I need your help picking a new story (or part of a story) to share!

I've been wracking my brain as to which story to work on next (either finish writing or finish editing). And before you ask: Yes, I am working on Sun Damage. A lot. And that's why it's good to take a little break to work on something else. Right? Right.
And I have so many new stories/pieces of stories that I'm excited about, but I don't know which one people would want to read first. So I am turning to you, internet friends and family, to help me decide.
Here's a little bit on each story. If any of them interest you, just vote at the bottom. I'm hoping to have it posted by New Year's Day!

Beholder(Short story): Beholder is a story about sight. And fish. And a serial killer. 

Shadow Tag (Story): This is flash fiction (I think). And it's experimental. Shadows move among his world, and only he can stop them. He can't even write about them without the lines being crossed out.

The rough draft. 

Stranger on The Train(Chapter one of "the android story"): Are you a human or a machine, and which is worse?

From my notebook. The first draft.

The Donor(The first part): A story about one girl and her desperate attempt at making some money for her family before time runs out (This takes place in the same world as The Sunshine Series, but it's very different). 

Ava's Song (a.k.a. a Sunshine Series horror spin-off)(excerpt):

Michael has searched an eternity for her. Now that he has her, he isn't going to let go. (characters include Evan, Ava, and Micheal).

Notes from a workshop on this story.

Six (excerpt): Corbin is in love with a box her mother bought at a yard sale for a dollar. It's never opened, but she still loves it. Maybe that's why she's been in and out of mental facilities since she was little. That and the shadows. They're everywhere. 

Vote for your favorite here:

What Story (or part of a story) do you want next?
	Beholder
	Shadow Tag
	Stranger On The Train
	The Donor
	Ava's Song
	Six
pollcode.com free polls

Happy voting! Can't wait to share something new with you guys!

: )

How AFI Saved Me From Drowning

I had my first panic attack when I was in third grade. I don’t really know what caused it. I remember it, which is weird, because I don’t really remember many things, but it’s extremely clear in my head.

We were sitting on the floor in the classroom. My teacher was reading a book to us, and I was towards the back of the “circle” (because kids thought I was weird. duh).

One minute, I was fine and happy. Then I blinked. And things started to look unreal. The windows began to slant, the dark blue carpet became ridiculously scratchy under my palms. I started to sweat, even though I was freezing. Then I felt sick.

Something you should know: When I was a kid, I didn’t sneeze without permission. I didn’t get up from the table unless everyone else did first, I didn’t like people staring at me, and I did everything in my power NOT to get into trouble.

So when I suddenly got up and ran to the door, I guess it alarmed my teacher.

“Nicolette,” I remember her nearly yelling. “Where are you going?”

By that time, I couldn’t really talk anymore, but I remember trying to tell her, “I have to get out.”

What does this have to do with anything?

I’m getting to it.

Over the years, my anxiety and depression have been intense to the point where I can’t even leave the house, to so mild that when I look back on the intense times, I convince myself that it probably didn’t even happen the way I remember it. That I couldn’t have ever been that bad.

I remember in high school, it was so bad that I missed weeks of school because I was “sick”. Once, when my aunt came to visit from California, we went to a restaurant and she had to drag me outside because I had an attack at lunch and I kept worrying about everyone watching me.

Last year, I woke up completely paralyzed, believing I was in my father’s house, That I could hear him coughing, and smell his cigarette smoke.

I like to say that my anxiety comes in waves and lulls. I can go months or years without feeling anything extreme, despite the stress of school and work, or I can be completely calm and have no stress when it hits me and I can’t even get out of bed.

I don’t try to make it a secret that my sisterly and I grew up kind of in a messed up way. That’s not what this post is for. You can read through my other posts to see some of that.

But it’s important to know because I’ve always believed that if we grew up differently, stable, we wouldn’t be who we are now. Kelly wouldn’t be an artist. I wouldn’t be a writer. And Dana wouldn’t have the undying compassion for people that she has in her either.

AFI came into my life when I was both in a wave period and going through a really, really hard time. I was losing my step dad, I was hurting myself so I didn’t have to cry or have an anxiety attack, and I was really, utterly alone and closed off to anything.

They reached me. I heard one song from Sing The Sorrow and there was someone else there with me, not only inside the wave, but reaching out to me, saying it was going to be alright. That I wasn’t alone. That I didn’t have to be.

This was the band that brought me back from the dead. This was the band who taught me about words. How they can be used to heal someone, help someone. I found every album and devoured them whole. They made me hungry, but it would be a few years before I knew what that hunger was for.

I’ve been trying to delay writing about this, but I feel like the only reason I have is because I didn’t want to admit it: I’m in a wave again.

Call it what you want: sadness, anxiety, depression…it’s the same entity to me. It has claws, and once it has you, it’s hard to keep walking around like you’re not in pain. It’s hard to keep upright. It’s unbelievably hard to be normal.

For the most part, I’m a happy person. I like my job, I like learning, and I’m writing as a career, getting paid for it, being asked to talk about myself and my books at colleges and things like that. I’m so grateful and happy about all of it. But the claws are still in me, digging in. I can’t help it. It’s not something I can control like what class I take or what story to write.

A month ago, I saw AFI in concert. When I was 15, this was all I wanted to do. I’ve wanted to see them live for so long. But the morning of, I wasn’t excited. Not even a little.

I went to see my boyfriend that afternoon, and I was angry. I couldn’t figure out why. I wanted to cry, or scream, or jump out of my skin. He took me on a walk in the woods, which usually helps when I’m anxious. But all I did was break down over and over again.

By the end of our two hour walk, I did feel a little better. Drained, not okay, but not bad either.

Then the AFI show happened.

There they were: Davey, Jade, Hunter, and Adam. And they were so close. And the first song they sang was the first song I ever heard of theirs, back when I was 15 and under another wave. This time, the song seemed to be saying the same things: This is what music can do. You are not alone. 

But now there were new things too: Look at how far you’ve come. Look at what you can do.

Singing along with other fans, holding my sister, Kelly and crying with her during these songs, raising my hands along with the hundreds of other people who all have their own shit and problems and anxieties…It was something I’m still having trouble describing.

If you’re a lucky person whose life has never needed saving, or an unlucky person who has needed saving and had no music to save you, I doubt, that even if I could put it into words, you’d be able to understand.

When the show was over and I went home that night, I felt less heavy. Instead of drained, I felt like I should be writing, or painting, or creating something. I’m not saying that I’m out of the wave, not just yet. But I’m hoping this is the start. I’m hoping that this is the beginning of me reaching out and being able to stand without being in pain or thinking about the claws of anxiety.

I want to believe that. For me. And for them. Because without AFI, I wouldn’t be who I am. I can’t say that I would know who I would be, but I don’t think I’d be this person. The one who is under a wave and pretending to not be under a wave. 

Maybe one day, I won’t have to pretend. Maybe I will just be and that will be enough, but for now, I still have a life raft. It’s something I almost forgot I had until I saw them in October.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is: if you’re struggling with a mental disorder, I know how you feel. You are not alone. If you can find something else that tells you that in this world, while you’re under your own waves, you’re extremely lucky. Hold onto it and don’t forget that it’s there. But if you don’t have that, or can’t find it just yet, I’m here. My words are here (and I hope they help). It’s hard to believe when you’re under water, trying to convince people that you aren’t drowning, but you will be okay. Waves recede. Sadness lessens. The world will not always be a scary place. Not forever.

(You can go HERE to listen to their new album, Burials. It's what's been keeping my head above water lately)

Sun Poisoned is born!

As we speak, Sun Poisoned is processing on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and it is live on Smashwords. It will be .99  for the entire weekend.

Sunshine has been re-edited and re-formatted as well, and will be on Smashwords for pay what you want. 

And I am FREAKING the FUCK out.

You'd think it would be different, releasing your second book. It is in some ways. I know how to format now, for example. I know to do it earlier in the day so it goes up that day. I have learned some things.

Editor's notes on how to improve Sunshine.

But as far as what I'm feeling...it's not different.

I spent over five years on Sunshine. Sun Poisoned took me only six months. That's insane to me. That I could create a book in such little time that's complete and exactly what I wanted. But it's happened.

I'm still scared. I'm still anxious. I'm still excited beyond anything.

I still have that familiar feeling of wanting to have my baby out there in the world, yet still trying to hold its hand when it tries to leave me.

Me, when I first started typing out Sunshine

...It's such a strange thing, making up stories. I don't think there is anything out there like that in the world. You spend all of your time crafting the characters, the plot, the words. You grow attached to them all (at least I do), and then you have to let them go.

People have asked me if I'm one of those writers who use "inspiration" from my life in my writing. The short answer is yes. And as much as I did it in Sunshine, I've done it even more in Sun Poisoned. I use writing to deal with this thing we call life. I hope the books find people who have a hard time dealing with life.


What can I tell you about Sun Poisoned?

Not a lot. You'll have to read it, or the reviews that have been trickling in. What I can tell you is this: It is full of love, music, betrayal, horror, lies, and then more love.

But mostly my soul. I put a lot into this one, and I hope that shows.


Here are a bunch of links, if you want to buy the book(s)

Smashwords
Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Or if you want to learn more:
Goodreads 

Or if you want to come to my AWESOME Facebook party with games, prizes, and a live Q&A with me via webcam (It starts at 12pm EST):
Party on the internetz


Thank you, though. If you're reading this, there is a chance that you've read Sunshine. And I want to thank you so much for giving my dreams a chance. All of the long hours, the stress of working, going to school, and trying to put out books doesn't matter when I think about how there are people reading them, and liking them.

We are the media. You guys have the power to make or break an author, especially an indie one. You can share everything, you can spread the word, you can shake your friends by the shoulders and tell them, "You HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK!" Which helps us out more than you know.

When I see that someone is reading one of my books on Goodreads, tracking the progress and writing comments as they go, it's like I get to go on the whole journey again with them. I feel utterly and amazingly connected to you all, and that's what I want more than anything. I want to talk to you and see your feedback. I want to be a part of this thing we call life, with you.

Without you, I'd just be a writer, which is fine. But now I feel like I'm really doing what I've wanted to do since I was in high school.
So thank you. Thank you for making me an author. : )

Principal's Breakfast: The mushy, my-sister-just-graduated post

I wasn’t always the smartest kid. I was creative, sure. I could paint, and draw, and make things up. I also got OK grades. A’s and B’s, and when it came to math,C’s...

But the thing is, I tried really hard to get all A’s.

Not because I wanted to please my teachers, or parents, or myself, even.

But because of the stupid fucking principal’s breakfast.

That’s right.

If you got all A’s in elementary school, you got to go to this breakfast to eat in the cafeteria with your parents, the principal, other straight A students, and some of your teachers.

Looking back now, I know it wasn’t the breakfast that had me killing myself over geometry or reading ahead in my science books.

It was because my little sister, Kelly, without a doubt would always get straight A’s, which meant she would get a principal’s breakfast.

She’d wake up an hour earlier than the rest of us to go to school to eat fake eggs with greasy brown sausage and spongy pancakes with a principal I had never even met, despite the fact that I went to that school for four years. She’d sit with Mom when she was lucky, and she’d sit with Dad when he was around...and when she was less than lucky.

The whole idea of sitting in that cafeteria now makes me gag. I don’t think I could do it now if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

So why, then? Why did I want it when I was younger?

Now that I can see the whole picture without a frame around it, I think I know the answer.

I wanted to impress her.

I wanted to be on the same level.

I wanted to be able to say, “my sister and I are in this group together”.

Kelly with her hybrid babies

As I’m writing this now, she’s just graduated from art school.

She’s taken what she’s learned from around her (good and bad) from our parents, our lack thereof, and the world around her, and she’s made beautiful things with it.

She’s taken what she once could not control and molded it with her own two hands.

I always knew she would.

I always knew she was so much bigger than the little box our “world” was made out of.

Maybe that’s another reason why I wanted to be a part of this secret-breakfast-club.

Kelly’s two years younger than me, but I had always seen her as two years ahead. She was smarter, more creative, more artistic, more ambitious. Hungrier.

I wanted to be with her in this place where we were somewhat seen as equals. Because I knew it was only a matter of time before she would go off and do what she was meant to do, born to do. And she would do it better than I could ever do it.

The morning of her graduation, she invited Dana and I to a “Special Luncheon” for “leaders, high GPAs, etc.”

We sat in a room with her professors, adviser, and other students who had all invited their parents.

We were the only sisters there.

All three of us, together, at this place where the president of her college spoke about how wonderful they all were, where her adviser broke down and cried when she spoke about her, where I sat and took it all in.

And in an instant, I was happy that I never got to go to the stupid principal’s breakfasts.

This.

This was worth so much more.

Then the next day, I watched her graduate.

I only got about...two minutes into the graduation ceremony before I began to cry, but once I swallowed up the tears, I sat patiently until it was over.

Lists of names were read, they called her name, her honors, her fucking 3.95 GPA.

Then it was over.

I watched her walk out of the tent, and I had to wait until the rest of the graduates left before I could see her again.

And when I found her, I lost it.

We both did.

I hugged her for what felt like hours. She hugged me back.

People took pictures.

I didn’t care.

I told her how proud of her I was, what an amazing person I thought she was.

I couldn’t get much else out.

But here it is now.

The way I do everything.

All I could think about on the ride home, as I drove her and I back to New Jersey, was the damn principal’s breakfast.

I was always so jealous when we were younger. She was part of this elite world that despite how much I tried, I could never gain entry into.

And last weekend, I feel like I was there.

I’m still there whenever I look at her.

I never thought it was possible to be so overcome with joy, pride, and overall awe as I am when I think of Kelly right now.

Me, Kelly, and Marina: post tears and hugs

I feel like most of our lives was/is spent on trying to overcome the circumstances we were born into. A drunk dad, a shitty childhood, the list can go on and on and on...

Here I am, a year left at my own college, and I’m still behind her, watching everything happen.

She’s overcome so much already. She’s one of the only people in our family to go to college and graduate, she showed “them all” that she can do it.

And every time I look at her, I think I can do it too.

I love you, Kelly.

The Super Update Post! Away!

Hey, guys!

I have finally, finally gotten a chunk of time to write a blog post. About the same time I figured out that I'd have time to make a post(*cough* skip class *cough cough*), I realized that I hadn't posted something since MARCH. And a whole lot of awesomeness has been going on. So. Here is a list of awesome things that you guys may be interested in.

1. Sunshine:
As you probably know (because I never shut up about it), my first book, Sunshine was released on January 28th of this year. And holy-canoli-batman. It's been insane. Currently, it needs to sell 76 more copies before it reaches 2,000. It's been on Amazon's top 100 (and sometimes even top 50!) for over six weeks now. It was in the Atlantic City Press. People are liking it. People are reading it. People want more.Excuse me. Is this real life?
It has been truly, truly amazing. There have been book bloggers saying such lovely things about my baby. I have made new friends and fans. I have fans! I've been so floored with people I don't know messaging me about how they liked it, what they thought. There are people asking me why I wanted to become a writer and asking for advice. It's crazy. I love it. And I love YOU.
Which brings us to...

2. Sun Poisoned:
If you don't follow me on Facebook or Twitter or Tumblr, you may have missed this book trailer for Sunshine Series Book Two, Sun Poisoned. 

There was also a Sophie and Myles scene from Sun Poisoned that I released as a thank you for reaching crazy-awesome-nutso sales. There were some teasers from my notebook. : )

I'm still editing this baby, but it's going to be ready for you on June 28th!

3. Printing:
YES.
Regina Wamba of Mae I Design has sent me the full-wrap of the cover and I died. So you're going to die too.
Sunshine is also currently going through another round of edits (don't think I haven't noticed the typos. My favorite one being, "Boo never wants to go to there". I must have been watching 30Rock while I was revising lol). My goal is to have the final, FINAL version done by the end of May, so sometime around then, you will be able to get a physical copy of Sunshine! I'm also planning on giving away a few free signed copies too, so keep your eyes peeled. : )

4. Writer News:
As you may or may not be aware of, I have joined forces with two other indie authors: my good friend, H.D. Gordon(The Alexa Montgomery Saga, Joe(<3), and Shooting Stars), and my new friend, Janelle Stalder (The Eden Series) to bring you a blog called Honest Indies 
Honest Indies is a blog where we can all come together in the indie author community and help each other out. We're all at different stages of the game, and each of us has something different to offer. We want to create a forum and network for supporting one another. So feel free to ask us questions or just read our thoughts on the indie-universe. : ) 

In addition to that, though I don't know the exact date yet, I'm going to be speaking about my book, my journey, and what I know about indie publishing at Ocean County College this fall. Watch out for that too. If you live near by, you should go. There will probably be candy. Just saying.

5. New Stories 
The only good thing about having class five days a week is that it makes my procrastinating powers activate. And when they activate, I write. A lot.  I wrote my first second person story ever in the post before this one, Hazards.
Then there was my first 100 word story, The War
I also posted a few excerpts from stories I'm working on like:
The Killing Type   
and
The Sink 

I plan on finishing them as soon as the semester's over and posting them over the summer.
BUT. There was one that grew on me so much that it became more than just a short story.
I started working on it one day in Spanish class, and it soon turned into a 25 page story. But I want to make it longer. I fell in love with the characters and I want to know more about them. I don't want to give it an entire book. it's most likely going to be just a really long short story. So, this summer, I'll be working on this too, and posting it in installments. I'm really excited about this one. : )
But until then, here's a small piece.
The Donor 
  
I suppose here would be a good place to put...

6. Goals For The Summer:  
This is more for me than anyone else, but you can read it too if you really want to. : )
1.Finish Sun Poisoned and release it.
2. Print copies of Sunshine.
3. Write The Donor and launch a special blog where it will be serialized.
4. Write Sunshine Series Book 3.
5. Well, I guess THIS may be important. Some of you may know (but most of you probably don't) that there is going to be a spin off from The Sunshine Series. Yes. Can you guess who's in it?
I'll give you one name: Michael.
Here is a tiny thing from it.

I started working on it last November for NaNoWriMo, and I fell in love with it. It's way different than anything I've ever written before. Though it's told from the perspective of someone you meet in Sun Poisoned, you don't necessarily have to read The Sunshine Series in order to get it. It's going to be a horror novel, full of messed up and even darker subject matter that The Sunshine Series. I cannot wait.
But anyway, I'm going to try and finish it this summer too.
6.THAT'S RIGHT. I'M WRITING TWO BOOKS THIS SUMMER.
*dies*(but very happily).

So I guess that just leaves...

 Surprises For You!:
I want to hear from you guys! I want you guys to be involved in all of this. I've been doing some brain storming and I want your feedback!
What do you guys want as surprises for milestones. Like, for instance, when Sunshine hits 2000, what do you want?
Here are a few things I've come up with:
1. A hand written letter from a character that someone can win (and I can sign it).
2. Excerpts from Book 2 (obviously). Or scenes from other characters' points of view.
3. A signed copy of Sunshine.
4. I thought about making a video where I read from one of the books, if anyone would be interested.
5. Speaking of videos, would anyone be interested in me answering questions in a video? Like, people could send me questions over twitter, tumblr, facebook, etc, and I could smoosh them all together in one big video?
What else? What do you guys want to see more of?
Don't be shy. You're important to me and your opinions matter!



Okay. I think that's all as far as updates and surprises go.
I just wanted to say thank you for sticking with me and helping me spread the word about my book. I truly love each and every one of you and I can't wait to share more writing with you.
Until I come out of my cave again,
--Nikki : )



 
 

Hazards

Why yes, it has been a while. I've been busy with writing, and work, and school, and oh. Yeah. Sunshine hitting over 600 sales. There's that.

Anyway, I was going to write a post about how freaking CRAZY this has all been for me, but I'm saving it for something else. Now, I want to share a story I recently wrote.

Usually, as you may have noticed, I'll write a short explanation of why/what the inspiration behind the story or poem was. With this, I'm not going to do that.

What I will say is this: if you hurt someone I love, I will make art out of it. No one is safe.

With that, on to the story. : ) 

 

Hazards

     You just hit a dog with your car. You left the house a rage, and you didn’t see the large blond animal run in front of your bumper. It was dark—past midnight—but you weren’t driving that fast. You could have stopped in time if you were paying attention.
     Your immediate reaction is to stop, pull over, take a breath. It’s late, there’s no one else coming. You have some time to figure this out.
     The question is: what do you do?
     There are a few options. For one, you can stay in the car.
     If you stay in the car, you can let the stale warm air from the heater continue to blow in your face. If you stay in the car, you can drive away. You can leave the dog there and hopefully it will get up on its own. Hopefully, someone else will find it and clean up your mess.
     But you can also get out of the car.
  If you get out of the car, it will be cold—it just snowed yesterday morning—so you’ll have to bundle up. If you get out of the car, it will be quiet. The engine will be on, the headlights will be on, illuminating what you’ve done. You might see blood matted into the fur, making it stick up like bright red wax. You might see bone poking through a leg or two, reaching for help. And maybe you’ll be sad. Maybe you’ll be upset that you could do something so horrible. But you won’t cry.    
     If you get out of the car, you’ll have to check if the dog is alive. Maybe it won’t be—you hit it pretty hard. Nothing has ever sounded so loud to you—but in this case, let’s say that it is still alive. Maybe it only has a broken limb, but it’s most likely going to be struggling, stuck to the frozen rocky concrete. Its eyes will dart around so you can see the white at the edges, like it’s trying to turn them inside out, so it doesn’t have to see what you’ve done.
     But you’re both here in this place. And it’s your fault.
     You think about all of this as you sit in the car, foot on the brake, watching the heap of fur against the yellow lines as the orange glow of your hazard lights blink on and off. On and off. You figure that there couldn’t be a more perfect analogy for you and her—the person you say that you love—than your current situation. You fucked up. You’ve hurt something—someone—and now you have decisions to make. You don’t want to hurt anyone, you want to be the good guy, but that is simply not an option. If you hurt another living thing, people are going to get upset, her family is going to be angry. How will you ever be forgiven?
     Maybe you can’t fix that. Maybe you can fix this.
     If you get out of the car, you could try to pick up the animal. You could try to not get nauseous as the wet fur grazes the bare skin at your jaw when you lean down and try to grasp its weight.
   If you get that far, will you try to find something to lay on your back seat before placing the animal in your car? Will red blood, purple organs, and white chunks of fat and bone stain the upholstery? Not that your car is new or clean, but still. These are things you need to think about.
   Would you drive to the vet once it’s in the car? It’s late, so you’ll have to make some phone calls. Maybe you know someone else who would know what to do, but probably not. You’ll have to drive pretty far to get to the twenty four hour animal hospital up North. Are you prepared for the drive?
   And even if you get there, lay the matted mass of mangy fur onto the cold shiny steel of the table, what do you think they will say? Is there any chance at all?
   If it lives, you will be a hero. People will think you have done this helpless animal great service, that it would have died without your help. You could tell them that you found the poor creature on the side of the road, that it was a victim of a hit and run. You won’t have to tell them that it was your fault or that it would have probably been better off if you had not entered each others’ lives at all.
   If it dies, you will tell no one. You will not cry. You will not talk about it. In all honesty, you think it’s better that way. Less people will be hurt. Either way—if you intervene or drive off—you’ll have to eventually go home. Back to the one you say you love.  

    You will have to pull into the driveway and think about it. You will spend a lot of time wondering if what you chose to do was the right thing, and you will never know for sure.
   If you go home after you hit a dog, after you decide to take it to the vet or not in your car, whether the animal lives or dies, your girlfriend will still be in the house you fled from earlier.
   If you go inside, she may still be awake, locked in the bathroom and probably crying on the cold, dusty linoleum. Her eyes might be swollen and red. Her dark hair could be dirty from running her hands through it; strands of it sticking to her wet face. She will probably want to talk. She will probably want to know if she could have done things differently to make you change your mind.
   You will think about this too, but only for a few seconds. What you will mostly think about is if you really want to get out of the car.