Wattpad

I'm on Wattpad. Check out my works in progress. Works that may never see the light of day otherwise. I uploaded The Witch of the Woods a start of a story I've been working on for a while. I'm excited to share a part of it.
I'll be uploading Gravity: A Sanctuary Novel (Book 2) in parts on Wattpad first, so if you can't wait for the ebook, read it on Wattpad as I write and edit. One big difference from book 1 to book 2 is the POV change. I've change the book 2 to first person. I will eventually release a first person Pull.
You can go to my Wattpad profile HERE.

Red's Profile

Via Krista Butterfield

Name:  James Adam

Nickname: Red

Name meaning:

James: Supplanter

Adam: Son of man, Earth, Mankind, "Adam" for being the "first" hybrid in the Sanctuary Novels

Red: color of his aura; nicknamed by Violet when she saw him for the first time as a child (Violet sees aura)

Birthday: March 23, 1879

Zodiac Sign:  Aries

Chinese Zodiac: Hare

Significant Other(s): Violet

Family:

Mother: Mary Adam

Father: Unknown* unpublished material 

Siblings: None

Aunt: Pearl Adam

Uncle: Henry Adam (Mary's brother)

Physical characters: Black hair, born with blue eyes; described as having "kaleidoscope eyes" (turns colors, flashes white); turns blue when he’s calm or emotional; Everlasting youth; “He looks like his father"; handsome; 6' tall; no tattoos or piercings; Average build (fit); Black clothes, leather jacket, Converse sneakers; Crow transformation.

Aura color(s): Red

Personality: Stubborn; Stresses over Guardian work; Lonesome; Introvert; Kind; Needs to know the answers; Gentle; Good listener; Observant; Easily Obsesses.

Habits/mannerisms/ticks: None.

Abilities/powers: Telepath; Aura can push and pull other auras; when touched by Violet, he's overwhelmed with human emotions that override the logical Guardian mind; bends into the dark/shadows; stealthy; transforms into a black crow; utilizes possibility spheres to foresee future possibilities; matter/energy manipulation; mind manipulation; dreamscape manipulation.

Esoteric symbols: Black; Crow; Storms; Shadows; Demon.

Item(s) of Sentimental Value: Uncle Henry's pocket watch; Mary Adam's music box; Thomas Corvus Clearwater's hand-carved box; Guardian possibility spheres; his leather bound journals; The Sanctuary.

Hobbies: Journal writing; Studied and enjoyed Architectural Design as a young man; Tinkering.

Work: Guardian (watches over hybrids); Travel (Guardian duty); Worked at the Metropolitan newspaper for his Uncle.

Talents: Good with his hands; Quick learner; Absorbs information quickly; Photographic Memory.

Vices: Distraction; Lust; Jealousy; Stalking; Voyeurism.

Virtues: Chastity; Order; Sincerity; Loyalty; Insight; Wisdom; Silence; Courageous; Mercy; Resolution; Knowledge; Tranquility; Moderation; Temperance; Morality.

First time he enters the story: Pull: Book One-Prologue- Visits Violet as a little girl.

Second time he enters story:  Chapter one-comes home from tracking hybrids and writes in his journal.

Hero’s sacrifice: Loving Violet/ provides others for Violet to love.

Principled hero: He withholds his love from Violet (begins in book 2) he’s following the Guardian's natural law; He's against Dash’s "Impossible" ideas.

Sympathetic Hero: Forgives Grey (continuous); His Guardianship is hard; He wants to be with Violet.

Likeability: Generous provider; Moral to a point; Merciful, even to the worst of sinners.

Likes: Solitude after a hard days work; Writing; Watching Violet; Teaching Hybrids about their abilities.

Dislikes: Death; Incompletion of tasks/work; not knowing where Violet is at all times; knowing Violet is "with" someone else; Demons aka "Shadows", "Enities", "Aliens"; Breaking the natural laws of Guardianship.

Inner Journey: True love never dies; the impossible is possible.

