. When you give up a book for publishing, it's as if you've just ripped your whole arm off and placed it on a silver platter. Will they like it? you wonder. Will they love it? There's so much pressure; if you don't write as a passion, you'll soon quit. Which is where it also becomes a release.

Writing is a release because there's so much stuff going on in my head, so many voices demanding to be expressed, it's nice to finally let it out, whether by typing or hand writing. I have so many different ideas stuck in my head, it's nearly impossible to keep up with my trilogy (which is why it's taking so long for me to finish it). I seriously offer kudos to those authors who can stay on track with their series.

My favorite part is creating my own world with its own rules, where nothing has to make sense but it somehow does when it's all done. It helps me think maybe this world, the one we all live in, will somehow become better if only it were like mine more. There have been so many occasions where I've caught myself wishing either my world was real or I could just get sucked into it. I guess that's my problem. I'm stuck in a fantasy. But what other way would I have it? It's how I live. I'm not going to change my way of life to accommodate the peace of mind of others. I'm a writer. I'm supposed to be a little 'out there'.

If I couldn't write, I don't know what I would do instead. I'd feel too empty, too normal. And no one wants to be classified as 'normal' so they blend with the crowd. Be individual, be unique.

Sneak Preview!

So, I talked myself in and out of this for the last year and a half, and I finally did it! I ... wait for it ... remade a Figment account!... So, if you want to check out an idea of what my work is like, there's the place to check it out. And look! I even have this handy-dandy link to give you easy access!  :D
http://figment.com/users/325917-Kai-Mccarthy

Argh! It be Captain Slackeye, ye Land Lubbers!

In case you want to know Captain Slackeye a little better, here's what some fellas are sayin' about him. (Most of these Rivera doesn't agree with.) [I've started a new book called Rivera Windslayer, about a female pirate, and Slackeye is the assistant main character.]

"During a storm, I saw Slackeye man the whole ship by heself. He ran from the wheel to the sails, pulling each one of the strings all on his own. It was a feat of muscle and determination. When the men asked him if he’d like help, he denied them all, insisting he could do it hi’self. And he did! He navigated that ship outa the troubled waters and settled it back by mornin’. I ain’t never seen anything like it since!”

~Davis Bocker,

crew member of the Penguin’s Revenge

~~~

“Captain Slackeye of the Mother’s Burden, you say? Yeah, I heard of that rogue. Did ye hear he once fought off a pack of rabid sea turtles with only a stone and his left hand? I shoulda liked to see that fer meself, I tell ye what.”

~Lawrence Shaver,

Gossiper of Bullhead Tavern

~~~

“The last time I heard that was so many years ago. He’s about as crazy as his old man, that one. Slackeye. ‘Tis a good name fer such a young’un. I hear he saw the Kraken comin’ toward his ship and just an evil stink eye look from the lad sent that giant fish swimmin’ away in terror. Could ye imagine that? The boy scared a Kraken!”

~Alabastor Finch,

A hatter 

Again with the Blogging

Sorry I haven't been on lately, but, let's be honest, it's not like this blog is that popular right now. Life's gotten in the way, me being as young as I am and having to work full time as well as care for my new puppy. Y'all wanna see his picture? He's adorable.

This is Rowen. He's a pure-bred Aussie and he's my world. He was ten weeks when this was taken but now he's thirteen. I've been away from him for a few weeks, sadly, and this is the most recent I currently have.

Anyway, I've published Unpredictable Prophecies again, through a new publisher! Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/Unpredictable-Prophecies-Worlds-End-Volume/dp/148485277X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1373249035&sr=8-1&keywords=unpredictable+prophecies

It's so pretty, and I love the cover! Much better than the original one, in my honest opinion.

Also, it's prequel, Unimaginable Prospects, is for sale as well. (Jeez, it really has been a long time since I've written. My apologies.) http://www.amazon.com/Unimaginable-Prospects-Worlds-End-Novella/dp/1478125586/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373249140&sr=1-2

I was so excited when I got them published, it was like the first time all over again. And now I'm working on book two of the trilogy, Unexpected Happenings. It's taking me a while to get back in with the characters, as it's been almost a year since I wrote the first book. I've been re-reading it to get back in the world as well, as I've been working on several projects since then.

Well, until next time.  Dueces.

Valentine's Special -- Harbinger scene

A Wonderful  Surprise

A knock sounded on the door and I hastily put my bookmark in my book and got up to answer. Kendrew stood outside, an embarrassed smile on his face.

“I did not interrupt anything, did I?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Is something wrong?”

He shifted his foot, staring at it a moment before looking back at me. “I have a surprise for you. Would you like to follow?”

“Surprise?” I asked, arching a brow.

“It was Will’s idea, really. Well, to begin with. But then I actually set everything up and added my own twist to what he suggested and—” He cut himself off, clearing his throat. “I will stop talking now. After you.” He moved to the side and gestured for me to go down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

He beamed and a sparkle ignited in his eyes. “You will see.”

My curiosity ignited, I walked beside him down the hall. I pressed him with questions but he just remained silent and shook his head, a smile growing on his face. We took a turn and a few steps down the hallway my bare foot kicked something small and soft. I glanced down and noticed flower petals sprinkled over the carpet. I glanced at Kendrew questioningly but he didn’t meet my gaze.

Kendrew stopped in front of a set of double doors, placing one hand on each handle. He twisted them and then jumped as if he had been shocked. “Oh!” He turned back to me, looking sheepish but excited. “Close your eyes.”

Curiosity burned within me, agitating me, but I closed my eyes. I was tempted to keep them open just enough to see a tiny bit but decided to let him have his moment. I heard the doors swing open and Kendrew’s hands closed around mine as he pulled me slowly into the room. We took a few steps into the room. He released my hands.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No.” The sound of a match being struck filled the room, followed by fire igniting. It was silent a moment and I thought he had left me.

“Kendrew?”

“Not yet.”

I grumbled but kept them closed. It seemed to take forever before I felt him approach me again. He mumbled something but I didn’t catch it. When I asked him to repeat it he remained silent. After years of living with my mother, I panicked. Had he put some sort of spell on me? Will had said he never used magic or anything of the kind, but did Kendrew?

“Ichelle, relax. I want it to be perfect. I said it would just be another minute or so.” His voice sounded far off. I couldn’t place where it came from.

“Forgive me,” I replied quietly. “You’ll understand my panic with a past like mine.”

“I figured. It is why I clarified.” A moment later, his hand brushed my arm. When he spoke again, the earlier excitement returned. “Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

I did as I was told—

And nearly stopped breathing at the sight in front of me. The petals on the floor had been from roses. I realized now because there were several vases of whole blooms placed around the room. The colors varied from a dark red to white to yellow. Candlelight lit the room in a warm orange glow. A candelabra sat on a table adorned with dinnerware and covered with a silk cloth. Vines were knitted into the fabric at the edges.

Kendrew moved to the table and pulled out a chair. “For the lady.” He bowed and indicated I should sit. I did and he walked around to the other side, taking his seat.

I stared at him, dumbfounded. I was sure my mouth was hanging open. “You planned all this?” When he nodded, the only response I could think of was “Why?”

Thankfully, he didn’t appear offended in the least. He shrugged simply and said, “I figured you needed a change of routine. Things get boring when you end up just going through the motions.” A hint in his voice suggested a change in routine hadn’t been the only thing he was thinking of when he planned this. I wondered what it was. Had he just been that bored?

“What about Will?” There were only two chairs, two places set.

“He suggested staying in his room tonight. Are you hungry?” He stood up and walked over to a closet type door. Pulling it open, he withdrew a wheeled table with silver plates on it. Each of them was covered and there were at least seven total. “What would you like first: hoer d’oeuvres, the main course, or dessert?”

I laughed. “Let’s start with hoer d’oeuvres.”

He grinned and whispered, “We do not have any rules to follow. If you want dessert first, it is perfectly fine.”

“Very well. What’s for dessert?”

He laughed and a warm tingle skittered over my body. I loved his laugh, I decided. “Chocolate cake, sweet apple pie, or some tart Will made.”

“Will made this?”

“Some of it. He helped mostly. I am a fairly good chef so I thought I would cook this meal for us and give him a break.”

“That was nice of you.”

“I do it rather often. It helps pass the time when the day has been uneventful.”

I suddenly wondered how many days had passed in this castle he classified as ‘uneventful’ but then I realized there were probably too many to count. How had he survived and still turned out normal? If I had been in his place, I would have been driven insane by now. The halls were entirely too quiet and the only other person was Will. I glanced at Kendrew as he scooped a piece of pie onto a plate and set it in front of me. The candles cast dark shadows on his hard edges, making him look sharper, more menacing, but I knew it was nearly impossible for him to be anything but respectful. Had he always been like that or had his deformities changed him?

“Is something the matter?”

His question snapped me out of my reverie and I realized I had been staring at him the whole time. He stood awkwardly clutching the pie scoop, unsure if he should sit or not.

I smiled. “Sorry. It’s nothing. I was just waiting for you to have your pie.” I picked up one of my forks—there were four—and stabbed it into the pie, flicking my eyes up to glance at him. “Shall we?”

He sat, still looking uncomfortable, and I mentally kicked myself. The boy had enough to worry about without me spacing out and staring at him. He was probably thinking I was staring at him in disgust, horrified at having to eat with him alone. I hoped he wasn’t because that was not the case at all. In fact, in all the months I had spent here, his deformities had slowly begun melting away to me, showing just Kendrew. Sure, when he touched me, I would feel the scars on his hands, but even with his patchy hair and burned face, he was still normal to me. Maybe it was because I knew him. It wasn’t his fault he looked like he did.

“This is really good pie,” I said after a while, hoping I hadn’t shut him down again. “Did you make it?”

He shook his head. “Will did. I made the cake.” His voice was clipped and I felt a pang in my chest. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Then we should have the cake next. I’m sure it’ll be just as good as this, if not better.”

Kendrew’s blue eyes flashed up to meet my gray ones. He searched my gaze for a moment longer than sociably acceptable but I didn’t flinch. I kept my earnest gaze, hoping he would see the apology there. He looked down at his pie without a word, taking a giant bite. I sighed quietly. It seemed fit I would be the one to make the dinner awkward within the first few minutes. Why had I had to zone out at that particular moment?

When we were finished with the pie, he served me a slice of cake. It was delicious. The chocolate was just sweet enough and the frosting was decadent but not too thick. I took the first bite but I couldn’t bring myself to chew it. Instead, I let it melt in my mouth, savoring the wonderful flavor. Kendrew hardly touched his piece but waited patiently as I slowly ate mine.

“That is seriously fantastic!” I exclaimed.

He nodded, said, “Thank you,” and put turkey, potatoes, green beans, and a light brown gravy on a large plate and set it in front of me. He barely put any food on his.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.”

I set my fork down—the third one—with a clink. “Kendrew Wray, you will eat more than that slab of turkey.”

He glanced up, startled.

“You can’t not eat anything. You need just as much food as I do, if not more.” Then, because I knew the reason he was doing this, I added, “And I wasn’t staring at you because you’re ugly. You’re not. I zoned out and I apologize for you taking it the wrong way. I would never look at you with disgust, Kendrew. Never.”

He blinked. “No, Ichelle, it is I who should apologize to you. I am sorry I mistook your look. It is difficult having someone else in the castle, the constant worry of if one day you will grow tired of seeing my mangled body. I know you would never do that, however, as I know you are not the kind of person who could do that. I just—I wish…” He trailed off, glancing down at his plate to avoid my eyes.

I smiled sadly and shook my head. “If I was going to run away, I would have done that months ago. Initially your appearance was a shock but I’ve grown accustomed to it. Now you’re just Kendrew to me. A normal boy who wants a normal life, just like everyone else.”

His lips tilted up into a small smile. “You have no idea how that makes me feel to hear you say that out loud as you just did.”

“Will you eat something now? You can’t starve yourself.”

He nodded and reached over to add more food to his plate. While we ate, he talked openly about his past, recalling certain memories that were special to him. I felt honored and told him some of my stories, particularly with my father, to which he listened with great interest. When dinner was over—we never ate the hoer d-oeuvres, as Kendrew never liked them anyway—he said he had one last thing he wanted to do and led me back out into the hallway, once again refusing to answer my questions.

Harbinger of Fidelity - Chapter One

Hey, guys. So to get me back on track, and to kind of give you all a little something interesting, I'll be posting a chapter of The Harbinger of Fidelity up every couple of weeks. This will help me stay on track as well as give you guys a little insight on what it's about. It's divided into three parts, but there may be a forth depending on how much stuff I want to cram into the book. (Probably will stay at three, though.) Anyways, here you go, Chapter One:

Part One

Some believe true love is being able to let someone go.

Others feel if it is indeed true, then there should be no reason to.

But sometimes true love dies early.

What do you do, then, when the one dead doesn’t wish to remain so?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dark Roses

I walked to the edge of the forest, my heart racing at the thought of having to enter it. Mother had told me I would be all right, that the beast who had slain most of our people had moved on. The forest had been his domain. It had been where most of the bodies had been found by the remaining townies.

