Publishing News #Oathbreaker1

Signed a contract with Wayang Force to publish Oathbreaker 1. 

About Boo and the Power of Procrastination

Boo, my kitten has gotten so big. They grow up so fast *sob*. He still likes to bite and nibble but we finally have a schedule. On mornings we play with monkeys and then if it's hot outside, I bathe him and dry ourselves outside while we eat and take naps. 

Then we play and then eat and nap some more. 

Since he's beginning to like run around I have to give him a bell. I didn't have a bell small enough so I had this big ass light bell that I attached to his collar (which I crochet. Ha). He nibbles on it first but then he sort of got used to it. 

Boo likes to run. A lot. Good thing we have monkeys so he jumps and chases after them. He spends a lot of energy when playing with them. 

Boo still likes to sleep on my arms and although I try to keep him of me when I had to work, he still perseveres as showed below. I actually lifted up my hand above my laptop and he was starting to slid off my arm but still he clung. Stubborn kitten. 

Anyway, I have been holding off on writing more of DreamWalkers because there's just something not right about it, I had to let it simmer inside my head for a while and lo and behold, finally figured out how to make things work. SOMEONE NEEDS TO DIE. 

See, procrastination does work. 

And yes, authors are evil. 

#BOOKHAUL!, DreamWalkers and A Whole Lot of Nothing

Aren't they PURTY?

Still have a ton of new books but I'll introduced them to you gently. 

Anyway, have been busy editing Wolf at the Door (WATD) especially since contract is being negotiated and I haven't time to continue with DreamWalkers but will go back to it after. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of changing The Wolf Series into the Oathbreaker Series, considering the book isn't really about the wolves but about the Waerloga....strange how things can hit you at the last moment. 

And I just changed the title on Goodreads. So WATD is Oathbreaker #1. 

I'm not editing much of the book just a little here and there, change some weird sentences or catch a few more typos and misspellings if I can. 

I really need a good editor. It would help if I have another set of eyes to catch things that I didn't. 

In DreamWalkers, it's weird how as an author you would have your own favorite character. Someone who despite not being a main character, you love just the same. Sure enough, like a parent, you would have a favorite child but...in DreamWalkers, I didn't expect Yohan to be my favorite. Sure he will be a big part of the story but...It's not surprising that Medea would be the most confusing character for me, I just don't really get her because my personality is so very different from her and writing her has its ups and downs and sideways while Sen, my second favorite, is actually pretty easy to write about that I'm worried that he would come off as boring. Don't get me wrong, I don't consider him boring, but he's so entrenched in Asian customs and traditions (Japanese, where everything is suppressed and understated) that I'm afraid he would come off as staid and...boring. To me he is fascinating, all that rock-steadiness and Japanese restraint hiding an ocean vastness of will and passion and I give him little moments-subtle-moments where I try to give hints of that intensity and bring it out, especially in his interactions with Medea. But Sen is also respectful, quiet, a flowing river underneath a mirror surface type and I'm afraid I wouldn't do him justice. And I'm afraid that my readers who aren't Asian will not be able to relate to him...

It's like when an Asian movie is remade by Hollywood,  a change in values and traditions change the whole look and feel of the movie. Sometimes what we Asians consider powerful emotionally or scandalous isn't a big deal for other people and I'm afraid of such meaningful actions from Sen would pass people by because they don't get it. They don't get him.

Or am I thinking too much or being an Asian snob?

Yohan, my favorite, would most definitely be a crowd pleaser, not only because he's the not-so-typical bad boy type--sort of--but because he is passionate and he acts on said passion. Not that he's reckless, because he's not. But he's the type to say rousing speeches and lead men while Sen is the one who stands behind the throne and whispers secrets and quiet advice. Both boys are intense but while Yohan has the burn-to-ashes intensity of the sun, Sen is the steady light in the dark that guides you home. 

So, which would you prefer? 

P.S: Boo is doing great. He's eating a lot, napping like the world is going to end and basically creating a mess wherever he goes like cats do. 

Happy with his progress. *thumbs up*

Should Be Writing...

..but spent hours mooning over the photo of my cats. I know, I'm going to be the crazy cat lady. But don't really care. I miss my cats. *whimper*

Other than that, writing is going good. Sometimes you need to take a step back from what you're writing and let it simmer inside your head for a little. You will find several angles and facets to plots or characters that you wouldn't have found if you wrote full speed, sure you tend to have to edit what you've written but it's worth it. Your story will be richer for it. Of course, taking a step back often is followed by procrastination so you have to watch yo'self. 

Do laundry, wash the dishes, sweep the floor, maybe exercise to clear out the cobwebs inside your cluttered brain, do something trivial, something that moves your body but don't really need you to fully engaged your brain so you can mull over something that's iffy with your story. 

It works. Trust me.

Life has been...pretty stagnant really. But then again I can count on one hand on the many times I actually went out since I moved. The only human contact--if you can call it that--is through the internet and I'm cool with that as I'm not into a whole lot of, you know, that.

But, to be honest, since I have so much time on my hands, perversely, my writing has suffered. Apparently, my best writing happens when I'm under pressure. Without pressure, without a time limit, I tend to play around. Now I have to set a time limit for myself, but I'm not really good with discipline. 

So, I'm moving again.

This will be the third time I'll be moving in a year. Geez.

Glad for the move though, finally I would have time to write full time.

Speaking of writing, guess what? It's NOVEMBER which means NANOWRIMO.

Gah, I'm such a masochist.

To make matters worst I decided to pull out DreamWalkers from the idea book and though I have some idea about what it's about, I'm pretty much winging it at this point. I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad one.

Well, at least I'm writing.

There were things that happened which brought several questions to the front of my mind, certain doubts if you will, that made me rethink about the big decisions that I made in the last 10 years. 

And though I don't regret that I made them, I regret the consequences that the people around me had to live with because of it. It's strange to say it, but the bottom-line is I feel guilty for not feeling guilty enough.

...only humans would be this complicated, right?

Other than a little cough and feeling a little lazy and sluggish, I'm good. I hope that things would only get better from now. 

Men may fight, but women endure.

-Aisyah, The Sword Series #2-The Saint

 Copyright © 2013 by D.F. Jules

Friends Make Everything Better

Hey, I'm back.

In the last post I mentioned that I was sick, yeah, I was sick a few days after that. I was sick for a week. I am not kidding.

My eyes turned yellow, okay, and I couldn't even smell food without puking. But what really had me was the fatique. I was just so tired and sleepy all the time.

I'm better now though I still have to watch what I eat and how I sleep. And also about not stressing out.

So far so good, though I have a headache that lasted for two days. Ugh.

On publishing news, Stacey sent me the covers with higher resolutions and I've sent it to publisher. No news from them.

I was sort of demoralized by the illness and I was worried about work, and also because my laptop was broken...but yesterday, I turned it on without expecting for it to actually turned on but it did!

Laptop, healed thyself!

I think it refused to turned on when I was sick so I actually got some rest and now that I'm all better, it leaped into service. XD.

Anyway, my new niece arrived today in the afternoon. YEY!

My sister is dealing with her job interview.

Aaaaand, my mom isn't feeling to well.

Aaaaaaaaaaand....man, I need to carve me some writing time. Haven't written anything since the novella deal. 

OH, AND FINALLY RECEIVED MAIL FROM CC! It was pretty crumpled when it arrived but nothing a good frame couldn't fix. I hope. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH IT. And with the self-made key chain that came with it. And a letter. D'awwwww.

Mood Journal

One of the things I hate are people who dismiss your pain. As if just because they don't consider it important, or that they've never felt that way, then it must be something that you can just shake off.

Well, depression doesn't work that. It sticks, it clings and it smothers. All you can do is keep moving on and keep doing stuff and not let it have too strong of a hold on you.

But one day it will no matter how much you fight it and yes, you will feel like dying inside and all you want to do is shut out the world because it's just too much, because people are just too much, because feelings are just too much. You curl up inside yourself and let everything hurt and bleed and fester and hope you can resurface.

Then you go back to moving and breathing and doing.

And that pain is real and it is real and nobody can tell you any different. But you are going to beat it down and stand up again and struggle through it. And you will make yourself happy by doing things that you love and finding things that you will love day after day. Because your happiness is not up to other people, it is up to you. AND YOU ARE GOING TO BE HAPPY, DAMN IT.

...I'm moving to Balikpapan btw.

Those moments

You know those moments, when you realize that you've passed a milestone from childhood to adulthood?

People experience those moments in different ways. For me, it's when I outgrow a book. When rereading a book, a passage or a scene that had seemed so big and wondrous for me suddenly seemed ordinary. Or when that really wonderful thing happened, when I suddenly understood something that years before I didn't, that a phrase that didn't mean anything suddenly did. That I could relate to something I couldn't before.

That for me is a sign that, yes, I have experienced things, have lived through events in my life that added to and made me to who I am now and because of it, I could understand this book, this character like I couldn't before.

Those moments makes me sad and wistful but also bittersweetly happy. 

Mood Journal Day...whatever.

Still have no clue where I put my bag. I'm not too worried because I know--AHA, my sister finally got out of her room, sheepishly carrying my bag. I KNEW IT. I asked her twice whether my bag was in her room but she said no out of laziness. BOO.

Anyhoo, I think it was yesterday that editor texted that she thinks that my layout process of my book is finally finished. Maybe. She hasn't given me any confirmation, yet.

Anyway, hey, I have a dreamcast for you. Safia Leharmua from my story Fateless!

Anyway, we have only one kitten left, I'm calling her Solo because, well, for obvious reasons. Her eyes are currently swollen though and I'm worried about that.

And mama-cat has the flu.

And I am...well, I'm fine actually.

I do need to loose some weight, my feet are killing me.

Touched: The Sword

Here's the blurb that I've been working on:

My name is Leah Curran and my life sucks.
While other people inherit boxes of junk from their relatives, my family inherits powers. And not even cool powers. I have the ability to sense Angels, Demons and most importantly the Touched; people who are graced and cursed with the power of Angels and Demons,  responsible for keeping the balance between Good and Evil. When it came to them, my mother only had one rule; avoid them at all cost. I broke that rule and lost my mother because of it.
Now I try to live a quiet, careful life with my uncle’s family and my best friend, Gabe. But once in a while the universe likes to kick you in the face just to remind you that you are small and insignificant. The Touched are gathering in my small little town of nowhere, and some of them know me and know what I can do. Some of them want to hurt me, some of them want to use me, and so little few want to protect me. Avoiding them is no longer an option.
I will finally have the chance to do something that I have been hopelessly wishing for since the night my mother disappeared; a chance to fight back.
I have been waiting for this, I have trained for this. It’s time to do or die.

Day 3: Mood Journal

General Mood: Nothing special

I think I spent most of time sleeping today since I only went to bed like 3 in the morning, then was woken up by my mom at 9 to give the little monkey a bath and to clean out the closet for stuff that we're not using. Then I continued sleeping until around 1 where I showered, folded laundry, fed my cats, fed monkeys, ate, then made banana bread.

Then I had to cook for my sisters then I only had a small amount of time to write which I spent drawing while waiting for the bread to be ready.

Then I had to put my sisters to sleep. And now I'm finally here.

Anyways, made this sketch, inspired by Mey Yeng's poem The Hole and Hourglass, it's a quick sketch and it's not even finished yet but I thought I should put it here so at least I could show I had something done today. Procrastination is strong with me.

There's a hole in my chest

Where an hourglass sits perfectly

Watching tears fall in uniform drops

Going drip, drip, drip

Today, because of something that happened with a friend a couple of days ago got me thinking about privacy. I like my privacy, I LOVE my privacy. I like talking about myself (obviously) but not when it comes about personal stuff.

And I think because of it, it had restrained any curiosity I have about other people's life, even my friends. I always feel strange about why people want to know about other people's life, much less people that you don't actually know, like all those shows about celebrities? I'm like pssh, I'd rather read a book or watch a good movie.

And then I realize that this outlook I have about privacy is actually something that I have since I was a kid, and since I live in a small, close-knit, sheltered community that has everyone know about everyone, it kind of gives you the idea of how oblivious or some would say intentionally set apart I was from most people.

For instance, when my mother asks about my friend and who their parents are I'm like, "I dunno". And at that second I have this tone in my voice that would probably tell the one who are talking to me about of how completely ridiculous that question sounds to me. My logic was--and still is--I am friends with her/him...not their family. What interests me, what I like is him/her, not them. Those two things have no connection and they exists separately in my mind.

I have befriend people who I have known since kindergarten...and I STILL have no clue who their parents are (which, as I think back on it, is REALLY weird, since we are a REALLY close-knit group) or how many siblings they have.

And that kind of attitude is still relevant to how I connect with my friends now. Of course some of them wants me to meet their family and of course when that happens I try my best to be kind and polite. But even then, it's not like I want to suck up to the family but more like, okay, his/her family is important to them, my good relationship to his/her family is important to them so I will be on my best behavior.

My views on friendship is quite liberal, I think. Even now, I can count on one hand the people that I am friends with and interestingly enough, the closer I am, the lesser we talk when we are apart. Oh, we text, sure, but usually over random comments and never a 'conversation'.

But when we do get together, we usually hang out and can talk all day, still comfortable and at ease like we see each other every day.

I'm lucky in that way, that my friendships are with people that are confident in their relationships so they don't cling. Whenever I'm in my hibernation mode, they understand and they leave me well alone. It's awesome.

But, even then, there are some aspects to my views of friendship that seem peculiar to other people. For instance, when I met this one friend, our schedule clashed with her appointment to her doctor and she really needed to go to her doctor so, I'm like, "we should go". And she keeps apologizing to me like it's a problem and I'm like, "dude, chill. We were going to hang out, look, we're hanging out."

And she's like, "This is okay? I mean, don't you want to go somewhere?"

Me, "I'm here to see you."

And she has this look on this face that kind of gives me an inkling of how weird that sounds to her. I guess to her, a day with a friend is like going to the mall or somewhere where you can do stuff. To me, a day with a friend can be anywhere; a trip to the dentist, grocery shopping, sitting at home reading without even having to speak to each other.

To me friendship isn't about sharing your secrets or experiences or whatever, it is creating a quiet space inside your heart, inside your life for them to make a home in, for them to feel safe and not fear of rejection or ridicule.

About the Responsibility of Being A Writer

Writing comes naturally to me. I do it not only because I want to do it but because it’s something that well, just is to me.

It’s either that or spend days of walking around with a crowded brain, filled with characters and scenes and dialog rattling inside my head.

I do it to please myself.

But when I write, when I’m neck deep into a story, I don’t only think of pleasing myself, I think of pleasing my readers. Scenarios bloom inside my head and I write it down with thoughts of “If I was reading this book, I would want it to happen like this” and that works for me. And it also works for my readers.

It works because I write to share my story, not just to channel what I have in my mind. I want my readers to love my characters, to relate to them, to feel with them, to sympathize and empathize…so I sometimes don’t get other writers that just write whatever they want or people who defend themselves by saying, well, it’s my story. I can do whatever I want.

*shrug* but I guess, that’s their right. But they’re missing out on one of the greatest experience that a writer can have; connecting with their readers.

I felt pride and happiness if a reader claimed that she sighed when my character sighed, cried when my character cried, felt anger when my character was angry because what’s the damn point of telling a story that people won’t care about?

If they just read it for the sake of reading, they might as well read a textbook.

But, sometimes, being a writer or any other artist I suspect, have their burden. Certain responsibilities of what they put out into the world; some kind of message or symbolism that they convey through their art.

We, as the artist, may not meant to do so, but sometimes people latch on to the strangest things when they are troubled.

You might not think your work means something other than just a pretty, exciting thing but some people would think of it as something else.

One of my readers mentioned that one of my stories helped her out of a very difficult situation in her life, her brother had died in an accident and since the characters of my story was also dealing with a loss of a love one, she managed to relate to them and somehow, it helped her out.

I didn’t see how it could because the story was dealing with some dark emotions and my characters were falling apart every which way…but maybe, that was what helped her. Maybe sadness or grief was like a poisonous wound and you have to purge all the poison for the wound to finally heal. And reading about my characters being true to their grief, probably helped her out in voicing hers.

I’m glad I managed to do that for her.

I admit to a certain range of reluctance and anxiety that I managed to influence her life like that but, that’s what art is all about, right?

I also admit to a sudden attack of the conscious, I started thinking, “should I be more careful about what I write? Should I tone things down?” Then of course I shrug those thoughts away.

While it is true that art can influence people in a certain way, humans are not Pavlov dogs. They are not an empty vessel waiting to be filled with ideas and idiosyncrasies. They can think for themselves, decide for themselves, and pick and choose which idea suit them for the better.

I know. I know. Utterly naive, right?

But that is how I am. That was how I was raised. My parent’s didn’t do any parental control about what I watched. I watched Kung Fu movies since I could walk, scenes with violence and drugs (of course I didn’t understand what it was) and kick ass. My brothers killed and played warrior in video games.

And I had always known the difference between reality and games. So, if I could do it, why not other people?

So, with that thought, I stayed writing as I have. And it hasn’t failed me yet. Here’s to hoping it would never will.