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?