Girls & Monsters don't always play nice...

Luckily, today they're being downright SWEET!

I'm honored to welcome the ever lovely, ever dark Anne Michaud to ADR3NALIN3 today! I met Anne via blogger and fell in love with her delectable, seductive, and morbid prose while reading the short stories and poems she would post on her blog. Now at last she has a book coming out and the whole world can savor her terrifyingly twisted tales! Her new YA horror novel is launching in just a few days, so she has stopped by to tell us a little about it.

Anne, you have the spotlight!

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They hide under the bed, in the closet or in a dark corner of your mind; they want to scare, play with or eat you. Monsters are everywhere, feeding off your screams, waiting for the perfect moment to attack - and sometimes, only girls can kick their butts. A killer mermaid, suburbia, hallucinations, one huge spider and zombies all face their match in this dark horror collection of 5 novellas for young adult. Annoyed by weak and fragile protagonists waiting for boys to save the day? Here's GIRLS & MONSTERS! Death Song, an excerpt:

Something catches in the back of my throat. I hide my face in my hands to quiet the sobs. But then, something ain’t right. Air moves around me and I stop. I look between my fingers, but the blur of my tears thickens everything: the bathtub, the towels, and someone on the floor. A woman’s in here with me, door still closed and locked. An exhale, like after a deep swim, and a smell, like the swamp close to my empty home. A chill runs down my back, I wipe my eyes, rub and scratch them to see more clearly. And I do. Two gray hands scratch the floor tiles, nails green with algae, putrid flesh sagging on her legs, arms and torso, hair so long and wet and heavy, it drags her down. Diluted, impossible to focus on, like little waves rippling over her body from head to foot, seaweed in the water. Scales and fins, mermaidlike, little knives, those are. And they scrape the floor, like a fork on a plate. It’s her—Limnade. She opens her mouth of scissor-teeth and the rotten smell of fish wraps around my throat like two hands trying to choke me. "You can’t be…” I don’t finish my breathless thought and jump backward, knocking over the dish of decorative soaps. Blurry waves, vision impaired, out of focus, unreal. She crawls toward me, eyes unblinking, lethal, hands inches from me: my legs refuse to move, as my body feels like stone. Frozen, hypnotized, a statue. Then I hear something coming from within her…A melody, reminding me of something lost, tickles my ears. It drags on until the sweetness turns sickly, vibrating into a full-on super-scream, hyenalike, enough to pop my ears and make them bleed. Her large mouth deforms her face into one gap of black, the cry so high and strident, I scream from the pain. Limnade stares at me, everything but her fades away—Jo’s nice bathroom, Jo’s new life, Jo himself, none of it matters anymore. Her fingers brush my forehead, they’re cold and sticky like clams. And I let the darkness take me away.

***

To celebrate the release of Girls & Monsters on April 30th, the author has handcrafted Skellies, The Monster Collection, each representing a monster of the 5 stories. The giveaway also includes a softcover of the collection, autographed if requested. The grand prize winner will be announced during the book launch's LIVE CHAT with Anne Michaud on April 30th at 9PM (east)! Girls & Monsters will be available at Darkfuse and other retailers from that date on. ♥

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Anne Michaud

She who likes dark things never grew up. She never stopped listening to gothic, industrial and alternative bands like when she was fifteen. She always loved to read horror and dystopia and fantasy, where doom and gloom drip from the pages. She, who was supposed to make films, decided to write short stories, novelettes and novels instead. She, who’s had her films listed on festival programs, has been printed in a dozen anthologies and magazines since. She who likes dark things prefers night to day, rain to sun, and reading to anything else.

She tweets
She blogs
She facebooks

And don't forget to add Girls & Monsters to your goodread list ♥

A Little Taste of Poison, and a Legacy of Love and Laughter

by A.G. Howard

During the week of March 11th, book lovers all over the blogasphere are banding together to get the word out about a delightful YA debut and the talented young author who left a legacy of laughter for her readers, yet isn't here to harvest the fruits of her labor of love.

