Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Writer's Voice: Entry Number 31

The wonderful Brenda DrakeCupidMonica B.W., and Krista Van Dolzer are holding an amazing contest called The Writer's Voice. They're playing it like the NBC show The Voice. If I'm lucky, I could end up on one of their teams and with my coach's help, find an agent.

Thank you all for doing this contest!! You guys rock! Now for my entry:

Entry number: 31
Title: Spark
Genre: YA Paranormal Romance


It’s just like sixteen-year-old, Taisie Monahan, to fall flat on her face on the first day of her new school in her deceased mother’s hometown. When the popular clique in school accepts her into their group, she goes from zero to hottie in a flash, but their friendship comes at price.

When the nightmares stalking Taisie her entire life invade the real world, she finds solace in the arms of a mysterious biker boy. Soon Taisie learns she’s the missing piece to a centuries old prophecy and her new found friends will stop at nothing to make sure she fulfills her destiny.

A twisted cat and mouse game shows Taisie that the evil spectral who holds her mother’s soul will stop at nothing to get his hands on Taisie’s unharnessed ability to destroy immortality.

Forced to choose between her mother’s soul and her own freedom, Taisie must embrace her true identity and trust her new friends to save the ones she love or lose her soul forever.

SPARK is a young adult paranormal romance complete at 61,000 words.

First 250:

I knew he was there the moment my foot touched the sidewalk. That creepy-spider-crawling-up-your-back feeling was something that belonged only to him. My eyes searched the crowed frantically, hoping to get my first glimpse of my stalker before I realized what I was doing and stopped.

He was just another part of my endless nightmares. First day jitters had caused my nerves to play tricks on my mind and acting like a mess wasn't going to make my old rep of being freak-girl go away in this school any easier.

Pressing myself against a brick wall, I tried to catch a break from the sea of students flowing through the floodgates of Saint Isabel High. I'd never seen so many name-brand clothes in one place before. I took a step forward and then quickly returned to the safety of the wall.

Get a grip. People are staring.

I tried to will myself to listen, but the nagging feeling was still tugging at the edge of my mind, keeping me locked into place like a statue being held by chains.

Hey! Come here!” My breath caught when the hot jock yelled and waved at me, or what I wanted to be me. After all, didn't I try to make myself look like his type when I got up that morning?

My finger lightly swiped across my sorry excuse for lipstick, kicking up a slight hint of cherry from my lip balm, making me feel like a little girl in big girl clothing.

Thank you for this opportunity and good luck to everyone!!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Are You Too Picky? Interview with Lisette Brodey author of Molly Hacker Is Too Picky!

This week only, Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! for kindle is on sale for .99! Grab it while you can!

1. Lets begin with having you introduce yourself.

Hi, Jamie. Thanks for having me here. I am originally from Philadelphia, but I moved to New York after high school to attend Pace University. I lived there for ten years and then moved to Los Angeles. It's a long story: I came back to the east for many years, and now am permanently resettled in Los Angeles.

2. I love your book, Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! What made you write, Molly?

I really wanted to take a stand for all the women (and men!) who are badgered to death by friends and family because they're "too picky" when it comes to finding the love of his or her life. My goodness, shouldn't we all be picky in that respect? It's not about agreeing to have dinner at a mediocre restaurant; it's about being happy for the rest of our lives. Be picky!

In addition to standing up for picky people, I wanted to write a more lighthearted book that encompasses themes and situations we can all relate to, but with humor, sass, and snark.

3. When did you start writing, Molly? How long did it take you to finish the final revision?

Well! That's tough to answer. I started writing Molly in 2006, but then I put the manuscript on the back burner to publish my two previously written novels. In 2009, I went back to Molly. I actually finished the writing on New Year's Eve: December 31, 2009. I didn't publish the book for another two years. A lot happened, including a move back to California. Additionally, I spent a lot of time editing the book, blogging as Molly for eight months prior to publication (, and implementing a professional editor's notes. (I'm not big on rushing books to publication before they are ready!)

4. What did you want to be when you were five?

An actress.

5. Now, I know this answer. But, what do you do other than write?

I work as a background actor in TV and film in Los Angeles. Maybe someday I'll do more than background. 

6. Do you use some of your life in your writing? Any of your experiences in, Molly?

This is a question people often ask writers. For me, I use a lot of what I observe in people and know about people. I've never written about my life experiences directly (by simply changing names), but much of what I write indirectly does have a great deal to do with my own life. I make up a whole lot of stuff, too, but in the end, it all comes from what I have seen, even if not immediately recognizable as such.

7. What was your favorite scene to write?

My favorite scene in Molly to write was the longest. It takes place at a holiday gala in Molly's town. Friend and foe alike come together for a society bash. Relationships are made, relationships are broken, MANY secrets are exposed, and lives are changed forever. Because Molly is written in the first person, it was especially challenging to write a scene involving so many characters.

8. Who is/are your favorite authors? Why?

If I had to choose one, it would probably be Charles Dickens, because I love his colorful, brilliant, larger-than-life characters. 

9. What was the first book you ever read?

I have absolutely no idea! :-) But the first book I remember being read to me was Robert Louis Stevenson's A Child's Garden of Verses.

10. What is your favorite book? Why?

I don't really have ONE favorite book. I mentioned above that I adore Charles Dickens, so I'd have to say that David Copperfield would definitely be on my list of favorite books. I just loved the characters and delicious plotting. One of my very favorite works is Under Milkwood by Dylan Thomas. His writing was just brilliant.

11. If you were on a deserted island and could only have three things for the rest of your life. What would they be and why?

Well, I would go crazy if I couldn't write. So at very least, either a whole lot of paper and pens or a computer. (I suppose it would have to be a computer that is powered by water or sand. Do they make those?) I would also use that same computer to stay in touch with my friends; they are my greatest treasure. And last, but not least, a lifeboat to bring me to safety in case I decide that being on an island for the rest of my life is just a tad too much to handle. :-)

12. How many books have you written? What are they?

I have written and published three novels. Squalor, New Mexico (YA/General Fiction), which has nothing to do with the state of New Mexico, is the story of Darla McKendrick, growing up in East Coast suburbia in the 1970s. It's a coming-of-age story shrouded in family mystery.

Crooked Moon (General Fiction) is the story of two childhood friends who reunite after 23 years apart. Callie and Frankie have lived very different lives and there is a lot of joy and pain in their reconnection. Each woman ends up with a life-altering secret about the other and the burning question of what to do with it.

13. And finally, is there any advice you'd like to share with my readers? Anything you'd like to say?

No matter what you're aiming for in life, keep trying, even on the bleakest of days. Keep hope alive and plant miracle seeds every day. You never know when one might grow.

Thank you for doing this interview. I'm sure my readers will enjoy your answers just as much as I do. 

Thank you, Jamie. You're truly one of the most delightful, talented, and supportive people I've had the pleasure to meet on social media. You rock!

Lisette was kind enough to include an excerpt from Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: Another Wedding

Three weddings ago, when my best girlfriend, Claudia Porter-Bellman, got married, I swore it would be the last one I would ever attend until I was the bride. Claudia Porter-Bellman — and people tell me I’ve got baggage.

I didn’t, however, count on my mother’s long-divorced best friend, Susan Decker, getting married again. Having tried every trick in and out of vogue to find a husband, Susan was ripe for success. But despite the odds being on her side, I figured Murphy’s law would sabotage her efforts.

Cynical? Nah. It wasn’t just Murphy or the fact that his law had wreaked so much havoc in my own life. It was simply that Susan just seemed too desperate, as opposed to my own state of being: nonchalantly desperate.

Back to Susan. One night, an insistent neighbor dragged her to a local community center for a fun night of number calling, and bingo, six months later, she was engaged to a widower of two years.

He was a nice enough man, quite handsome, and seemed to truly care about her happiness. Luckily for me, Susan’s good fortune veered far enough away from my own romantic hallucinations that I was able to attend the wedding without insane pangs of envy stabbing my chest like daggers.

I’ll admit it: watching Susan and her new husband take their vows did fill me with a bit of “why the hell isn’t that me up there?” but having to deal with the busybodies at the country club reception proved to be the real pebble in my Jimmy Choos. Although I had been wise enough to bring Tony Lostanza, my dear friend from high school who was estranged from his wife, my mom had already told a few friends (translation: it was broadcast to the world) that Tony was just an escort of sorts. As if that weren’t bad enough, the ones who didn’t know, but who knew Tony, were horrified that I was attending a wedding, of all occasions, with a married man.

That night, I was forced to fend off several not-so-subtle dirty looks, glances of pity accompanied by sad head shaking, and, once again, comments from those near and dear who felt compelled to remind me that if I weren’t so darn picky, if I would just give a nice man a chance, I wouldn’t have to bring another woman’s husband to my mother’s best friend’s wedding.

If you think I just took all of this in stride, think again. I had no problem letting each and every person know that my business was just that —†my business. With some people, I find the best way to deal with unwanted questions is to ask a few of my own. For example, when my aunt Pauline asked me why a pretty girl like me couldn’t have brought a man who wasn’t attached to someone else, I asked the thrice-divorced sister of my mother to explain to me how settling for three Mr. Wrongs had enhanced her life, and I inquired as to the price of divorce and whether her legal fees had been worth the paltry settlements she had received.

“Smart ass; stay single, Miss Picky,” she snapped, and headed off to articulate her discontent to any random guest with ears willing to be mangled by a wart-nosed barfly.

I knew Pauline would shake off my admonishment the same way my cat shakes off my kisses. She had more important things to concern herself with: after all, a wedding was a perfect place to scour the crowd for Mr. Wrong number four. Pauline had a way of bypassing any man who didn’t have one elbow on the bar and who was able to make it through an evening without slurring his words. Perhaps this had something to do with her less-than-stellar track record. I’m babbling. I need to refocus.

Twice that day, Tony had been asked to temporarily excuse himself so that the presiding snoop could have her way with me. Each time, he looked at me for the green light to do so, which, regrettably, I gave him. I don’t understand why I should be polite to people who I know are about to say or do something rude. I know I said I had “no trouble” standing up to people, and for the most part I don’t, but I should have told them that whatever they wanted to say could have been said in Tony’s presence. In hindsight, I always have some pesky little regret; it’s a bad habit, and I need to work on it.

“Molly, you’re such a pretty woman,” Naomi Hall-Benchley began. “And you’re smart. But smart women often make foolish choices (blah, blah, clichÈ, blah) and being with a married man, even if he’s ‘just a friend,’ is not a good choice. I’ve got great news for you. I’ve arranged a dinner for next week. Art has a new marketing VP who just moved here from Dallas. He’s single, and he’s looking. Great guy and quite the avid golfer.”

I had never picked up a golf club in my life, but suddenly, looking at Naomi, it felt like an excellent idea. She was the town’s premier socialite and often looked more like a wax museum replica of herself than a real person. For years, I harbored fantasies of finding a wick on top of her head, lighting it, and watching her slowly burn to the ground. Just imagining the flame licking every inch of her skintight Herve Leger cocktail dress as her mascara kissed her melting pearls made me tingle with delight.

“And he makes oodles of money,” she jabbered on, subtly glancing from side to side in hopes of being photographed. “What time is good for you? Shall we say seven p.m. next Friday?”

“You know, I’m busy that night. Sorry.”

“No problem, we can reschedule!” She laughed. “Rescheduling is the least of our worries.”

“How about the twelfth?” I asked, as I noticed Tony watching intently from the bar.

“But today is the twenty-seventh…the twelfth is two weeks away!”

“And the twelfth of never is even further away,” I informed her, taking delight as her jaw dropped. I saw Tony laughing now; I knew he couldn’t wait for a recap with his nightcap.

“You’re ungrateful, Molly,” she said, taking a swig of her vodka martini. “I have a perfectly fine man for you, and you refuse to give him a chance.”

Now I was angry. “Have you ever met him?” I challenged her.

“Well, no…” she said sheepishly. “Not yet.”

“But he makes a good salary and loves golf. Those are your criteria for a hot prospect? Does he have a sense of humor? Is he sensitive? Does he do anything but play golf in his free time?”

“Well, I, I don’t know…”

“No, you don’t,” I scolded. “You don’t care about my happiness at all. You just want to be ‘the one’ who set up ‘Picky Molly Hacker’ and simultaneously score points with Art by playing matchmaker for his new vice president.”

“Now, that’s just silly—”

“Do you think if I were to meet someone new that I would want to do it with people watching, listening to our conversation, butting in to try and push us together? Do you realize this is the twenty-first century?”

“You’re too picky, Molly Hacker. And if you don’t wise up while you’ve still got something to offer a man, if indeed you do, you won’t have all the things that life has to offer. Not to mention that children are best had while one is still fertile.”

I started to roar fire but stopped myself. Tony was approaching, and I didn’t know if his clothing was flame retardant.

I was thirty-two, and Naomi was only eight years older than I was. I wondered if she considered herself to be “old.” But I chose a different question.

“Are you and Art in love?”

“How utterly inappropriate of you,” Naomi said, reeling in feigned horror. “Of course we are. Besides, I live very well. I have a beautiful home, beautiful children, and a full life.”

“But are you in love with him? Is he in love with you?”

“Of course and of course! You’re too picky, Molly Hacker, and deflecting the seriousness of your situation to me will not help you. I’m surprised you haven’t found someone at the Herald. It’s a fine newspaper with some very smart men working there.”

By this time, Tony had arrived and put his arm around me, smiling at Naomi just to rattle her.

“If you don’t mind, Naomi, I’ll do things my own way. Call me funny, quirky, picky, or whatever you like, but I kind of had my heart set on love being part of the equation. Not that it’s any of your business!”

Naomi finished her martini and put it on the tray of a passing waiter.

Tony smiled at her again, this time more broadly. Naomi and I took one last opportunity to scowl at one another, and I swore, no matter whose it was, I would never attend another wedding again†until I attended my own. And I meant it. I sailed through the next year without attending one wedding — despite being invited to three.


So here I sit today, August twenty-seventh, just about a year after Susan’s wedding, on a bright and beautiful summer day, glammed up in my dress, as I watch my younger sister, Hannah, get her hair pinned up with flowers for her big day. Hannah is bursting with joy. She’s only twenty-six and is marrying her longtime guy, Matthew. Nobody ever told Hannah she was too picky.

You can grab your own copy of Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! today on Amazon or B&N today!

Thank you again, Lisette for stopping by and doing this interview. Until next time everyone, happy reading/writing!