Dream big or go home!

I love to read, but at the end of the day i love writing more! Sharing my writing adventures one at a time!

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Nykki's many faces of lunacy

"You stole my donut! Damn you to hell! I shake my fist at you!"

Hi loves,

Today I spent the better half of the day making a video of my dad- who most of you know is terminally ill- and I was feeling sad when I stumbled on another video I had made last year, the actual video is pretty silly, but I started going through the snapshots and was cracking up at the many faces of lunacy that I found. So I thought I would share it so you guys can get a laugh too! 

Yes, sadly, talking to me in person, these are almost all expressions you might run across.
No, the captions are not actually what I was talking about... 




"I have powerful fingers, you turkey neck!"

"Have you ever heard a fish fart?"

"No, your mother is toad diarrhea."

Yea, so, here ya go, Nykki's many faces of lunacy.
Haha, feel free to caption them in the comments. Just no copying of pictures, I only share my crazy with people I like. Shhh.

Monday, May 20, 2013

Awesome Giveaway

The awesome Heather Marie is giving away a kindle, yes, you heard right a KINDLE! Whoop whoop! Follow this link and enter to win, also read some of the awesome blog posts!


Friday, May 10, 2013

Breaking up is hard to do.

Hi lovelies

So this last year I have been experimenting with critique partners. It has been a year full of invaluable learning that I wouldn’t trade for anything! Every single person I have worked with has brought something wonderful to the table.

However, not all have been champions for my work. There is a difference. As writers we want to help all other writers—after all who knows better what it’s like to be an aspiring, right? So, how do we make the hard choice to break up and how do we handle it?

Well, me being the socially awkward butterfly that I am, hate guessing games.

The best thing for both parties is to be honest, no it isn’t always easy. We don’t ever want to make a fellow author feel bad. I believe though, if you are honest, they can take it, I mean who has thicker skin than a writer—no one.

So, even though it is a dreaded line the, “It’s just not right for me.” will do. Just let them know that you don’t believe you can do their story the justice that it and they deserve.

Telltale signs that even if you adore each other personally but might not be the right match for critiquing? Well there are a lot of them, and they are painfully obvious, such as asking for changes that are for personal preference only. Like if your CP persistently asks first over third POV, past over present and you know that’s just what they enjoy reading—I’d classify that as a preference.

The bottom line is we all can benefit from others in many different ways, I have never worked with someone and walked away empty handed. If you like the person enough, maybe offer to keep in touch and beta for one another. I found that even though I may not have a lot to offer as a CP for someone, for whatever reason, it never hurts to have many eyes on the overall story.

We all know beta readers are VERY important, and it is a much easier task. You can design your questions and they can be answered easily.

We all just want a CP who believes in our writing as much as we do, and if you have a great, well matched CP it makes all the difference. Just don’t be afraid to cut the wrong ones loose. They will understand, and they will appreciate the honesty, because the chances are if they aren’t right for yours, you’re probably struggling with theirs and at the end of the day we all only want what’s best for our babies.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Review and link for FLIGHT-By Lindsay Leggett

I downloaded this book and was hooked from the first page. Piper is a very intriguing character. She is flawed but strong. I have gotten annoyed with many heroines because the author tells us that she is strong every other page, yet her actions prove otherwise.

So the fact that Piper was actually a strong lead and it was her ACTIONS that showed this was refreshing in the best way.

The world Lindsay built was phenomenal and easy to follow but best of all it was not bogged down with too much exposition.

Asher was a wonderful lead that wasn’t too broken to relate to.

I absolutely feel in love with the secondary characters, Grier, Sandy and Shelley.

Often when a story is written in first person, the character knows too much that they shouldn’t know, this wasn’t the case with this story, being in Pipers mind was realistic and completely believable.

Altogether this story was refreshing, and by far unique. I felt so strongly about this story that I am not only begging for the sequel but I gifted it to a couple friends. I would say this is an absolute must read. For ninety-nine cents it is worth every penny and then some.
If you want to order FLIGHT (Which i suggest you do.) Click here
And Lindsay also has a wonderful page that you should visit, and offers Indie services. Here
After you read and fall in love with FLIGHT you can follow her here https://twitter.com/akabins
And please don't forget to leave a review!
Thanks loves!

