I was on twitter and I saw that someone was doing #NaNoWriMo2019. I had no idea what that was. I know, you would think that as a writer I would know things like this. I guess I live my life with my head buried in the sand.
Anyway this stands for an organization of writers who spend the month of November writing 50,000 words. (National November Writing Month)
First, can I just say that I don't know why they picked November. That's when everyone has to shop for Christmas and bake pies for Thanksgiving. But no one asked me and since I'm late to the party, all I can go is hop on board.
*Me getting on board now*
The idea is that I will write everyday this month. I choose to work on a book called "The Sky's The Limit."
Here is a little excerpt of what I've done so far.
Pulsar grabbed a metal folding chair near a stack of dirt metal shelving.
“Come sit with me, Polly.” Luna smiled at him.
“Yes, Grandma.” Pulsar opened the chair and set it in front of Luna. As he faced her, he considered her strange timing. “Why are you here? It’s three in the morning.”
“When you are old like me, sleep comes and goes.” Luna’s musical voice laughed. “And besides, you like seeing your grandma, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do” Pulsar leaned over and patted her skirt-covered knee. She smiled at the small act of affection he could offer. Over the years, Pulsar had become more knowledgeable about how much sweat he could get on people. He’d been researching his gift and his side effect since he was thirteen. Now he knew what the consequences would be.
Jupiter seeing the hesitation, tossed him the towel. Leaning away from Luna, Pulsar wiped the sweat on his face and hands. This area was cold enough that the perspiration had started to dry.
“I was just wondering why you’re here, but I don’t really care or anything.”
“Yes, you don’t care or anything.” Luna repeated as she looked out toward the piles of trash. Suddenly, her eyes flipped back to his face. “I’m old, Pulsar.”
“Sure, sure.” Pulsar agreed. “But you’re my grandma. You’re supposed to be old. Muhammad Ali says, ‘Age is whatever you think it is. You are as old as you think you are.’” Pulsar smiled at the only women who’d ever saw him as more than a criminal. “You’re still beautiful and smart. Age is just a number. Who cares?”
“Who cares.” Luna’s eyes dropped to her skirt.
Pulsar had no idea what this was happening here. He looked to his brother. Jupiter shrugged and leaned back against the wall.
“I’m going to die.” Luna said after a lengthy silence.
“I know.” Pulsar nodded. “We’re all going to die someday. You always say…” Pulsar summed up a Rumi quote. “Our death is our wedding with eternity.” As much as he tried to dig up his permanent not caring attitude, he found that this time it was difficult. He loved Luna. The idea of his grandma gone from the world made him want to die with her. When she died, it would just be him left in the piles of trash. The only joy he’d have would be the small visits from Jupiter… and the letters from his pen pal.
“Pulsar.” Luna’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I keep two hearts beating and I’m old. Healing isn’t as easy as it used to be.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to die soon.”
Currently I just hit 47,000 words. Wish me luck. There is plenty of November left for me to write!
Hey all! This is Monica. I'm popping on the blog today to talk about Connor's post that have #teammonica and #teamteens.
If you are friends with C.M. Moore, you know that you get to see all the crazy thoughts that go through Connor's head on the C.M. Moore Facebook page. One of the things you might notice is #teammonica.
I guess I'm here just to go on the record.
I really don't mind.
The other day, I had someone ask me if I was annoyed when Connor shares that I fell out of the car, wear mismatched socks, or says "I'm a real boy" right before he kisses me.
I really, really, do not care.
Connor understands me . We've been together twenty years and I think in his own way he is just super amused by my antics. Connor just wants to share all the things I do that make him laugh.
The girls don't get bothered when he quotes them either. We know what it is like to hang with him. I know what it is like to be married to a writer, and more importantly, Connor is a student of human nature. He's always watching the world around him and thinking about it. It's one of the things I love about him.
So if he quotes me, or shares a story, I hope you laugh too. I've got no misconceptions about who I am. I am totally silly.
#teammonica #totallysilly #reallydon'tcare
For Monica's sister's birthday, they all got a condo down in Florida. When Monica got back from her trip, we sat and talked about all the places she visited in Saint Augustine. At the end of the chat, we got into a conversation about the albino alligators that she saw and took pictures off. (You can see the one she decided was her favorite in the above photo.)
I am thinking that it might be awesome if an alligator or something along those lines could survive the ice and snow. Maybe after the new Ice Era they could become a hybrid or it's an evolutionary jump. They would need a way to keep themselves warm with less sun. Sarah (Monica's sister) suggested that an alligator and a poplar bear have sex and we have a crazy new animal. I gotta admit, that might be fun to write about. So if anyone has any suggestions or thoughts, for example:
Do you think cold blooded animals will survive at all, if so which ones? Or could they burrow underground? Maybe they would attack in a train tunnel!
Do you think something like an alligator or crocodile would survive or would they be wiped out? Maybe they are all extinct.
Also, do you think a polar bear and an alligator could get it on? (Okay if you don't want to think about weird animal sex, I get it)
but... if you have any thoughts at all, comment here or pop over to Facebook (C.M. Moore or The Ice Era Chronicles Fan Page) and tell me what you think. Or just call me crazy for bringing this up!
Check this out. I am doing a giveaway with some awesome authors! It's some fun steamy reading! I put the link below. Sign up to win!
As some of you may know, I'm painting my house (and my fence, and my shoes, and my pants.) But I am finding time to write too. I finished with 3:05 a.m. and it is with my editor still being looked over and loved and licked. I promise it's coming soon. I really liked AK47 and Rourke. I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of their love story.
As for the moment, I'm duel writing two stories. I don't normally do that, but these stories matter to each other in the Off-The-Rails, and I wanted to make sure they were put together just right. In the next book after 3:05 a.m. you meet Josie. She is one of the main characters in One Strong Gale. Josie is in a relationship with Sky Davis. You met Sky as a baby. If you recall the end of 2:05 a.m. you also met his brother Cosmos. Anyway, Sky's The Limit is the next story after One Strong Gale. There is one scene that overlaps. Because of this one little part, I find myself writing the two books together so it fits like a puzzle. I am hoping my beta readers will point out anything that I mess up with these up coming books.
In the meantime, I'm just painting everything. Be happy my paint sprayer doesn't go anywhere near you house.
I was offered a spot with Wounded Warrior Project on their national campaign team a few months back. I was happy to do whatever with W.W.P. because they have really helped me over the years. I signed up with Wounded Warrior Project back in 2011 because a buddy of mine was with the project. Monica joined a month later. After that, we both did events with the organization and met a ton of really great people. I can not tell you about all the awesome vets I've hung with or all the things I've learned with these men and women over the years.
Anyway, once I was with the national campaign team they asked me to come to New York for their Courage Awards. I couldn't possibly say no to that! New York is amazing to see. I have always seen it in the movies, but up close it really impacts you.
When I get home, I will hop on here and tell you about what I am working on next, but for now... I'm having fun and meeting new people. A big thank you goes out to W.W.P. for that.
I am so excited that I had to pop on my blog and share my news! I was awarded Best Dystopian Romance! A huge thank you goes out to the Papercuts Anonymous of Atlanta, Georgia! You guys are the best!
Really, thanks to all the people out there reading The Ice Era Chronicles. I love sharing these stories with you. Everyone that is on this journey with me... each reader, each writer, each friend I meet... is so important. The support from all of you is amazing!
Thanks again ALL!
Our Future According to Hollywood...
So It's January... and as you know every New Years my wife and I watch a movie set to take place in the upcoming year. This year’s selection was a fascinating choice to say the least. In 2019, we will witness the birth and death of Earth’s favorite game show “The Running Man.” The film stars Arnold Schwarzenegger and was released in 1987. It was story written by Stephen King, but I have the feeling if I ever read the story I would like it better than the movie. Isn't that always the case?
I must say, my first reaction to the movie is if this is what the U.S. looks like in 2019… it’s not too far from what Harvesters Paradise would look like. The rubble buried houses filled with men, women and children alike fighting for their next meal. Subjected to unnecessary ridicule from outsiders.
