The End Is Night

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

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!

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

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!

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!

Tea Time

Several years ago, I painted a series of saucers and teacups for the dollhouse I was building. I used a dot of putty glue on the head of a golf tee and attached the little cups and saucers on top of it. Some nice ladies at the local miniatures club taught me that trick, and to this day it still proves invaluable. Would you like a cup of tea?

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Yes… I did glue the leg wrong…

 

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To put things in perspective:

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Everything is relative:

The quarter scale lamp on the side table was made using one of the teacups from the dollhouse cupboard.

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Tea Time

Wedding Flowers

Recently, I had the great honor and pleasure of being invited to the most beautiful wedding.

These are the bouquets I created for K and A’s wedding cakes:

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The day of the ceremony, the bouquets were placed on the wedding cakes. Thanks to my talented friend C., and a long, sleepless night, I can post pictures of the cakes. Long story short, baking didn’t go as planned, but everything worked at the end. And that it’s all that matters. Much love to you, C.

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After the ceremony I sealed the bouquets with a glossy finish and then mounted them on frames:

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Wedding Flowers

This Author’s Delights

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

Smaller than Small: Quarter Inch Scale Miniatures

I have a fascination for miniatures. When I was a kid, I used to build dollhouses for my dolls. They were made out of my cousin’s diaper cardboard boxes—the only cardboard boxes I could get my hands on at the time, and they were sturdy. I painted them, cut holes for the windows and the doors, used the partition sheet (used to separate the diapers) to make the floor, built stairs with folded and reinforced paper, glued fabric to make the curtains. Hours and hours of fun. Then I forgot all about them.

In the last fifteen years, I rediscovered the wonderful world of dollhouses. One of the thing that was immediately clear to me, after building several structures, is that, although a miniature, a 1/12 scale dollhouse requires space to be displayed. Space that not everybody can spare, especially when you build or collect them.

The Quarter Inch Scale is the perfect solution. Four times smaller than a regular inch scale dollhouse (1/12), this miniscule scale can be quite whimsical. It took me some time to build my quarter inch scale Condominium, a kit I bought at a Seattle dollhouse show, but I enjoyed the process of finding objects that could be used to make furniture and decorations. For example, I used a 1/12 scale teacup to make the lamp shade in the small sitting room. Glue gun drops became the pitchers displayed in the kitchen. Cutout from catalogs became rugs and wall accents. Beads became tomatoes; a game piece from Monopoly became the dollhouse in the girl’s bedroom. Scraps of laces and fabric became sofas and couches. Recently, someone  made me notice that the miniature kitchen looks a lot like my real one. Maybe, in the next remodeling of my house—one is due soon, I’ll have the tile sink and the iron stove added as well, to match the rest of the room with my miniature one. One can only dream.

Quarter Inch Scale Condominium

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I’ve talked about this little project of mine, here as well.

Smaller than Small: Quarter Inch Scale Miniatures