Ilyria Moon

Swallow now at Smashwords

2011-08-02T06:27:00.000-07:00

I finally uploaded Swallow to Smashwords, which makes the novel available through the following e-channels: Amazon, Apple, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, Kobo, Scrollmotion, and Sony.

You can purchase the book for $2.99 by visiting this link > http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/27240?ref=ilyriamoon

If Luna were to write a song...

2011-08-01T10:30:00.001-07:00

...it would start like this:

VERSE 1
Looking-glass people with black eyes
Despair of the way that I want to be
Anyone can see that I'm only trying to be myself again
But yesterday told me that I wasn't perfect
That I'm not enough for someone like you and your crew
I'm the fool who sits and bleeds and waits for you...

BRIDGE 1
To feed me a morsel, drop me a breadcrumb or two
As if it could keep me from eating my insides

CHORUS
Just get away from me! Don't touch my skin, 'cause I'm hollow
From all the pain – you're a bitter pill to swallow
Just get away from me! I'll be a good girl tomorrow
But today, I'll go insane - I'm a bitter pill to swallow.

VERSE 2
I laugh it all off, but sometimes
These secrets wanna break out of my head
What you gave to me was a burden I didn’t deserve, yeah
And yesterday told me that I was just useful
For when you wanted to offload your pain and your problems
You never reciprocated my love for you

BRIDGE 2
I’m a ghost in your house and I’m a thought without a consequence
No one explaining these things, now you’re absent

CHORUS
Just get away from me! Don't touch my skin, 'cause I'm hollow
From all the pain – you're a bitter pill to swallow
Just get away from me! I'll be a good girl tomorrow
But today, I'll go insane - I'm a bitter pill to swallow.

Swallow - Kindle Edition $2.99

Swallow excerpt - Wolf arrives at rehab

2011-07-20T08:54:00.000-07:00

Wolf explored his surroundings. Jacks could eat a dick. He couldn’t believe he’d been pushed into this. Not only pushed, but wedged between Spacey and Kev in the back of a BMW 4x4 like a prisoner being driven to Holloway. He was surprised Jacks let him out at the motorway services for a burger and a slash.

However, once they crossed the Welsh border, even Wolf enjoyed the drive. He announced to the others that when he was filthy rich he’d buy a big pile in the country, bigger than his parents’ gaff in Sussex. As much as he loved the rock’n’roll lifestyle, the beauty of all the greenery around was alluring and he daydreamed about his countryside mansion, butler and all. He wondered how long it would take to get used to the smell of manure, the only thing ruining his lord of the manor fantasy.

By the time they arrived in the village, the boys were drowsy, and dying of starvation. When they tipped Wolf out of the vehicle at Hope, he was adamant he wanted feeding, or was calling a cab. After snooping around, he reckoned it wouldn’t be bad, as long as they weren’t all freaks and weirdos. And by the time he’d left Luna’s room, he was open to the idea of freaks and weirdos, as long as they were as pretty as her.

He stopped in front of a notice board in the downstairs hall and stood for a moment, thinking about business. This could turn out to be an adventure, and if it got the band extra publicity, translating into sales, he was a happy martyr.

Wolf wondered, were martyrs allowed to be happy? Truth be told, he knew getting plonked in rehab was a shrewd move but he liked complaining. Wait until he got out. The lads would be sick of hearing about it.

“I was looking for you.” One of the admin staff touched his elbow. “We need to check your bags. Where have you been?”

Wolf gave her a disarming smile. “Ah, I was nowhere special.”

He picked up his bag and guitar case and followed her to the office, thinking how tight her arse was. He wondered if she was single. It wasn’t professional, losing him like that, naughty girl. Fortunately for her, due to the manner in which he’d been manhandled into the car, he hadn’t had a chance to bring anything with him. Not even a bag of grass.

He sighed, contemplating a month’s sobriety.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0047GMHGI

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0047GMHGI

http://www.amazon.de/dp/B0047GMHGI

2011-07-07T04:53:00.000-07:00

'It's genius level. People with such an IQ are capable of great discoveries, but are also prone to underachieving, because society cannot cope with them. Schooling systems do little for the extremes of IQ. Higher IQs often learn things so quickly, they get bored and become discipline problems. They also have a tendency to learn things quickly and by half, rarely getting the full skill.'

Memoirs - moi?

2011-06-12T08:10:00.000-07:00

I've decided I'm going to write my memoirs - some of them, anyway. Partly because I don't remember much of the past decade and what I do remember, I have to be careful about revealing. Haha, let's just say life's been interesting.

I'm a rolling stone and my vocation takes me here and there, up and under, meeting and losing people along the way. There isn't anyone to remember everything, just bits 'n' bobs. I occasionally see a few people who accompanied me partway along the journey, and they've been instrumental in filling in some of the blanks and we've had a ball reminiscing. Unfortunately, most places have gone, swallowed up by 'progress', and people have moved away or slipped off the mortal coil. Everything changes...

I laugh when I think of this - better to die laughing than die, period - every decision I've made has been the wrong one - isn't that something? I deserve a medal for that accolade alone! If I had my time over, with the benefit of hindsight, would I choose differently? My head says Yes. But if I step back for a moment and think about all the experiences I've had that would never have been possible had I taken the right paths in life, I might be richer and more successful now, but I'd be bored as hell. With no hint of exaggeration, some of the situations I've found myself in, you couldn't even make up.

I have no clue how to structure a 'memoir', so what I'm going to do is start blogging more. Eventually, I can pull my posts together into some semblance of a long piece.

Vive la fille dans l'espoir d'un nouvelle vie!

-

I'm reading this article at the moment. Check it out x

Writing A Memoir

Don't let the bastards keep you down!

2011-05-28T05:13:00.000-07:00

I've nothing to add. Dave says it all for me :)

Ennui

2011-05-23T05:50:00.001-07:00

ennui [ˈɒnwiː (French) ɑ̃nɥi]
n
a feeling of listlessness and general dissatisfaction resulting from lack of activity or excitement
[from French: apathy, from Old French enui annoyance, vexation; see annoy]

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003

---

I woke up today feeling so bored - more than bored. In the short-term, can't go out anywhere today, because I have students coming later and need to prepare lesson plans, and I'm blocked creatively, so I can't write anything constructive for my novel. On a grander scale, I have no ambition whatsover - ambition is what drove me through life until a few years ago. Now I just fill up time with hobbies, but I'm even bored of them today! The dreary drizzle outside, and thick cloud cover isn't helping either.

I was born a musician, but I feel I wasted my life on music. As soon as I could hold an instrument, every waking hour was dedicated to the pursuit of music, for thirty years. As an adult, I've always worked as a musician, working the club scene ('til the government destroyed musicians' earning potential with the smoking ban), and - quite lucratively - for record labels and studios, providing vocals to cover up for so-called talented celebrities' lack of skills, all the while hearing the bleating "Why don't you go on X Factor?" blah blah blah from the idiots. The masses harp on about how talented pop stars are, when the truth is their lack of talent is hidden by excellent production and real musicians and vocalists, both in the studio and onstage, hidden behind stage sets.

I can't even be bothered seeking new opportunities in that field right now, because it's soulless; like knowing I have to be a prostitute for the foreseeable future, bleh. Sure, the money's nice - and much needed - but I see music as an art, not a commodity, and don't respect myself when my creativity is a commodity. I need to live passionately. I was never one to think 'get good qualifications, well paid job, rich husband, two children, buy house, two cars, etc. But because I DIDN'T do that, I'm starving for a holiday and financial means to change my circumstances. I think it would be more pleasant to see someone else struggle beside me, hehe, a problem shared and all that jazz.

I have no other skills to speak of, having dedicated my life to music for the past 30yrs, so I can't get hired for a 'real' job - not that there are any jobs atm for anyone - and so I fill my time with my hobbies. It's fun, living in the moment and doing what I love, but sometimes I get bored, like I am today. Okay, saying I have no skills isn't true. I have numerous skills, just no paperwork to back them up.

I guess the main thing is knowing everything is an illusion. We're playing a game I didn't ask to join, and the other side are manipulative cheats. This knowing takes my ambition away. Success in the 'matrix' is irrelevant, really. But necessary in order to put food on the table. If I had ambition, I could strive for success, but it's of paramount importance to me to seek Truth, to explore Consciousness. My dream is to magically earn a large amount of money and buy a farm/chateau to renovate, with some livable space (or a caravan in the field!) and start a community there...somewhere warmer than England, with a stream or lake, and a well, and plenty of land to grow food on.

What to do, what to do...maybe I should seek solace in food. A full English sounds appealing.

Stuck in the middle with you, Brett!!!

2011-05-19T07:05:00.000-07:00

I usually approach a novel as a series of vignettes that have important information about participating characters and devices to push the plot forward. However, when it comes to linking said scenes, I occasionally run into a wall. My characters are on different, equally important paths; paths which occasionally cross over or run parallel for a period. Their back stories have nothing in common, and they don't always arrive at the same destination.

I sometimes find it tricky when I need to introduce two or more for the first time. Maybe I'm pressuring myself in trying to force the issue and that's why my well of inspiration is dry. I know what the scene needs to accomplish, who needs to be there, how they need to interact, but somehow, it's not coming together. I have the parameters, but I'm all out of content.

I need Brett (the new kid on the block) and Wolf (the established musician) to meet at Brett's gig, in order to spark off the rest of their interweaving journey of hate, sabotage, and one-upmanship. Wolf's only there because his friend/roadie Alex invited him, and their other friend Jimmy is the promoter for the event. Wolf and Brett also meet a third, lesser character, Roxanne, at the venue, which sets her up for future scenes with both of them.

I've sat in front of my computer for months, trying to tackle this scene, and every time, I give up and move past it, and work on something else from a later chapter (I don't write in order). I'm a working musician; it's not like I don't have plenty of gigs to draw from! I wonder if this sinking sand rut is my subconscious' way of telling me the scene is not going to work, or if it's because I'm allowing recent negative exchanges with musicians cloud my creativity...

I find sharing a problem always helps one to look at it through fresh eyes, even if no one has a solution. A blog I read suggested I haven't thought the story/exchange through sufficiently, which could be true, or that I don't know my characters well enough. Wolf is a close friend, surviving into Headliner from my first novel, Swallow, but Brett is another animal. I'm still getting to know him.

While thinking about this latter possibility, it occurred to me. I really don't like him.

My book needs him as the antagonist in several characters' journeys, and he has a great story arc, but I don't like him. When Wolf was the antihero in Swallow, he had something likeable about him, so even when he was doing the most despicable things to other characters, the reader could still empathise with why he acted like that, even if they didn't agree with his behaviour. Swallow, being my first novel, cooked on a low heat setting for years. I don't want to take years to write each book, to get my ideas on paper! But I knew my characters inside and out by the time I developed the skills required to write a great novel. I have to find ways of getting to know my new characters intimately in a shorter space of time, if I am to overcome this obstacle.

Perhaps I shall write out a biography for him, like I did with my Swallow characters. And if I can think of someone I've encountered along the way in the 'real' world, that might help, too. The importance of getting this scene right is counterproductive; I've written all I can in separate scenes and now I need to start tying it all together in a linear fashion, so I can fill in the blanks, and direct the important choices.

Let's finish with a song. This pretty much epitomises a LOT of gigs and musician social circles I've endured - oops, I mean, enjoyed...

Stealers Wheel - Stuck in the Middle With by halxman

2010-08-31T13:00:00.000-07:00

I play the social butterfly when need be, say, I’m doing a show at a nightclub or promoting my music, but I'm actually pretty introverted. I like my own company a lot of the time, and the friendships I keep have grown slowly but surely. I'm not one for fairweather friends, and while I have acquaintances, I often default back to hanging out with me.

I missed a lot of rock shows and movies over the years, due to not having anyone to go with. Few of my friends share my interests - which could beg the question why we are friends at all, hehe, but it's mainly because I have a strange collection of likes.

Anyway, I eventually told myself to go and see whatever band I wanted; once in a gig, no one can tell if you're alone or separated from friends anyway. So, in 2008, I booked a flight to my favourite city, Berlin, to see Whitesnake and Alice Cooper, my two favourite bands. It was the best thing I ever did - the floodgates opened!

Next stop, Brussels, Belgium. Not only did I get to see Whitesnake up close and personal again, I got to meet the support band the next day, who were pretty down to earth, and made some new Belgian friends.

Today I tackled the lone cinema outing. I woke up at 11:22 and it was gloriously sunny. Usually, I hide indoors, regardless of the weather, and emerge under cover of darkness, like a phantom. But today, I was itching to do something with my day, for a change, and everyone I know works a 9 to 5 or lives out of town. I’d been looking forward to Salt since Angelina Jolie was pictured on set last year – call me a fan, or whatever, but I enjoy her performances, and love action movies, particularly with a political or conspiratorial slant.

Since it started showing, I couldn’t think of anyone who would come, so today I thought, "Sod it, I’m going.”

I hopped in the shower and called a cab, so I didn't have enough time to worry about what others would think about the pathetic Billie No-Mates lurking in the shadows. Fifteen minutes later, I was at the ODEON at Liverpool One, queuing for my ticket, and wishing I’d remembered the kids are still off school. Fortunately, they were there to see something else, and once inside the viewing room, there were plenty of seats and I was mildly surprised to see about half of the small audience were lone viewers. Though why one man bothered to pay and then spent over half an hour outside on a phone call is beyond me.

I’ll leave it to Sony to write the blurb:

As a CIA officer, Evelyn Salt swore an oath to duty, honor and country. Her loyalty will be tested when a defector accuses her of being a Russian spy. Salt goes on the run, using all her skills and years of experience as a covert operative to elude capture. Salt's efforts to prove her innocence only serve to cast doubt on her motives, as the hunt to uncover the truth behind her identity continues and the question remains: "Who is Salt?"
Written by Sony Pictures

There were enough twists and turns to keep me entertained and the only problem was the effect the huge drink had on my bladder – why do cinemas serve refreshments in such huge sizes? Seriously! I struggle, and I’m 6ft2; I don't know how children manage. I spent the last half hour in discomfort, not daring to visit the toilets - this is where a friend comes in handy - "What did I miss?" I suffered in silence and as soon as the credits rolled I was out of there and into a stall.

I enjoyed Salt and would likely see it again, but most of all, I enjoyed crossing the barrier of doing things people usually do in company. I’ll do it again! I like going to the cinema with a friend, but the good thing about going alone is I could get completely engrossed in what was onscreen. Afterwards, I picked up my mic system that I’d left at the music store for over a month, and then treated myself to a Long Island Iced Tea before heading home.

Why does this blog entry suddenly read like something I wrote in primary school....

Sometimes, I have to remind myself, what others think isn’t important. Now I have a cinema club card in my possession, it seems a few more visits are on the cards. I’ll take a lunchbox next time. I found the experience liberating. Now I've done it, I think I'll check out some of the arthouse and foreign films at FACT. And I'd quite like to see Inception again.

Sometimes, this spinster wishes she were a dolt...

2010-08-16T15:05:00.000-07:00

So, I've decided I shall bemoan my singleness while I'm hormonal. It's better to feel sorry for myself than be bitchy...although, sometimes I'd beg to differ with myself.

Anyhoo, tonight's complaint is this. I probably shouldn't aimlessly surf so much...

Apparently, only 0.003% of the British population share my IQ. I just read a post on a forum that says exactly what I'm thinking!

---
"The truth is, intelligence, being smart, really truly smart, is a horribly lonely affair. It is soul-crushingly lonely. For someone such as me with an IQ as a stupid, naive, child was last measured at 142. That's roughly .14% or 14 / 10,000. Now restrict that sample to agiven location and there may be (if you're lucky) a few hundred people in the area you live in (this depends of course on where you live, I'm speaking for my current situation). Now how many of those are roughly your age? How many are of the opposite sex, emotionally compatible, attractive, and single? In many to most cases the answer is nearly nil. What are the odds of meeting such a person? Imagine how lonely a situation that is, and it's just simply arrived at by simple analysis."
---

For me, that percentage works out at approximately 1500. FIFTEEN HUNDRED PEOPLE. Of these people, how many are male and single and possess all the other attributes mentioned in the excerpt above?

No wonder I'm a spinster! >:(

One might say choosing a mate on intelligence is unnecessary, but even if I were not attracted to the mind, more often than not, men date women less intelligent than them. And shorter than them. And less bossy.

*sigh* I guess I could sell my eggs...at least I'd get some recompense!

Don't drink and dial!

2010-06-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Wolf called Jessica again but it went straight to voicemail. “Hey,” he said, sighing. “If you’re there, talk to me. I’m tired of playing games. I just wish you’d pick up.” He slid down the wall and cradled the handset between his jaw and shoulder, resting both arms on his knee. “I know I hurt you. A lot. But…I love you.”

There. He’d said it. And he couldn’t take it back.

“I love you,” he repeated, growing confident on Jack Daniels. “I know I didn’t handle things properly…I’ve got issues and I took my frustrations out on you. I guess I felt safe venting to you, but I didn’t think about how it affected you. What can I say? I’m selfish. But I do want the best for you and that’s why I was horrible, ‘cause I thought if I pushed you away, you’d go off and find someone who’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated. I know that sounds stupid, but it made sense to me at the time. I was wrong and I can’t deal with letting you go. You’re amazing. I just hope you achieve your dreams.”

Wolf paused, suddenly feeling foolish instead of brave. “Anyway, if you want to call me back, we can talk properly,” he rushed. “If not, fine. I’ll respect that. I’m leaving on Friday, so…just call me.”

He hung up and dropped the handset to the floor. What a whiny idiot. He should have learned by now not to drunk-dial.

“What’s done is done,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle and taking a slug.

* * *

Over in Santa Monica, Summer and Jessica stared at the answering machine.

“Girl, call him!” Summer nudged her. “He’s just bared his soul to you – what are you waiting for?”

“His drunken soul,” Jessica said cynically.

“Aw, he needed Dutch courage. I think it’s cute.”

“A whisky-soaked rock musician clogging up the voicemail is hardly cute.”

Stop forcing me to smell the flowers, dammit.

2010-06-20T06:54:00.001-07:00

I hate it!

I put Headliner away for a few weeks, so I can come back to it with renewed vigour for setting the scene. While I am a chatterbox, as are my characters, I am often concerned I don't have enough descriptive narrative in my novel; that's what the blogs and articles tell me, anyway. As a reader, I don't care what the author tells me a room looks like. If they've done a good enough job of shaping their characters and said characters' journeys, I can imagine how their room would be furnished without any help from the author.

However, it does seem this is an important feature of the novel (even though I tend to skim past descriptions longer than a few lines on a page when reading). The key is balance, but chucking a descriptive passage here and there for the sake of balance is not going to work. And my characters fly so fast through life, I'm not sure they even notice their surroundings. Being on tour, playing shows in different cities each night; one doesn't get chance to stop and think, let alone appreciate one's delightful hotel rooms.

Okay, that's my complaining done for the afternoon. When I get home after my show, I'll consider ways to address my predicament. While I write primarily for me, I do want to please my readers, too. Waaaaaa!

Why I don't often blog

2010-06-17T03:47:00.000-07:00

I often thought I didn’t blog because I have nothing to say; now I realise I have far too much and my inability to easily organise my thoughts into cohesive separate topics is why I don't bother at all.

I pulled up a chair this morning and wore my earnest writer face. Shall this blog entry be about what’s on my mind today? Shall it be about serious issues? Sex? Work? Writing? My plants? My pets? My social life? My Americanisms?

Ah, sod it. I'll go eat something instead. A romp through my unhinged mind, visiting locked-up hiding places is a road trip I didn't prepare lunch for.

I need to give this more thought over steak. Which reminds me, I should write a post about my vegetarianism.

"I hope they like us."

2010-05-14T06:59:00.000-07:00

After a two-hour delay, six-hour flight, and half an hour held up at passport control, Sapphic finally set foot in NYC. Travelling with an entourage afforded them the luxury of not dealing with baggage claim; fortunate, as there were foul moods all round as hangovers caught up. Five grumpy musicians collapsed in Arrivals area and Gemma went to see if the car had arrived.

Wolf grinned at his band mates. “Well, we’re here.”

“This is gonna be a blast,” Kev said, looking at the hustle and bustle.

Shane fingered his prayer beads for reassurance. “I hope they like us.”

“Course they’ll like ya.” Jacks cast an eye over his scruffy brood. “They loved ya last time.”

“I need a cigarette,” grumbled Spacey.

“Yeah, me too,” Wolf said. “Another bloody city with a stupid smoking ban. Sooner we get to the hotel, the better; I’m gonna smoke five at once.”

Jacks checked his Blackberry for emails. “Let’s get settled in and then we’ll go to Drill. Smoke all ya want there. I ain’t been back in a while, the place could be razed to the ground.”

“How come we didn’t go last time?”

“Ya did,” Jacks said wryly. “Ya were too wasted to remember.”

“I need a few hours kip before we hit the town.” Wolf yawned. If he didn’t get out of the airport soon, he’d crash. He switched his phone on and turned the handset round in his hand, thinking about the argument with Luna. The wedding couldn’t really be off. He cleared off to give her space, but now he wondered she’d mistaken his lack of contact for disinterest. Why couldn’t he keep his dick in his trousers? He flicked the handset open and speed-dialled her number.

Jay kicked his foot. “We’re off.”

Wolf looked up and saw the others following Gemma. He disconnected the call and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Where’s our stuff?”

“On the trolleys.” Kev pointed to crew pushing luggage carts towards the exit. “Car’s outside, let’s get out of here.”

“Sweet!” Shane whistled, seeing the stretch limousine.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jacks said. “You’ll be slummin’ it in vans and buses. But it’s good to make a grand entrance.”

On cue, a swarm of girls rushed over. “Omigod!” screamed one. “You guys are that British band, right?”

“Yeah, Coldplay,” joked Spacey.

“No you’re not!” giggled another girl. She thrust a pen and piece of paper forward. “Sapphic! I saw you on MTV. Can I get an autograph?”

“Sure.” Spacey signed his name with a flourish.

“You guys are so freakin’ hot!”

“You’re the singer, I recognised you straight away.” A girl flung her arms round Wolf. “The album rocks. Can I get a photo with you?”

“Sure, babe.” Wolf grinned, Luna momentarily forgotten. “What’s your name?”

“Danni.” The girl pushed her phone into a friend’s hand and wrapped her arms round his waist. “You’re tall! And sexy.”

“This is a wonderful welcome, I must say.” Wolf posed for the picture.

The girl exchanged places with her friend, and then they all squashed in for Jacks to take a group shot of the band and their new fans.

“So are you guys in town to play a show?”

“Yeah, we’re at Club Europa tomorrow night – where’s that, Jacks? - and then we have a show in New Jersey the night after.”

“Greenpoint.” Jacks eyeballing the growing crowd.

“Oh, we are so coming!”

“You old enough?” Kev said.

“We’re twenty-one.”

“Of course you are.” Wolf laughed. “Listen, get IDs sorted, and we’ll see you at the show.”

The crowd grew excitable. Concerned for the band’s safety, Jacks signalled to security to get them into the car. Wolf stuck his head out of the window as the vehicle moved off.

“Club Europa, tomorrow!”

The crowd cheered and screamed, and a few girls tried to chase the limousine, but were soon left behind. With JFK not yet out of sight, the boys already had the minibar open.

“Fuck, yeah!” Wolf climbed out of the sunroof and blew a kiss at two women on the sidewalk. He bent down and grinned at his friends. “I love this.”

“How long ‘til we get to the hotel?” Kev handed Wolf a glass of champagne.

“An hour.” Jacks flicked through the documents on his knee.

“To conquering the States.” Wolf slotted in beside Kev. “World domination next!”

* * *

Read Swallow here

Buy Swallow on Kindle here

Paparazzi get everywhere!

2010-05-14T06:49:00.000-07:00

“Come on lads, leave it out,” Shane shouted. “Haven’t you got any heart?”

“Yeah, fuck off, vermin!” Wolf played the part of unhinged madman perfectly. He picked up a rock and lobbed it at one of them, hitting him square on the forehead.

“I’ll have you, mate!” The paparazzo bellowed in pain and anger.

“Blow me!” Wolf hurled another. “You’re trespassing!”

Kev joined him. An all-out riot broke out between the band and the hacks, as punches were thrown and equipment broken.

“Let’s get off!” yelled Spacey, jumping into the van.

The others got in without much hassle. Spacey grinned, safe in the knowledge they’d be the hot topic for the next few days; celebrities hated the paparazzi. Sapphic definitely had the sympathy vote.

Wolf shielded his face and gave the photographers the V-sign as he legged it back towards the main building. He was in his element!

* * *

Read Swallow here

Buy Swallow on Kindle here

My Book Jacket

2010-02-15T14:20:00.000-08:00

I still have to tweak with the fonts for the back cover, but this is my mock up so far. One step closer! (click image to enlarge) :)

Invisible Platform

2010-01-28T19:42:00.001-08:00

I've been reading articles about the importance of creating an author platform. It poses somewhat of a conundrum for me, as my ability to garner subject matter relies on my discretion, hehe. So I have to think about what I can share...hmmm...photos of what I do for fun, and when I'm not writing, could work...

You've been taking your time...

2010-01-17T06:31:00.000-08:00

This is what I'm listening to this afternoon, John Martyn's 'Solid Air' and Carole King's 'Tapestry'. Bliss...

This video starts with John breaking a string on his guitar, which he then quickly replaces before a beautiful rendition of 'Solid Air'. From the DVD - 'John Martyn: The Man Upstairs'

Creating Characters

2010-01-14T09:03:00.000-08:00

I feel like I'm writing slowly in this weather - I HATE the cold. My fingers are all swollen, which makes it hard to type quickly, and my brain is sluggish, at best. However, I managed to write a few new scenes for new characters in Headliner. I subscribe to the slot-in-at-will method of writing. Linear progression is so last year. Why write in one direction when you can write in several? Hehehe...the latest player is Sophie Marquis, a Hollywood actress, with a decrepit old billionaire of a husband, Miles Fairchild, and a spoilt rich bitch socialite daughter, Roxanne.

Now, how will Sophie fit into the lives of my existing characters? Well, you'll have to read on, won't you?

How do other people create characters? Do you have a pre-set cast, or figure them out as you go along?

A little writing music...

2010-01-12T16:40:00.000-08:00

...and the visuals help, too.

Headliner has rockstar rivalry in it, with newcomer Brett Stone becoming a thorn in the side of Wolf Taylor, frontman with Sapphic. Wolf's determined to get back on the metal throne; hype about the band died down while he recovered from a serious accident. Much to his chagrin, the label's just picked up Brett, a dirty-blond rebel, with an attitude.

The California girls are ecstatic. Brett and Wolf are fire and ice, and Los Angeles ain't big enough for the two of them. Expect fireworks!

A little mood music, if you will.

2010-01-12T13:01:00.000-08:00

I've been making lots of notes for Headliner today, and working on a few little scenes and character traits, so I deserve an intermission treat...

2010-01-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

Needs no words, really.

Character Chart

2010-01-07T09:51:00.000-08:00

I found this which is useful when starting a new novel. I've always used this method, as I find it helps when working on characterization in scenes.

Character Chart

One thing I do want, but can't find, is a balloon chart showing character relationships, as my books are tangled webs and it's hard remembering who knows who, and how. I'll probably have to knock one up myself. If I do, I'll post it.

Song that defines my book

2010-01-05T09:26:00.000-08:00

If there's one song/video/band/sound that defines Swallow (and particularly my main character, Wolf Taylor) it's this. Around 1min40sec onwards, Nikki Sixx is throwing a tantrum backstage at the doors, and he's Wolf to a tee. Behaviour, looks (kinda), everything. Hehe. Squash Nikki and Sebastian Bach together, and we're getting close to Wolf.

Authonomy Picks - Part 1

2010-01-02T11:32:00.000-08:00

At authonomy we get a watch list, where we can save up to 30 books that we want to read. I always run out of space, because after I've backed a book, I often return it to my watch list if I want to read further...which presents a predicament when wanting to add new books. So what I am going to do is link the ones I enjoyed and backed here instead, so I can free up space for new ones.

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The Beauregarde Affair

Brian M. Talgo

Snakes & Drugs & Rock 'n Roll? If you can't remember the 70's, you can always read about someone else's. Like mine, for example.

Are you a child of the 70’s? Can’t remember? Then this might be just ticket for you. Or maybe you’re Generation X, completely enervated after hearing all those rheumy-eyed, greybeard hipsters carry on about how things were soooo much cooler, Man, back in the good old daze. Need some ammo for your counterattack? Here’s a heap of it.

The Beauregarde Affair chronicles a month's-worth of misadventure, starring Mr. T and his hopeless housemates at 591 Morningside Drive. Existentially adrift as the '60's segue into the 70’s, they belatedly await the arrival of The Revolution, which, like most of their pipedreams, never seems to materialize. If you thought it was all sex and drugs and you-know-what, then think again. Because here is a world populated by incarcerated hognose snakes, junk-food thieving socialists, The Thing, Coca Cola prophylactics, Snootch, Floridian rats the size of small Scotties, .357 magnum totting silversmiths, Gorp, sexually abused pizzas and The Mule, a master carpenter who wouldn’t know a right angle from a wrong one.

A slice of life from a time gone by, a story of youthful folly, of stumbling cluelessly into the gaping maw of the age of Aquarius and living to tell the tale.

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The Classic Rock Code

Pete Turvey

Dedicated to all those who have rocked on the classic rock journey

In the beginning,
Back in nineteen fifty-five,
Man didn't know about a rock 'n' roll show,
And all that jive,
The white man had the smoltz,
The black man had the blues,
No one knew what they was gonna do,
But Tchaikovsky had the news,
He said -
"Let there be light", and there was light,
"Let there be sound", and there was sound,
"Let there be drums", and there was drums,
"Let there be guitar", and there was guitar,
"Let there be rock",
And it came to pass,
That rock 'n' roll was born,
All across the land every rockin' band,
Was blowing up a storm,
The guitarman got famous,
The businessman got rich,
And in every bar there was a super star,
With a seven year itch,
There were fifteen million fingers,
Learning how to play,
And you could hear the fingers picking,
And this is what they had to say,
"Let there be .......Guitar",
One night in a club called `The Shaking Hand',
There was a ninety-two decibel rocking band,
The music was good and the music was loud,
And the singer turned and he said to the crowd -
"Let there be rock" - AC/DC (1977)

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Sunset on Sunset

D.P. Evans

A Hollywood murder mystery, with shades of the supernatural, offers a dark, bittersweet and occasionally insightful look at the twilight of the Rock generation.

An aging ex-Rock Star stalks the murderer of his oldest friend through Hollywood's clubs, alternative community and supernatural underground, uncovering a trail of dead that leads back thirty years while his quarry manipulates everyone from the L.A.P.D. to the local preternatural heavyweights against him.

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The Codex file

Miles Etherton

Michael's wife is murdered as internet access is banned. Only a band of hackers and industrial espionage can unravel the Codex file and discover why.

Forget everything you think you know about the internet. If you think nefarious web sites peddling a cocktail of online scams, illegal pornography, racial hatred and vicious computer viruses was all you had to worry about - think again. The government has banned access to the internet and the world wide web, dubbing it an illegal, unregulated zone. Sounds good news doesn't it, until you know that its replacement controls every aspect of your life, from digital content, provision of your gas, water and electricity, and all your money. And with everything and everybody connected, we're all now potential targets if we oppose it.

Do you still feel safe?
Empowered?
Connected?

Welcome to the future of the internet. Welcome to the Codex file.

Michael Robertson’s family has been murdered to protect the covert government project linked to establishing a new UK internet. Piecing together what happened leads him to four computers hackers, vehemently opposed to the new network, who provide the only means to hunt down the killers. But uncovering the truth leads to industrial espionage and a plot that leads right to the heart of government as he seeks the truth behind the Codex file.

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BLOTTO

Ted Smith

And so, what would you fuckin' well do with five point three million quid in your pocket eh?

Blotto is a contempory novel, written in the vernacular, that explores the turmoil that besets a haples s man when he wins a veritable fortune on the British National Lottery.

Derek lives in Bristol, England, and is a person of estate (housing that is) and is little more than a soak, a pisshead - the poor bastard. And as one might expect with this mind bending change in financial status, we find him on a roller coaster of ridiculous excess.

But hold on a tick - before you think you've got the measure - this ingenu's world is really turned inside-out and upside-down when a man, a foreign man, arrives on his doorstep claiming to be his long lost father. You see, Derek had been told that his dad had died when he was no more than a babe-in-arms.

So he must decide; is this man yet another freeloader, circling him like a vulture, seeking his pound of flesh? Or, inconceivably, is he for real? And if this be the case then his family must have sold him a lie throughout his life - musn't they?

The events, as they unfold, shake Derek to his very core.

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The Quest For Light

Bradford A. Combs

This young adult fantasy novel introduces a multitude of fantastic worlds and characters while dealing with broken homes and the pains of status segragation.

Elliott Schultz, a loner by nature, has never been there for his twice-divorced mother and hurting younger brother. However, a dream the night before the first day of school is the beginning of an adventure that will show him the true value of family.

Alongside his semi-popular best friend, the high school bully, and the most beautiful girl in school, Elliott travels from one vastly different world to the next facing a multitude of dangers and personalities. Underwater kingdoms, landless skies, and even Earth itself aren't safe from the darkness that threatens to claim them. The quest will conclude with the salvation of the Lady of Light, the one person who offers this corrupted web of worlds its true redemption. However, a great evil pursues Elliott and his company, the very evil that darkened the web in the first place.

I've never really known the feeling of having actually lost a parent. Then in 2006, my mother and stepfather of twenty years separated, and though it saddened me, the real pain was felt by my three younger siblings. Seeing their various reactions I was inspired to craft this novel with real life issues facing many of today's youth.

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Sell

Nicole John

Livin' the dream! Or at least Nick Jones believes he is until his fiftieth birthday and a rogue gray hair show up.

Nick Jones lives and sells the American Dream. He is perfection and because of that, turning fifty is simply a milestone—nothing more, nothing less. Until he meets Dave Harris, a more perfect version of himself. Nick’s father has hired him to help Nick close the deal, but Nick has never needed help before…

The façade that is Nick’s life begins to unravel with the discovery of his first gray, a tightening chest and a dead father who begins showing up in some strange places. Nick realizes that sometimes life isn’t what we believe it to be and that growing up is difficult even at fifty.

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Anvil

S E Harper

Heaven's shameful secret is revealed in a frantic chase across England's backside involving bitter fallen angels, sheep-terrorists, love, ducks, hostages and a battered, orange Maestro.

Bitter angel Anvil Marvell has been sent to earth to track down his father, Gregory, who was dismissed from Heaven for challenging God and for just generally being more popular. Anvil hypnotises ruthless conwoman-in-hiding Netta into using her latest corrupt business - selling fake quests by which errant offspring can earn parental approval - to find Gregory. Yet his true intentions are far more ambitious

than winning over a vain and foolish father. However it seems Anvil has underestimated femme-fatale Netta who discovers Gregory not only has two hopeless mortal sons and a duck-obsessed wife, but also a vast fortune and the recipe for life itself. Add in terrorist sheep, a couple more angels, a technologically-inept God, stray doughnut jam and some good old-fashioned bigamy and a frantic chase across England begins...

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Berlin Nights

David Paul Scarlett

Take a broken hearted Englishman, a purple hippy, a large breasted nympho, and The Chipmunk, set them in Berlin and watch the chaos ensue.

This contemporary comedy finds Matthew Masters, a rather awkward Englishman, plunging into a crazy new life in gritty Berlin. Matthew, after all, has nothing to lose. After finding his girlfriend (Her) in bed with another man, Berlin seems like the perfect antidote. But try as he might, he cannot get Her off his mind.

Matthew ends up in one crisis after another. A couple of sleeping girls, a rabid rat and an uncontrollable erection are always going to spell trouble. He needs a new woman and fast. But hippy Bruno is the boss’s frustrated wife, large breasted Angel is his roommate’s lover and Fleur is too much of a mystery. Matthew’s acquaintances are no better. His boss is struggling with his sexuality, his roommate is a Communist lothario and his drug dealer talks in a strange psychobabble.

A running feud with his ex East German Secret Police neighbour adds to his problems, but through it all he decides that the woman of his dreams is The Chipmunk . Two problems: she is pregnant and her crazy ex boyfriend is in town. With the help of an unlikely ally, Matthew rescues The Chipmunk from her deranged ex and wins her heart.

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Europa

Tim Lemon

Murder, assault, computer hacking, white collar theft and la Cosa Nostra. Two young Britons uncover scandal and corruption at the heart of the European Union.

The European Parliament and Commission in Brussels is the centre of power, influence and money for modern Europe. Here un-elected officials control billions of euros in grants and subsidies. So why has one of those all-powerful civil servants

fallen to his death from his tower block office? Has it anything to do with the olive oil subsidies he controlled? Are the rumours of Mafia involvement in the heart of the European government true? Two young Britons, a beautiful young female journalist and a washed up young politician decide to investigate...... before long they are embroiled in a scandal involving murder, assault, computer hacking, white collar theft and the Cosa Nostra. Will they live to see justice?

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Crazy Old Lady-in-Waiting?

2009-12-30T10:44:00.000-08:00

Spinster.

