Chemistry Is Free at Amazon Today and Tomorrow

I just found out Doctor Who is back on the air! That’s how out of touch I’ve been. I missed it, and I’m probably going to miss some more because THINGS ARE HAPPENING. My life could change dramatically very soon in so many different ways, and it all comes down to just a few factors. For this reason, I’ve been in high-anxiety mode. When I’m not running around trying to figure things out and get things done, I’m busy fighting insomnia. So I haven’t been blogging, I haven’t been tweeting, I haven’t been very active on Goodreads or DeviantArt, and I’m sorry.

Chemistry CoverOne thing I have been doing is working to get my books to a wider audience. You may have noticed Chemistry, my contemporary YA retelling of Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, has been having a bit of a coming-out party in the form of a free e-book event. It was nurtured and sheltered by Amazon for its first several months in the world, and now it’s time for the little book to grow up and meet new vendors like Kobo and Barns & Noble. Maybe even iBooks, if iBooks is sweet.

If you missed the first few days of Chemistry‘s event, don’t fret. You can still grab the book for free at Amazon all day today and tomorrow. Please do, in fact! Compared to Titan Magic, Chemistry has been kind of an odd duck—a socially awkward, shy little book. It needs to get out there and dance with new readers.

And I need to get my life in order so I can sit down and have a very serious Doctor Who marathon night.

Author Jodi McClure on Emotobooks

When I first read about emotobooks, I didn’t know what to think. The idea of illustrating stories with abstract art was new to me, interesting but alien. The world of literature is changing so fast, I sometimes wonder whether I can keep up. But much of this change is downright fascinating. There are now more ways to experience stories than ever before, and the emotobook is just another way some people are pushing the boundaries of collaborative storytelling.

Jodi McClure

Lucky for me, Jodi McClure, author of the new, science fiction, serialized emotobook, Swing Zone, has given me permission to repost her explanation of what this new kind of collaboration is all about. Be sure to check out her novel on Grit City’s catalogue.

When a Book becomes the Art.

Inside the Museum of Modern Art, Salvador Dali’s “The Peristence of Memory” is a bit of a curiosity. After passing Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and Wyeth’s ‘Christina’s World’ and larger works like Matisse’s ‘La Dance,’ you are funneled into an alcove where several panels of Monet’s ‘Water Lillies’ extend from ceiling to floor. From there, you enter a moderate white room with a few pictures so small you almost don’t stop to look at them. But just as you’re about to exit the room, something familiar catches your eye, and you step back and tilt your head. There it is…in all it’s 9″ x 13″ glory. A melting pocket watch draped over a tree limb.

Many people don’t realize the minuscule dimensions of Dali’s best known work, a picture as unusual as the artist himself. Positioned next to such majestic company, the painting, barely larger than a standard piece of paper, seems somehow understated. You almost have to wait a moment for the world around you to shrink back down to size to gain the proper perspective, and even then…it’s still really small. Study the painting and you can see it is made up of simple strokes. The kind you could have done yourself, had you a brush and an ounce of Dali’s genius. It looks almost like a watercolor under the glass, delicate and fleeting. Sunshine in the distance. A foreground veiled in shadow. The smallness itself part of the picture. Lost in its timeless depths, it’s hard not to wonder…what the hell was going on in Dali’s mind?

There have been countless interpretations of Dali’s work. Reality breaking down, the distortion of time in a dream, a touch of Einstein, a touch of Freud. Ask the artist and he’ll tell you he was just thinking about how cheese melts when left out in the sun. Some scholars say it’s easy to understand, while others rub at their chins. In the end…it is what it is. A fascinating landscape inviting the viewer to contemplate it…while Dali laughs at you from somewhere in the ether. Art is a wonderful thing.

Whether it stirs your emotions or leaves you cold, makes you think or smacks your sensibilities, art touches each individual in a different way…but every artist sets out hoping to at least engage the viewer, to make them think or feel something. Even a child’s refrigerator drawing has a story.

Illustrations with literature, though, always depicted a physical scene from the story. Back in the Victorian days when it first became popular to couple the two, the standard lithograph contained characters in rooms or out on the street. What you wouldn’t find…and rarely find even to this day…is a book illustrated with a depiction not of a scene, but of a thought or an emotion, and yet, isn’t that the more perfect combination? Instead of telling your mind what it should see…it instead invites the mind to experience the moment in a deeper more meaningful way. It stimulates instead of delegates…prompting you to connect not a picture to the scene, but a sensation.

So, you will ask, “Does it work?” Fans of Grit City’s ‘Emotobooks’ will tell you that it does. By marrying pulp fiction to impressionistic art, Emotobooks become more than just a newfangled way to use your E-reader devices. They become art themselves, poking out of an unexplored niche of pop culture like a quad colored Marilyn or a can of Campbell’s soup. They’re funky on a cyber level. A digital age oddity in a sea of normality. A thought…outside of the box…inside of a book that’s made to tantalize your emotions to start with.

Each Emotobook is three people working in unison. An author who grabs your mind, an illustrator who grabs your soul, and an editor who makes sure you stay in tune and make beautiful music together. (There’s also this guy behind a desk with a big cigar who glares down at you with the unforgiving eyes, but we won’t mention him…out of fear for our lives…)

To tease your imagination further, some of these emotobooks are serialized. (Just think of a Dickens, an Eliot or a Thackeray…sitting at a PC in their shabby little city apartments, the oppressive night air barely moving the curtains over their open windows, the distant sirens and honking traffic, the flashing neon lights below them on the street. They’d be blogging serials. There was a reason why serialized fiction enthralled an entire age of Victorian Brits. Granted, it had everything to do with books being expensive and people discovering literacy was cool, but hey, both of those things still apply…)

Swing Zone makes its debut as an emotobook serial on April 1st. It’ll be there…on the wall…in its tiny frame, easily missed besides the giant Water Lillies. I invite you to check it out. You might discover yourself lost in a fascinating new landscape.