In tribute to her first and last novel, authors were invited to talk about their momentus firsts, so I'll direct you to this link where I originally announced my first book contract.

 

The rest of this post is all about Bridget Zinn, the vivacious and lovely young author, daughter, woman, and wife, who poured humor, heart, and soul into an endearing and magical story called Poison, all while battling the very real and merciless monster of colon cancer.

About Bridget:

Bridget grew up in Wisconsin. She went to the county fair where she met the love of her life, Barrett Dowell. They got married right before she went in for exploratory surgery which revealed she had colon cancer. They christened that summer the "summer of love" and the two celebrated with several more weddings. Bridget continued to read and write until the day she died.
 

Her last tweet was: "Sunshine and a brand new book. Perfect."

Bridget wanted to make people laugh and hoped readers would enjoy spending time with the characters she created. As a librarian/writer she loved books with strong young women with aspirations. She also felt teens needed more humorous reads. She really wanted to write a book with pockets of warmth and happiness and hoped that her readers' copies would show the watermarks of many bath time reads.

About Poison:

Sixteen-year-old Kyra, a highly-skilled potions master, is the only one who knows her kingdom is on the verge of destruction—which means she's the only one who can save it. Faced with no other choice, Kyra decides to do what she does best: poison the kingdom's future ruler, who also happens to be her former best friend.

But, for the first time ever, her poisoned dart…misses.

Now a fugitive instead of a hero, Kyra is caught in a game of hide-and-seek with the king's army and her potioner ex-boyfriend, Hal. At least she's not alone. She's armed with her vital potions, a too-cute pig, and Fred, the charming adventurer she can't stop thinking about. Kyra is determined to get herself a second chance (at murder), but will she be able to find and defeat the princess before Hal and the army find her?

Kyra is not your typical murderer, and she's certainly no damsel-in-distress—she's the lovable and quick-witted hero of this romantic novel that has all the right ingredients to make teen girls swoon.
 

Purchase your copy:

• Amazon
• Barnes & Noble
• IndieBound
• iTunes Bookstore
• Powell's Books

Links about Bridget:

• Bridget's Web site
• A remembrance of Bridget written by her agent (with a video of Bridget that shows how vibrant and funny she was)
• Bridget's path to publication - in her own words.
• A post in which Bridget shares her Sneaky Tips for writing
 

Help get the word out:

• Everything you need to know about helping spread the word (lots of links and info about Bridget and her book)
• Please tweet this post, Poison's GoodReads page, or any of the above purchase or informational links using the hashtag #Poison, to help us make Bridget's launch a success so she can leave behind a legacy for her family, friends, and fans.

Thank you, and please take something away from this for yourself. Treasure every moment like Bridget did! Live life to the fullest every day. Considering all I've read about her, I believe she'd want that above anything else.

I Want To Be A Spark Plug.

by A.G. Howard

Note: Despite the title and the picture below, today’s post is not about spark plugs.

But it IS a fitting analogy for an epiphany I had early on in my writer’s journey. And now it's really hitting home, since my debut, Splintered, is being offered to reviewers on netgalley and in hard copy ARC form. I'm starting to get reviews, be they positive or negative, and the spark plug analogy is keeping me sane.

Here’s the definition of a spark plug taken from Wikipedia: A spark plug is an electrical device that fits into the cylinder head of some internal combustion engines and ignites compressed aerosol gasoline by means of an electric spark.

In other words … it magically brings the engine to life. Vroom vroom. But there’s more than one kind of spark plug. So you have to follow the manufacturer’s instructions for choosing the right one to ensure it’s a good fit, or it won’t work. A bad fit means the spark won’t ignite, and there will be no vroom vroom.

A couple of years ago, when I was in the submission trenches with my first agent and my adult literary romance, we received feedback from an editor: I enjoyed the unique storyline and heroine, and I thought the author put a fresh twist on paranormal romance. But as I read, I just didn’t feel a strong emotional connection with the story, so it’s with sincere regret that I’m stepping aside.

I could whittle that entire explanation down into one phrase. No vroom vroom. I wasn’t the right fit for her, and there was no magical spark.

Ouch! That started me second guessing. Where did I go wrong? Why can’t I make everyone connect with my story? Surely, if my characters or storyline can’t capture every single reader’s affections, I have no hope of being a best seller or of winning a loyal fan base. Right?

Well, shortly thereafter I read a best-selling book at the time — one that I’d been chewing on for several weeks — and something clicked into place for me. The book had tons of sales, was well liked according to the majority of the reviews, and the publishers promoted it relentlessly (quite possibly the very reason why it had such great sales).

But upon closing that last page, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Meh”. I mentally gave the book a 2 star rating out of 5. I liked the concept, and enjoyed the author’s writing style. But for some reason … and I could never put my finger on why … I didn’t connect emotionally with the MC. Actually, with any of the characters.

Yet I read that book front to back, just because the premise and writing style drew me in and held my attention. So I guess there’s hope; even without the vroom, sometimes people are willing to shift it into neutral and push on to the end of the road, if only to take in the scenery.

Some readers may not like my fantasy worlds or my plots, or they may not like my characters for their decisions or actions. My characters are flawed and human; sometimes they make mistakes, or don't think things through and act impulsively like real people do. If I write them in such a way to try to fit everyone's ideal, they become nothing more than cardboard cutouts. So, I have to stay true to my characters and my story, although it will mean losing some readers.

But even if someone doesn't like one element of my book, maybe they'll like another enough to read it to the very last line. That's an accomplishment in and of itself.

Maybe the science of writing isn’t quite as precise as the science of automobiles. But it occurred to me that subjectivity can be compared to finding the right spark plug (book) to fit the right engine (reader). Not everyone will love my stories, or my characters, or even my writing style. But all three WILL appeal to some and I will be a perfect fit for them. There’s just too many people with differing opinions and interests for it not to.

So, my hope now that my debut novel is finally getting read? That most readers will like at least one thing about it enough to push through to the end. But even more, I hope to be the spark plug some reader has been looking high and low for, that they'll connect to the story in everyway, and it will ignite their imagination.

And then: Vroom vroom … let the magic begin.

Close Encounters with my Overactive Imagination - Guest Post YA Author O'Dell Hutchison

Hosted by Jordan Dane


I really excited to have O'Dell Hutchison as guest on ADR3NALIN3 today. O'Dell is a busy guy. He's the head TWIRP at BOOKTWIRPS book blog, he's a new YA author, a theatre director, actor, book trailer maker, systems geek, dog rescuer, and he can probably cook and clean windows too. I'm reading his debut book THE WEEPING now and am totally hooked. Bwah Ha HAAA! Welcome, O to the Dell!


I have a very overactive imagination, especially when I’m scared. It really kicks into high gear when I’m lying in bed at night. I can easily take a small thump, which is more than likely something harmless such as the refrigerator kicking on, or the house settling, and turn it into a full-fledged zombie attack in a matter of seconds. As I lie frozen in my bed, I’ll quickly run through my plan of attack:


1. Grab the old wooden rocking chair in my room and smash it to pieces against the wall.


2. Take one of the wooden legs and use it as a weapon.


3. Run to the living room, wielding said wooden sword and grab my keys, phone and dog.


4. Fight off the zombie who managed to break in through the window.


5. Barely make it to the garage, open the door and prepare for the horde of undead waiting to eat my brains.


6. Start the car (praying it actually does start), then plow my trusty Nissan backward, mowing over the flesh-eating monsters trying to get to me.


7. Flee to safety.


Once I have my plan, I eventually fall asleep, surrendering myself to a barrage of crazy dreams.


About five years ago, I was at a local theatre painting the set for a show I was directing. It was over the Christmas holiday and my entire crew was out of town. It was the perfect time for me to get the painting done without any distractions. I locked all the doors, turned on the stage lights so I could make sure the woodgrain effect had the proper shadowing, and set to work.


About an hour later, as I stood on the ladder painting away, I heard what sounded like footsteps walking up the stairs to the tech booth. I glanced up and thought I saw someone walking through the booth. I called out, asking if anyone was there, but received no answer. A few seconds later, the stage lights went out. Luckily, I still had the work lights for the stage, so I wasn’t totally left in the dark.


I climbed down from the ladder and walked out to the lobby, my mind racing with who it could possibly be. It was well after midnight, and very unlikely that anyone other than my stupid self would be at the theatre that late. The doors were locked and firmly closed and all the lobby lights off, just as I’d left it. I walked up to the booth, calling out for someone, but no one answered.


I walked into the booth, checking both spot lofts and found no one up there. I turned the lights back on and went down to finish painting.


No sooner had I climbed the ladder when the footsteps came back. This time I glanced up to see the shape of a man standing in one of the spot lofts watching me. The stage lights were so bright I couldn’t see who it was. I climbed down from the ladder, shielding my eyes and walked to the edge of the stage. I was both a little freaked out and a little pissed that someone was messing with me. When I got to the edge of the stage, the figure was gone.


I decided I was done for the night, and walked back to put the lid on the paint can when suddenly, all the lights went out - stage lights, work lights - everything. Thankfully, I had a small light on my keychain to help guide me out of the theatre.


Since that night, I’ve had other encounters. One night, several of my crew members for another show I’d directed claimed to see a man standing in the second floor scene shop watching them during the show.


During a sold-out performance of yet another show I’d directed, I went upstairs to watch the show from the spot loft. I was up there alone, but after the show, several of my cast members asked me who was in the loft with me. I insisted that I was there alone, but they all claimed someone was standing behind me.


My logical self has many explanations for what could have happened on those occasions: The power went out the night I was painting and the thumping noises I heard were probably just the ice machine or the building settling. My crew probably just saw a piece of wood in the shape of a man standing in the scene shop, or maybe a homeless person wandered in and got lost (It could happen). Whatever the case may be, I had plenty of inspiration for “The Weeping”. Thanks to my overactive imagination, and maybe even a little help from a wandering soul, I was able to take all of these events and mold them into a tale that combines two things I love the most: Ghost stories and theatre.


Have you ever had a close encounter with a ghost? I’d love to hear about it.


THE WEEPING Trailer & Synopsis:

Twenty years ago, Catherine Whitley was the victim of a horrible crime. Betrayed by her friends, including the boy she loved, she was left to die when the Rock Harbor Opera House caught fire, taking a disturbing secret with her to her grave. Seventeen-year-old Heath Ingram was driving the night his Jeep careened off the road, killing three of his closest friends. His parents send him to live with his uncle for the summer, hoping he can move past the tragedy. When Heath starts working at the newly renovated Rock Harbor Opera House, he meets Molly, a young dancer who awakens in him a desire to start over and move on. But, when he begins having visions of a half-burned girl in a white dress, he starts to think he may be slipping even further over the edge. As the apparent hauntings become more intense, Heath begins to fear for his safety. With the help of his friend Josie, Heath discovers an unsettling secret that ties the mysterious girl to both their families. When two of their friends die unexpectedly, Josie and Heath realize that something, or someone, is after the children of those who wronged Catherine…and they are next.

 
O’Dell Hutchison resides in Katy, Texas. By day, he is a business systems analyst in the medical field. When not working or writing, O’Dell spends most of his free time acting and directing at local Houston theatres. O’Dell enjoyes reading (a lot!), blogging (booktwirps.com) and hanging out with his rescue husky, Gia.



Visit his website at otothedell.com or catch him on tumblr at otothedell.tumblr.com, or on Twitter @otothedell