Wednesday, November 15, 2017

My Writing Goals for 2018

Good morning lovely readers,

I hope this post finds you well.

I want to update you on what's going on with me. Last weekend I was at a conference for indie authors and it was inspiring and challenging. I learned a ton about how to be a better author, from writing tips to marketing tips to setting difficult goals for myself.

To that end, I want to share my 2018 goals with you guys so you can keep me accountable. :)

My Goals for 2018:
1. Pick one genre to write in.
2. Come up with a concept for a series.
3. Publish the first two books in the aforementioned series.

You guys, these goals scare me! The idea of picking ONE genre scares me. The goal of writing and publishing two books in one calendar year scares me. My mind is full of what-ifs. What if I can't think of a concept I like well enough? What if I simply can't do it in the limited time I have after my girls are in bed at night? What if...?

But do you know what I'm realizing?

The biggest thing stopping me is fear. I CAN do this. All I have to do is put my fear aside and get to work.

Now I want to know, what are your goals for next year? How are you going to make 2018 your best year ever? Comment  below to share your goals with me. I'd love to hear them.

Monday, October 23, 2017

Compiled List of Facial Expressions for Fiction Writers

Basically, writing is putting down words on a page. A big part of that is knowing lots of words, or knowing how to find lots of words, so you don't use the same ones over and over again. For example, my characters in the draft I'm working on are constantly smirking or saying "sure." I know this, and I'm working on changing it. Reading is much more interesting when characters make more varied expressions and use varied vocabulary.

So I'm compiling a list of articles that describe facial expressions for writers. These will help me make my writing more dynamic, and will help me describe my characters more accurately. 

Thank you Internet!





Happy wordsmithing.

- Emily

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Thinking About Protagonists and Antagonists as I Write

As many of you lovely readers know, I'm working on the first draft of my third novel. It's a bit tricky because the story is told from the points of view of three different characters. Two--Tristan and Annie--are protagonists. The third--Dick--is both a protagonist and the novel's primary antagonist.  It's as challenge to balance making Dick feel real and nuanced while making him somewhat likeable.

I stumbled across these articles on a Twitter friend's blog and had to share them. They're funny, but they also shed light on some important aspects of writing main characters--both protagonists and antagonists.

10 Reasons Why Your Protagonist Hates You

10 Reasons Why Your Antagonist Loves You

What are your favorite aspects of protagonists and antagonists? What makes them feel real to you?

Saturday, October 7, 2017

Why Aren't I Selling More Books?

I'm a member of an amazing author group on Facebook, and yesterday one of the authors dropped this post. It is hard truth, but it's also inspiring.

Being an indie author is hard work. You have to be a writer, editor, formatter, marketer, publicist, designer,  advertising guru, and more. But you guys, it's worth it.

***

"I’ve seen a lot of similarly-themed questions in all the groups I belong to, and they all go something like this: “Why aren’t I selling more books?”
Assuming your writing is great – and you REALLY need to take your reader feedback to heart to know that – it comes down to marketing. Period. If you’re going to self publish, once your book is written, you have to stop thinking like an artist, and start thinking like a business owner.
We of the pen are not programmed for this. We are artists. We are feelers and dreamers. We believe in the powers of magic, of justice, of struggle, of trial and redemption. We believe – each and every one of us! – in our heart of hearts that our talent and effort will win the day, and if our book is amazing, the world will beat a path to our door… because nothing else would be just. If we did *not* believe those things, we would suck as storytellers… and we probably would never have written a story to begin with.
Here’s the problem: once you have written a book, it’s no longer a book – it’s now a product. Did your stomach just drop? Of course it did. How terribly reductive… that something so beautiful, so original, so perfectly, genuinely *you* should now become some commercial item to be bartered and sold, as if a piece of your very soul wasn’t embedded in it.
But you’re not just a writer anymore… now you’re a publisher. You have to sell a product. You have to polish it (pro editing). You have to package it (pro covers). You have to market it. It’s gonna be expensive. You’re going to have to learn new skills. You now need to become an expert on so many things you never even knew were things. You’re going to have to come out of your shell and engage with readers – many of us writers are introverts, and for some of you, I know that’s flat out terrifying.
Here’s the harsh, cold reality: there is no luck in this business. No one is going to “discover” you and make you famous. You have to buy advertising. Lots of it. You will NOT get an ROI anytime soon. You will do it poorly sometimes. You will burn through money. You will get pink slips in the mail from the electric company, you will gaze into an empty refrigerator, and you will scrounge for change to buy necessities that you used to take for granted. You might need to cancel cable, get a second job, trade in that new car for a beater.
Because now you’re a business owner, and unless you are independently wealthy, you have to face the same thing that all business owners face: this is HARD, and it doesn’t happen overnight.
But here’s the good news: there *is* a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
If you do *all* these things, and keep writing books, and keep learning how to be a better business owner, your success is a foregone conclusion. Learn from your mistakes. Double down on your successes. Write. Design better ads. Take a writing class. Network with other authors. Write. If you learn something, teach it to someone else. Don’t just beg people to help you… earn allies. Find more money. Write. Read your most awful reviews. Be honest with yourself. If they have a point, cry. Then fix it. Write.
Don’t quit. Don’t give in to despair. You can do this. It’s hard. Hard as hell. But you’re harder. Your dream got you here, but your good sense will take you the rest of the way: you know becoming a best-selling author isn’t just a matter of putting 80,000 carefully arranged words together. It’s a career. No one starts a career at the top. But everyone at the top shares one common trait: no matter how hard it was, no matter how many times they stumbled, they never, ever stopped believing in the dream that made them write that first line to begin with.
I know you can do this. I *know* it."

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

First Sneak Peek at My Next Book

I've started writing my next book (it'll be a young adult contemporary novel inspired by Shakespeare's Richard III) and I want to share the first chapter with you. I'd love to hear what you think. Keep in mind that it hasn't been edited so there may be a few mistakes in it. :)

* * * 


Promptly at 10:15 PM, Mr. Kelley, the owner of Greenridge’s last mom and pop pharmacy locked the front door of his business, slid into his car, and drove off down the street. The slap of his tires rolling through a puddle of water hit the cold, damp air as he turned the corner out of sight. The flaming orange light from the streetlights streaked across the wet asphalt as a tall, thin figure wearing a hoodie and track pants stepped out of the alley beside the bank and hobbled stiffly to the curb.The figure looked left and right before slowly stepping into the street. He walked gingerly without bending his left knee, and there was a bulge at his left ankle. Any passersby who saw him would undoubtedly remark at his unnatural gait, but there was no one on the street. Downtown Greenridge was dead, even though it was still early.
The figure reached the sidewalk in front of the pharmacy and huffed into the cold air. He watched the condensation from his breath dissipate as a mid-size SUV rounded the corner and zoomed through the standing water. The figure snapped his head downward to prevent anyone in the SUV from seeing his face. Someone in the vehicle hooted out the window as the car passed and sped down the street.
Once the car was gone, the hooded figure turned just enough to look up and down the road. This time there would be no cars; he was sure of it. There was no movement visible in any direction, even though the rain had stopped. The figure rubbed his clammy hands together before lifting the front of his hoodie and pulling out a pair of bolt cutters from his left pant leg. As he did so, a roll of duct tape fell out of his hoodie pocket and rolled a few feet down the sidewalk. The figure mumbled a curse as he went to get the tape, all the while holding the bolt cutters against his chest in case another car came by. The figure fetched the tape and, taking small strips off the roll as quietly as he could, used it to cover the small window pane in the pharmacy door. Once the glass was covered in tape, he wiped his hands on the front of his hoodie one at a time, and then lifted the handle of the bolt cutters up toward the glass. He’d seen it online, and hoped it would work now. Gently he hit the handle of the bolt cutter against the glass and paused to listen. He heard nothing. He hit the glass a second time, harder this time, before again pausing to listen. The tinkling of shards hitting the floor inside the pharmacy was so loud, the figure froze. He was sure someone else could hear it. But who? No one was downtown at this time of night. Still, he stood stock still and looked up and down the street again. The street was empty. He hit the pane one more time, harder still, and the glass fell inward and hung from the duct tape. Carefully, the figure reached in through the broken pane and unlocked the door. It jingled as it opened.
“Crap.” He’d forgotten the bells on the door. The figure shook his head as he stepped into the pharmacy and closed it softly behind him. He clutched the bolt cutters to his chest as he tiptoed through the store and behind the counter. Once more he wiped his hands on his hoodie, eyeing as he did so the metal cage where the prescription drugs were kept. He positioned the bolt cutters at a point near the cage’s lock and, pressing the handle against his abdomen, the figure made his first cut through the metal. The snap of the woven mesh separating made the figure pause and glance around him. The darkness inside the store was reassuring, and the figure repositioned the cutters.
* * *
“Come on.” Dick slammed his hand down on the desk next to the computer, but quickly checked himself. He looked furtively around the library. The handful of other students scattered at the various tables were looking at him, but averted their eyes when his gaze fell on them. The librarian was reshelving books that had been left on the tables yesterday. Dick turned back to his computer. “Keep it down, Dickie,” he muttered. The results of the third round of voting for the McDonald's All-American teams had not yet been posted on the website. They had been told the results would be announced today, and Dick had hoped it would be before school started.He desperately wanted to be chosen. Playing the the All American game was his best shot of receiving a scholarship to college and pharmacy school. Plus, if he made it through to the final round, it might get Howie and Arlo off his back.
Dick scanned the magazine rack, and a headline on a newspaper caught his eye. He loped over to the old, metal rack and retrieved the newspaper from the bottom shelf, and then crossed back to the computer desk and plopping back into his chair.
Local Pharmacy Robbed for First Time
January 9, 2016
Kelley’s Pharmacy in Greenridge was broken into Saturday night around 10:30 PM. The burglar used bolt cutters to access the cage where the pharmacy’s prescriptions were kept.
The owner of the drugstore, Mr. Ewan Kelley, said of the store’s security cameras: “They’re fake. We’ve never needed them since we’ve never been broken into for the ten years we’ve been here.”
The only items stolen from the pharmacy were anabolic steroids. Anabolic steroids are prescribed for conditions such as delayed puberty, anemia, osteoporosis, endometriosis, and impotence. Steroids are also used to enhance muscle and bone strength to improve performance in competitive sports.
The police department spokesperson announced that they had been able to get photographs of the suspected burglar from a low-resolution ATM camera at the bank across the street. The suspect appeared to be above average height and wearing a gray hoodie and striped track pants.
“It’s a shame,” Mr. Kelley said. “We’ll have to replace the window and the cage where we keep the drugs. It’s such a mess.”
The grainy photo was positioned to the right of the article and captioned, “A burglar broke into Kelley’s Pharmacy late Saturday night.”
Dick’s eyes widened as he sucked in a breath, and then whistled as he exhaled. The hum of the heater reached his ears. It was warm in the library. He looked outside. The sky was gray but the rain that had come on Saturday afternoon hadn’t continued into Monday morning, yet. Dick looked back at the super old MAC computer. When are they going to get new ones? He glanced up at the clock on the wall. 7:15 AM. School would start in 10 minutes. Dick clicked on the search bar and went to Twitter. He scrolled through his feed, but didn't see anything that grabbed his attention. It was mostly people celebrating or grumbling about the players in the upcoming NBA All-Star game.
A golden arch at the bottom of the screen caught his eye. He scrolled down and there it was: the results of the third round of voting. Dick clicked on the link. His heart pounded. He scanned the list. “Yes,” he hissed. He threw his hands in the air and stood up, looking around. The librarian and the other students in the library looked at him with blank faces. Then they returned to their books. Dick’s face flushed as he pulled his arms down to his sides and sank back into his seat.
Dick scanned the rest of the list and his face dropped. Tristan Adams, his biggest competition, had also made it to the final round. And Tristan was his team captain. Crap.
Dick ground his teeth as he shut down the computer.
He slunk out of the library and headed toward his first period class.
As Dick walked past the parking lot, he saw two police cars. The officers swung their legs out of their patrol cars and stopped to retrieve their dogs from the back seats. Dick cocked his head. It's drug sniffing day. He stopped on the sidewalk and pulled a travel-sized Rolaids container out of his pocket. He shook it and listened to the bottle’s contents hitting the plastic, nodded slowly, and turned to jog through the parking lot.
Some people were about to have a garbage day.

* * *
Swish. The basketball fell through the net without hitting the rim. Tristan grinned and turned toward the bleachers where his girlfriend, Annie, sat. He blushed slightly as she met his gaze. They had been dating for three months and having her here at practice still made him self conscious if he thought about it too much.
Annie sat hunched forward and bundled up in her khaki green anorak even though it was stuffy in the gym. Weirdo. She was always freezing. She grinned at Tristan before taking a sip from her bright pink water bottle.
Tristan narrowed his eyes and began to turn back toward the court, but the long, lanky guy sitting next to Annie leaned toward Tristan, catching his eye. Annie’s younger brother, Ren. He was probably at practice to ask questions about the All American team selection process for the school newspaper, The Daily Muskrat.
“Nice shot,” Ren drew out the words as he looked down at the cell phone he held in his lap and began typing quickly with his thumbs. Once he was done typing, Ren looked back up at Tristan. “I bet you're excited that you made it to the next round of voting for the All American West team.”
Tristan nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupted.
“Ren, leave him alone.” She tried to stifle a smile as she cuffed her younger brother in the shoulder with her water bottle. “He doesn’t have time for that right now.”
“No, it’s cool,” Tristan shrugged as he nodded to Ren. “Go ahead, Man.” He dribbled the ball slowly and with control as he stood waiting.
“So, you’re excited,” Ren asked again with a slight upturn of his mouth. With one hand, he rubbed behind his ear where his glasses sat.
A warm grin moved across Tristan’s face. “Yeah, it's awesome. I’ve worked hard, and it’s paying off.” This was his dream. He was going to make the All American team and get a full ride to UCLA. California, here I come.
Tristan took a few steps away from them and shot the basketball again. This time, it bounced high off the rim before falling through the hoop. Tristan jogged into the corner to retrieve the ball before coming back across the shiny wooden floor to stand at the bottom of the bleachers.
Ren leaned forward on the bleacher seat and spoke in a low voice. “How does it feel that Dick also made it through?”
“Geez, Ren…” Tristan responded in a low voice. He looked around the gym to see who else was around.
“Come on; it’s news,” Ren said with a shrug.
Annie rolled her eyes. “Dick is good,” she said. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
Tristan cocked his head at her and held the basketball under one arm as he spoke. “Dick IS good. He just tends to be a little--”
“He’s an ass,” cut in Howie, as he strode across the court toward where Tristan was standing. He pulled off his school hoodie and threw it on the bleachers at Annie’s feet. “Watch this for me, will you?”
“Sure,” Annie said, taking another sip from her bright pink bottle.
“Who’s an ass? Dick?” asked Arlo, another member of the basketball team, as he joined them.
“Obvi,” Howie said with a nod.
“Action Jackson.” Arlo said with a smirk as he too tossed his hoodie at Annie’s feet.
“Bacon rod?” Howie raised his eyebrows and waited for the nod from Arlo.
“Nice one.” The two guys high fived.
Tristan smirked, but stifled it quickly. That was a good one.
The gym door swung open with a creak, and they all swung around to look toward it.
Dick stood there, water bottle in hand.
Tristan could feel his face redden, and guilt pricked his conscience, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Clam hammer,” Arlo whispered.
Howie chuckled.
“Shut up, guys,” Tristan huffed under his breath. He nodded to Dick, who frowned slightly as he crossed the court.
When he reached them, Dick fixed a smile on his face and climbed up the bleachers to plop down beside Annie. “Hey neighbor. Are these guys trying to make you the coat lady again?” He pulled his worn hoodie over his head, wadded it into a ball, and shoved it down between the bleachers.
“Yep,” she said, and took a swig from her bottle.
“Whatcha got there?” Dick asked as he leaned toward Annie and took a whiff of her drink. His nostrils flared as he looked up into her face with a grin. “Care to share?”
Tristan took a step toward them, but Annie waved him off.
“No way, Dick,” She sneered as she pulled the bottle out of his reach. “You’d hate it anyway. It’s sparkling water.”
“You’re probably right,” Dick smirked as he leaned back in the bleachers and met Ren’s eyes behind Annie’s back. “Are you here on newspaper business?”
“Yep.” Ren angled his body toward Dick and spoke. “I was asking Tristan how it feels to have made it through to round four, especially in competition with you.”
“What did he say?” Dick started to sit forward, but stopped himself and remained hunched over.
“Chill, Dick,” Tristan said coolly as he began to dribble the ball again. “It’s no big deal.”
“For you, maybe,” Dick mumbled as he leaned back on the bleachers and stretched out his legs before glancing at Annie. She met his eyes for a moment before turning away. She scooted toward Ren and read his phone over his shoulder.
Ren shrugged her off before speaking. “Anyway, how does it feel? Are you excited?” Ren asked again.
“Hell yeah,” Dick said loudly. “It's my ticket out of here.”
“To where?” Ren asked, his thumbs poised over the phone.
Dick glanced at Howie and Arlo before speaking, more quietly this time. “Pharmacy school.”
Arlo snorted.
Tristan glared at him, but didn’t speak.
Ren’s eyebrows shot up and he started typing again. “Really? Wow. I didn’t expect that…”
“Yeah,” Dick said as he jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. “I’m smarter than I look.”
“Right,” Howie said as he snickered.
Arlo laughed in agreement.
“Dude has an A in chemistry,” Tristan said. “He could give you some pointers, brillo head.” His hand shot out and messed up Howie’s already wind-blown curls.
“Shut up,” Howie said, glaring at Tristan as he tried to comb his hair with his fingers before giving up and dropping his hands to his sides. He glanced at Arlo, who gave him a thumbs up.
“All right guys, let’s get moving,” Coach Richmond hollered across the gym. He nodded to Tristan as he marched toward the group of guys. “Three on twos. Count them off, Captain.”
“Right,” Tristan said. “Let’s go, guys.” He tossed the ball to Dick, who caught it easily as he stood up. “Come on, Dick.”
Dick hopped up off the bleachers. “Aye aye.” He saluted Tristan with one hand as he began to dribble the ball with the other.
Howie and Arlo followed them toward center court.
The rest of their teammates moved across the gym from the locker room door and congregated at the center line.
“Tristan Adams,” a loud voice yelled across the gym.
Everyone spun to look.
Principal Hastings stood in the doorway with a police officer at his side. “Come with me, please,” Hastings said, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke.
Tristan furrowed his eyebrows, but jogged over to them. “What’s going on?” He asked.
“Let’s have a chat, in my office.” He grimaced at Tristan, who nodded.
“Let me just get my stuff,” Tristan said. What could this be about? Oh...
Hastings glanced at the officer, who shrugged, then met Tristan’s eyes. “Fine, but do it quickly,” Hastings said, his shoulders slumped.
Tristan nodded slowly and looked over at Annie and Ren, who were standing on the bleachers watching him. Hesitantly, he gave Annie a small smile before jogging out through the door that led to the locker room.
Hastings turned and trudged out of the gym with the police officer striding ahead of him.
“What the crap?” Howie asked as he stood on the court with his arms out, palms up.
Ren shrugged as he stood up. “I’m going to find out.” He jogged after Hastings.
“Wait up,” Annie called to Ren as she stood up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Quickly, she retrieved a piece of gum from the front pouch of her bag and popped it into her mouth before jumping down from the lowest bleacher bench and power walking after her brother.
Dick watched Annie as she moved out of sight down the hallway, then turned back to Coach Richmond. He squinted his eyes slowly and rubbed his knuckles along his jawline.
“Okay, guys. Focus. I’m sure he’ll be right back.” Richmond clapped his hands and the remaining basketball players took the court.
* * *
Tristan jogged to his locker. His heart was pounding. He raked his hand over his buzzed hair and exhaled loudly. “Crap.” The drug sniffers had found the Smirnoff in his truck. What else could it be? He stuffed his clothes into his backpack and slammed his locker door shut. He took another breath to try to slow his heart down, but it continued to beat wildly. What would happen now? Round four of selection for the All American teams was in ten days, not to mention the state finals. This was supposed to be their year. His year.
Crap.
Slowly, Tristan walked down the row of lockers toward the school hallway. As he opened the door, he saw Annie standing there, leaning against the wall, waiting for him, chewing gum. She stood bolt upright as he approached.
“Do… do you think they…?” She didn’t finish her question.
Tristan nodded. “Yeah,” he said as he took her hand.
Annie grasped his hand tightly and bit her lip as she looked at him. After a moment, she spoke in a hushed whisper. “What will you do? Are you going to tell them...?” Her voice trailed off as she watched his face.
“Naw,” Tristan said as he shook his head. He began walking toward the school office, pulling Annie along with him. After a few steps, she caught up and walked along side him through the now empty school hallways. Almost everyone was gone for the day, having left campus as quickly as they could after the final bell rang. Tristan’s shoes squeaked on the slick linoleum floor as they rounded the corner in front of the office.
Ren was standing outside the principal’s office, waiting, phone in hand.
“Ren, go home,” Annie hissed at him. “This is not the time.”
“But this could be a huge story,” Ren said with a whine in his voice.
“Go home,” Annie repeated. “Now.”
Ren glared at her but slunk away down the hall.
Tristan watched him go, and then focused on Principal Hastings’s office. He froze in the empty hallway, still holding Annie’s hand.
Tristan’s parents were sitting in the principal’s office, waiting for him. Tristan’s shoulders dropped. He knew exactly what was going to happen next.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Enter to Win a Signed Copy of Life Among the Ashes via Goodreads

Hi everyone! Happy Monday to you.

We're closing up the house and preparing for a heatwave. Yuck. The worst part of it is that we're enrolled in a program that allows the power company to shut off our AC for up to six hours at a time to save energy, and I know they're going to shut it off from 4-8 today.

I can deal with it, even though it's hot, but having to put my girls down for bed in a really hot bedroom is the worst. I'm dreading it already.

In better news, I thought it would be fun to do a giveaway of Life Among the Ashes. Head over to Goodreads to enter a signed copy. It'll be fun!



Goodreads Book Giveaway

Life Among the Ashes by Emily Kazmierski

Life Among the Ashes

by Emily Kazmierski

Giveaway ends September 04, 2017.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.
Enter Giveaway

Monday, August 21, 2017

Classic Books Everyone Loves, But I Hate

I've read a lot of classics. Up until a couple of years ago, a vast majority of the books I read were at least 50 years old. What can I say? I like old books. :)

But there are some classics that I can't stand. I know they've endured for many reasons, but these books make me angry.

Jane Eyre



I know--it's a shocker. I can't stand Rochester. He is so repellent. Read it again, you say. You'll appreciate him more. Alas, dear reader, I've read Jane Eyre three times (thanks to high school and college professors who assigned it), and the subsequent readings aren't changing my mind. Oh well.

Wuthering Heights



I'm not exactly sure why anyone loves this book, although I know many do. Heathcliff is an absolute monster. He's physically and emotionally abusive, manipulative, dishonest, greedy, and altogether hateful. No fictional character has made me as stabby as he did.

The Jungle



No book has made my stomach turn like this one. It's yucky. 

A cool aside: my mother in law recently moved to a darling little community, and she lives right down the street from where Upton Sinclair lived. I may have gotten a little excited about it. It's a gorgeous house too.

So, what about you? Are there any classics that leave you scratching your head or wishing to throw the book across the room? Do tell.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Books at the Top of My TBR Pile

In between reading the classics I haven't read, but should, there are tons of books I want to read. I'll never be able to read them all.

I also feel that way about my list of recipes to try: so much food, so little time.

Anyway, here are some that are at the very top of my virtual stack.

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline



Hag-seed by Margaret Atwood



Scar Island by Dan Gemeinhart


Fifteen Dogs by Andre Alexis


The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas


Commonwealth by Ann Patchett




Write This Down by Claudia Mills



My Life With Bob by Pamela Paul



The One Memory of Flora Banks by Emily Barr



The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi




Tell me, what books are at the top of your list?

Monday, August 14, 2017

How Do You Organize Your Books?

We organize ours by color because it looks amazing. See?


I'll admit that it's a bit tricky when I'm trying to find a book and I don't remember what color it is, but I think it's worth it.

Do you notice the clock on the second shelf? It was my grandma's. It's an Ansonia clock and it's about 110 years old. It's one of the few things I inherited from her and I'll keep it always.

How do you organize your books? Alphabetically? By category? Do you stack them wherever there's room? A curious mind wants to know. 

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Classics I Haven't Read, But Probably Should

There are hundreds of books that people consider to be "classics," and not everyone agrees on which ones qualify. There are even lists you can check off to see how well read you are. I've played those games, and they're fun because I've read more of them than a lot of people. I like old books. :)

But there are some classics that I haven't read, for one reason or another, and I probably should. Have you read these? Are there any you have been meaning to read, but haven't yet?

1984 By George Orwell


Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger


The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


The Color Purple by Alice Walker


Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison



Honorable Mentions

The Pearl by John Steinbeck
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Let's connect on Goodreads

Friday, August 4, 2017

Get Malignant for Free from Now 'Til August 8

I'm so excited about the launch of Life Among the Ashes that I'm giving Malignant away for free.


Happy reading,

- Emily

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Today is Release Day - Life Among the Ashes is Available on Amazon

You guys, it's finally here. Life Among the Ashes is available on Amazon. And guess what? Because I'm so excited about it, I'm making it $0.99 for the first three days. So get over there and grab it.


Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Interview with Jack Vaughn About Why I Write Stories Like Life Among the Ashes

I recently did an interview with fellow author Jack Vaughn about Life Among the Ashes. Jack asked some great questions! Here's an excerpt:
Life Among the Ashes releases August 1st! Always an exciting time for an author. Introduce us to your main character, Tess.
In many ways, Tess is a typical 22 year old. She’s trying to figure out what her purpose is in the world and what her passions are, aside from her husband and young son. She and her husband, Michael, agreed that she would be a stay at home mom until their son, Kavan, started school, and Tess is already wondering what type of job she wants when our story begins. She’s a little clueless about how the world works. And in Life Among the Ashes she has to grow up and stretch herself to find a career she’s passionate about, and to love and support Kavan well.
Without spoiling your novel, is there any part in your novel that you especially loved writing?
I really enjoyed writing the first scene because I knew exactly how it was going to go before I sat at my computer. And I really enjoyed writing Tess’s conversations with her best friend, Beth, because friendships are important, and I wanted to portray healthy, positive friendships that can be a lifeline when a person is struggling like Tess does throughout the book.
Click here to read the rest of the interview.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Title and Cover Reveal

You all know that I've been working on a new book. I have it almost ready to go; all it needs is a proofread. ;)

In the mean time, I want to share the title and cover with you. Isn't it gorgeous? I'm so excited.

This baby drops in the Amazon store in one week, on August 1. I'm holding onto my hat!

Want to know what it's about? Here's the blurb:

Tess is devastated when her firefighter hubby dies on the job. She wants only to grieve, but a young son and a dwindling bank account balance compel her to return to waitressing. Meanwhile, Tess searches for a career that evokes passion in her, like the zeal Michael showed for helping people and fighting fires.

Tess’s memories of her brief time with her husband inspire her to reach for a new dream. With her friends and family by her side, she discovers that the heartbreaking struggle she has endured has made her stronger, more self assured, and serenely prepared for whatever comes next.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

A Roundup of Free Young Adult Books

Hi there,

Sorry I've been absent. I've been typing away at my second novel. I actually finished my first draft in three months, which is a miracle since it took me forever to write Malignant.

I'm editing it now and I'm excited to share it with you.

In the mean time, look at what I made (with Mom's help) today: apricot jam. My favorite!



Also, I've rounded up some goodies from across the internet so you have something to read on this finest of Wednesdays.

Bonus: You can get the first three chapters of Malignant for free by clicking below.

Click here.

Go here.