 

 

 

 

 

*Spoiler: Hint: see dislikes

 

POV

I've read my prologue for Pull hundreds of times and I love everything about it. My proof readers loved it and I have an idea why. It's in the first person point of view. The rest of the Sanctuary novels are in the third person except for the Prologue. I wanted it to stand out like a prologue should. Red is one of my main characters in Pull and I wanted to begin with him because everything began with him. First person allows you to be close to the character as a reader. There's intimacy there. Most novels are written in the first person, but the santuary novels are third person, subjective omniscient.  I write with a distance between the reader and the character in order to keep the voice of my three main characters. The reader will see all three points throughout the Pull. I'm not head hopping within the same sections. I choose a character and stick with them through that chapter so it transitions better. The problem I saw after writing most of the series was after my proof readers read Pull, I wanted to go back and rewrite the story in first person, but then I would have to choose one character or at least I feel I would have to. That's a lot of work. I'm still contemplating the idea like Stephenie Meyers did with Midnight Sun (Twilight in Edwards POV).

Read my self-published ebook Pull it's FREE on Amazon for Kindle, Barnes and Noble for Nook and Smashwords.

Excerpt from Gravity

 

"Into the tight rhythmic crowd of people, he watches her. Her closed eyes are just as beautiful as when they're open. Her shiny wavy hair captures the flashing lights like fireworks over water. Everyone around him is in their own trance, pushing into each other, rubbing against each other, sweating all over each other like one big organism swaying. The crowd takes her away like a message in a bottle, floating in the ocean of people. Gabriel surrenders his body as those around him compress and take him. Hands are raised in the air but he is still, wedged between singing voices and jumping rebellious bodies.

Gabriel squeezes his way, his personal space rule is already broken and now his aura flexes like wings. Buzzed and centered only on her, he pushes recklessly towards her, setting off auras around him. He doesn't feel them. He wants only her. His Violet."

 

I love music and so do my characters. Music basically breathed life into my work. The excerpt above is part of a scene was written before I had a story for book 2, Gravity. I wrote it because I've had this scene in my head forever. I've pictured over and over again with plenty of characters and with plenty of songs. I thought it would add to book 2 perfectly, but I had to pick the right character. The character has to be physical in some way because being at a concert can be a physical experience. There's dancing and dancing close and dancing even closer. There's bodies everywhere and your personal space is violated. The character I chose, Gabriel, can't have body contact due to his hybrid ability. He's the most physical of all my characters because he's so mindful of everyone's vicinity at all times. Touching is dangerous for this character so closeness is the one thing Gabriel craves. So put this person in a concert setting with some alcohol to top it off, throw in the girl he likes and see what happens.
Gravity : A Sanctuary Novel will be coming soon. Look for twitter updates via Twitter by following me @MandaMiga

Removed section of Gravity

I had written a prologue to Gravity, but it really didn't need it; it doesn't  better the story in any way that and my mom was into it. Jumping right into what feels like an entirely different story then what I left you with in Pull: Book One. SPOILER ALERT HERE if you didn't read Pull--> Violet was left on her own in the Sanctuary. Red and Grey don't come back. Removing this section all together before Gravity is released would hurt and it doesn't spoil anything.

Removed  prologue to Gravity:

 

I dream of them every night. I know it’s a dream because I wake to find I'm the only one in the cabin. I wake every morning to find the ceiling molding closing in above me. The room is shrinking—I'm sure of it. I used to have a closet. There's no closet. My window was bigger—I think. Five steps to the door—no—it's four today.

The living room is cold. The stone fireplace is colder. I stare at it for a moment. Maybe the black lumps of charred wood will rekindle, but they never do. The kitchen cabinets are always full. At least Red is still taking care of my stomach. I rub my belly. I'm never hungry, but I know I should eat something. I grab an apple off the counter. The bite is crisp, like it was picked off the tree yesterday. But Red didn't actually do that. Things just happen here in the Sanctuary. Apples appear, tomorrow maybe grapes or bananas. He provides too much in food. This assurance is not what I want. What I want is to be in his arms again.

I eat my apple and pretend he's just in his room. The idea of him watching helps. A false sense of him being near helps me get through my day. Pretending is natural when you're by yourself locked in a beautiful paradise with no one to share it with. Imagination is my only friend.