Huh, isn’t that almost every Arnold movie from the 80’s?
In the event you never get around the watching this film, (I don't blame you) I will give you a recap. Running man is the story of a game show that is running the world. Be prepared for that in 2019. Also, big muscle man saves incapable woman that whines at his ideas, and inexplicably saves the world too. We should brake the mold and reverse the rolls. I want to see a heroine escorting a babbling idiot guy to world peace. Like Mulan with Jack Black’s character in Kung Fu Panda. That would be worth seeing. I guess if I can't see it in the movies, I will write a story like that to entertain myself!
Until the next New Years… Keep Reading! Seriously, I don’t think Hollywood knows what they’re doing anymore. LoL. Read a book instead.
I know some of us celebrate all kinds of events this year so I went with the over all "Happy Holidays" to all of you out there!
During this time of year, I do some shopping, some baking, and some holiday partying... but mostly when it gets cold, I start to write.
I'm busy with 3:05 a.m. now and we have the first few chapters written, but they're raw. The kids keep me running around so I'm not moving along in this story as fast as I usually do, but at the same time, I am enjoying my characters. Sitting with them makes a cold snowy night zip by.
Here is a little bit of chapter 1 of 3:05 a.m. An Ice Era Chronicle... Read at your own risk! There is mistakes and what not. It's only the beginning. (Key exciting music here!)
Her moaning hit an ear piercing crescendo as she reached climax. Screams of pleasure thundered over Rourke louder than the rain pelting the windows. In the small dirty office overlooking the ocean, Rourke leaned back as her orgasm transformed her face. His brother’s current girlfriend collapsed to the floor in a heap. Con’s black shoulder length hair covered one eye as she panted and clutched her open shirt. Her perfect breasts heaved and tinted pink with exertion. The black underwear around her ankles made her look bound even though everything about this was willing.
Once upon a time watching a pretty woman in ecstasy was fun. That was then, this is now. And now was his mission. Nothing about this was fun.
Outside, stomping and cussing was the racket of a massive group of dock workers. He lifted his head to glance out the grimy windowpane. The men meandering around the halls didn’t even notice Con’s carnal delight. Three other ships had just reached the harbor and everyone was busy with the arrivals. One boat had docked and two waited off shore. Men unloaded crates and bags. Rourke ignored the new swarm. He was only looking for his brother Weber’s stolen cruise liner, The Carnival. The smaller vessels out there weren’t his concern. The Original’s ship would be here soon and that’s what he needed to get on. Of course, if the dark-haired beauty on the floor wasn’t impressed with the way she came, he would never see the man he planned to kill. Getting into Con’s good graces was one step closer to his brother. It was time to finished what they’d started in Texas.
“It’s always a pleasure, Con.” Rourke pulled on his sleek brown leather gloves and straightened his clothes as he came to his feet.
“Don’t think an orgasm is going to get you on your brother’s ship.” Con reached her ankles and pulled up her underwear. “I’m not that easy.”
“What about two?” Tipping his ass against the old wooden desk, Rourke checked the zipper on his jeans as he gave her his best sexy grin. This smile was the one all the women fawned over.
Con merely raised one dark eyebrow and buttoned her shirt. “I can’t invite you onto The Carnival, no matter how many orgasm’s you want to heap on me.”
“Heap? I can heap all over you, baby.” Rourke offered Con his hand and helped her to stand. She rolled to her feet easily as a smile teased her lips. The smile he recognized. It was the one where he was in the winner’s circle. Rourke received that you-got-me-look all the time. The slim young woman straightened her shoulders before her eyes met his.
“Here’s what I can do.” Con walked to the desk and sat. She leaned back in her chair as she arranged her hair into a ponytail. “I can let it slip that The Carnival with a few of The Originals will be near this harbor tomorrow. Now if you happen to get someone to take you by boat out there, and you happen to get on somehow…” Con gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders. “I might just say I know nothing about it.”
Rourke eyed the petite woman lounging on the office chair. Con was no fool and she was the closest thing to his brother that he’d found so far. Trust wasn’t given between The Originals, but screw it. This time he would take what he could get and go with it.
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Who said this is for you?” Con chuckled. “Didn’t you say you have some place to be?”
Con was kicking him out of the dingy little office. Fine. He had all the information he needed. Now he could return tomorrow and get on The Original’s ship. Once he was on the cruise liner, he would find Weber.
The time on his wrist watch blinked. Con was right. He did have some place to be, and he didn’t have time to figure out why Con was being helpful. Maybe she didn’t know what happened in Pharr, Texas, or maybe she still had a sexual stupor hanging over her brain. It didn’t matter either way. If this was just her stupidity, then he would take it. A dumb girlfriend of his brother’s was what he needed. No point in looking so hard at an opportunity that it might vanish.
“I’ll see you around, Con.” Rourke winked.
“Don’t miss the boat.” Con shuffled papers on her desk and didn’t look at him.
“I won’t.” Rourke had the feeling she implied much more than those four words. He would figure it out soon enough.
Once he left the office, he took the rickety stairs two at a time down to the dock. Bolts of lightning lit up the sky and a rain-snow mixture battered his leather jacket as soon as he stepped away from the office building onto the boardwalk. Ducking between men and women hauling plastic bins of silverware, Rourke hit solid land and jogged inland along a rock path. As he pulled his collar up, he marched straight for a row of weathered brick buildings dimly lit by flickering lamp poles.
Right as he passed a massive stone structure, a blur zoomed past him. The whirl and the movement weren’t the rain. Suddenly, Rourke was pressed flat against unforgiving concrete under a metal awning. Staring into to his eyes were the cold, black orbs of Snow-Everyone-Joe.
Rourke wiggled against the sold muscle of an agent that made his heart jump into his throat. Fuck, Joe was scary.
“Do you really need the knife, baby?” Rourke swallowed.
The blade next to his throat was drawn back and moved to his ribs. H.S.P.C. Agent Joe stepped to the side and let go of his neck.
“Stop calling me baby.” The older man’s face was an unreadable mask of wrinkles and death. The agent gave Rourke the chills. Even if Joe was in his early fifties, the guy could move, was lethal, and he looked like he ate souls for breakfast. After the debacle in Texas, Rourke had agreed to be a double agent for the H.S.P.C. and spy on The Originals. Of course, he never thought he would have to work with this snow-cone. People gossiped that Agent Joe was retired and an ant now, living underground in the Northern Earth Dens. Some said he was in a wheelchair as a decrepit aging cripple. No such luck. Joe was alive, healthy, and mean as a rattlesnake. If there was a way to never see Joe again, Rourke would take it.
“Sure, baby.” Rourke did his best to look like he didn’t care what the other man had to say. On some level, he was positive Joe could see right through his lax attitude to his fear.
“You’re late.” Joe’s deep husky voice was soft and could only be heard slightly over the rain beating the metal overhang.
“I had to get Con to let me on Weber’s ship. If you want me to kill my brother, I have to see him.”
Joe’s cold eyes slanted into a glare. Rourke should probably stop poking the bear.
“If I think for even one minute that you’ve switched sides, I’ll kill you.” Joe glanced around the street.
“Nah.” Rourke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “I got the message with the knife. Whatever you say, baby.” He held up his hands in a peace gesture.
If Joe was trying to scare Rourke it was unnecessary. First off, Joe was scary as fuck and he didn’t need to do anything but stand there and exhale. Second, there was no switching sides. Rourke was never fully with The Originals. He just happened to be part of Fletcher’s bloodline, and anyway, he had his own reasons for wanting to kill his older brother. Even though the H.S.P.C. was helping him, he would take down Weber whether he had backing or not.
“Here.” Joe produced a gun from a bag on his back and handed the sleek silver pistol to Rourke. As Rourke gripped the sidearm, Joe eyed the street again.
“What’s this for?” The plan hadn’t been for Rourke to shoot his brother. “Are we changing things?”
“No.” Joe glance back and fourth down the alley. “Just a backup. Wow, everyone knows you should always have a backup plan.”
Rourke tucked the pistol into his pants and nodded. “Anything else?”
“If you run into an Original member named AK47, leave her to me.” Joe’s eyes flashed with fury. Rourke held his breath. If this woman got on Joe’s bad side, may God have mercy on her soul.
“What did she do to you? Steal your favorite jammies?”
“Just leave her to me.” Joe growled. “Also, here.” The agent pulled out a chain with a small round metal disk dangling from the end. He didn’t say more, but dropped the jewelry into Rourke’s hand.
Rourke held up the medallion.
“Your dad sent it to you. Morgan-Roth said good luck or some shit.”
Rourke pressed the disk into his palm hugging the little memento from his real father. Knowing him and Weber didn’t share the same dad had always been a point of pride for Rourke. The day his mother died and confessed that to him had made everything in his life better. His father was a good man, a priest. Even if they were all Fletcher’s bloodline it didn’t mean they had to be bad people. Morgan-Roth gave him hope. Just knowing in his heart that his dad was a priest gave him a something stable to stand on. Maybe he wouldn’t turn out like Weber or Silo or Felix. Maybe after all this was done, he could have a normal life with a home, family, friends, unconditional love. All the things he’s never had as a child.
“One more thing.” Joe slipped his knife into a sheath on his belt. “If you get into any trouble, there’s a pass-code that agents use. It’s a challenge and a response.” Joe’s lips pressed into a grim line like he wasn’t sure if he should be passing on secret information. After the long pause he continued. “If it looks like you have no other options, and I mean no other options, call out ‘If Karma doesn’t catch up with you.’ You got it?”
“If Karma doesn’t catch up to you.” Rourke repeated.
“If there is an agent who can help, they’ll reply ‘Then God will.’ That’s how you’ll know you have help. I’ll be close. Watching you all the time.”
“All the time?” Rourke groaned. “Great, baby. That’s just want I need.”
To be continued...
I hope you all stay warm during this winter season! Thanks for stopping on my page! I'm now back to 3:05 a.m. Wish me and Rourke good luck!
My kids used to ask me "Whatcha doing?" They didn't really want an answer. However, I thought I would pop on here and tell you all what we've been up to.
We're doing some giveaways! 1:05 a.m. was free last month. This month the plan is to have Grinding My Gears up for free. If you've read my first book, and you want to find out what happened to Gears (Rea's best friend) November you will have your chance.
As for new works. Ahhh... that's a little more tricky.
Monica and I write together. I'm sure you have all seen that. Since I cut my wrist with a Skill Saw, she is my everything when it comes to the keyboard (Hell, she's my everything in other places as well, but you don't want to know about that!)
Anywho, Monica and I started working on a story called A Christmas Cup Of Joe. If you've read the other books you might remember Joe. He is Karma and Rea's son. When we first started this project, I had an outline in mind. Monica wanted to make the story lighter and add some fun Christmas stuff to it. I knew that I wanted to try out my hand at writing a Male/Male romance, but I had to rely on Monica for the sex scenes because she has read some of that genre.
In the end, after the book was written... everything sorta fizzled.
That's when things got interesting.
There is a customer that comes in the bookstore who always says the same thing to Monica. He tells her that she has "Ant-like focus." Well, that's basically what happened.
As soon as the book wasn't approved my our publishing house, Monica got fixated. She is obsessed with the MS and will not look at other books outlines. That includes 3:05 a.m.
So Whatcha doing? Nothing.
Monica just keeps going over the same work. She sits and taps her pen on our writing notebook. It's hard to watch. They say "A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity." I sometimes worry about that. Between us, this has caused writer's block and I've never seen Monica have that before. She won't move forward. I cant without her. So, I'm hunting.
What can I say? I guess when the going gets tough, you hunt for food?
I used to leave on a hunting trip and come back after five days to a fully written novel for me to start working on. I don't think that's going to happen any time soon.
But, in the meantime, check in with me on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. I'll be doing that giveaway! A free download of Grinding My Gears is soon to come!
Our Book List in Order: