Another week, another snippet. It snowed during last night and part of this morning. Lunchtime now and this is the view from my desk. Considering going for a walk with Nero, but it’s quite chilly outside. Great news regarding Prince of War: Amy and I are working on its last chapters. I’m going through her corrections and positive we should reach the end soon. My rewriting of Her Book is almost done as well. I changed a few things at the very end because I’m tired of YA or NA (the new flavor of Young Adult, New Adult) following certain rules. Rant aside, the story makes more sense now.

I was a guest on Tweep Nation Podcast last Sunday and had lots of fun. Thanks to the promo for The Priest, and everybody who helped me on facebook and twitter, I sold forty-six copies of my titles. Forty-two of The Priest. Two of Pax in the Land of Women. Two of Linda of the Night. Again, it’s a big accomplishment for me.

For this week snippet, I’ve decided to post what follows directly after the last one. From the YA paranormal All the Rainbow’s Colors:

“Why don’t you wear something… sunnier?” Mom asks from the kitchen.

I make a pirouette while walking down the hallway, and I let my black multi-layered skirt fly all around me, along with the matching black, beaded scarf.

“And, what about that heavy dark makeup on your eyes?”

“Mom, it’s how I feel today,” I explain, already outside the door.

Rachel is laughing; I don’t care. She wouldn’t understand, anyway. She has been neon-pink for more than a month.

“Are you going out with Matthew, later?” I ask to make conversation before we transit.

I hate the transit. You are yellow when you open the door, and then you come out blue. Like this, in a second. Your molecules are broken down, and rebuilt back together, and you are a different person at the end of the transit. Dad says that it isn’t true, that I imagine things. They, Mom, Dad, Rachel, don’t see the colors trapped inside the black void of the transit.

“It’s our turn,” Rachel says,and points at the couple in line before us disappearing behind the door.