Outside of the cabin is not the same. Every day when the rain stops, I go outside to walk the perimeter of the field before it pours again. The gate is checked and it’s always locked. It’s never long before I'm drenched and I’m forced to run back to the cabin.

I know this means Red is upset. Grey had said the condition of the Sanctuary is a gauge for his mood.

I know he is hurting. I can feel it when I breathe. The air is thin as if Red is having this trouble himself.

I can't eat any more of the apple. I don't even want to swallow what's left in my mouth. Red would not be pleased to know I can't even eat an apple. I close my eyes a try and swallow. The image of Red folding his arms, tilting his head, "You have to eat, Violet."

I'm so weak I can fall asleep. I slump to the floor and drift off to dream the same dream of him. I can feel the beating of our hearts sync. I feel Red is at my side. But when I turn to see him he’s not there and yet, he’s in my peripheral vision. My aura detects he's near. I still feel he is with me when a feathery caress kisses my skin.

“Where are you?" The warm air breathes against my neck.

"Come home,” I ask him. Red never answers when I demand that. He’s just a black obscuration in the corner of my eye. He's a shadow once again.

Grey appears standing too far for me to reach. The distance is constant no matter how much I try to run to him. His black pea coat, pants and gloves appear to cover his entire body like a cocoon. His features are nothing like I remember. He's too dismal in my dreams; a stormy figure that sends a chill down my spine. His face is a splattered distortion with gray eyes. I think he wants his face erased from my memory. I try to retrieve it, but he won’t let me. I know the sweet part of him still exists. My heart is still with him. I know he's there within the dusky silhouette The other Grey is in the way of my Grey.

What have I done to him?

I remember in my dreams I express that I will never stop trying to release him from the burden that I beheld to him.

I know he's always reading me and he knows what I'm feeling even if my words don’t make it out of my mouth.

I miss him.

I love him.

Grey, I love you. I love you.

He communicates, but without a sound; it’s a simple discontenting glare every time. His silver eyes are sharp. Why do my thoughts anger him?

 

Climax

What have I been doing? Writing of course! I've complete book two of the Sanctuary novels. It's taken me a while because I've been looking at houses. My husband and I finally found one we love, so we've moved out of our apartment and are now living with my in-laws. It's been stressful because we can't just buy the house, can you believe it? It's a short sale so the process is longer because there's more stuff than usual to approve. All I know is I want to move in and blast my music up to eleven! <--(This is Spinal Tap reference, just so you know).
I work retail incase you didn't know, so not only were we moving, but I have to prepare for Christmas at work right after Halloween. Just so you know, from Halloween to January... yes January is Christmas time in retail... it doesn't stop on December 24 people. So, I'm tired and I haven't written much.

My sister Jess had been proof reading and found one doosie of an error. I was always unsure about a certain scene near the end of Gravity. As a writer, every page seems to need work so my thoughts on that particular scene didn't seem to stand out. Jess had called me out on it and I had to agree. It was lacking where it was suppose to be most climactic. I failed. I went back to my writing desk and had to fix it. I was moving and it was Christmas time in retail so I was tired. I hadn't even downloaded music in weeks. I was just exhausted. Christmas is now almost over and I finally sorted out that last scene. I'm waiting to hear back from my mom and Jess. I have my fingers crossed. I'm pretty sure they'll like it.

Bulking the book

Life happens while writing book two of my Sanctuary series. Between the gallstones, laziness, being removed from my current position at work to a less pleasing one, and excessive manga reading, I've layed out the order of events I've written for book Two. Like needing dough, I smoothed out the lumps and bumps and cut out unnecessaries but i know I'm not done. I'm far from it, but it doesn't mean I'll be doing it forever. My story is there. It's solid. It just needs filling. The word count is low and my chapters need definition; diving lines from beginning to end. The POV (point of view is scattered. My tense is wrong. I have alot to do. Bulking my book takes layer after layer of reading and re-reading over and over and over.... you get the idea. When the fuels there, it's no problem. When the fuels low, my Nook HD+ comes out for mangahere reading, my bottom hits the sofa and I chow on Goldfish crackers for the evening.  I like to call it studying because when I read or watch movies I try to apply emotions, plots, taboos and other interesting things to my series.
I've written today for eight hours today and I'm going on break to study before I'm to tired for my day job.

Is there a foggy area between YA and adult fiction, ' cause that's where my novel is?

The teen genre is tricky because it's always changing. Since the 70's taboos like drugs, sex, rape, incest are not instant rejections when it comes to YA fiction. In  fact, YA fiction has gained a broader audience with adult women. Mom's are reading their daughters books.  Books like Harry Potter, Twilight, Hunger Games, City of Bones and Beautiful Creatures are series read by children and adults alike, this may have paved a way for each of these to become movies as well. But what makes a story YA?
For my book I've been asking this question since my plot came together. Who is my audience?
My answer every time to that question was people like me. I read YA and I'm thirty-four year old female. But does my story meet the criteria for a YA novel?

My protagonist isn't a teen, he's twenty-three which already breaks a YA rule.  Teen novels have teen protagonists. My protagonist has a relationship with a young girl. (statutory rape) My book takes place when the protagonists love interests is sixteen. there's suppressive feelings involved between them another love interest( another adult).

Questionable content:
there's swear words. Fuck shouldn't mean sex though, oops!
the relationship with the girl is between a sixteen year old and two twenty three year old. A love triangle. Naughty!
there's no sex but there are sexual situations. Still graphic is bad I guess.
there is hinting that the protagonist had feeling for the girl when she was just a child, but there maybe indication of sexual attraction depending on the readers perception. That I understand is a No No. I get that but again I'm vague where it maybe safe to read. Hopefully my beta readers will see that clearly. Pedophiles,hmm.
attempted rape by a boyfriend.

I've read that I may have a teen crossover, a novel that stretches over to adult fiction. I'm still not 100% on that definition. YA's boarders are so vague.

I do know that I intend make my series in ebooks and the genres are set by the author, not an agent telling you, you can' t have the word "fuck" meaning sex in a YA novel.  There's more control on my part what I think my book is. I won't have to cut away "the good stuff" just so my audience won't be offended. The thing is teens want this. Adults shopping for YA want this. I want this!

To lazy to come up with a good title

It's the middle of winter and I find myself watching Netflix, reading, playing apps on my devices r just surfing the Internet because I just don't feel like doing anything else. As a writer I feel like I'm wasting valuable time but a writer needs to stop and take a coffee break--even if the coffee break seems lasts weeks with minimal writing and brain storming on your part. You need to rest from your work. Don't feel bad. Time away from your work proves to be good for you and your writing.  You can wear yourself out quickly, especially when your trying to write your material and you are not ready to write it. There's nothing like a refreshed mind to rev the imagination.
I reviewed a piece of writing I had done a while back. I remember it was I pushed myself too hard to finish it only to rewrite the whole thing. Not only should I have rested my brain, but it was a complete waste of time. Time I could have had to recuperate. So if you're feeling you need a break, take it. Winter time is my lazy time. I found that out from tracking my work by date. I wrote the most in spring when my energy up and summer when it's too hot to go outside. So hibernate for as while if you need to, you might find inspiration in a movie but please, rest when you're tired.

My had my own 50 Shades made and ready to go at 14 year-old

Split by MugenMusouka at Deviantart.com

I used to go to bed with the same fantasy playing in my head. My eyes affixed to a small clipping of the hottest boy in Tiger Beat or Bop magazine. I'd memorized his cute face and picture him in school, talking to me, holding my hand, taking me to a dance or kissing me. Soon my little fantasies took on a whole story with a plot and he was the star and he was his starlet.
I found myself going back to one fantasy over and over. The Victorian setting was perfect for my ideal guy to own a mansion and to employ me as his maid. I know this is generic but I was young. Maids are good for many things, aren't they?
When I got older, there was more going on in my story than kissing and dusting my "master's" vases. He had a mansion and a lot of rooms, so naturally a teenage girl's mind is hormonally charged with ideas seen in movies, sex scenes in books or information heard from her best friend about third base.
I would have to confess my imagination at a young age was "ripe" and would rival the adopted lie that women aren't nearly as perverted as men. I, for one, blame my genetics. Instilled in me is some of the most obscene things and lucky for most people they do not see that when they look at my "sweet" face.
In my fantasies I was irresistible and whoever I was infatuated with at the time would play the part of my "master"; River Phoenix, Leonardo DiCaprio, my crush in school there was a lot of those. The list goes on ; singers, actors, real people. Until my man's face started to take a specific form and specific characteristics stuck. He ended up with pitch-black hair because he's dark and mysterious, of course. Big sapphire eyes to melt my insides to mush. They would seemingly glow in the dark as he would watch me perform my "duties", making his bed wink*. His eyes were the focal point in ever mini-movie i made; it's always the part of him I remember precisely. Eyes are the windows of the soul. He was tall because he overpowers me when he's greedy or he can look down on me when he's admiring my precious face. His frame was always obscured under a dark cloak; he always wore black. I couldn't make up my mind what he looked underneath because I was only fourteen or fifteen. Aside from brief nudity in movies, I had never seen a man naked before. So he stayed covered. Still, beneath his black cape intrigued me. I often left his body something to wonder about even after knowing what a my ideal man would look like. Even teasing myself was titillating. He eventually had to take his cloak off, of course. His slender, yet firm and strong body could carry me to his bed. s know it's lame but it happened, in my head! Hey, this is the stuff ladies think about every night or at least I do. Sounds like something out of a Harlequin book but I assure you my ideas dive further into the inappropriate than romantic. I like crossing lines and breaking laws. wink if you only knew what that meant, ha!
I  perfected his face, his body and his personality until characteristics I've left out still screamed at me. I love blonds and most guys I like happen to be blond so I decided I needed to be fought over. of course, I'm irresistible, remember? My "master's" rival  had to be equally handsome yet completely opposite in every way; he would take on the traits I wanted to use but couldn't on my dark knight.Where my blue eyes God was sweet, his rival had to be vicious. If one had secrets the other had more. If one laughed the other cries. I created the rival in contrast to my first man. My second lover has gray eyes, lighter than the deep blue of my first lover. His hair varied from blond to brown because he could never be the black like my first. They never truly had names; just the dark man and the light man, with an occasional last name for dialogue purposes.

"Oh, I shant, Mr. Thompson, I shant!"

I know it's lame but it happened!

  art by evillittlecherry at deviantart.com

When I wrote my first stories down I realized these men needed names. I designated a color to each. Red and Grey. Red can be a first name and the word itself signifies a dominate, deep, primary color just like my first dark dream lover. Grey can be a first or last name and the color signifies lightness from darkness or an in between color which this lover always signified in my fantasies.
I wrote down my bedside erotica for myself but both Red and Grey began to develop hearts and minds and my stories started to build up. Before I knew it, a structure of a real story was taking form.



art by Yoonsik at Deviantart.com

Now, I have a series I've written based on these two teen-hood fantasies. Pull, the first novel in the series sets the stage of the old fantasies I rehearsed in my head over and over again. Red is still the dark and mysterious lover and Grey is his wicked rival. They both became anchors to the entire Sanctuary series.

 

Art by Quiss at Deviantart.com

 

I always wanted to play the Violin, so Aiden Grey now plays it for me.





 Aiden Grey is looks out for his brothers, warning them of his father's wrath. He's the one they look up to because their father doesn't talk to anyone else but Aiden. Aiden shares the same ability as his father. Telepathy can go along way with Ryan Grey, a man with many secrets. But even Aiden can't get through the thick wall his stoic father had built.  For Aiden, he's the only one that can get his foot in the door. Standing beside him as he makes his important decisions and being the one that sees what others can not see is not a privilege. The burden of trying to please a cold father is like defrosting a glacier in the Arctic. But Aiden can please his father by doing one thing. Playing the violin seems to please him even just for a little while. Aiden plays for him, the one thing he knows he can do to perfection, often wondering at the same time what makes his father so sad.
 

The birth of a character can come from anywhere. The violin from my childhood was the birth of Aiden Grey. I had needed a devise to please Grey in his cold state; remembering his lost love, Violet. The violin had always seemed like a sad instrument to me. It slow wine was something I could relate to as a child. School was always a great stress to me and still is a source of great sadness for me. For Grey I had to reach deep inside and find something to try and console him. I first set my eyes on a violin at school during an introduction to the start of a band and orchestra program. I wanted to play the Violin but to add to my sadness my family had no money for such a thing. So Aiden plays the violin for me and he plays it for Grey, the lost soul in my series.

People I see everyday; acquaintances I meet once in a while; strangers I've spoken to once or never spoken to all all. Working in retail, I come across inspiring people everyday. Some more taxing than others but inspiring none the less. There's a young girl that comes into the book store I work in. She has short blond hair, boyish mannerisms and a strikingly handsome face. When I had first helped her I couldn't stop looking at her. Her attractiveness caught my attention in such a way that every time she comes in to read the comic books and graphic novels I need to see her. That attraction to that particular girl helps me with one particular character in my Sanctuary novels. I've named her Sonny and she has blond hair and a face just like the girl in the book store. The feelings I felt towards the girl in the book store are represented in Sonny. She's drawn towards Violet, my heroine in the Sanctuary novels. My curiosity about the same sex is also expressed through her. It's a wonderful discovery and an interesting journey when real people inspire real emotions that repeat in your writing.


Things you desire and things that are precious to the writer can inspire you to write about someone who would own the piece or come across the particular object. My husband purchased a telescope for me one Christmas. I had wanted one for such a long time because I look to the stars often at night and often wondered about the big picture. That telescope helped me get to know those stars and planets I loved dreaming about. Thanks to my telescope, the moon's details and luminescent presence in particular helped me write a love scene between to lovers. The telescope I have happens to sit in two of my character's bedroom. Red and Dash use them because they are symbolic of their higher power and their great wonder about the universe.

Places can be precious to characters as they are to you. When I was little, my sister and I went camping with my grandma, uncle and aunt to the Catskill Mountains. There was a double lake and forests surrounding it, all on top of a mountain. Those early memories of a beautiful place had influence on my main character Red in my Sanctuary novel series. He created a sanctuary that looks very much like the place I cherished as a little girl. The natural beauty, the smell of the fresh air and sounds of the country carried over to my novel, the setting of my entire Sanctuary series.

The past whether it's history or your own past can inspire not only story plots but characters. When I was little I was chased by a boy my mother babysat. At a young age, I was in love with love and the idea of a boy chasing me was one of the most exciting things I remember at such a young age. My first boyfriend and my second boyfriends (now my husband) created a jealous love triangle. I never would have thought I'd be fought over but secretly loved every moment of it. Love is the running theme in all of my stories. The love triangle from my teen  years makes a repetitive appearance in the Sanctuary Novels. One of the main characters, Violet is constantly chased after figuratively and literally.
History in general I love and plays in my many of my stories. Red, my protagonist in the Sanctuary novels was born in the Victorian era; discovered his hybrid abilities in the Great Depression; learned to fine tune his inherited powers during The Great War (WWI) and tracked his first Hybrid during the World War II. A have an outline of a story that takes place in the 80's about a bunch of friends that find a towns legend to be true. Another story outline I have takes place in the Victorian era about a girl who purchased into a secret society.

You always put a little or a lot of yourself in your characters even if their villains, you are part of their make up. Their fear and pain could be your fear and pain. Your hero's obstacles maybe your own. Their personality make up came from somewhere and who better than to know the character than the author. One of my heroes also plays the villain, transforming from one to the other and back again. This expression of transformation is one I relate to considerably. I've been betrayed and have been the betrayer. Unresolved issues that still hurt like open wounds have great weight in my novels. Grey, a main character in Pull, believed that his best friend Red would never hurt him. Red has saved his life and given him a second chance when his past seemed unforgivable, Red was the one who showed mercy; helped lead Grey to a better life. But as the story unfolds, Grey makes Red the enemy out of jealous over a girl they both fall in love with. No longer trusting his best friend Grey converts back to being the man he used to be; becoming the villain in the series.

Sometimes your characters hold all your secrets out like dirty laundry. One character of mine takes pleasure in watching other couples. Another hates that she's a girl and binds her breasts. My heroine has more than one lover. These interesting details often display certain "quirks" or "desires" that the story teller often adds to make these characters interesting. They come from somewhere...more often than not they are aspects of the author herself. Wink*

 

Is a crow just a big black bird?

I recently made it known that I was in much need of a glass jar to display my button collection. My husband comes home with an enormous jar 9'' high and 5 inches wide; too big to display something as humble as tiny buttons. I took my buttons I've been storing in a plastic bag and dumped into the spacious jar. To my surprise it looks lovely.
The one inch space the buttons took left the rest empty but I thought to myself, is it really emptiness that that males it look so lovely. It's the hope of filling it and the joy of slowly doing so.
Objects are symbols. They're representation is only relevant when we give them meaning.

An engagement ring.
A photo of a loved one passed on.
A lucky rabbits foot.
A song that brings back a memory, though not an object the sound is carried through one.

Even if the meaning is negative it is still meaningful.

A cluttered closet is cluttered mind. Is it a coincidence you feel better in a organized home?
A empty room is loneliness. There's no one there not even a chair.
A forgotten teddy bear slumped over with dust on it's glassy eyes. Could it be this bear has a heart? I can imagine it may be crying.

Objects are just as symbolic in life as they are in fiction. In my first novel Pull, two specific objects make their appearance and do so in my second novel. Their symbolism doesn't change with my characters as they mean the same thing to one character as it does to another. Symbols and signs carry weight because to everyone it's meaning is similar. Like dreams of snakes can mean death or rebirth, depending on the dreamer, yet death is also seen as a rebirth and in that they are similar.
Darkness is negative.
Lightness is positive.
These things are represented the same in nearly every culture.
Is not the night filled with stars and a bright moon? Positive even in darkness.
The clouds shroud the moon, and the natural light is no more. Destroying the positive.
When you are reading a story take note of the objects in the way they are represented and it gives clues to the inner workings of the character and even the plot resolution.
In Pull, one object the protagonists tinkers with is a music box that he once brought home to his sick mother. When the object is first introduced, it is dismantled in pieces on his writing desk, no longer in use for the purpose it had before. The owner, Red, keeps it as it used to be his mothers. This object will later appear in the series with a similar purpose to wake a loved one from their slumber, but with a different owner.
You give objects their meaning and this is very important in fiction as objects are like shells in sifted sand. Its very presence is important to the story. How many things do you have, make such a presence in your life?
My button jar isn't nearly full but hope-full.

Here's a few other objects I placed in my novel series for symbolism fun whether the reader knows it or not:
Aspen tree: Overcoming fear.
Oak tree: Strength and courage.
Day Lily: Wish for a baby boy.
Rose: Beauty, love, purity.
Phoenix: death, purification, rebirth.
Bee: regeneration, fruitful activity, feminine, growth, motherhood.
Crow: Red is the book 1 protagonist who shape shifts into a crow, Omen (good and bad), associates with the darkness, keeper of the sacred law, messenger.
Red Tailed Hawk: Guardian, protection, healing, safety, long life, higher perspective.
Owl: Vigilance, acute wit, patience, keen sight, solitude, time, harbinger of new cycles.
Dog: Grey is a character throughout the Sanctuary novels shape shifts into a Alaskan Husky dog, it's a tradition that Huskies are named by their personality and in Grey's case he is a gray area character; he is both the hero and the villain (both light and dark). Dogs: guardian of secrets, faith, loyalty, friendship, power over life and death.
Music box: Call back a loved one from slumber, memory.
Victorian pocket watch: Victorian era, time, reminder of purpose. (in Pull Red carries one. He was born in this era. He gives this watch later in book 2 which its purpose is "enhanced".)
Violet: The name of the character my protagonist falls in love with whose aura is blue. Little blue flower, affection, virtue, faithfulness.
Feather: Center of existence, innocence, trust. (in Pull Grey gives Violet a feather necklace which later is ripped from her neck)

*Pull is my first novel in the Sanctuary series.

art by derSheltie at Deviantart.com

"Fear me and nothing else."

These are the words my protagonist says to his love to keep her at a distance, unfortunately he not as perfect as he was made to be and will break his own rules over and over again.

You're not perfect, but what if your purpose is perfection, and without it people die. What if there's a life set before you with a precise line for you to follow? Your weakness is that you found something you never thought you'd desire is the one thing  that makes you imperfect. You want nothing more than to veer off the path and change the course so that you can be with the one you can't live without. But if you do this, others will suffer. Your very purpose is stained with imperfection.
 Love makes you do crazy things.
Red is one of the main characters in my novel Pull, who battles with a higher self over a forbidden love that weakens his ability, in turn hurts his kind for this imperfection. Red is torn between what he has to do and what he so desperately wants to do. Will he do it?

I want her to be mine.
I know I'm wrong.
-Pull excerpt unrevised.

I hold Red dear to my heart. He's the reflection of the inner spark that threatens each day to breakout.  I hold him tightly inside myself just as the laws in his world tie him down. We all follow a pattern and we yearn to break it. Red's a wonderful character to express the need to deviate from the normal and finally strive for something more than what is placed in front of you. He discovers what happens when you choose between your hearts longing desire and the logical path of the mind. Ignoring one will destroy something or someone. Would make such a sacrifice?

 

The eyes do not rest because behind them is a principled mind reminding Red, he is the Guardian. -Pull excerpt unrevised.

 

picture by HearThisPlease at Deviantart.com

 

Red writes and I write. Of course, Red is only a fictional character I think maybe he is more than that. But none the less I am him and he is me all the same. Although, I've only started writing for a few of years, Red has been a writer all his life. He's shown me that this ability had always been inside of me. I just had to give in to the spark and let it ignite into a burning flame until it cannot be doused.
Passion is like a flame.
When it burns you can't put it out. It takes hold of your being. Your soul sings. It's love in it's purest form because it's who you really are.  I shall hope you know this feeling. Not many people find their passion or the love of their life. You may have spoken to someone who has, so then you can see how bright their flame burns. They're like a candle in a dark room.

Red fell in love. This was not in his purpose, yet it is the only thing he feels is the truth to his being. His mistakes and flaws recreate who he is and everyone around him. He urges me every day to do the same, no matter what. I must think my stories to life. I have to keep writing.

 

Three is my favorite number

Blink 182 released their Dogs Eat Dogs EP. This is a big deal for me. New music is always a tool I utilize to jump start the creative process for my stories. Blink 182 especially is important to me. Being that they are my favorite band in the entire world, using new music by them always blows my mind. They hit the right chords to my heart and their lyrics call to me like they were written just for me. I love them so much.
I'm at a point in my writing that I can use their help again. They write their music from their experiences from young teenagers to a thirty-something year-old. It makes them relevant to me and who I am. I'm a little younger than the band, but even as a 33 year-old I feel like a 23 year-old. Hopefully I don't write like a 5 year-old. What's my age again? <---that's one of their songs!


Tome DeLonge, Mark Hoppus, Travis Barker.
Blink-182

Book two is a Sanctuary novel. I'm not sure about the the title yet, but for now it's called Gravity. There's three main characters, troubled teenage boys who are called upon to help Violet, one of the main characters in my first book, Pull. With new music from Blink, I can revise my written work thinking in the mind set of these 16 and 17 year-old boys, who's lives seem so hopeless to them.
I call them "The Three". (Alex, Gabriel and Dash) I can't wait for you to meet them.

I've got a feeling, I've got a feeling

These broken nights and bitter ends

We would always starve and devour

Our closest friends my beautiful friends

Paranoia my paranoia

Can't let it go, it never lets me go

What am I feeling, why am I feeling

Forecast into the freezing cold

 

Dogs eating dogs, dogs eating dogs, dogs eating dogs

Dogs eating dogs, dogs eating dogs, dogs eating dogs

 

I'm the last and the first in a very sad set of eyes

To the bone, to the knees, to the factory line

I am numb to the shot, I have a crippling fear of heights

'Cause the fall sounds a lot like a symphony of cries

 

Your only hope is burning down the chapel

All getting washed out with the tide

We need to find some middle ground

It's always sex or suicide

-Dogs Eating Dogs by Blink-182