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You don’t want to make him angry. He’ll make you watch The Last Stand. It’s a fate worse than death, trust me.

So the first 10 people to sign up for our all new mailing list will get a free eBook copy of The Black Parade. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? You should totally do that right now. You don’t want to disappoint Ahnuld, do you? Go here  to be put on the mailing list and redeem your free copy. It’s also going to be your ticket to extra content not found on Twitter or Facebook. I promise to make it worth your while. *bats eyelashes*

In other news, there’s still two days left in The Black Parade’s GoodReads giveaway. I’m absolutely thrilled to see that 189 people have requested to win. That’s fantastic. I think I’m going to make this a regular thing since acquiring copies aren’t super-expensive thanks to CreateSpace and it seems to have engaged a good amount of people. The nicer part is that it’s boosted the book’s numbers on the To Read shelf, and so I hope that those people will someday take the plunge to read my novel whether they win the giveaway or not.

Additionally, we’re closing in on the months between now and when She Who Fights Monsters, the stunning sequel to The Black Parade, will be out on your virtual bookshelves. In case you missed it, there are two excerpts already posted and there’s more to come.

Stay tuned, my darlings!

And put that cookie down. NOW.

The Black Parade Six Month Anniversary

They grow up so fast. *sobs*

They grow up so fast. *sobs*

Can you believe it? My little novel turned six months old two days ago. I just…my FEELS…

Weepy puffy author-face aside, this merits celebration. Here’s a short story I wrote from a collection called “Seven.” It’s part of The Black Parade canon that takes place in the two month period between Book Two and Book Three, where Michael and Jordan are learning to coexist. It’s from Michael’s POV and each story deals with a different one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Michael is adjusting to human life, and to having  a platonic relationship with Jordan. Or it’s supposed to be platonic but he’s not so sure about that. I do hope you enjoy it.

LUST

One of the cushions on Jordan’s couch had a spring loose that kept jabbing me in the ass. The entire two hours I’d been here had been uncomfortable as a result. I really needed to convince her to get it fixed or replaced.

Heels clicked across the kitchen floor. I spotted Jordan out of the corner of my eye, one hand on her hip, the other buried in her dark shoulder-length hair.

“Hey, sorry, but can I bother you for a second?”

I glanced at her. She turned around. “I can’t get this stupid zipper up all the way. You mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” I stood and walked over to her. She held her hair out of the way and I started carefully maneuvering the zipper back down towards her waist. The dress was black, short, and form fitting. Tell tale signs that someone else had bought it for her, either Lauren or an old boyfriend. Jordan liked her dresses tight in the chest but loose around her legs. She had strange insecurities about her thighs.

“I can’t believe Lauren’s making me go on a blind date,” Jordan grumbled for what had to be the thousandth time.

I shook my head. “Then don’t go.”

“I have to,” she whined. “I have this…pathological need to please everyone.”

I snorted. “You don’t have that with me.”

“That’s because you’re not a person. Ow!”

I pinched her side and felt an immense sense of satisfaction when she squirmed. “Could you be more ungrateful?”

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry. But it’s different with you. You don’t expect me to live up to your standards. Mostly because you don’t have any for me.”

She paused. “Actually, I kind of like that. Makes things less uncomfortable.”

“Mm-hm,” I said under my breath, trying to keep my eyes from sliding down her shoulders to the gap the back of the dress provided. The straps were thin and crisscrossed over her chest, but she was a classy girl and almost always wore a bra. This one appeared to be strapless. Not that it was important.

“Well, you never know. Maybe you’ll like the guy.”

“Oh, won’t that be great? Then I can lie to him too.”

I hesitated, sensing a deeper problem. “Is that what’s got you so stressed?”

“Sort of. It’s easier if I keep my friend circle small. I feel less like a jerk that way,” she admitted in a softer voice. I finally untangled the zipper and slid it all the way up, hiding her smooth skin once more. She let her hair fall around her shoulders and ran her hands down her hips, turning to face me.

“Thanks. Here’s hoping I don’t disappoint.”

I smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You won’t. He’d have to be an idiot not to like you. Especially in this dress.”

She sighed, pressing her forehead against my sternum, a habit of hers because of our height difference. I leaned against the counter behind me, making it a little easier on her.

“Are you sure I can’t stay home?”

“You’ll be fine. Plus, it’s a free meal and if he’s a jerk, we can eat ice cream and call him names when you get home tonight.”

Jordan chuckled. “You’re so mature.”

She laid her hands on my waist, which seemed to be her version of a hug when she didn’t feel like giving me a real one, and I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the crown of her head. We stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. The longer we stayed there, the more things I started to notice; like the faint scent of shampoo and conditioner in her hair, and the satiny texture of the dress, and the way her body folded into mine like a missing puzzle piece, except not hard cardboard but rather soft curves instead. My mind began to wander into less angelic places before I could stop it. My arms held her a bit tighter and my knee involuntarily shifted to between her legs. I had trouble focusing on something other than the heat of her. Before I knew it, my lips touched her forehead and she shifted in my arms, meeting my eyes. Was I leaning down towards her face or was that just my imagination?

“I’d better get going,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts. Immediately, I let go and slid my leg back, hoping she wouldn’t notice what had just transpired.

“Yeah, have fun.”

She disappeared into the bedroom to grab her purse and jacket before leaving the apartment. I rubbed my face with both hands and then ran my fingers through my hair. No big deal. Gabriel had told me there would be tests.

I definitely needed to start studying.

While I’ve got you here, don’t forget that the Black Parade giveaway is still going on from now until January 31st. Pop by and enter for your own signed copy. Thanks for all your support! See you on the pages, my dears!

Kyoko

An Excerpt from She Who Fights Monsters

SheWhoFightsMonsters_2front

You wonderful folks got this post to 10 likes, so here’s your reward! An excerpt from Chapter 1 of the sequel to The Black Parade, She Who Fights Monsters.

CHAPTER ONE

JORDAN

“I have to go to work.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“Mm-hm.”

“…I can’t leave if you don’t stop kissing me,” I said in a mildly amused voice from around the lips of my husband who had managed to trap me against the kitchen counter. He towered over my humble 5’6’’ with his 6’1’’ frame, his long sinewy arms content to rest on either side of the counter by my waist so that I couldn’t wriggle away. It was both a nuisance and yet somehow pleasant. A conundrum, if you will.

I thought my words finally got through to him when he pulled away for a moment, but his head dipped down and his lips found the edge of my jaw, my neck, making my poor knees wobble. I could feel the roughness of the stubble that had grown on his chin since he hadn’t shaved yet and the soft tickle of his dark brown hair against my collarbone, sending involuntary shudders down my spine. Normally, when he cooked breakfast he pulled his hair back into a ponytail but I suspected he’d taken it down with the intent of seducing me. Crafty bastard.

“I’m not stopping you,” Michael drawled against my throat. His baritone voice made the hairs on my arms stand up with attention. There was maybe a centimeter of space between our upper bodies. He’d done it on purpose to tease me. He bit down softly at the point between my neck and shoulder and I jumped, my fingers gripping the counter for strength.

“You’re blocking my exit,” I said.

He finally rose to full height, smirking at me with those full lips, arrogance beaming down from his sea green eyes.

“And you’re stalling.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. I sighed and grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, jerking him down to my mouth.

“I’m gonna get fired.”

Half an hour later, my best friend Lauren Yi was shaking her head when I scampered into the restaurant and clocked in as quickly as possible. Mercifully, Colton was nowhere to be found, but he’d still know I was forty minutes late anyhow since he was the owner. I’d be in for it later and I knew it. The restaurant had been hit with the usual lunch rush so I had to get ready as soon as humanly possible.

“This is the third time in a week you’ve been late,” she reminded me as I walked towards the lockers in the break room to put my apron on. I popped mine open and checked my reflection in the mirror, piling my mussed black hair into a loose bun.

“I know, sorry. The bus was late.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Are you really pulling that one on me?”

I glanced at her, keeping my face blank and innocent. “What?”

“Your skirt’s on backwards and you’ve got pancake mix on your sleeve.” She arched an eyebrow and then crossed her arms.

“He caught you in the kitchen again, didn’t he?”

A flush of heat rushed up my neck and over my cheeks, thankfully hidden by my brown skin. I tied my apron on and cleared my throat, keeping my voice level and guilt-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Korean girl lifted the apron and turned my skirt the right way, brushing off the remainder of said pancake mix. “It’s a sad day when Jordan Amador has more of a life than I do.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted by that?”

“Both. Now get out there and wait tables, you shameless harlot.”

I batted my eyelashes at her. “Love you too.”

She stuck her tongue out at me as we walked back onto the floor and started greeting customers and taking orders. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly I could switch into Waitress Mode. Without thinking, I became amiable, even a little charming on my better days—a direct contrast to my actual personality. Lauren had once dubbed me as a “cranky, antisocial hermit crab” and it disturbed me how accurate that description had been at the time. Michael had done a remarkable job of reversing the worst parts of my behavior over the past year.

After I took care of a couple of teenagers and a large group of people who had just gotten out of church, I greeted a redhead in a forest green suit and black tie sitting by himself at a window booth.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

His brown eyes scanned the menu, his voice a little shy. “What would you suggest?”

I lowered my pen and pad. “Well, what kind of things do you like?”

He shrugged. “No preference, really.”

“I recommend the fish and grits. The fish is fried whiting and the grits are cheesy and thick, just like down South.”

“South?”

“Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, etc. I’ve never been that far down, but my boss insists it’s much better than up here,” I continued with a playful roll of my eyes.

The redhead folded up his menu and handed it to me, smiling. “That sounds good. Thank you, Jordan.”

I scribbled down his order and smiled back. “No problem.”