In the year 2229, cash-starved prospector Mia Blanchard uncovers a valuable relic while digging around the swing zone, a shared forest area that lies between two cities. To the north is Freedale, a polluted militaristic metropolis on the cutting edge of high technology. To the south sits picturesque Lakeside, a quiet rural community of earth loving purists.

A delicate accord between the two cities has allowed their peaceful coexistence, but as renegade activists from Lakeside start taking potshots at Freedale, Mia’s brother, Colonel Zavier Blanchard, calls for an attack to retaliate against them. With the swing zone fast becoming a battle zone, Mia rushes to excavate her find with the help of Coltis Lawson, an archeology enthusiast from the purist side. His knowledge and almost magical capabilities only serve to confuse her further, as she finds herself unwittingly falling for a man she’s not sure she can trust.

With her opinion swaying back and forth along with the tide of the conflict, Mia comes to learn there’s more at stake than she could possibly imagine. Torn between her love and her city, she struggles to uncover the mysterious truth while trying not to get trapped on the wrong side of a very dangerous line.

Places to Go, People to Meet, Blogs to Read

This last month has been such fun! I thought I’d share what I’ve been up to.

On September 30th, Titan Magic received a five star review from The Little Blue Pig book blog! And I was invited to give an author interview, which is always a pleasure.

Over at A New Kind of Ordinary I got to write about why I love folklore and why I fill my stories with it whenever I can. There’s a giveaway contest going on, too. You still have time to enter to win!

In Libris Veritas has just posted a wonderful review and an author interview, in which I got to answer some truly thought-provoking questions.

And last but not in the least bit least, I was invited to participate in an event at What’s Your Story. It will be an interview/giveaway, and it’s scheduled for March 1st.

Fear of Falling

There is no such thing as a fear of heights. Anyone suffering from it can tell you it doesn’t exist. The fear is real, absolutely, but it isn’t a fear of high places; it’s a fear of falling from them.

Last summer I stood at the highest point of a most likely unimpressive cliff and stared down at the little pool of water I was meant to aim for. No way was I going to hit that bullseye the way everyone else seemed to. Not me. I would be the one person who tripped on a rock while leaping and fell headlong into the cliff face. I fully expected to get beaten to a bloody pulp by rocks and shrubs on the way down. I stood there far too long convincing myself of the inevitability of it.

I felt the same way over the last several weeks or so, standing at the edge of another cliff: publishing. The fear of falling is just so intense. I often feel like a complete coward. (Jas had to get it from somewhere, right?)

I didn’t jump off that literal cliff last summer. I backed away and gave up. I slid off the waterfall instead, which was awesome, by the way. But the new cliff—the one that has terrified me for years—I just hurled myself over the edge.

I finally listed Titan Magic for sale at Amazon, and I’m working on getting it up at Barns & Noble, too. You can read the first chapter here, and decide whether you want to find out what happens next.

I hope you do.

Also, The Other Lamm wants me to assure you that the waterfall pictured above is only a tiny fraction of the one I actually slid from. I was shaking too much to get a picture of the big one. Just so you know.

My First Love Was Not a Dark Lord of the Sith

I had my next blog post all planned out. No really. And then something happened that made me toss it out the window.

For secret reasons, The Other Lamm and I have been searching through boxes and boxes of old paperwork. It was unbearably tedious work, until he tossed me an old, deteriorating folder and said, “This looks like yours.” At first I didn’t recognize it. Then I opened it.

You know that feeling you get when you smell the musty scent of your grandmother’s basement again as an adult, or you find your mother’s panda-shaped cake mould that hasn’t been used since your fifth birthday, or you hear a song you used to wake up to every morning for the first time in years? That’s how I felt when I opened that old folder and found, among a collection of treasures from my childhood, the story I wrote the day I decided I wanted to write down stories for the rest of my life. All of a sudden, I remembered finding the book that drove me to it.

I saw it for the first time in my elementary school library. As a child, I had a secret love affair with dragons that my parents didn’t approve of (“too dark, Jodi; try collecting unicorns instead”), and this book’s cover had a fiercely beautiful dragon on it. It was love at first sight. Though I was much too young to understand the story completely, I devoured it. I even memorized where it was on the shelves so I could go back and read more the next day without checking it out and taking it home to my potentially disapproving parents. When I finally came to a scene that made me cry for the story’s villain, I decided I wanted to create a story, too. I folded paper into a little book and began to write. I imitated my secret love as best I could. I had just learned to read and write, but I was determined to make something as beautiful as that book. When I finished my first attempt, I moved on to the next. I haven’t stopped since.

Finding my little homemade book brought back the experience of getting lost in a story for the first time ever—how I treasured that well-worn library book like it was pure gold in my hands. So when people ask me who my first love was, even though I usually answer Darth Vader, the truth is my first love was Dragon of the Lost Sea by Laurence Yep. Darth Vader was second.

As soon as I have access to a good scanner, I’ll post a scan of my first efforts in an “About the Author” section of this website, so you can laugh with me at my atrocious spelling and awkward plot, and so you will believe me when I assure you that storytelling is something I have always done. It’s not a new hobby I’ll likely drop in a year or two; it’s part of who I am. And I am just so incredibly excited to finally be able to share it with you.