Sunday, October 26, 2014

#SundayFundayNovel Update

A few months ago I had this fun idea: to start a project that I work on only on Sundays. A Sunday Novel. My goal? To write fast and free, without edit, and only for me. To write like I’m the only one who’s ever going to read it.

It’s been 12 Sundays, and here’s how things are progressing:

1.)   I’ve only missed one Sunday.

2.)  I’ve written 21,000 words. That means at least 1,750 words per Sunday.

3.)  I spend 1 to 2 hours writing each time.

4.)  Which means I’m writing WAY faster than I usually do. About twice as fast.

5.)  And most importantly: I’m having SO MUCH FUN.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun with a project. You know how it feels when you start reading a book and you love it and you can’t wait until you can sit down and read another chapter? That’s the feeling. I look forward to every Sunday writing session.

I can do whatever I want with this story. It’s mine. Yes, I’m published and I’m planning on publishing more novels, but this one is just for me. If it turns out to be for you too, then great. But right now it’s mine and I’m have a great time with it.

If you want to start a #SundayFundayNovel, connect with meon Twitter

Monday, October 20, 2014

I kill people for a living--but I didn't kill the YA Scream Queens!

Who me, kill a YA Scream Queen? 

Oh, please. If I was going to kill someone, don’t you think I would be capable of planning the deed so I wouldn’t be implicated? I’m a writer, for heaven’s sake—I kill off characters all the time.

Now, if I was going to kill someone I’d make sure to have a solid alibi. Have I mentioned that I’ve been at Disney—the happiest place on EARTH—for the last week? Every single Disney princess can vouch for me. I think I still have glitter in my hair.

I’d also never do the actual deed myself. Leave possible traces of my own DNA evidence behind at the scene for some plucky CSI detective to find? Hello…I’m not an amateur here.

That leads us to the, ahem, for-hire specialist. If I wanted to permanently silence someone, I would most definitely make sure I employed someone who would be meticulous and--best of all--quiet about their chosen profession. Think along the lines of The Transporter. And if that makes you think of Jason Statham, well, that’s never hurt anyone, right?

So in short, to be accused of killing a YA Scream Queen is just plain insulting. I do hope they find the real killers. Then again, if someone like me planned their murders, it’s highly unlikely.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

YA Scavenger Hunt! RED TEAM

Hi all!

I'm Page Morgan, author of The Dispossessed series—dark, romantic novels about shape-shifting gargoyles in Paris at the turn of the last century. Think demon hunters, gargoyles, and the girls who love them ;-) Thanks for stopping by my little corner of the 9th Annual YA Scavenger Hunt! For those of you new to the hunt, check out how to play here

Today I’m hosting Rin Chupeco, author of THE GIRL FROM THE WELL. Welcome Rin!


Before we get to Rin’s exclusive content, let’s get to know her a little, shall we?

About the girl: 
Rin Chupeco once wrote obscure manuals for complicated computer programs, talked people out of their money at event shows, and did many other terrible things. She now writes about ghosts and fairy tales, but is still sometimes mistaken for a revenant.

About the book: 
Okiku is a lonely soul. She has wandered the world for centuries, freeing the spirits of the murdered-dead. Once a victim herself, she now takes the lives of killers with the vengeance they’re due. But releasing innocent ghosts from their ethereal tethers does not bring Okiku peace. Still she drifts on.

Such is her existence, until she meets Tark. Evil writhes beneath the moody teen’s skin, trapped by a series of intricate tattoos. While the neighbors fear him, Okiku knows the boy is not a monster. Tark needs to be freed from the malevolence that clings to him. There’s just one problem: if the demon dies, so does its host.

And now for Rin’s exclusive content! Here’s a scene from the upcoming, yet-to-be-titled sequel to THE GIRL FROM THE WELL:

I’m no hero, believe me. I’ve never rescued babies from burning buildings. I’ve never volunteered to save humpback whales or the rainforest. I’ve never been in protest rallies, never fed the hungry in Africa, never righted any of the eighty thousand things wrong with the world these days. Heroism isn’t a trait commonly found in teenage boys.

Stupidity, though. We’ve got that in spades.

Stupidity is why I’m huddled up behind a large sofa-bed, underneath a heavy blanket already partially drenched in my own sweat despite the AC humming in the otherwise silence. The television is tuned to the least scariest show I could find: a Jersey Shore rerun - horrifying in its own way, but not in the way that matters, which is the most important thing. I’m keeping an eye on the TV screen, and not because I’m eagerly awaiting Snooki’s next freak-out.

I’m watching the screen because I want to know when it’s coming to find me.

Earlier that night, I’d taken a raggedy-looking doll, cotton stuffing already scooped out, and replaced it with uncooked rice and a few fingernail clippings. I sewed it up again with red thread - when you’ve done this enough times as I have, sewing becomes as good a weapon as any. Then I waited for 3 am to roll around before filling the bathtub up with water and sticking the doll inside.

“Dumbelina, you’re it.” The name was not my idea, but it was what I had to work with. Using the same name from the ritual Sondheim and his girlfriend started and never finished - that’s how it knows you’re singling it out specifically, to play with. Just to ensure there were no misunderstandings, I said ‘You’re it.’ two more times.

The doll, like most dolls, said nothing. It gazed up at me from beneath the water, a drowned ball-jointed Ophelia made in some obscure sweatshop in China. Synthetic brown hair and plastic eyes in a yellow broadcloth dress. Common enough, the kind that could have been a knock-off of a knock-off.

But then the air changes. Then comes that invisible spider crawling up my spine, the one tickling the hairs behind my neck. That invisible spider I have grown to know these last couple of years, the one that whispers there’s something else in the room; breathing with you, watching you, grinning at you.

I hate that damn spider.

For one moment, the stringy brown hair glittered a shiny black sheen underneath the florescent lights. For one moment, I saw the doll’s glassy gaze take on just that faintest tinge of malicious self-awareness. For one moment, that damn thing’s head broke through the water’s surface, and looked at me.

I switched off the lights. I backed out of the bathroom, closed the door. I hid.

It sounds pretty idiotic, playing hide-and-go-seek with a doll. It’s not. It’s part of the rules I gotta play by.

The first rule is this: I have to finish the game. No matter what happens.

AHHHH, Rin! Thanks for sharing that scene with us, though I'm officially FREAKED OUT. It has at least 26 scary things about it. *wink wink*

For more about Rin, visit her website and of course, order up the fabulous sounding THE GIRL FROM THE WELL! 

As a BONUS GIVEAWAY, leave a comment and add my blog to your G+ circle (or follow me Twitter) for a chance to win a signed hardcover of THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE CURSED! I'll choose a winner on Oct. 6!

And now, Hunters, you’re off to visit another Team Red author, JENNIFER MCGOWAN!