The dark depths of the forest called to me, sending shivers down my spine and causing goose bumps to fleck across my flesh. I looked at the basket I held on my arm. It was covered, but I knew what Mother had placed within it. Dark roses. Such a deep red they looked black. I knew what they stood for but Mother assured me they were for protection.

Sighing heavily, I took a step into the forest, the darkness immediately wrapping around me. Even though I knew it was full of malice, it was strangely reassuring. A welcome relief to my emotions. There were no sounds in this part of the forest. Every animal knew what had happened here. Slowly, I proceeded, letting my eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. I pulled my cloak tighter around myself to ward off the chill but it didn't do any good. The cold seeped into the bones, whether I had a cloak or didn't, no matter how thick the cloak was. It thirsted on the fear, relishing in the panic, the adrenaline, of its victims.

An owl hooted and I jumped, clutching my hand to my chest. When my heart had settled back to a somewhat normal beat, I stepped on, twigs snapping under my feet. A sense of dread overcame me, my body sensing the danger that was inevitable. My footsteps slowed as I approached the clearing Mother had mentioned.

I didn't want to look, but my eyes wandered there by their own accord. A young man lay on a slab of stone, looking peaceful in his eternal slumber. I approached him silently, kneeling down next to him and brushing his hair off his forehead. I planted a kiss on his frozen cheek. After all these years, he still looked the same. Mother said he still looked handsome to her, even in death.

His dark hair was tousled from the wind. He used to have prominent cheeks but they had sunk in, mirroring the effect of a skull. His eyes looked hollow but I knew the balls were still there. Mother had gone to great lengths to keep him preserved. I thought it was a bit creepy but she had cried and said she couldn't imagine living without seeing him often. I had sympathized with her but I didn't agree with her. If a person was dead, it was best to move on and let them lie in the ground, as so many others did.

I rested my hand on his, setting the basket down for a second. I watched for the slight rising and falling of his chest, as I did every time I came here with the basket of flowers. Mentally, I asked him if he could help me on this strange journey. Mother seemed adamant to keep him above ground so she could see him but I knew he should be put to rest. I asked him for his strength so I may confront Mother.

"I'll love you forever, Father. No matter what," I said around the tears.

And then I dumped out the basket, picking up the covering cloth and throwing it back in. I got up to survey my father on his death bed. A bed of dark roses.

Cover Reveal -- Blurred by Tara Fuller (!!!)

Okay, people, so if you haven't read anything of Tara Fuller's, and you love reading, you'd better get on it! Blurred is the second book in the Kissed By Death series (the first being Inbetween). Anyway, here's the gorgeous cover!:

Blurred blurb:

Cash is haunted by things. Hungry, hollow things. They only leave him alone when Anaya, Heaven’s beautiful reaper, is around. Cash has always been good with girls, but Anaya isn’t like the others. She’s dead. And with his deteriorating health, Cash might soon be as well.

Anaya never breaks the rules, but the night of the fire she recognized part of Cash’s soul—and doomed him to something worse than death. Cash’s soul now resides in an expired body, making him a shadow walker—a rare, coveted being that can walk between worlds. A being creatures of the underworld would do anything to get their hands on.

The lines between life and death are blurring, and Anaya and Cash find themselves falling helplessly over the edge. Trapped in a world where the living don’t belong, can Cash make it out alive?

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16129272-blurred

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Blurred-Kissed-Death-Tara-Fuller/dp/162061085X/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1358452006&sr=8-5&keywords=Tara+Fuller

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/blurred-tara-fuller/1113749206?ean=9781620610855

The Book Depository: http://www.bookdepository.com/Blurred-Tara-Fuller/9781620610855

About Tara:

Tara Fuller writes novels. Some about grim reapers​. Some about witches. All of course are delightfully full of teen angst and kissing. Tara grew up in a one stop light town in Oklahoma where once upon a time she stayed up with a flash light reading RL Stine novels and only dreamed of becoming a writer. She has a slight obsession with music and a shameless addiction for zombie fiction, Mystery Science Theater, and black and white mochas. Tara no longer lives in a one stop light town. Now she lives with her family in a slightly larger town in North  Carolina where they have at least three stoplights.

Website: http://www.tarafuller.com/

Blog: http://tara-fuller.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Tara25Fuller

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/tara25fuller

Kissed by Death Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/KissedByDeath?fref=ts

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3471272.Tara_A_Fuller