I gave the slip to the kitchen and grabbed some cleaning supplies to clear off a table in my section. Lauren came to help, taking the salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce, and napkins off of the table before I wiped it down.

“Who’s the redhead?” she asked.

“No idea. Never seen him before.”

“He’s not part of the usual Sunday crowd. He seems…very out-of-town-ish, especially with that suit. By the looks of things, it costs more than half of my closet.”

I flashed her a grin. “Well, you do have a bad habit of buying knock off Gucci.”

She scowled. “Those who shop at thrift shops shall not throw stones.”

“It’s economical, dammit!”

She rolled her eyes at me, handing me the spray bottle of Clorox.

“You’re married to the lead singer of a rock band. You should be able to afford decent clothing by now.”

I pursed my lips, squirting the liquid on the table. “We have better uses for the money than clothing, thank you very much.”

“Condoms?”

I whirled, aiming the spray bottle at her face. “I’ll do it and say it was an accident.”

She giggled, pushing my arm down. “Relax, Dirty Harry. Or would that be Clean Harry since you’ve got Clorox?”

“Ha-ha. A comedic genius you are not.” I finished cleaning off the table and replaced the condiments and napkin container. One of our chefs called me since an order was ready and I brought them to the customers. I took the fish and grits to the redheaded gentleman, who was staring out the window as if distracted.

“Here you go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

The lunch rush came and went like the tide—seeming overwhelming at first, but manageable to the trained eye. I didn’t notice anything out of order until midway through my shift when I returned to the seat that the redhead had been in to find I had a rather substantial tip waiting for me.

“He left you a hundred dollars?!” Lauren screeched from behind me, grabbing my shoulder to look as I held the bill between my hands with my mouth open and getting dustier by the minute.

“I…he…maybe he didn’t have change?” I sputtered, searching the sidewalk outside the restaurant to see if he was out there but he had disappeared.

My best friend threw up her hands. “I don’t get it. You come in late and yet you’re the one standing there with a fresh hundred bucks. Do you have a leprechaun stuck to the bottom of your shoe or something?”

Sheepishly, I glanced underneath my foot. “…no?”

“Ugh, I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much,” Lauren sighed, scooping up the empty plate the mysterious redhead left behind. I tucked the tip in the front of my apron, staring blankly out of the window. I started to hand her a glass only to drop it as something caught my eye across the street.

A plump woman in her early forties stared back at me. Her hair was black and curly around her round face, and her brown eyes were full of worry. I knew her—not from Albany, but from the pages of a manila folder I had poured over rigorously for the past month. Erica Davalos.

A murdered Seer.

“Jordan, what’s wrong?” Lauren asked, flustered at the shocked expression on my face.

I hid my distress, stepping over the bits of broken glass. “Nothing, sorry. Just a bit clumsy today. I’ll go get the broom.”

I hurried to the break room and grabbed a broom, but I didn’t head back out there. Instead, I snuck out the rear entrance that led into an alleyway and stuck my head around the corner, signaling for the ghost to come towards me.

“Hi,” the ghost woman said when she was within earshot, her voice light and apprehensive. “My name is Erica.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She frowned, tilting her head. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Jordan Amador. I’m a Seer.”

“A Seer?”

“Yes. It’s someone who can see and hear ghosts, angels, and demons. Long story short, they’re the descendants of the original twelve disciples. I’ve been trying to solve your murder for the past month and a half.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, I had no idea. I’ve just been wandering around for the longest time looking for someone to help me.”

I offered her a small smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right girl. I get off work in a few hours so I want you to stay in this area and meet me out front at six o’clock, okay? We’ll get everything sorted out, I promise.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Did you enjoy that? Here’s Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Keep your eyes glued to the Facebook page for more. She Who Fights Monsters is slated for release summer of this year. I can’t wait for you to read the rest. Stay tuned, darlings!

And don’t forget that you can win a free copy of The Black Parade via Good Reads from now until Jan. 31st. Spread the word!

Kyoko

The Black Parade Giveaway

TheBlackParade_Revised_2 copyGuess what, my dears? The Black Parade is having another giveaway, and this time it’s the paperback version. All you have to do is enter here and you have the chance to win yourself a signed copy of my novel. It only takes a second.

Don’t be afraid to spread the word. You have until January 31st to enter. Enjoy!

Kyoko

On Bat-Affleck

In the midst of the news that Man of Steel 2: Electric Bugaloo or Spotlight Stealing Squad or whatever the hell they’re calling the Batman/Superman/Wonder Woman movie is getting pushed back to 2016 (which I called a year ago and am smugly prancing around my apartment like a ponce since it was announced), I feel it’s necessary to give my thoughts on the matter. This is just my opinion and no more. It has nothing to do with the rest of my blog. I’m going to break my usual form and give my personal take on the manner, considering the fact that I’ve been a fan of Batman since I was about six years old and I have personally modeled myself after him.

I’m livid.

Beyond livid, if we’re being honest.

However, I’ve had enough time to calm down and rationally explain why I believe Ben Affleck is a horrible choice for the Caped Crusader.

First off, I mean no disrespect to him or any of his fans. If you’re excited about it, hooray for you. In fact, I don’t even think Affleck is that bad an actor. I think he’s alright.

But here’s the thing: I don’t think they chose Affleck because he’d be a good Batman. DC/Warner Bros announced at San Diego Comic Con that the World’s Finest movie would be out in 2015. So, think about it: they announced the release of a movie almost exactly two years before it would come out…and it’s not even in pre-production. Hell, I don’t even recall hearing the rumor of there being a script yet. All they had at the time was Zack Snyder and Henry Cavill. Then, at the press release for Bat-Affleck’s reveal, they claimed production would start in 2014. That means they are attempting to make a high budget superhero film in less than the standard two years it takes to make a summer blockbuster.

It is my personal opinion that DC/WB panicked. Just…flat out panicked because they’re so focused on making money and “competing” with The Avengers/Marvel that they made a hasty, stupid decision. I’m in the geek circuit. I did not hear anything about auditions for the new Batman. NOTHING. I don’t even think they bothered looking. They just put the word out and the first big star to say yes (notably, AFTER Christian Bale said no) is who they chose.

This infuriates me to my absolute core.

What DC/WB doesn’t seem to understand is two things: (1) why the Avengers is so profitable and (2) that the DC fanboys and fangirls don’t want a World’s Finest movie if it’s rushed and slapped together.

The Avengers became the third highest grossing domestic film in the United States for dozens of reasons–great casting, great directing, a fantastic script, gorgeous effects, and a general sense of fun and camaraderie between the actors, production team, and the fans. But here’s the main reason: Marvel actually seems to give a crap about the fans. They listen. They took their time and they picked the actors who fit the characters, and who would do the characters we love justice. Do you know why they could afford to do this? Well, that’s part two. Marvel knows that we will wait for it. Marvel understands that fans WANT to see the Avengers represented as awesomely as they appear in the comics, and that they don’t need to slap together a title and some actors and shove it out on the silver screen just to make money. Marvel knows that if they make a quality film, we WILL go see it. So they made one. They got one of the best writers/directors around and they did the damn thing, and they didn’t care what DC decided to do in retaliation.

Whereas DC sat with its thumb up its ass, snootily believing that the Batman franchise would carry them through the next decade. The Nolan Batman trilogy was nothing short of brilliant, but guess what? That’s the only good thing on DC’s recent hero track record, until Man of Steel came along. They seemed to not realize this fact until Iron Man 3 came out and kicked the 2013 box office in the face with a big smile. So they panicked and they said to themselves, “Oh my gosh, guys, if we don’t do something quick, Avengers II is going to win 2015 and since we literally have not even tried to make films for any other members of the Justice League, we’d better do something about it! Uh, yes, we’re totally going to make a Batman/Superman movie a mere three years after the Nolan film! No need to actually take our time like we did with Henry Cavill and narrow down our choices so that we pick someone who looks, sounds like, and can embody one of the greatest comic book heroes of all time. Just slap a mask on anyone with a square chin and we’ll be golden!”

I mean it. It is 2014. We have no Flash, no Wonder Woman (independently, anyway), no Hawkman, no Martian Manhunter, no Aquaman, no Green Arrow, no Black Canary, and Green Lantern’s been in the freaking Phantom Zone because everyone hated the movie so much that they can’t decide if that universe even exists anymore. There was no attempt in the Man of Steel movie to create any sense of continuity. Why? Because DC doesn’t have faith in its own damn work, and it has even less faith in us fans. That is unacceptable. They believe in the “wait and see” approach, and that is what is killing their brand and their profits. They waited to see how all of the Avengers’ solo films would do, and then they waited to see how the Avengers would do, and then they waited to see the response to the Avengers II plot and character reveals, and now all of the sudden they want to act because they want their piece of the pie. No. That is not how you should be treating a franchise and characters that have been beloved since the 1930’s.

You hire people who are right for the job. You read the damn comics. You talk to the fans. You listen to the criticism that you have received from your previous films. You sit down and you do your damn homework and you make a great film. It’s that damned simple. If you do all of that, THEN you get to make a billion dollars globally. I’m not saying DC needs to copy Marvel’s exact methods. They need to understand what Marvel is doing correctly and emulate that if they want any of the other heroes aside from Batman to make money and do well.

Having said all of that, I’ll now address my problem with Ben Affleck.

He’s not Batman.

Just…he’s really not.

Now, this isn’t to say all the men who have played Batman in the past via the silver screen have been Batman. However, each of them brought some aspect of Bruce Wayne to the table that you can at least argue is true to the character. For instance, Michael Keaton brought the intensity to Batman, but he was a pretty lousy Bruce. Val Kilmer brought the quiet intelligence and tortured soul of Bruce, but he was a lousy Batman. George Clooney brought the playboy aspect, but he sucked as both Bruce and Batman. Christian Bale perfected Bruce Wayne and played an excellent Batman, but he did miss a few beats here and there with his voice problems.

What in the hell is Ben Affleck going to bring to the table?

That’s what made me so angry when I heard the news. I’ve watched some Affleck films. The guy is a good comedic actor and a decent dramatic actor. But he looks and sounds nothing like any incarnation of Bruce Wayne that I can even try to picture in my head. I’m not talking about physicality alone. I’m talking about presence. Ben Affleck could walk up to me in my room right now and wrap his hands around my neck and threaten me, and honestly? I really don’t think I’d be all that intimidated. It’s not just the buttchin and the big blue eyes. The way he walks, the way he carries himself, the way I’ve seen him act in other roles, is why I’m against him as Batman. I simply cannot see him putting on the mask and actually scaring superstitious cowardly lots of criminals.

It is here that I have to bring up a tiring discussion that will no doubt make some fanboys hate me: Daredevil.

I hated that movie.

Granted, not with a passion. More like disdain. I just thought it was badly written, poorly shot, dreadfully cast (with the exception of Michael Clarke Duncan as Kingpin, rest in peace, sir), and all around awful. And I know all the little fanboys and girls insist, “Watch the director’s cut! It’s much better!” but guess what? They didn’t release that version in the theater. You can’t undo that. You can’t fix all your mistakes after the movie screwed a dead horse. If they wanted to make a better movie, they’d have released a better movie. And honestly, I’ve never seen the director’s cut, but I sincerely doubt it fixed the nine billion problems with that movie anyway. It was just not well done.

My point is that Daredevil is also supposed to be an intimidating comic book hero. He’s not as dark as Batman, but he’s intense and driven. And I saw Ben Affleck trying to pull that off and he failed miserably. I understand that he was still young in his career, but I truly don’t believe that he has the presence to be Batman.

I don’t believe that I can see him with his hair slicked back wearing a million dollar suit running a billion dollar corporation. I don’t believe that I can see him training with Ra’s al Ghul, or Lady Shiva, or Zatara. I don’t believe that I can see him out-thinking the Riddler, or flirting with Catwoman, or battling the Joker to save someone’s life. I. DON’T. BELIEVE. IT. It’s not because he’s a bad actor. He’s not. It’s the character that doesn’t fit.

Bruce Wayne is a dichotomy of concepts. He’s brooding and hurting, but he’s also got this wondrous sly sense of humor. He’s constantly insisting that his mission is solo, but he naturally attracts people to him because he has a noble heart and despite all the darkness in him, he loves people. He is a wide spectrum of emotions and beliefs and ideas. He’s got a depth to him that has kept him as one of the most popular heroes since his creation in 1939.

And all of that I am supposed to see in the star of Gigli?

No.

I cannot accept that.

So, there you have it. If that makes me a close-minded, awful person, then so be it. I’m keeping my $10.50 in my pocket where it belongs. I hope the movie doesn’t suck. I hope that people who want to see Bat-Affleck enjoy it.

I will just not be one of them.

Kyoko

On Endings

The_Holy_Dark_3_final_Front

So I finished the final installment to The Black Parade series a few days ago.

Hoo boy.

Prior to the third book, whose working title is The Holy Dark if you must know, I’ve written and finished three books–two novels and a novella. However, I’ve never written a series before and the first thing I have to say is, God bless the crazy sons of bitches who write long running series. I mean, seriously, The Black Parade series is just a trilogy, and I had the HARDEST time keeping everything in line. I think as authors we tend to take certain things for granted when we write. For instance, I didn’t realize just how long The Holy Dark was until I went through and began formatting it and doing the superficial edit.

The Holy Dark’s first draft is 168,197 words. Let’s do a comparison, shall we?

The Hobbit: 95,022 words

The Fellowship of the Ring: 177,227 words

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: 190,637 words

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: 198,227 words

Are you beginning to see my plight here? I’m nowhere near as good as the above authors, but my word count is approaching their glorious numbers and it’s slightly terrifying. However, when I researched word counts of famous novel series, I did notice a trend. They do increase in word count the longer on they continue, and I think it has a lot to do with the process of writing towards the end of a series.

As I wrote The Holy Dark, there were all kinds of things that I had to keep in mind to tie up by the conclusion of the novel. Jordan and Michael’s stories span three books, and several storylines intersect with each other. We also meet new characters in the second and third novels who also have their own lives and stories and backstories. It’s like balancing spinning plates after a certain point. The reason why The Holy Dark took me so long to write (I started it in May 2013 and finished it just after New Years) is because I didn’t fully understand what it takes to end a series. There’s so much material to cover. There are your individual character arcs, the romantic character growth between Jordan/Michael and Jordan/Belial, the series long arc of the battle between the Seers and the demons, the ramifications of what happened in the previous novels, and then the actual plot of the current novel. Does your head hurt yet? Mine certainly does.

Endings, to me, are usually a little easier than beginnings. The original beginning to The Black Parade was Jordan reliving the night she killed Mr. N, but two separate critique groups talked me out of it because action-heavy beginnings with no context tend to work better in movies than in novels. Thus, we had our quiet but tense opening with Jordan waking up and starting her day as a Seer. However, the ending to The Black Parade was pretty much set in my head in general terms. I knew where her character would end up. Same deal for She Who Fights Monsters. The Holy Dark’s ending was a vague concept in my head, but how I got there was nothing short of a doozy. This is the first novel I’ve ever written where the beginning was a lot easier than the ending.

For instance, the first draft of THD is actually the second draft. The first time I wrote it, I got to 50,000 words in about two months. Then I stopped, read it, and panicked because the pacing was dreadful. The plot stopped and started and coughed and wheezed and begged to be put out of its misery. Thus, I had a long chat with my writing sensei and he helped figure out why the novel had such horrendous pacing issues. I had so many scenes that I wanted to write before the series ended that the flow of the novel felt unnatural and stilted. I took everything back to the drawing board, deleted big chunks, altered the narrative, and started up again. I did well for several months and then the end of the year hit. I had so many hours at my retail day job that I missed my 2013 deadline because so much of the story had piled up that I didn’t have time to type it all out. My fingers just weren’t fast enough.

What I’ve learned over the course of writing this first draft is that endings can be difficult because one worries about satisfaction. Is the end of the series satisfying? Where does everyone end up after their three book long journey? What have they learned? What have they gone through? How has it changed them? Is the conflict real and personal? Is it something readers will relate to and cherish? There are so many expectations that consciously and unconsciously crop up when you read the final novel in a series.

For example, I’m not a fan of Mockingjay because it felt overstuffed and convoluted. I liked The Hunger Games the best out of the novels because it was succinct and profound. It also had much less of the Peeta/Katniss/Gale love triangle, which I personally find to be pointless. Katniss is not the kind of girl who needs to be torn over two boys. It’s quite clear that she has romantic feelings for Peeta, not Gale, and I worry that Suzanne Collins dragged the love triangle out for the sake of drama, and not because it needed to be there. Now, granted, I’m sure I will get the same criticism in the future because I’ve got my own love triangle going in my series, but I’m just being honest. Either way, The Hunger Games is still one of the best contemporary novel series of all time. I bring it up because my expectations for where the story would end up was way different from how it actually did. I don’t think that authors should pander to their audiences and fret over what they would enjoy reading, but I do think it’s part of the writing experience anyway. It’s what I struggled with during the epilogue of THD because I had scenes that I wanted to write that I felt the readers would enjoy, but since they weren’t plot relevant, I felt the urge to leave them out. After all, nothing gets people crankier than a too-sweet happy ending. I tend to lean towards bittersweet endings because they are more realistic. It’s the same reason why Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ epilogue is so controversial–a lot of it reads like lousy fanfiction. Being too saccharine in your ending can color the whole series. Hell, my mother and I discussed this last night with the movie Sweet November. We actually liked the movie itself…until the ending. The ending blew it. It just blew. It was a dumb, unsatisfying cop out. That ending ruined the entire experience and cost the people who made it a sale (I found the movie for cheap at a game store and thought about buying it, but then I remember that FUBAR ending and chose not to instead). It’s the same with novels. You can write something beautiful and emotionally crippling, but if you screw up the ending, it can poison your entire series.

Now compact everything I’ve said and shove it inside your ear. That’s how my brain feels right now. Endings are a pain in the ass. This is a shout out to every single author who has ended a novel series: you are incredible and I hope you know that with all your heart. My stories aren’t nearly as complex as something like George R. R. Martin or J.K. Rowling, and they somehow have endings. I will absorb these authors’ wisdom into my own body like an amoeba before I start the first round of editing.

The nice thing about being an author is that you can always change. You can move chapters around. You can delete them. You can expand. You can chase down new plot threads and character arcs and nail them into place. As a wise Autobot once said, freedom is the right of all sentient beings, and I think that is most true with writing. The Holy Dark kicked my skinny ass up and down the year 2013, but it taught me more than I think the first two novels combined. It’s scary to think I won’t be writing about Jordan, Michael, Gabriel, and Belial in the future, but these characters have been beyond fun to write over the past five years. I think that’s also why the ending was so difficult. I wanted to put them to rest with all the respect that I could because they’ve been keeping me company for so long. I suppose that’s sentimental (and borderline clinically insane), but hey, that’s how I roll.

Welcome to 2014, people. Big things are in our future. Stay tuned for more.

-Kyoko

Things Nikita Taught Me About Writing

There are two kinds of people in this world. People who find this hot and liars.

There are two kinds of people in this world. People who find this hot and liars.

First things first: Happy New Year!

This past Friday, I unfortunately had to say goodbye to one of my absolute favorite television shows. Nikita is a spy thriller show on the CW, and one of the only good things on that entire channel. It’s by no stretch perfect, as I will elaborate on in just a moment, but it was one of the most atypical shows on that particular network. The CW typically panders to the teenage girl demographic, and Nikita was a fresh breath of air for all four seasons. I’d like to honor its memory by discussing the things in the show that helped me as a writer.

Massive spoilers ahead. Ye be warned.

Beware the Mary Sue. For the non-writers out there, a “Mary Sue” is an original character who is poorly written and exemplifies traits of an inexperienced writer who doesn’t understand how to make a character three dimensional. Mary Sue characters are often the most beautiful, funniest, quirkiest, smartest, and powerful among any of the people around them. They are written like goddesses and most of the time, the other characters either irrationally hate them in order to serve as a foil for how “awesome” they are, or everyone loves them and constantly praises them. This term is thrown around too often in the fiction and fanfiction world, especially if said character is based on the author, but it’s still an important mainstay in the writing world for a reason.

Nikita managed to avert the Mary Sue character with one character and then embodied it with another. Here’s the skinny, in case you skipped the 1990 original film (La Femme Nikita by Luc Besson) that the show is loosely based on: Nikita Mears was a drug addict who killed a cop and was sentenced to death. However, after her faked lethal injection, she woke up in an underground facility in the hands of a covert government agency called Division, headed by Percy, Amanda, and Michael, respectively. They take felons with the death sentence, rehabilitate them, and turn them into undercover spies and assassins to do the U.S. government’s dirty work off the books. After getting clean, Nikita quickly became Division’s best agent, but she eventually fell in love with a guy named Daniel. Relationships with outsiders are forbidden, so Division killed Daniel and Nikita broke out and swore revenge. She recruits a young girl named Alexandra Udinov to infiltrate Division and help her tear it to the ground.

Nikita has all the makings of a Mary Sue—an absurd wealth of beauty, a sharp tactical mind, bad ass martial arts skills, fluency in several languages, and genuinely a good heart—but the show recognized what makes a great character and instead made her three dimensional. For instance, Nikita’s biggest character flaw is that she has a serious guilt complex. There have been plenty of missions she failed or battles she lost because she is so obsessed with saving everyone that even one loss is beyond her comprehension. She also has deep rooted self-esteem issues brought on by the darkness inside her that Division cultivated and brought out of her in her earlier years. The reason why she’s such a fantastic leading lady is that she often questions her own actions, has doubts and fears, and makes mistakes that affect herself and her team. She is a loner, but she also falls in love with the second-in-command at Division, Michael, and spends the entire first season trying to get him to see the error of his ways. Nikita is self-sacrificing to a fault and the show does a wonderful job showing the repercussions of making decisions for other people instead of trusting them.

On the other hand, Alex is the biggest Mary Sue I’ve seen on television in ages. Her backstory reeks of bad writing. For instance, her father was a Russian arms dealer and head of a multimillion dollar company. Division stormed his manor to kill him and his family, but Nikita couldn’t bring herself to shoot Alex in cold blood so she saved her and ran away from Division. Alex constantly screws up missions in the first season, but she always avoids “cancellation” (which is what Division does if an agent doesn’t get with the program) through incredibly stupid, contrived situations rather than using her own smarts or skills. In the second season, she gets even dumber and works with Division to hunt Nikita because she found out Nikita killed her father before saving her life. She claims that she’s using Division instead of the other way around and continues playing right into their schemes up until the very end of the season where she gets some sense knocked into her. Then she gets brainwashed by Amanda, Division’s psychotic psychiatric assessment agent, and becomes so obsessed with “freeing” the agents at Division that she sabotages Nikita’s plans, shoots a supporting character and nearly kills him, incites a mutiny, and gets her own love interest killed. She is everything that Nikita is not—incapable, snotty, selfish, short-sighted, and constantly getting everyone else in trouble.

Nikita has its fair share of problems, but the differences between Nikita and Alex are what leave the biggest impression on me from a writing standpoint. It’s very easy to lose grip on a grounded character and create a Mary Sue. Writers do it all the time. The key is balancing out the good with the bad. Every character has traits that make them worthwhile, and traits that make you want to smash their head against a concrete wall. They need to have realistic faults and shortcomings. They need to be human and mess up and work hard to atone for their sins. Writers tend to put some characters on pedestals out of habit and love of their work, but if we want people to enjoy them, we have to bump them off it.

Understand the scope and duration of your storylines. One of the absolute hardest things about writing the final novel in my Black Parade series is knowing the limitations of the story. Nikita has definitely struggled with this in the past.

For instance, the first two seasons are by far the strongest because they have an insidious main villain (Percy), a steamy love affair with all kinds of Dating Catwoman vibes (Michael and Nikita), a lovable team of ass-kicking misfits (Birkhoff, Ryan, Nikita, Owen, Sean, and Michael, and I don’t count Alex because she sucks), and a pretty straightforward plot. Season three falls apart after the death of Percy because while the old bastard was starting to get tiresome (he had a very Lex Luthor way of getting out of every single scrape by talking his way out), Amanda is just not main villain material. She’s far too one-note and she was incapable of seeing the big picture the way that Percy did when he ran Division. He knew exactly how to manipulate the agents and how to make them think they were helping their country when they were really just serving his needs.

The idea that the show did well with in the third season was that Division could be used for good instead of evil, and the team struggled with that from start to finish. However, the story wore thin as the mutiny and the brainwashing and Amanda’s creepy obsession with Nikita began to take over. The end of season three had some pretty soap opera level types of drama, especially the plotline with Michael’s bionic hand, and any of the realism the show used to have dried up. By the time season four hit, it was pretty clear that the series had run out of gas.

Pacing is vital to a good book. One has to know how to intersperse action, dialogue, inner conflict, and other story elements in a way that keeps the audience’s attention. This is why a lot of writers suggest outlining the novel before one starts it because it can help keep the reins firmly in the author’s grasp. It’s easy to slip off into a tangent with your story if you don’t have all the details. You don’t want your story to be derivative, so it’s important to explore all the limitations of your world and then decide how to trail blaze.

Choose your villain carefully. Percy is one of the best TV villains I’ve seen in years. He’s got all the calm, cool demeanor of Lex Luthor with the vicious killing streak of Darkseid. Even though Nikita constantly foiled his plans, he always found a way to profit off of his losses. He could talk his way out of damn near anything, and he also managed to stay detached from his emotions, meaning he had no weak points. He was such a slimy bastard that I’m sure we were all cheering when Nikita dropped his ass down that silo to plummet to his death.

However, Amanda’s shift into the main villain seat was misguided, in my opinion. Amanda shifted between second in command and third in command while Percy was still running Division, and it worked because of her skill set. She knew how to influence the recruits and get what she wanted out of them with persuasion, and occasionally, force. However, she got too ambitious and turned on Percy because of her own massive ego. I appreciate that the show didn’t want Percy to be the source of conflict for the entire show’s run, but Amanda didn’t have the panache to pull it off. She was certainly a cold hearted bitch with no remorse and no morals, but she didn’t know how to truly run Division effectively.

I believe a commonly used quote in the writing world is that “every villain is a hero in their own story.” Villains need to get beneath our skin. We need to hate them or fear them at the end of the day. Sometimes all one needs is a one note villain with an end goal of world domination, but the better villains are the ones who have at least one redeeming quality. Percy and Amanda didn’t have those, but plenty of the antagonists in Nikita’s world did. After all, a hero is only as good as their evil counterpart. If one fleshes out the protagonist, one needs to flesh out the antagonist. However, Nikita did do something I enjoyed—they didn’t expose anything about Percy on a real level. We didn’t find out his last name or his childhood. He was just an imposing asshole and that worked because it kept the mystery. Less is more with villains like him, and this show understood that very well.

Make sure your supporting cast is actually supportive. Team Nikita is pretty awesome, all things considered. You have Birkhoff, aka Nerd, who heads up all the technological aspects; Ryan, who handles deployment of the agents and knows how to dig through the government for answers; Sean, who is basically extra muscle; Michael, who is the tactical genius leader guy and Nikita’s moral center; Alex, who is Nikita’s lesser half but still helps out despite being a massive idiot. This brings me to Owen—an agent whose job was to clean up messes and get rid of trace evidence after certain assassinations. Owen had been put on a regiment of rare vitamins and substances that made him faster and stronger than the average bear, but then he got in trouble and defected after Division killed his girlfriend. Nikita later recruits him because of her savior complex, to my complete exasperation.

The problem with Owen is that he doesn’t really pull his weight. The other members of Team Nikita have solid, set purposes and roles. They all do something that is needed on their missions. Owen, however, isn’t much use most of the time. He’s irrational, hot-headed, impulsive, and smug. He rarely thinks ahead and without the regimen, he was no longer super-strong or fast. He was by far the most extraneous character on the show. It seems as if he was brought in as a regular in order to cause tension (at one point, he seemed to take a shine to Nikita while she and Michael were having relationship issues), but at the end of the day, you could remove him entirely and not much would change.

This can sometimes happen in stories with ensemble casts. Authors tend to want to show a diverse spread of characters with their own quirks. Sometimes they can get so wrapped up a character’s personality that they forget to actually make them relevant to the plot. It’s easy enough to fix—often times, one can combine two characters into one, or remove the character entirely and just save them for another story. Owen is a constant reminder to always make sure to tie each character into the plot with their own thread. Otherwise, what are they there for?

I’m honestly in mourning for Nikita. While they went out on a fantastic finale, it’s hard to see it go when there are so few unique shows out there. Here’s to you, Nikita. Thanks for the memories.

Kyoko