the indie life

The Muse

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The Muse

 

 

 

 

 

 

Art is a truly universal language. A song, a painting, a sculpture can all call to you in different ways, but when they do, you feel it deep inside your core. When Alessandro started working on Pax’s cover, he found on Deviantart a picture of a sculpture that perfectly matched the story’s mood. I fell in love with the clean lines of the Muse and as soon as Alessandro told me who was the artist behind the sculpture I contacted her. Julie Swan, the talented Australian artist who created the stunning Muse and other equally breathtaking works, graciously gave us permission to use the image for Pax’s cover. Once again, I’m reminded of how generous artists can be. Life wouldn’t be so rich and worth living without the beauty only a piece of art can convey. Thank you, Julie.

The Muse

Happily Dizzy

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Pax is officially in the hand of the proofreaderDCP_7037 and I should be writing my daily quota of words for my wips, but I can’t. I’m too happy. It’s paralyzing. In the last three days, I’ve received two, not one, but two, amazing reviews for The Priest. The first is from an author, Javier Robayo who wanted to read it. The second is from a blogger I reached out to. In both cases, I was nervous about the result for different reasons.

Javier I’ve come to know and consider a kindred soul. I never ask people I know to read what I write. I don’t stop anybody, but I don’t encourage them either. It wouldn’t be fair to put them in a situation where they didn’t like the story but still felt they had to say something nice to me. I like honesty, but I understand it’s not easy to tell a friend, “Look, I truly hated your book, because of this, this, and also that.” Therefore, when Javier told me he’d bought the book and wanted to write a review about it, I hoped I didn’t let him down. It seems I have not.

Regarding the second review, I was nervous because I reached out to the blogger asking for her time. Finding bloggers who accept materials that is not YA is a time consuming task. I spend several hours every week looking for a book blogger who is willing to take a look at a science fiction/dystopian title meant for a mature audience. So far, I’ve found only a handful of them. Every time I send a copy to a blogger, I feel I’m sending my baby into the wild without a word of advice. Today, I was surprised  to find the blogger’s review on Goodreads, and she didn’t spare nice words. Thankfully, Mauricio passed the test again.

I know the day will come when my books will have terrible reviews. For now, I’m just happily dizzy. Cheers!

Happily Dizzy

Friday Snippet #3

Monica La Porta, , , 9 Comments

Seven days have passed already. I’ve slept little or nothing, as my mind was busy thinking what I wanted to add in the final editing of Pax. Now that everything is done, I feel at the same time ecstatic and drained, but in a good way.

This week snippet is actually a surprise from my newest wip, one  I’ve only started last week. Here is one of the first paragraphs from the T.C.O.M.

“I can’t get away from here faster enough.” She had said that so many times, the other girls had started repeating the words to her as a joke. I really can’t get away from here soon enough. She walked to the end of the room and looked at herself in the long mirror precariously hang to the wall. A pale blond, big blue eyed, freckled-skinned girl looked back at her. “Why you so gloom?” She went back to her bunk bed and jumped on, shoeless feet dangling down toward Idra’s bed. Idra hated when she did that. “Move away those dirty feet from my face.” Marie did that on purpose, she liked when Idra got all mad at her; her dark eyes staring up, her mouth pouting. It was worth the trouble, because Idra couldn’t stay mad long. He laugh was what had attracted Marie to her. Now, someone else was going to sleep over Idra’s bed. This is what I want, a chance to better my life.

Friday Snippet #3

The End Is Night

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Pax striscia occhio

I’m happy to announce the editing for Pax in the Land of Women is officially done! Next week the formatted manuscript will be in the hand of the proofreader. In the last seven days, Amy and I went back and forth on the last eight chapters, slightly more than 30k words. On some of them we had more than ten revisions. It was gruesome. But it was all worth it. There were moments, toward the end, when I started doubting several things, but I fixed the holes in the plot and the inconsistences. Finally, I had to let it go. The gestation time for Pax has ended, she’s now and independent, well rounded story ready to have a life of its own.

The End Is Night

Friday Snippet #2

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It’s Friday again. Time flies when you’re having fun writing two different projects and editing the last four chapters of the novel you want to publish shortly. On related news, thanks to my extraordinaire editor, Pax in the Land of Women is almost ready to see the proofreader. Oh, incommensurable joy.

This Friday snippet is from my fantasy wip, Notturno, again. Dalia is in big trouble. It’s sundown and Aragon being a diurnal has fallen into a comatose sleep. She’s just being kidnapped by a man and a woman. She can only hear their voices as she’s carried like a sack of potatoes on the man’s shoulders…

She hoped it was a bizarre dream and she would wake any moment now. The man carrying her walked at a brisk pace, climbing and stepping down at ease, as if she didn’t add any weight to his body. From what she could feel, the man wasn’t as large as Aragon, but, within the confined space of what it must have been a jute sack, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Who knows how much he would’ve fetched for this one?”

“She’s not much, is she? Diurnal women are normally bigger.”

“Did we get a child?”

Again with the child. I’m no child.

“No, she must be young, but she’s definitely adult enough…” The man seemed to be thinking of his next words carefully. “When I was picking her up, I—”

“You what?”

Yes, you what, idiot?

“I didn’t do it on purpose! What are you thinking that I’d check her out?” The man’s voice had that distinct quality associated with being worried and embarrassed at the same time.

“You better not.”

“Of course not! Who do you think I am? An uncivilized diurnal? Anyway, she’s a scrawny little thing. I don’t think the Venerables were going to pay much for her.”

Friday Snippet #2

Friday Snippets!

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Today I learned of something called Friday Snippets, thanks to Clare who tweeted about it. The idea is to post every Friday a sample of your work in progress to share your writing with the rest of the blogosphere and the twitterverse. Loved the idea and, although is already Friday night, it’s still Friday here in my neck of the woods. I also had quite the productive day. I wrote my daily quota of 2k and I finished and also sent a guest blog post, so I can be excused for my tardiness.

Without further ado, here is my Friday Snippet from my brand new project, a fantasy tale. Working title is Notturno. The two characters are Dalia and Aragon. She lives in the darkness and he thrives under the sun.

“Kirby is my dog’s name.”

“Well, he likes my food.” And, as on clue, Kirby left her lap to jump on Aragon’s.

“I see…”

“He likes me.” Aragon smiled at Kirby. “Isn’t it true that you like me very much, Kirby?”

“He likes you all right; you gave him food and shelter.”

A different kind of smile made his eyes shine. “Does it mean you like me as well?”

“What—”

“I gave you shelter and I did offer you food.” His right eyebrow shot high, his lips curving up slightly.

“I don’t know you!” Dalia should have felt more shocked and added some of the lacking shock to the tone. “How dare you. I’m betrothed.” Funny how that detail came up, when she would constantly rebuke Martin for saying so.

“Don’t get too worked up, I’m married.”

“You are?” Her mouth hanged open.

“Yes.”

She scooped away from him, treacherous disappointment creeping through her feelings. “I must go back.”

Friday Snippets!

I, First Person Plural

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Monica contrasto per twitterI, my name is Monica, but not always. During the day, I multiply myself. It’s the new schizophrenia. SMMPD. Social media multiple personality disorder. I’m not alone. We’re a growing community of people who juggle through the ether, struggling to connect.  We change name as we change hats. Our strength is in the numbers. Our weakness is in the transient nature of our interactions. We must be present, always. Forever connected, is our credo. We forge friendships in 140 characters and when we’re sent to twitter jail, we travel in throngs to facebook where we finish the conversations started earlier. Then we  move to our blogs. But sometimes, it isn’t enough. Thankfully, we can pm or dm as long as our heart desires. Of course, we all contribute to discussions on forums, sub-forums, facebook groups… Finally, at the end of our day, we start again, our peeps on the other side of the world waking up, eager to know what happened while they were sleeping. Meanwhile, if we could create an omnibus out of all the characters sacrificed to the altar of online communication, we would have published the new Divina Commedia, War and Peace, Ulysses all combined. Unfortunately, my wip is waiting for me to notice it’s stuck at 300 words. It could be worse, it could be raining… Wait, I live in Seattle!

I, First Person Plural

Lucky Number Seven!

Monica La Porta, , 2 Comments

I was tagged by John Rykken, author of Bloodwood to play a twitter game called “Lucky Number Seven.” The rules are simple, go to page seventy-seven  of your latest work, published or in progress, count seven lines, then copy the next seven lines. The next step in the game is to tag four victims authors.

My seven lines are from Pax in the Land of Women, second book in The Ginecean Chronicles.

She couldn’t bear that he had been treated like an object. “I couldn’t just let them kill you.” She touched his face, tracing the line of his nose and then his lips. On principle, she would have never excused the use of violence against any other human being. But she had really meant to say that she couldn’t imagine a scenario where he wasn’t alive. She just couldn’t contemplate the idea.

“I owe you my life.” Prince removed her hand and put it in his. His voice was very low, but the meaning was loud and clear.

As an aside note, I had to laugh when I saw where the lucky number seven lines were. The above passage belongs to a chapter that got the award for the most editing. Amy and I drew a line at revision number 12. Every time I think of the infamous chapter 4, I break out in hives.

Now, the nominations for the next four twitter victims players are:

HTJohnston

JackieLove0320

ClareMDavidson

Scarberryfields

Have fun. Rinse and repeat!

Lucky Number Seven!

This Author’s Delights

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banner_thepriestThere’re moments in life when you feel pure contentment. Recently, I’ve been lucky enough to experience joy in different forms. Now, I’ve reached the next, blessed level, Authors’ Nirvana. E. J., a high-schooler who has recently read The Priest, is writing a book report on it. Inspiring a teenager to talk about a story on social issues is both humbling and exhilarating. I feel honored my little book was chosen. No other words are required. Thank you, E. Much love to you all.

This Author’s Delights