a christmas gift to readers

so, i lovelovelove christmastime. i love the music (yes, shut up, you know you do, too), the decorations, the trees, gift-giving, the excitement children feel, and the general sense of togetherness that binds us all together.

so it's interesting that i never write about christmas in any of my stories. i guess i've just never felt the need to, even though i know, surely, some of my characters must celebrate it? and then this year, as i'm working through AMOF 2, i realized i actually DID have a christmas story to share. but it wasn't for AMOF 2, it was a flashback that happened years before AMOF. and it wasn't for chloe, or jonah, or kellan, but for karl. who, as some of you may know, happens to be one of my very favorite characters.

i always knew, going into his story, that karl was one of those guys who loved winter time. and i knew why--it was just, i never had room to tell any of this stuff. until now.

so, this is my christmas present to you. i hope you like discovering how karl finally found the girl of his dreams.

* * * * *

It was snowing again, light, small flakes that stuck rather than melted. Annar was pretty when it white—not that Karl would ever admit that out loud to anyone. He preferred winter to summer, always had, ever since he was little and fell in love with the literal girl of his dreams while building a lopsided snowman named Fred.

            Fred made an annual reappearance for ten years straight every Christmas Eve, down to the exact row of crooked seashells used for buttons and weathered beach glass used for eyes. He’d been painstakingly reconstructed, not from a photo, but shared memory. It became a game of sorts, rebuilding Fred, especially as it was done amongst much laughter and teasing and eventual kissing, slow kissing that melted the snow under bodies—but in all honesty, it was probably Karl’s favorite holiday tradition.

            Until, of course, he turned sixteen and there were no more snowmen to be made in his dreams or in reality.

            For an entire year, he’d refused to go skiing with his parents or snowboarding with any of his friends. He was the lone holdout for a New Year’s trip to Aspen to stay in some fabulous cabin that was more like a chalet, which, for months, his friends ragged on him for. And whenever anybody challenged him to a snowball fight, which he used to live for, because damn, was he a good shot, he practically bit their heads off with his insistences that only babies play in the snow.

            But then, shortly after his seventeenth birthday and a series of stern talking-tos from his father, grandfather, and friends, he drug his snow boots out of his closet and allowed himself to be drug to Switzerland for a ski weekend. He told himself that he was going to reclaim winter as his—that he wasn’t going to allow some fantasy girl that’d never been real in the first place take away something that meant so much to him.

            And now, now he was set to head to Aspen after all, with a group of friends and his girlfriend of the last five months who, frankly, hated the snow but loved him enough to give snowboarding a try. “I’m Australian,” she teased him when he brought the trip up. “We surf, not ski.”

            A deal was struck. He’d go surfing with her in Australia if she went skiing with him in Colorado.

            But before they could go, he had to have the obligatory Christmas Eve dinner with his parents. It was the first time he’d be bringing a girlfriend, and his mother was beyond ecstatic. She had begged Karl to invite his girlfriend. As far as Karl could tell, his mom was already knitting baby hats. It made him nervous, and he’d been wishy-washy for weeks before deciding once and for all to actually invite Kiah to come.

            He hadn’t even bought her a present yet, which definitely made him a crappy boyfriend. And it was going to make him late to dinner for sure, but he wasn’t going to show up at her door empty handed.

            Annar’s streets were crowded—they always were—but he knew where he wanted to go. There was a Dwarven jewelry cart a block over, and he’d noticed the perfect necklace for Kiah just yesterday when he was rushing to class. It was a silver moon surrounded by dark blue stones, which made him think of nighttime and dreams, which was apt as she was a Dreamer.

            Which was truly ironic, as he felt like it had been his dreams that had messed him up good for years and probably still explained why he was the kind of crappy boyfriend who forgot to get his girlfriend a present until Christmas Eve. Because, really—who falls in love with girls they meet in their dreams?

            Lunatics, that’s who, he thought sourly.

            Finally, the cart came into view; Karl checked his watch—he still had twenty whole minutes before Kiah expected him to knock on her door, thirty minutes before they were to meet his folks at the restaurant two blocks from her building. Maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself as he trudged toward the cart, he’d come out of this alive. Make it through Christmas Eve like a normal person rather than feeling like he’d lost a central piece of his soul.

            A group of girls were hogging space at the cart, giggling over rings and bracelets. Normally, Karl would wait until they moved on—his dad would kick his ass if he ever presented himself to be anything other than a gentleman—but time was a’wasting. He gently shoved his big frame into a small space in between two of the six girls while murmuring apologies. They stepped aside, oohing and awing about how sweet it was that a guy was buying jewelry.

            The necklace found, Karl stepped back, ready to head over to the cashier, but froze in his tracks. One of the girls who’d been at the end of the cart was now standing right in front of him, not a foot away. She was short and had corkscrew dark hair that always frizzed in the snow and a constellation of freckles across her nose. She was wearing a ratty yellow peacoat that was a hand-me-down from her grandmother with buttons that she’d found in thrift stores across America.

            He knew these things about her. He knew her.

            It was like someone had punched him in the gut. Impossible. Absolutely impossible. He felt his mouth fall open, like some thirteen-year-old asshole who was staring at the first hot girl he’d ever really noticed. Only, this wasn’t the first time he’d ever seen this particular girl—not so much hot, but more like incandescently beautiful, which made him sound like more of a pathetic asshole for even thinking such a corny thing.

            Her dark eyes went wide, like she’d been punched, too. “Karl?”

            This girl, who’d he’d dreamed about for most of his life, had fallen in love with while building a snowman on a snowy beach year after year, was somehow standing right in front of him while he was right about to buy his girlfriend a Christmas present.

            He didn’t know what to say. What to do.

            “You know that guy, Moira?” one of the other girls asked her. But Moira didn’t answer. She just kept on staring at Karl, like she expected him to say something.

            You left me, he wanted to say. You made me love you and then you left me. Even more importantly, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He wanted to lose himself in her. And then he wanted to kick himself, because hello. The whole fact that he wanted to do any of this with a slip of girl was just as crazy as he must be. 

            “You’re not real,” he finally told her.

            The girl standing next to Moira laughed, like what he said was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

            It was enough to snap him out of his reverie. He took a step back and then side-skirted Moira, like she was contagious. An illness, or worse yet—a weakness, which she was, he couldn’t help but think. She’d broken him when all his life, he’d been invincible.

            If she was even real. If he was even awake. If he wasn’t hallucinating.

            He threw a wad of cash at the Dwarf—more than the necklace cost, that was for sure. And then he practically fled from the cart, wishing it was summer.

more chances to win AMOF!

so, friends! there are currently two contests going right now where you can win a copy of a matter of fate!

first up is a giveaway of a paperback over at goodreads.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

A Matter of Fate

by Heather Lyons

Giveaway ends December 12, 2012.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter to win

AMOF is also up for grabs as an ebook over at the book asylum, as part of a mega book giveaway. i will be so jealous of the winner who nabs 22 books. YES, 22!! one of the them is the divine sea of tranquility by katja millay, a book i just read and totally adored. go HERE to enter before the contest is over on thursday, november 15. winners will be announced on friday!

short story--gardening in suburbia

so, happy halloween, all! i wanted to share a story with you that i first wrote way back in (coughcough) high school for a seasonal writing contest. i forgot all about it for years until a halloween reading was announced for the writing group i belong to. as i'm not much of a horror writer, i dug this one out and overhauled it completely, leaving only the bare bones of the original behind. i hope you enjoy it!

Gardening in Suburbia

The man squinted into the overly bright sky. There was nary a cloud to be found, just a wide expanse of a reversed calm ocean which left him feeling as if his body was compact. Insignificant. A speck of dust amongst a great vastness.

            It was a good feeling, considering.

He stayed this way, squinting into the blue, until the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. This was how it was between them, how it always had been. How he figured it always would be.

            “I’ve been thinking that perhaps we ought to start a garden.”

            There was a very long pause, once he’d anticipated as she came to stand next to him. “Oh?” she asked, and it was done warily. “What brought this on?”

            His body shifted just enough that a small sliver of his arm brushed against hers. It was always good to have this bit of contact, even though it chilled his blood considerably. “It’s what one does in a place like this, is it not?”

She glanced around their new backyard. While clean and tidy, it was barren of any of the extraneous plants and ornamentations many of the other neighbors had. This had been a purposeful choice on her behalf, and until this day, he’d supported it wholeheartedly. “All right, then,” she said slowly. “A garden we shall have.”

            “Some other things, too.” He tested the waters delicately. “A table perhaps. Some chairs?”

            This clearly surprised her, for her eyes widened. They were very lovely eyes, dark and expressive, black pools he’d long ago drowned in. “Are you sure?”

            The grass in front of him was neat, mowed and edged to exact perfection. It was something to surely be proud of, but it was also…

            Simply grass.

            He shrugged and said quietly, “It would please me.”

            It was obvious she tampered down any further comments about their past for the moment, but she did it, as he knew she would. It was so rare he ever asked for anything. He was content to be the giver in their relationship, the provider, so when these moments came up, she tended to take them seriously. “Very well.” Her voice was muted here in their open space. “There is a store nearby that I think will serve our needs. I overheard one of the neighbors informing another that a spouse was dispatched to it for various home improvement sundries. If we go now”--and here she peered into the sky--“we will still have enough time for tonight.”

            Our needs. Music to his ears.

The drive to the store was a serene one. The windows were down in their leased Volvo and a radio station blared cheerful yet misogynistic lyrics and he was driving and she relaxed in the seat next to him. It was good to have these small moments, where they were simply people out doing what people did.

            It made him feel like who he was, at the core. Who he’d been. 
            Who he hoped to reclaim in the end.

           She broke their silence first. “Women around here cook." He reached over and turned the music off so he could hear her soft burr better. “They bake. Somebody came by yesterday with brownies.”

            “Did they?”

            “I accepted them and then threw them away.”

            “Ah,” he murmured softly.

            “It was a . . . kind gesture,” she continued. “To welcome us, I believe. I also overheard a couple other women discussing a bake sale to help with one of the local schools.” Her dark hair swished as she lolled her head towards him. “I should try baking sometime.”

            He couldn't help but tease. “To help fundraise for school?” 

            Those black eyes, much like buttons, blinked slowly at him and then focused elsewhere. “Perhaps,” was all she was willing to concede.

The store she’d led them to was enormous, like a giant’s box set to earth and then surrounded by flat, gray concrete. It reeked of sawdust and of oil and a bit of staleness. They wandered the labyrinths inside, pushing a germ-infested metal cart forcibly highlighted with orange plastic.           

            “It’s dead in here,” she commented as they gazed upon faucets they had no need for.

            He did not answer. She didn’t need a response, nor, did he believe, wanted one.

            Eventually, as they deliberated tables both glass and plastic, she asked, “This garden you want.”

            He ran a finger across a plastic table and suppressed a shiver. It felt wrong, like an abomination. Plastic did no being any favors, especially him. “Yes?”

            “May I have input?”

            It was a carefully considered question, that was to be sure. And an encouraging one as well. “I would be delighted to have your ideas, leannán. What did you have in mind?”

            “It has been . . . awhile since I have had the opportunity to sow earth, but as you surely must remember, I once possessed what was considered a very fine green thumb.”

            Her ability to manipulate plants was legendary and shouldered much of the impetus of how he’d come to be hers. He’d remembered this, of course, as he’d pondered the decision to own a garden once more over the last few days.

            Youth was always a rosy time to reflect upon. It was glorious how memories could make past wrongs come out looking liking shining examples of exactly the right things to do.

            “You did, indeed.” His words were soft as he selected a small, wooden table which could be folded up. 

            “Botany is a lost art nowadays. Everything is so . . .” Her gaze wandered off, her eyes darker than normal. And then she sighed. “I miss the old days. I miss the magic and simplicity that came with life.”

            As did he, ironically.

            “I would like to do this for you, muirnín. I would like to craft you a garden to be proud of. May I do this for you?”

            He thought back to the garden he’d found himself in so many years ago, of the soft, peaty loam and the dense, earthy scents that’d so easily overwhelmed him. She’d not possessed such a garden in ages, not since he’d joined her. It’d been a concession to him–an unspoken one that offered loyalty and penance. For many years, he’d been grateful for just such a thing.

            Now . . .

            Now those rosy memories were tugging at him in such vicious, sentimental ways.

            He conceded this change of heart to her with a small, deft inclination of his head, fully understanding what he was agreeing to.

            They selected a couple of chairs in silence–wooden and slated–and paid for them and the table at a register run by a very pretty girl. She must have been in her twenties, flushed with enthusiasm and hormones, and fawned over him without nary a glance at his other.

            The girl pressed the receipt into his outstretched hand longer than necessary. “Are you new around here?” 

            Her name tag read Siobhan. He’d known a Siobhan, once. She’s been a fun one, the Siobhan of his past.

            A smile was passed to the girl who looked nothing like the one from his youth, and she blushed.

            “Too old,” was tut-tutted from behind, but it was laced with distraction.

            He turned away from the sales clerk and studied the woman he’d bound himself to. Her eyes were scanning–-narrowed and calculating, plotting exact measurements.

            For him. Once more.

            “If I recall correctly,” he said gently, “I wasn’t young, either.”

            Her black eyes flicked to him as they walked toward the automatic doors. “This is different. I am going to create a masterpiece for you, and it will require time to flourish. We are staring fresh, muirnín. Good gardens always require youth to start with.” She paused and tentatively reached a hand out to lay against his forearm. It was cold, as always, but somehow it was the most lovely feeling in the world, an addiction he’d never been able to stave off. “I want to give you something beautiful, like you’ve given me.”

            He stared at her in awe over how obsession and love could be so easily intertwined in situations such as theirs.

            “Excuse me,” came a small voice to their left. They both swiveled and looked down at a child dressed in green with round patches decorating her garb. She motioned to a table nearby, resplendent with boxes. “We’re selling cookies. Would you like to buy some?”

            “Darling child, I would be delighted,” his mate told the child.

Later that evening, as he sat at his wooden table, he watched her set to work in the birthing of their garden. Her nails were already black with earth, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, a glow set about her that he hadn’t seen in centuries.

            She was content, for she was doing what she’d always meant to be doing.

            Not everyone could lay claim to having a nursery rhyme created for them, he mused. But she did, his lovely, lovely Mary. Because of him, she’d squelched her true nature for too long, but he’d been ready to give her this opportunity to stretch her muscles and reclaim a bit of who she’d once been.

            Who he’d been, before she’d buried him that first time.

            He reached over and tore open a box of cookies. There were six on the table, two for each girl that now found herself feeding the new garden.

            Mary, Mary, how does your garden grow? he thought with a stab of furious pride. He’d been the first, the only to have his fortune reversed. With silver bells, and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.

            His bells were long gone.

            “We’ll need more,” Mary told him as she brushed her hands against her long skirt. “Three isn’t enough to do what I want. I’ll need a good dozen, at least.”

            A cookie was offered to her. “Of course.” 

            She took the treat from him and clearly savored the minty chocolate, as a low hiss of satisfaction emitted from somewhere deep inside her chest. And then, “Belladonna would look gorgeous back here. Hemlock, too. Perhaps some nightshade. And some white oleander, to be sure.”

            His smile broke wide.

            Maybe this new home, this new place, was exactly what they needed.

© 2011 by Heather Lyons

           

WIN a copy of AMOF!

so, FRIENDS!

would you like a free autographed copy of my recently released YA fantasy/romance a matter of fate? if the answer is yes, then you have a couple days to go enter the contest over at free book friday--i'm the featured indie author of the week! plus, i have an interview over there for you to read (yes, yes, OF COURSE i discuss music). you have until thursday night to enter!

go HERE to win yourself one of four autographed copies.

happy birthday, amof!

so, friends! FRIENDS! today is the official publication day for my YA fantasy/romance novel a matter of fate. HOORAY!!

it is a wild, fantastic, exhilarating, and terrifying day all at once.

this story has been percolating in my head since i was in high school, to be honest. the details of the very first versions are radically different than what amof is now (there was time travel to medieval england and was hilariously awful; thankfully, as it was written on a word processor--damn i'm old!--it shall never see the light of day)--but the bare bones concept was the same: a girl, struggling with her own identity and weighty expectations on her shoulders. and, oh yeah, hot twin brothers.

side note: this is particularly amusing for me now as i actually HAVE twin sons. and no--the ones in the story (which are identical; mine are fraternal) are in no way based on my own, who are six and thankfully (mostly?) girl-problem free.

but anyway! i am so excited to share this story and these characters with you. amof has been a labor of love for me, that's for sure.

as i've already shared the cover a couple times (indeed, even in the last post!), i thought i'd share a photo that really symbolizes--at least to me--the main character of amof, chloe:

(sunshine on my mind was created by amamak photography and can be purchased via etsy HERE)

want to read a matter of fate? here's a breakdown of all the places you can get it!

* the easiest/quickest way is to head over to the bookstore page on my main site; there are easy-to-click icons that will take you to the various stores. go HERE to find them.

* kindle owners: buy a .mobi friendly copy HERE at amazon.

* nook and other e-book owners: buy an .epub friendly copy HERE at barnes and noble.

* paperback lovers: order your very own copy HERE.

i would love to hear from readers! feel free to email me anytime. happy reading!

AMOF news!

so, first off, an official release date for everyone waiting for my upcoming debut novel, a matter of fate:

thursday, august 30.

!!!!

i am so, so excited to share this book with you, friends! you will be able to buy e-copies from amazon and barnes and noble and get yourself paperback versions from createspace and amazon (i believe?). anywho! links will be published here on THURSDAY.

HOWEVER!

i have just found out that amazon has gone ahead, jumped the gun, and released the book already! the truth is, when i saw the link, i actually screamed. yes, screamed. like a little, excited girl because honestly? that's how i feel right now.

soooooo! for you kindle users, or ipad or ipod e-book readers with a kindle app, you may go forth and buy a matter of fate early!

once more, the official blurb:

Chloe Lilywhite struggles with all the normal problems of a typical seventeen-year-old high school student. Only, Chloe isn’t a normal teenage girl. She’s a Magical, part of a secret race of beings who influence the universe. More importantly, she’s a Creator, which means Fate mapped out her destiny long ago, from her college choice, to where she will live, to even her job. While her friends and relatives relish their future roles, Chloe resents the lack of say in her life, especially when she learns she’s to be guarded against a vengeful group of beings bent on wiping out her kind. Their number one target? Chloe, of course.

That’s nothing compared to the boy trouble she’s gotten herself into. Because a guy she’s literally dreamed of and loved her entire life, one she never knew truly existed, shows up in her math class, and with him comes a twin brother she finds herself inexplicably drawn to.

Chloe’s once unyielding path now has a lot more choices than she ever thought possible.

and the incredibly awesome cover:

you can buy a matter of fate from amazon HERE.

i look forward to hearing what you all think of chloe's story!

the atolls--who shouldn't be quiet

so, recently, i was asked to refer a band for an arts event, but the truth is, while i've interviewed plenty of muscians and have reviewed a kabillion songs, i didn't actually have anybody local to refer. the husband, though, did. of course he did! he, the pre-eminent music snob in the household, is more knowledgeable about these things. i mean, dude is pretty hard to stump when it comes to music. for example: random song on the radio--what is it? he'll know. inside a store, an intriguing song comes on. does he know it? of course. we also have the cd somewhere in the garage (i kid you not, one entire wall in our garage houses cds).

yet i digress.

the point here is that he summoned up a name of an indie-rock band one town over called the atolls, and lo-and-behold, the band was actually able to play the event. which was awesome! because we totally were looking forward to hearing them play, especially the husband who'd reviewed their album favorably (go HERE to read his original review). they're a bit eclectic, at times introspective and at others youthful and silly.

but the show so didn't go down the way it should have. and here's why.

the arts event was held in claremont (for those of you out-of-towners, it's a small college community outside of los angeles that shockingly goes quiet and calm early in the evenings) at a place that, upon first glance, seems like a quirky yet ideal location for a band to play a small set. but . . . then it was decided that the band had to dampen their drums, because the establishment didn't want to annoy its neighbors.

okay, said the band. and they did. the first song started off the way you'd expect a live band who isn't playing acoustically would (as they'd not been asked to go acoustic ahead of time). loudish (not too loud, though) and filled with energy. half-way through the song they were told they were too loud.

!!!??

so the poor lead singer, daniel martin, took a few steps back from the mic and tried his best to sing quieter and play his guitar more muted. and i mean, it was bonkers, because their set list was blown out of the water with the duo scrambling to ascertain which of their songs (after joking with the husband and i earlier in the evening about how loud their new stuff was) would be appropriate and easy to convert into softer songs. my heart went out to them, it really did, because the atolls have a vibe about them that practically shrieks fun and loudness, and here they were, dripping wet from the bucket of water dumped over their heads.

when they got around to their set closer, a nearly impossible to neuter tune called older nazi boyfriends, it was make or break time. the band (and i think the audience?) were sort of like, screw it! let's go out with a slightly diminished bang (because, hello--they're nice dudes who were still trying their best to meet the sound requirements). so they played a wee bit louder, and the audience was totally into it. it was like a light was turned on in everybody, and there was this general sense of YES, YES, WE LIKE LOUD(ISH) MUSIC! AND IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT! LET'S ROCK! but, as i'm sure you can guess, somebody came racing in to say AHHH!!!! QUIET! QUIET! NO LOUD(ISH) MUSIC FOR ANY OF YOU!

which was hilariously sad. i mean, the band sort of was like, uh, seriously? and the audience was like, ARE YOU KIDDING US? and the song was pretty much cut off with a, "thanks for coming and listening to our crazy-ass set that so didn't go the way we thought it would?"

it's safe to say that the husband and i were like, oh, man, these dudes must HATE us for recommending them for this gig! but of course, the duo, the aforementioned daniel and drummer chris barela, were totally gracious about it afterwards.

so, since that went horribly awry, i'm gonna recommend them here to you all. here's what you ought to know about the group: they don't completely stick to one genre, which makes them interesting to listen to. and martin has a voice that reminds me of musical theatre, all rich and deep--like you can imagine him belting out those show tunes but at the same time completely buying him in an indie band, too.

tangles, the first song i want to share with you all, is appropriately quiet. i totally dig this song. it's got this nice, muted guitar line that's reminiscent of shoe-gazing, in a way, only the song is so not shoe-gazing. what it is, though, is a sad song (and oh, how i love me the sad songs)--all achy and bittersweet, about wanting more but having to accept what you have if you want to keep it at all.

tangles of wire tying you to the floor
your tangled bracelets follow me to the door
the perfect reason, if only a reason

find you by the river, impressions in the sand
you found exactly what you always wanted
hidden in your hands

tangles of branches, lifting me to the sky
your tangled fingers touching me up so high
the perfect lover, if only a lover

find you by the river, i'm sorry that i stare
you know how to make it look so easy
it's more than i can bear

find you by the river, impressions in the sand

listen to/download the song for free below:



and, of course, i must share the turn-me-up, punkish older nazi boyfriends. it's also a not-so-happy tune, about domestic violence, but day-um, is it infectious.

she said i'm only as wet as you make me
so i made her cry
she said you shouldn't break my teenage heart
you'd like her to die

but that's what you get when you mess with
older nazi boyfriends, that's what you get when you
don't shut your pretty mouth

she said i gave you everything that you wanted
so why aren't you happy now
i said no
i know that your thoughts can't turn me down
i wanted it now

but that's what you get when you mess with older
nazi boyfriends, that's what you get when you wear
your collar like a crown

but if he gave you all the thoughts that keep you
up at night, and if he said the meanest things and
didn't treat you right, then girl go get your daddy's
gun, put up a real fight, yeah!

that's what you get when you mess with younger
beat up girlfriends, that's what you get when you
beat on pretty black eyed girls

that's what you get when you mess with younger
beat up girlfriends, that's what you get when you
don't shut your fucking mouth.



both of these songs are off of a self-entitled EP that you can grab for free off of the band's bandcamp site. go HERE to do so. while you're there, you can also grab their recent LP, get popular, for free, too! go HERE to get it.

new frightened rabbit!!!!!!

so, the husband just called me, instructed me to go to the hype machine, and had me search my favoritist band.

and there was a new song.

and i squee-ed, because i'm a dorky fangirl.

have a listen to state hospital, the latest by the sublime frightened rabbit. i am beyond psyched that i'll be seeing my favorite scottish boys at the troubadour this october here in la!

(apologies ahead of time if i've butchered these lyrics, which i most likely have)

the half back flip, conception
state hosptial birth
the most thread bare
tossed, only the country's ever heard
brought home
to breathe smoke in the arms of her mother
the blunt kitchen knife
who just lays, the submissive position
beneath the national weight and the slow arc of the fist

her hearts beats like a breeze block when thrown down the stairs
her blood is thicker than concrete
forced to be bred, she was born into a grave

and in the limp, through years of bored schooling,
she's accostomed to hearing that she can never run far
a slipped disk and a spine of community
a bloody curse word, named pedestrian verse
spirits and graveyards and fingers and carparks
she cries in the high street, just to be heard
a screaming anchor, for nothing in particular,
at the foot of it, and dragging her heels in the dirt

her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs
her blood is thicker than concrete
forced to be bred, she was born into a grave

cheek of youth, flashed red and turned green
now she lies in the pavement, she's helped to her feet
all flies here, and magpie handbags, sardines unified for the parade
she's brought home to keep warm
in the arms of a plumber
and he's ruddy and balding
who just need a spine to dig into
a chest through the head and a hand for the holding

her heart beats like a breeze block thrown down the stairs
her blood is thicker than concrete
forced to be bred, she was, she was . . .

oh, her heart beat like a breeze block thrown down the stairs
and her skin is thicker than concrete
forced to be bred, she was, she was . . .
a broken elevator anthem held between the floor
if blood is thicker than concrete
all is not lost
all is not lost
all is not lost
all is not lost
all is not lost

amof: cover reveal! release date info! and more!

so. i have exciting news to share!

a matter of fate, the first novel of my young adult urban fantasy series, will be finally released at the end of august! and this makes me ridiculously happy, because i can hardly wait to share this story and these characters with you all.

the official blurb:

Chloe Lilywhite struggles with all the normal problems of a typical seventeen-year-old high school student. Only, Chloe isn’t a normal teenage girl. She’s a Magical, part of a secret race of beings who influences the universe. More importantly, she’s a Creator, which means Fate mapped out her destiny long ago, from her college choice, to where she will ...live, to even her job. While her friends and relatives relish their future roles, Chloe resents the lack of say in her life, especially when she learns she’s to be guarded against a vengeful group of beings bend of wiping out her kind. Their number one target? Chloe, of course.

That’s nothing compared to the boy trouble she’s gotten herself into. Because a guy she’s literally dreamed of and loved her entire life, one she never knew truly existed, shows up in her math class, and with him comes a twin brother she finds herself inexplicably drawn to.

Chloe’s once unyielding path now has a lot more choices than she ever thought possible . . .

and here's the gorgeous cover (by carly stevens):

i am so in love with this. seriously, how fabulous is it? not to mention it completely represents chloe and her story on so many levels.

the husband was kind enough to set up a facebook author page for me, on which i'll be posting information on characters (during meet me monday features), songs/videos off of my writing playlist (longtime blog readers know just how rabid i am about my tunes), and more. go HERE to check it out: https://www.facebook.com/heatherlyonsbooks

also, i have a website for the series--world of annar. on it, you'll find the first chapter to read and an encyclopedia of terms, peoples, and places you'll find within the story.

i will have a more definitive release date to share with you all soon. you'll be able to find a matter of fate on amazon, barnes and noble, and createspace.

here's a song that got a lot of play while i wrote chloe's story: chemicals collide by cloud cult

i was out paying close attention
or was i lost inside my thoughts
these days it's hard to tell what's outside from what's in my mind
and oh god, it's beautiful
insatiable
the way our chemicals collide

i was out catching up to tomorrow
or was i caught up in the past
these days it's hard to tell what's out in front from what's behind
and oh god, it's unforgettable
unpredictable
the way our chemicals collide

i was sleeping in the lilies
or was i up all night
these days it's hard to tell what's half asleep from fully alive

we were loving like a landslide
or were we in a fight
these days it's hard to tell what's right from wrong and wrong from right

and oh god, it's beautiful
insatiable
the way our chemicals collide
and oh god, it's unforgettable
unpredictable
the way our chemicals collide





go HERE to listen to/buy music from cloud cult.

grammar nazi musings, based on recent events

so, for anybody who knows me in the smallest capacity knows that i am a grammar nazi. okay, okay . . . those who know me in the smallest capacity surely do not know this, but the point here is, i like grammar and feel like it's still relevant today. people who use poor grammar (or, heck, spell it grammer - oh, i'm such a gossip hound here, but a TEACHER I ONCE WORKED WITH actually had that word posted incorrectly on his/her wall IN THEIR CLASSROOM) grate on my nerves.

i'm sure you've seen it, too. people who write, "your the best." or perhaps, "their such nice guys." or any of the kabillion things we are taught IN GRADE SCHOOL.

speaking of . . .

i got a note from my kids' school yesterday, asking whether or not we were coming back in the fall. it's a standard note, one that helps schools predict enrollment. now, on this sheet of paper, there were three lines provided to write names; above those lines read: STUDENT'S NAMES.

friends.

oh, friends.

i was . . . (shhh) HORRIFIED. i know this probably wouldn't be the first reaction any of you would have, but when i saw that, i couldn't help but think to myself, "i send my kids to this school, to be educated, and whoever is sending out the memos can't even understand how possessive punctuation works?" i mean, this is what is taught IN GRADE SCHOOL. my kids GO TO GRADE SCHOOL. the people in charge of the school DO NOT KNOW THE THINGS THEY TEACH, or, perhaps even worse, DON'T CARE IF THEY USE IT PROPERLY IN OFFICIAL COMMUNICATIONS.

so i've debated with myself. do i turn the piece of paper in, edited? i know (having worked in education) that these are often forms used year after year. do i ignore it? see, it's hard to ignore such stuff, when it's done professionally. it is expected that businesses, no matter what kind, adhere to certain expectations. proper grammar (and spelling) are included in such expectations.

so, yeah. i'm going to talk to someone in the office and kindly point out the error.

also, i've been reading a lot of indie books lately in an effort to see what's good, what's bad, and what's working out there in the publishing world. specifically, i've been reading multiple indie series as i'm set to release one of my own soon. here's what i can tell you, as a reader, what works for me (in terms of indie books): proper editing and grammar.

there is this one series i've been reading (and no, i won't name names) that has a really fab plot line. the world building is excellent. the characters are fairly well developed (although, i'll admit to wanting to slap the protag a few times out of sheer annoyance) and show growth across the series. but . . . the author did very little editing (or, at least i'm assuming it was editing and not sheer ignorance of the english language). there were errors riddling the book. sentences were often poorly constructed, and punctuation was horrendous (and very often misused). and while i devoured the books solely based on the positive attributes listed above, i don't know if i'd actually recommend them to anyone. i feel torn, because i liked them. i genuinely did. but at the same time, i don't respect them.

if that makes sense?

it also makes me want to ensure that, thanks to actually hiring editors, i significantly lessen the opportunity for anybody to ever think this about my work.

it worries me that i hear/read more and more often that grammar isn't relevant anymore. a lot of people use the excuse that, thanks to technology and social media, there isn't a need for it. that things such as texting and instant messaging have made misspellings and incorrect grammar usage acceptable by societal norms. (i should note that i absolute refuse to ever type the word "you" as "u" and "your" as "ur" or any of those other text abbreviations; i mean, c'mon, is it REALLY THAT HARD TO TYPE OUT THREE LETTERS for "you?" it even bugs the crap out of me when artists such as prince do this. yes, even him. but i digress.) the husband, who used to teach high school, told me that he'd get essays turned in with such errors, and that the kids didn't know what they did was wrong.

as a writer, this makes me sad.

there is such a thing as stylistic writing. obviously, you can see that i utilize this, what with my lack of capital letters within this blog (and no--my books never are written in this style). but, i respect grammar. follow it. and wish more people did the same.

/end babblish, meandering (and hopefully grammatically correct) rant

/also wondering if i should have done the same as the following meme?

book of james by we are augustines

(warning: this post is caps heavy.)

so, i have been obsessed--friends, OBSESSED--with we are augustines for the last couple months. i have the steadily developed crushes on one song after another off of their album rise ye sunken ships. anytime somebody asks me, "anybody worth checking out?" i immediately come back with, "OMG, THERE'S THIS BAND CALLED WE ARE AUGUSTINES AND OMG THEY ARE SO GOOD AND OMG, THEIR MUSIC--THEIR MUSIC!!--YOU. MUST. LISTEN!!"

and then i realized, i hadn't yet said those words to you guys, my dear readers.

so, in case you haven't heard, OMG, MUSIC FRIENDS, THERE'S THIS BAND CALLED WE ARE AUGUSTINES AND OMG THEY ARE SO GOOD AND OMG, THEIR MUSIC--THEIR MUSIC!--YOU. MUST. LISTEN!!

you think i kid.

okay, today i'll give you my latest song crush by this great three-piece from brooklyn: book of james. and it's a doozy, friends. while catchy, it's really an ode to guitarist and song writer billy mccarthy's brother who committed suicide after a lengthy struggle with mental illness. oh, doesn't that just fit right in with my ever-lasting attraction to sad songs? but see, this one doesn't sound sad, despite gorgeous, heart-wrenching lyrics. it sounds so . . . springsteen-ish. and that only makes me love it more.

on a related note, i JUST NOW DISCOVERED they're performing in LA TONIGHT!! ARGH!

on a park bench sat a crimson beating heart
and behind him the girls played double dutch in the park
the sun began to burn his snow white skin
i guess you're either headin' somewhere or endin' up somewhere...

storm clouds began to form in his head
and crisscrossed his mind like a restless angry ocean
and the howling of hardship and heartache
kneeled and grinned in his face

he stood there in his boots unable to move
and i came here to tell you that i love you

and here lies, my green eyes
rolled back in my head, but they're alive
and all these words can all get spoken
just know we tried
and you're forgiven

he made his way down the boulevard
near the 99 cent stores and garbage in the yards
and he began sing
about the crickets and the backroads where we used to play

i guess your either headin' somewhere or endin' up somewhere...
cause i tried the bible, tried the bottle, tried the needle, tried to
love people
and in the end, there ain't much to say
and in the end, there ain't much to say, anyway
and i stand here in my shoes, unable to move
my hat in my hands, at the bottom of the ocean.

and here lies, my green eyes
rolled back in my head, but they're alive
and all the words can all get spoken
just know we tried
and you're forgiven

you're forgiven



go HERE to by rise ye sunken ships, the album book of james is off of. be prepared to put it on heavy rotation as you crush on each song.

words by doves

so, a quickie for today - a song that i inevitably will put on repeat with the volume up high anytime it comes up on the ol' ipod.

'cause, c'mon. who doesn't love some xylophone?

serious swoonage goes out to the guitar lines here, too.

and another thing!! by kid canaveral

so, woe is this blog, friends. how lonely it's been, without my attention. my inbox has been filling up with songs and every time i saw one of those emails, i would think, "i ought to be blogging about music," but then one of my characters would whisper in my ear, "stupid, do you want to get our book done or what?"

obvs, the characters won.

however! today song is actually one i've been writing to. and . . . i like it so much, it must be shared.

i've blogged in the past about how cool scotland's kid canaveral is. in fact, i think it was two years ago that i pegged one of their songs (left and right) as one of my 10 favorite songs of the year. it was off a very excellent album entitled shouting at wildlife which i still find myself listening to.

and another thing!! is off of that same album. first off, let's talk about how adorbs it is that there are two exclamation points after the title. as somebody who uses probably way too many exclamation points in emails, facebook status updates, and tweets, i can only find this endearing.

now, as for the song - it does have an endearing quality to it, but it is, in no way, the cheerful song it would initially lead you to believe. i remember the first time i'd heard it after a long spell of not hearing it - i had my ipod on in the background, and i instantly felt all cheery and boppy. it wasn't until midway through the song i remembered, "oh yeah. this isn't happy! why am i bopping?" but damn, if and another thing!! doesn't try to fool you into believing it is.

couldn't be so happy now i'm seeing the back of it
another thing, another thing
busy doing nothing, there's no skill in the knack of it
another thing, another thing
this stops right now
another thing, another thing
we stop right now
another thing, another thing

let's go wash our faces in the sun
and let's go clean your arms

and sometimes, sometimes i need you more
than other times, other times
so let go, let go
i'm all right

couldn't have done it better if i knew at the start of it
another thing, another thing
if i'd known it better i'd avoided the half of it
another thing, another thing
this stops right now
another thing, another thing
we stop right now
another thing, another thing

let's go wash our faces in the sun
and let's go and clean your arms

and sometimes, sometimes i need you more
than other times, other times
so let go, let go
i'm all right

and sometimes, sometimes i need you more
than other times, other times
oh, let go, let go
i'm all right

profuse apologies if i butchered any of those lyrics above. i have this very large feeling i have.

ANYWAY! stream the song below:



the band did an excellent session for song by toad; grab the mp3 below:

(mp3) and another thing!! (live toad session) by kid canaveral (via song by toad - go HERE to see/listen to more from the session)

and here's a live performance of and another thing!!:


And Another Thing!! by Kid Canaveral (Live) from Straight to Video Records on Vimeo.

go HERE to buy shouting at wildlife, the album and another thing!! is off of.

home sweet home by russell howard

so, today's song, home sweet home by singer-songwriter russell howard, took me by surprise, and here's why. i have a bizarre prejudice against the phrase home sweet home.

i know. WEIRD, right?

i can't exactly tell you why other than to admit i have a bias against certain words and phrases (which is ridiculous, considering i'm a writer and everything). they're like nails on a chalkboard to me. and home sweet home has been one of those phrases in the past that i shy away from ever personally using because: a) it's utterly cliché, b) it's radically overused, and c) it reminds me of something needlepoint and framed.

HOWEVER. this song. friends, this song made me realize there is at least one place that i dig this phrase, and it's right here. a song about displaced love, home sweet home is an intimate look at what it feels like when the person you adore has moved on in both location and heart. it reminds me a lot of one of my favorite books, anna and the french kiss by stephanie perkins (go HERE to read my rambling adoration of this story) - in it, the MC, anna, reflects on what home is. is it a location? a building? or is something more? here's the first time she really starts to consider what it means to her:

And for the first time since coming home, I'm completely happy. It's strange. Home. How I could wish for it for so long, only to come back and find it gone. To be here, in my technical house, and discover that home is now someplace different.

But that's not quite right, either.

I miss Paris, but it's not home. It's more like . . . I miss this. This warmth over the telephone. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? Bridgette used to be home for me. Maybe St. Clair is my new home.

and russell howard gets that concept. home sweet home is truly a lovely song, with it's gentle guitars and heartbreaking vocals. i ended up putting it on repeat, just totally enamored with the following lyric:

i did not ask to cross my stars with you.

so, so gorgeous.

and oh, friends, doesn't that really sum up how one feels about love once it's gone? love is such a tremulous, fragile thing. it's hard to control, hard to find, and even harder to let go of. and i simply adore how howard has dealt with that idea.

home is in the city
a city i've never stepped in
she moved there last september
i heard she's got a boyfriend

and all i want is what you have
i don't work this hard just to be glad for you
and home sweet home is in your arms
and i did not ask to cross my stars with you

and home is in the city
a city i've never slept in
she said i should come there
if only for the weekend

and all i want is what you have
i won't come that far just to be mad at you
and home sweet home is in your arms
and i did not ask to cross my stars with you

home sweet home
oh, my home is not my own

home is in the city
a city i've never seen

(mp3) home sweet home by russell howard

here's another song off howard's latest release, safe to say, which sounds totally different than home sweet home (but in a good way!):



go HERE to buy city heart, the album home sweet home is off of.

ghost (live from laurel canyon) by ingrid michaelson

so, if you're an ingrid michaelson fan, you have exactly two days to grab the following song for free, thanks to anthropologie.

ghost (live at laurel canyon) is just ingrid and a piano (go pianos!). it's lovely and bitterly sad and sweet at the same time.

do you remember when the walls fell
do you remember the sound that the door made when you closed it on me
do you know that i went down to the ground
landed on both my broken hearted knees

i didn't even cry
because pieces of me had already died

i'm a ghost
haunting these halls
climbing up walls that i never knew were there
and i'm lost
broken down the middle of my heart, heart
i'm broken down the middle of my heart, heart, heart

you know you make me a ghost
you make me a ghost

i'm an invisible disaster
i keep trying to walk but my feet don't find the solid ground
it's like living in a bad dream
i keep trying to scream but my tongue has finally lost its sound

i've got to say goodbye
to the pieces of me that have already died

i'm a ghost
haunting these halls
climbing these walls that i never knew were there
and i'm lost
broken down the middle of my heart, heart
i'm broken down the middle of my heart, heart, heart

you know you make me a ghost
oh you make me a ghost
you make me a ghost (you take the breath all away from me, you take it away)
you make me a ghost

i don't cry
i don't try anymore

i'm a ghost
i'm a ghost
and i'm lost
broken down the middle of my heart, heart
i'm broken down the middle

i'm a ghost
haunting these halls
climbing up walls that i never knew were there
and i'm lost
broken down the middle of my heart, heart
i'm broken down the middle of my heart, heart, heart

you know you make me a ghost
you know you make me a ghost

go HERE to download the song before midnight EST on march 9th.

here's the video for the exact version of this song you'll be downloading: