Hey, you.
Guess what?
The Deadly Seven comes out this Friday. You know what you should do? Join us for the virtual launch party and win your own copy for free.
Here’s your invite. Dress classy. Top hats and monocles are a must.
If you can’t make the party, you can still win a free paperback copy. Don’t miss out!
See you guys on Friday!
-Kyoko
I’m back, bb!
That’s right! My little book has found a new home at Scribd, thanks to Smashwords. They’re actually this really nifty service where you can read all kinds of books for free (and some of them paid) the way Netflix allows you to rent movies.
It’s been a while since my last post and that’s because I am furiously working on The Deadly Seven–a short story collection from The Black Parade series that takes place in the two month period before the third act of the book where Jordan and Michael are learning to live alongside each other. So far, it’s looking to be released late April/early May. Anyone who signs up for the mailing list gets the first chapter for free.
Stay tuned for all-new excerpts and giveaways!
Kyoko
So I had the talented Christina of Green Sketches draw our handsome hero, Michael. Take a look:
I personally think it’s the bees’ knees, if you’ll pardon the outdated slang. I thought it’d be fun to get some visuals for the main cast of The Black Parade, so tell me in the comments who you’d like to see next: Jordan, Belial, or Gabriel?
Speaking of which, we’re closing in on the release date for “The Deadly Seven.” I’ve started a contest on Facebook. Tell me who you think could play Jordan and Michael if the Black Parade ever got made into a movie. Best answer gets a free advanced copy of “The Deadly Seven,” which is looking to hit shelves in early April. Follow the link to the page and enter for your chance to win.
Plus, don’t forget to sign up for our mailing list. You’ll get all the goodies before anyone else.
See you soon!
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!
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
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
Guess 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
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
Happy holidays! The Black Parade is now free to download all week long, from now until December 29th, 2013. Swing by and grab yourself a copy. Share the link everywhere and anywhere you want. Review it, if you feel so inclined. Have fun, darlings.
It is with a heavy heart that I announce this to be the last day of The Black Parade’s virtual blog tour. I had so much fun I don’t want it to end. Still, everything must end so here is our last blog stop: Mythical Books. This time, there’s another guest post by yours truly.
Remember: you still have another week to enter the free book giveaway via Rafflecopter.
Thank you for your support. Welcome, all new followers. Don’t be shy. Read the posts and comment as you see fit. I look forward to seeing you all for my next blog post.
Kyoko