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Oh, elusive beginnings

Okay, so I got super stoked about FINALLY getting the beginning of my YA paranormal/thriller down. It has been a rough road for some reason with this one. AND THEN I got this brilliant idea that I would let some of you be the judge. So I am going to let you read a snippet and tell me if you would keep reading or put it down.

As far back as I can remember there was one thing that set me apart from everyone else I had ever met, the inability to feel fear. No, I don’t just mean I was hard to scare. I literally had no idea what the sensation of fear felt like.

 I had put countless hours of research into it, and the only thing I found to explain my lack of fear was ruled out because it was a genetic disorder with physical symptoms—none of which I had. I had tried everything I could think of, haunted houses, horror movies, snakes, roller-coasters and nothing gave me the nervous-heart-racing feeling I’ve heard comes with fear. Not even a jump.

That was until ten O’clock this morning.

Writing prompt.

I stood at the entrance, unable to force my feet to move and gazed up at the beautiful weeping angels that were perched on either side. Their judging eyes fixed on me. In that moment I felt like their tears were for me. Weeping for the lost girl who ran away when she was needed most. The girl who failed the person who'd loved her the most in the worst way.

           The funeral was months ago, what did I expect? Was it the fear that somehow the ghosts of their scornful comments had somehow waited all this time for me? I warm tear slide down my cheek. I watched it fall into the deep abyss of the cracked concrete.

So many memories flooded me. Our relationship was nothing if not fractured. I recalled the hateful things I had yelled at him. The way I pushed him away when he forgave me. But even those memories didn’t hurt as much as the one when I learned his secret. Even so young I felt betrayed, humiliated because everyone knew—everyone but me.

A strangled sob escaped my chapped lips. I fought the temptation to turn around and leave again and forced one foot forward. What a shockingly liberating feeling. I had to do this. A rain drop fell from the darkened sky. One after another my feet moved, pushing me forward, faster and faster until I found myself running against the sleet of rain.

I stopped in front of a simple headstone. The name of my secret hero engraved across the front. I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers across the cold concrete and sobbed. When my throat and shoulders ached, and my eyes burned I titled my head towards the sky and let the rain wash my tears away.

“Dad, do you remember when I found out I wasn’t yours biologically? And I asked you if it was true, oh, god, how I prayed you would demand who told me such an awful lie… But you didn’t.

“Do you remember what you said? ‘Well, baby, I guess that depends on your definition of a father.’ I didn’t understand then. At nine, how could I? My whole life everyone had lied to me. I grew to resent my own sister. So, I pushed you away.

“And when I ran away when I was fifteen, and you found me and brought me home. You told me since my mom couldn’t control me you were taking me home with you, and I threw that secret in your face. I started hating myself that day. I couldn’t face you after that—I know you forgave me—but my guilt wouldn’t let me forgive myself.” I glanced around the empty cemetery, looking for a sign that he could hear me. Thunder erupted loudly overhead, and I continued.

“The next thing I knew I had a kid of my own. I buried myself in her, my husband and work. No time for phone calls—until they called to tell me you were sick. Then like that all the wasted years caught up with me. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to come home and face you. To see you weak and in pain. I didn’t check that voicemail you left me until it was too late. I am so sorry i didn't come.

“I listen to it every day now, and I look at your granddaughter and everything is so clear. Now I understand the love you had for me, I know that it was easy to forgive me because I really was your baby the whole time. I understand that very few people in this world are capable of the capacity of love that you were. And I want you to know, that even though I never told you so, you have always been my hero.”

I laid the single rose in front of the headstone and stood up. I glanced around again and realized at some point the rain had stopped. A single ray of sunshine peaked from behind the clouds. I smiled to myself and started towards the exit.

When I reached the angels at the front gates a cool breeze swept against me and his voice wrapped around me warming me to my core. “I always knew, baby.” I glanced up at the angels—who no longer wept.  
Thanks for reading!
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