Everyone says they hate the tag. I like it. It reminds me of my childhood violin teacher, Miss Genin, a tiny old lady with crepe paper skin, living in a house full of antiques, with round spectacles on a chain round her neck and a tissue tucked up her sleeve. Maybe that set the tone for my future – I remember thinking “I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

Many years ago, I stopped dating and gave up on relationships. Aside from the odd times when I could really use a partner, e.g. when I’m too sick to fetch medicine from the pharmacy, I’m moving heavy furniture, or I’m cold in bed in winter etc, it’s never been much of an issue. Sure, I’ve always been a little apprehensive about being single for life, but having a family was something I saw as a distant plan. Now the kids thing is looming. Like Rachel said in Friends on her thirtieth birthday, you have to meet a guy, get to know them, spend quality couple time together before getting engaged, then married a year or two to enjoy each other before children…it’s okay for men. As long as they can aim and fire, they’re okay.

Winter brings a multitude of colds, flus and viruses. I must have caught one, because the other morning, I woke up, dying to use the bathroom, sat down, went dizzy, fell off the toilet and hit my head on the duck board as I blacked out. As I touched my swollen brow, it got me thinking.

I. Might. Die. Alone. Will my cats delightedly dine on my corpse? Will my body empty itself of fluids and seep through the floor, to the apartment below? Just how long will it take for my family to realise something’s up anyway?

Mostly, it’s fun being single. I never had to grow up, because there’s never been anyone else’s age-appropriate behaviour to fall in line with. I can party hard, sleep late, heck, I can stay in my PJs all day, should I choose (and I often do). I’ve passed the stage when relatives enquire about my love life. At first, it was: “So, are you courting?” then it moved on to: “Have you met a nice man yet?” Now we’re at the resigned silent stage and they ask my younger cousins about their love lives instead. I don’t know whether to be relieved or put out. They’ve consigned me to the mad old cat lady pile already, and I don’t have my bus pass yet.

When I was younger, I missed out on many gigs, because I didn’t want to go alone. Now I’ve bitten the bullet, I’ve seen all my favourite bands, in countries I never would have visited before. I just have to make sure I write it all down, so I don’t forget the best bits a companion might remember. And I never have to consider someone sitting up late at night, worrying about my whereabouts, while I’m painting the town red. When rock bands invite me on the tour bus, I go!

However, the crisis is creeping up on me and I’m considering the benefits of having a partner and children. At least one of them has to look after me when I’m old and infirm, right? As long as they don’t put me in a residential home - but that can be fixed by warning them that if they do, they get nothing in my will. I’ve thought it through.

But being the cool, crazy aunt isn’t so bad. I’ll get to play with the babies and give them back when they start wailing. I shall embrace my singleness and be as deranged as I please. Give me my pearls, and hand me my leather. I’m off for another adventure.

Query writing and a new novel in the works

2009-12-07T03:00:00.000-08:00

I'm scared to stop writing, in case I get blocked again. Also, and mainly, because if I stop writing now, Swallow may be consigned to a virtual desk drawer and be a fading dream. I started writing it (under the title Wolf Moon) around 6 yrs ago, and I'm not waiting any longer to get an agent! Anyhoo, while ideas for a query are percolating in my exhausted brain, I started another book, which is tentatively called Headliner.

I'm not sure about Jessica, I think I'm going to make her meaner and more selfish. You'll all know how your characters determine themselves! I've included my original pitch for Swallow, too, as Headliner is a semi-sequel, so I can show how they are linked (click titles to go to the books on Authonomy). I'm working on a new version later today.
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Swallow by Ilyria Moon

The rules are simple in the entertainment industry. Play the game, get burned.

Wolf Taylor. Talented, arrogant and lacking in morals. All that matters is performing onstage, nailing his next conquest and getting his next fix. He'll do anything for fame, even if it means hurting those who care about him. It’s all about rock ‘n’ roll, right?

Luna Halliwell. Hurt, naive and hopeful. It isn’t a wise move for an emotionally-unstable, anorexic teen to fall in love with a narcissistic rock star in rehab.

Secrets and lies are uncovered along the journey of a young woman dropped into the wild celebrity jungle.

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Headliner by Ilyria Moon

Everyone wants a piece of the action, but the spotlight can be lethal.
'Sapphic' sunk without trace while the lead singer, Wolf Taylor, recuperated from an accident. Now he wants the fame and his wife back. He doesn't bank on a love child landing on his doorstep, and a minx enthralling him. Can Wolf get the dream he desires, and win over the fans?

Jessica is a small-town girl with a dream in her heart and a chip on her shoulder. She heads for bright city lights, and is enticed into LA’s murky sex industry. She needs cash, and fast. To what lengths will she go, to survive?

Summer Knowles wants to be bigger than Jenna Jameson. Feisty and fun, yet wary as a fox, she has fought porcelain-veneered tooth and acrylic nail to get ahead. Clawing her way from the bottom to the top, Summer will do anything to protect her success. That is, if her stalker doesn’t catch up with her first.

Lexie Hunter is on the run. After spending a year in South America, she figures she can live in the US without fear of arrest. Los Angeles seems as good a place as any. But should she trust the criminal mastermind enabling her continuing freedom?

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Sample chapters of Headliner are on Authonomy. The full Swallow manuscript is there also, for the time being.

And here's the cover for Swallow. I haven't worked on one for Headliner yet, in case I change the title. The title from Swallow came when I was three-quarters into the book, so I shall be prudent.

Ilyria Moon x

Finished!

2009-12-01T18:49:00.000-08:00

I finished my manuscript today. Kinda. I still need to edit and polish and strain through a sieve, but the actual storyline is all down on 'paper', woohoo!

I thought I would feel elated beyond belief when I finally reached this point, but I just feel exhausted. I'm eager to start editing now, but I have to attend to other matters for a change, like debts and looking for a job. I sacrificed having money, in order to finish my book by the end of December, and I beat my deadline by 4 weeks, so I'm pleased about that. If I can get a tight edit done by New Year, I'll be a happy bunny.

It's almost three am; I finally ate today around half an hour ago, when my stomach was gnawing so badly, I thought I might DIE. A male friend said I looked like I've lost weight, the other day. I told him I've been working on my book. I don't think he made the connection, hehe.

So, anyhoo, I'm saving the champagne for when it's edited. Or maybe when I get a copy printed out. It's going to take a lot of ink.

People

2009-11-08T05:10:00.000-08:00

Oh to crawl inside the internet and hang out with likeminded people only, or start a commune in the French wine region (Loire) for a select group of friends.

I don't like many people these days. As much as I fight for freedom from political tyranny, I do hope they get what's coming to them.

They know who they are.

Summer's gone

2009-11-08T05:05:00.000-08:00

Not just the season. Summer, my stripper/movie star with a scary past coming back to haunt her, had to go. The novel was getting far too long, and even though I've edited like crazy, there was no other way to cull 40 000 words. I decided to remove the least important character, i.e. the one least relevant to Luna and Wolf's journey, which involved some annoying rewriting, but made more sense.

Also, Summer has some exciting encounters and storylines of her own, so I figured I'd give her more attention in my second novel. Stay tuned for news. Ha, like I'm ever going to finish this one.

Ilyria Moon. Eternal pessimist.

What I've been watching

2009-06-01T04:05:00.000-07:00

When I should be writing, lol. Fracken hilarious. Watch.

The Five Stages of an Authonomite's Life

2009-05-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

Jemstone posted this on the Authonomy forum, I love it, haha. I think it can be applied to writing communities in general.

Original thread here.

1) Denial:
Denial is usually only a temporary defense for the individual. This feeling that it is only a matter of time before the discovery of his/her wonderful book is generally replaced with heightened awareness of the fact that nobody is reading his/her book.
Example - "My book is good."; "This can't be happening, not to my book."

2) Anger:
Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the author can be very horsey to deal with due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. Any individual whose book is moving rapidly upward is subject to projected resentment and jealousy.
Example - "What's wrong with my book? It's not fair!"; "How can people ignore my work of art?"; "Who is to blame?"; "It's a personality contest."; "That other person uses sock puppets."; I'm not in the clique."

3) Bargaining:
The third stage involves the hope that the individual can somehow learn the secrets of getting his/her book to rise in the charts. Usually, the negotiation is for read-swaps or even shelf-swaps. Often there is blatant advertising, even outside of the normal forums. Psychologically, the person is saying, "I understand I have to work for success here, but somebody please read my book."
Example - "Please read my book, I promise to read yours in return."; "I'll humiliate myself for a shelving."; "I will read until my eyeballs fall out for a chance at the ED.""

4) Depression:
During the fourth stage, the author begins to understand the certainty of never being successful with that particular book. Because of this, the individual may become silent, refuse to visit the forums and spend much of the time crying and grieving. He/she may tell people he/she is leaving Authonomy. It is not recommended to attempt to cheer an individual up that is in this stage. It is an important time for grieving that must be processed.
Example - "My book is going nowhere, why bother with anything?"; "I only get one read a week . . . What's the point?"; "I could be doing something constructive with my life, why go on with this?"

5) Acceptance:
This final stage comes with peace and understanding of the true value of Authonomy. It is a good way to spend some time at the office instead of working on those calculations and projects.
Example - "It's going to be okay, I'm having some laughs."; "I'm getting some occasional good suggestions for edits."; "Who knows, maybe an agent will stumble upon my book."; "After all, it's free."

Dammit, get back in there!

2009-05-20T09:34:00.001-07:00

I've been struggling with my book recently. Not in writing, or editing, but in a decision I made to remove a character, in order to reduce my word count.

I'm going to just copy-paste a thread I started on authonomy, to save typing the whole thing out again. The bold parts are my posts:

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Those of you who have read several chapters of my book will know I have several storylines interweaving and overlapping throughout. I took one storyline out in order to cut my word count - new writer, long MS, costs blah blah blah - but I'm finding it very difficult to take the other threads anywhere without leaving a hole in the blanket.

I'm unsure how to progress. Do I keep ploughing on without said character and hopefully arrive at my destination (but risk a weaker MS), or stick him back in and end up with a manuscript that's potentially 20k over budget?

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Can the story be split into two volumes rather than one?

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I considered that, but there was no way to split it satisfactorily, grrr.

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I don't know any of the details of the character you've taken out or why. I can only answer how it would be for me; which is that if I cut something out and had to make an effort to *keep* it out when what I *really* wanted to do was to let it back in, then it'll happen anyway, *or* the whole thing may come across as a bit disjointed or stunted.

Take yourself off somewhere and listen to your inner instinct. Do you *really* want to cut out this character? Or are you just doing it because it seems logical? Not everything that's right seems logical.

Probably makes no sense whatsoever, I guess I'm just suggesting that you already know the answer really, if you listen to it.

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So true! Every time I come to a point in the plot where he WAS, I have to think, "Ok, how do I get these guys to that place/event/emotion without using him?" and in times when I do manage it, I still don't think it flows as well as originally. He's basically the antithesis of Wolf, thus creates a dilemma for Luna, whereas without him, her dilemma is removed, and thus I need to scrabble for another threat to the relationship.

My inner voice is screaming "Put him back! Put him back!" but I don't want the book to become unpublishable, simply because it's too freakin' long, haha.

Your post makes a lot of sense. I just wonder how rigid MS lengths are. For the style I am going for, I think the publishers representing similar authors (Jackie Collins, Louise & Tilly Bagshawe, Belinda Jones, Lauren Weisberger etc) are asking for 150k words. If I put him back in, I risk taking the book up to 170k.

However, I managed to strip 20k out editing the first half of the MS, so maybe with the right editor, I could have him in AND get my word count down to an acceptable amount.

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Then I'd say listen to that screaming inner voice. Better to have a great MS worthy of publishing at 170k words - (and 10-20k would be easy to lose I reckon, with extra tightening), than to have a crap MS that isn't worthy of publishing at 150k words.

Not that I'm saying it'd be cr*ap - I'm just using that as an extreme.

The unconscious *always* wins the argument.

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Dammit, you're right. I'm putting him back in!

Sexy Noo Yoik artist, Guy, welcome back into the fold!!!

Woo, am I glad I save everything!

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Stick him back in. Edit words down later. R

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Keep the character -- cut the Word count in a more difficult, painstaking, line by line sort of way.

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yeah, i want to see this guy too!

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How sad am I - all excited, feeling like I'm raising a real person from the dead for a second chance, hahaha

I'm so happy he's back! Thanks, guys

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So Mr Guy Waterhouse, New York artist and gallery owner, is making a return to the Swallow manuscript. To read it, please visit my page on Authonomy (and back the book by putting it on your virtual shelf!)

Have a great evening!

SWALLOW by ILYRIA MOON (click the link below to read)

www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx