tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72360595575497665042024-03-11T15:55:41.866-07:00Kristen DayKristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.comBlogger43125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-82741307031714557572013-09-19T06:14:00.000-07:002013-09-19T06:14:45.008-07:00Who moved my heroine?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I write about heroism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I write about strength and characters who are willing to give up everything for what they believe in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I write about characters who grow from the ashes of pain and rise above it to make a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But often we don’t feel as if we can do that in our real lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think about the person I was twenty years ago – when I had no other option but to be strong and passionate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what stability or happiness looked like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I knew was that I had to keep pushing. Keep climbing. Keep fighting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know where I was going or what I’d do when I got there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just knew I had to get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve enjoyed being stable and normal and blending in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was something I’ve never experienced before and I deserved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But over the last couple of weeks I’ve realized there’s a fighter inside of me that’s been hibernating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was so tired and so exhausted, she needed to rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn’t need to fight anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she’s never really disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, I’ve managed to forget just how strong she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve forgotten how much of a difference she can make and the empowerment she gives me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is the only one who has the ability to fill my heart with confidence and a true purpose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’ve missed her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had to dig deep and make some tough decisions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had to re-evaluate what I believed in, what is important to me, and what is and is not worth fighting for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in the process I’ve resurrected the fighter in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you have nothing to lose it’s easy to fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s easy to give everything inside of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reward is much higher than the risk at that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what happens when you have a lot to lose?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could you find the strength to do what’s right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you be willing to lose someone or something important to you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing up for what you believe and what you know is right is a lonely fight sometimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll come out on the other end with bruises, cuts, and broken bones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the important part is coming out on the other end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you are strong enough to stand on your own and show the world who you truly are and what you believe in, you will see the truth about others very quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The mirror you provide others will be frightening to some, empowering to some, and downright crazy to others. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If we aren’t passionate about something, our souls remain asleep within the cushion of comfort we surround ourselves with by following the crowd, keeping our mouths shut, and blending in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The best thing you can do for yourself is really and truly be alive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Awaken the real fighter in yourself and make a vow to make a difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the world comes crashing down on you, it’s because you’ve decided to step out of line and stand up for something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means you’re doing something meaningful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that means you are truly a fighter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-84445298549258980962013-09-17T05:11:00.004-07:002013-09-17T05:11:57.885-07:00Myrtle Effin Beach, baby!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This coming Friday I’m headed to the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And not just any beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It goes by many names: The Armpit of the South (no, not Columbia although you’re close), Myrtle Vegas, Redneck Riviera, Grand Stranded, Spring Break Beach – but according to Southerners it’s called Myrtle Effin Beach, baby! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just when you think America can sink no lower than the travesty that is Honey Boo Boo, you travel to Myrtle and realize, we’ve just scratched the surface.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Jorts, airbrushed t-shirts, American flag bikinis, mid-drift tanks, and wife beaters aren’t redneck enough for you – you’ll be happy to know that Camaro hair you thought died out with the 1980’s was only hibernating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the surly aromas of hairspray, stale beer, and grease waft up from every bar, beach towel, and dually truck you know you’ve reached your destination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s place high school kids flock to for graduation every year to drink their brain cells away, puke their guts out, and win white t-shirt contests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a word its….MAGICAL.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right – dirty, smelly, faded green carpet covered, and your key chain heaven – Myrtle Beach oozes teenage hormones and midnight skinny dipping pool competitions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was one of those wide eyed and bushy tailed teenagers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I threw toilet paper off the balcony of the SandCastle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I convinced some random dude to buy us beer, and slammed my finger in a very non-sanitary door, and woke up each morning trying to remember the awesomeness that had ensued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s a rite of passage down here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Graduation Week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for the rest of our lives whether we are married, a loving mother, or the CEO of Google - we will return to those tainted streets with heavy hearts and wide smirks as we literally drive down memory lane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty sure I’ve never stayed at the Beach Colony which is our chosen hotel for the weekend, but it doesn’t matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s Myrtle Effin Beach and anything goes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that my friends is why going to the beach with your girlfriends is always a good idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here are 5 other reasons we all need a girl’s beach weekend at least once a year:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yoga pants are a viable outfit option for any time of the day or outing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Your girlfriends won’t comment on the beach-frizz brillo pad hairdo you’re rockin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cause we’ll be rockin the same look.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You can ugly-snot-cry at any point with no repercussions or judgments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All diets are forfeited the moment you pass the Welcome to Myrtle Beach sign.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5.</span><span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That Mickey Mouse towel you can’t quite get yourself to throw away will fit right in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-18079520418820479622013-09-01T16:59:00.005-07:002013-09-01T16:59:37.017-07:00Hearken the Haterade<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Thankfully I happen to enjoy a nice cold glass of haterade, but this hated haterade isn't coming from readers or bloggers or even the spider I just killed on my floor. It's coming from...ME! After six panic attacks, three rage induced psychotic episodes (not really), eight boxes of Red Bull and one very understanding best friend/editor, I finally decided to give myself a much needed break. </span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378078303554_1821" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">attended three girls night outs, </span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378078303554_1799" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">and spent an entire weekend making a book trailer for Forsaken. Which brings to me to this very moment where I am…. What’s that? Are you stuck in the last sentence? If so, then YES! YES! I made a book trailer for Forsaken!! And I can’t WAIT for you guys to see it!!</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378078303554_1819" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, that we’ve gotten that out of the way… The long awaited fourth installment of the Daughters of the Sea, Hearken, was to be released September 24<sup>th</sup> (brace yourself - here comes the ‘but’), but I think that a quality book is better than a quick release. Wouldn’t you agree? Now, don’t go throwing yourself off that bridge just yet! I’ll be posting teasers, quotes, pictures, and teeny hints until the book releases on… November 5<sup>th</sup>! I know it seems like FOREVER, but it’ll be here before we know it!</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1378078303554_1815" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This will give you that much needed time to go shopping for fall, watch Titanic six times, obtain a drinking problem, send subtle, passive aggressive cues to your worst enemy, slash said enemy’s tires, and read the first three books in the series!!</span></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-43687064422199036022013-07-30T10:56:00.003-07:002013-07-30T10:56:44.584-07:00Hearken PROLOGUE!!!!!!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Due to unforeseen circumstances (namely sleeping ALL DAY) yesterday, I must ask for your forgiveness in not allowing you to bask in the awesomeness that is the prologue for Hearken until today! Hopefully after you read it you'll be so excited about the book, you'll forget all about my inability to post things when I say I'm going to!!<br />
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ENJOY!!! <br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Prologue<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span>Crystalline beams of light streamed down from the ominous full moon above; illuminating the tense battle of wills unfolding far below. The rolling waves stilled their relentless cadence as the warm wind stalled over the sand dunes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A blanket of apprehension settled upon the landscape as every starfish, horseshoe crab, and seagull held their collective breaths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Among the people gathered, one figure in particular commanded the attention of the lustrous moon rays more than any other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beneath her steely exterior, a sinister inferno began to coil and writhe; fueling the powerful essence she harbored within. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bitter taste of hatred pooled in her mouth at the sight of her own flesh and blood defending the abomination of nature he had christened Anastasia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her rapid heartbeat pulsed with the promise of ridding this world of such a traitor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the cool waves of essence slithered toward her tingling fingers, she looked on as Keto commanded his attention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You will not take her!” Peleus roared. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His fragile body shuddered with his own labored breathing as he attempted to shield his daughter from Keto’s building wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Fool,” Keto cackled at him with dark amusement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her emerald eyes flashed beneath dark brown hair overflowing with green highlights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sand beneath her feet shifted and boiled as it struggled to absorb the amplified presence she radiated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With an insidious glance, Keto swiftly conveyed a silent message to her ally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The corners of Selene’s mouth twitched in anticipation as she acknowledged Keto’s unwavering loyalty with a slight nod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been decided many moons ago that Selene would possess sole jurisdiction over her son’s damned soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She slowly trained her cunning, silver eyes onto the rotten fruit of her loins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His muted gray eyes had once shone silver with his Aura ancestry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now they softened momentarily before seizing up with defiance as his thoughts registered her deadly intention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had witnessed this reaction more times than she could count.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for good reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As her direct descendent, Peleus knew all too well the consequences of challenging his mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His first punishment had been swift and severe; followed by absolute banishment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However the iron grasp that Thetis had on his every waking thought had refused to relent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selene could only stand watch as Peleus continued down his path of betrayal, eventually marrying his meddling sea witch and sealing his doomed fate.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Seventeen years ago, she had sensed the exact moment when he committed the highest form of betrayal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as the first time, she felt a portion of her being as it soundlessly withered and disintegrated into the recesses of her soul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could feel the purity of her brethren shrivel as the unborn fetus was formed; a mutt of a creature harboring her precious Aura essence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An essence forever compromised by the flaccid and decrepit lineage of the Daughters of the Sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The moon goddess had fought long and hard to protect the very essence he continued to foolishly abandon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vehemence continued to simmer within, and she had resolved to rectify the situation as quickly as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Creating an alliance with Keto proved much easier than expected. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her long buried resentment fumed below the surface, and she had been all too willing to strike out at her former leader and sister, the beloved Thetis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Unfortunately, the death of Thetis at the hands of Keto only succeeded in fueling Selene’s contempt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The overwhelming regret at affording the sea goddess’s demise to someone else consumed her mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once she had Peleus within her grasp once more, she’d had every intention of killing him…but chose imprisonment instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Astonishing to even her, an inner struggle commenced within while she spent year after year paralyzed by indecision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter the intensity of her hatred and desire for revenge, she was unable to take the life of her only son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recently, that inner turmoil was abruptly overshadowed by the knowledge that the prophesized Anastasia had indeed returned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Forcing her thoughts back to the present, her callous gaze focused in on her wretched son and granddaughter now standing before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her previous indecision dissolved into a boiling black cloud of hatred, and any remaining hesitation was pushed aside as she lifted her arm.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No!” Anastasia screamed in disbelief as a thin line of silver energy fueled by the moon above exploded from Selene’s fingertips; piercing his chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the last evidence of life faded from his crippled form, Selene sighed deeply and let her head fall back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stared at the bright orb hanging above her with apathy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such a pity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one time she had grand aspirations for her son.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As a boy he showed incessant determination, continuous strength, and the leadership skills expected of a direct descendent of the moon goddess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Auras idolized him and showered him with unabated worship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had bestowed power, prestige, and most importantly, her essence upon her only son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In return she was gifted abandonment, cunning deceit, and an unending supply of betrayal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Dad, no!” Anastasia collapsed on top of her father as she visibly shook with grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selene rolled her eyes at the sickening farewell scene before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wretched mutt should thank her for affording her even a couple days with Peleus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could she be capable of even an ounce of grief?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew nothing of true loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Before Selene could take Anastasia’s life out of sheer annoyance, Keto stepped over the unmoving form of Peleus and rested her hands on her hips; a finger tapping impatiently. As Anastasia’s tear stained face hardened and she began to speak, Keto’s terse expression froze as if she’d been turned to stone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the color drained from her face, Selene could taste the uncertainty and confusion flowing from her as the girl spoke with a wisdom beyond her years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“…and power must be used to protect and nurture those who depend on you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those are the qualities our Order covets in a leader.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As her words hung precariously in the cool, night air, a paralyzed Keto was unable to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She simply stared numbly into Anastasia’s turquoise eyes; brimming with conviction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chagrin washed over the moon goddess as Keto actually allowed the mutt to stand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Finish her off!” Nadia screeched at her, and stomped the sand impatiently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Thetis…?” Keto whispered in disbelief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With her gaze still fixed on Anastasia, she was oblivious to Nadia’s growing hysteria.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selene rolled her eyes once more at Keto’s infinite ignorance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was simply more evidence that proved the goddesses of the sea were irrevocably flawed by weakness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She resolved herself to the fact that if she wanted something done, she’d have to do it herself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What are you waiting for?” Nadia growled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With madness blazing in her golden eyes, she appeared behind Anastasia and drove a dagger into her back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keto stumbled backwards and continued to gawk with disbelieving eyes at the limp body now lying before her in the sand.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re welcome,” Nadia hissed at Keto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selene turned as three figures emerged from the sand dunes several yards away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first two she recognized as descendents of Hecate - true witches of the Underworld.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The third’s appearance was indistinct as it blurred and shifted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rich auburn hair blowing across her shoulders shivered and blinked into a blonde so pale, it blended with the moon rays shining on it from above.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blazing blue eyes caught Selene’s and recognition hit like a tidal wave.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Amphitrite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An Amphitrite currently shrouded in secrecy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately for her, Selene was able to see straight through her well-built illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What reason could she possibly have to shroud her appearance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curiosity and mistrust twisted Selene’s features as she observed Amphitrite unleash a stream of blue energy at Keto, who immediately woke from her bewildered trance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A slow, menacing smile lifted the corners of Keto’s glowing eyes as she winked at her ex-sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also not fooled by the loosely worn veil, she effortlessly deflected the attack with a flick of the wrist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At that moment, three young Tydes followed their elders onto the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their determined expressions gave way to alarm as they surveyed the chaos unfolding before them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the expertise only a centuries old goddess could have, Selene turned her attention to the Warriors of Luna - her ten protectors obediently awaiting her command.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her gaze met those of Thalia and Bronson, her two strongest warriors, and she swiftly planted her orders into their thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they walked up the beach toward the three Tydes, she commanded the others to descend upon the two witches who were already struggling against the much more powerful Keto and Nadia.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A blinding flash of light out of the corner of her eye gave Selene pause, and she swung around ready to fight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her thoughts stilled and her blood cooled as her own moon essence spoke to her from across the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she identified the source, her entire world narrowed and pulsed with renewed rage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She watched with casual indifference as her warriors were easily thrown to the sand like rag dolls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She gave no thought to the fate of her warriors as she considered the drastic turn of events currently glaring back at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With her Tyde friends safely reunited on the dunes, a very much alive Anastasia slowly twisted around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Her pivotal transformation became exceedingly obvious as her now silver-blue eyes stalled on Selene before finding their final destination in Keto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An undeniable presence, suffocating as an avalanche, traveled across the sand and slammed into the moon goddess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A streak of panic climbed up her spine as she glimpsed the necklace dangling from the girl’s neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A necklace she believed had been destroyed…the orb that had once belonged to Peleus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it rested against Anastasia’s now shimmering skin, the evidence was mounting:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the unthinkable had indeed occurred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Selene faintly registered the sound of someone shrieking at her, but nothing could steal her attention from the blasphemy striding towards them with a knowing, confident smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With each step Anastasia took, the remaining protectors, along with Keto’s Sirens, were rendered helpless by a cloud of bright blue energy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Looks like this won’t be as easy as you thought, Keto.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anastasia’s even tone and strong stance was further proof that she was no longer a meager descendent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Nice work, Pasha.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Selene’s attention slid to the Prime of the Sons as he took his place next to Anastasia, greatly favoring his left leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the snap of his fingers, the beach erupted into violence, followed quickly by inevitable carnage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-51287280246607339272013-07-22T19:16:00.002-07:002013-07-22T19:16:36.958-07:00World War Z, X, and F<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just to let you guys in on an inner struggle I have, I thought I'd pour my heart out on the internet. I have a good feeling many, many other authors feel this way, but there are many days I get extremely overwelmed. Not so much about the actual writing part - but everything else that comes along with it! Social media, marketing, making connections, making plans, keeping up with sales, expenses, and my to do list. <br />
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I find myself constantly having to step back and ask myself - what is the #1 thing I want to get out of this whole author thing? Because it's easy to take things for granted and compare yourself against everyone else (which you'll never measure up to in your own mind) and sink lower and lower until you're floating down the cry-me-a-river river without a paddle - sitting in a stinkin pile of your own self-pity. Believe me, it's not a pretty place to be. Yet I find myself on the edge of the cliff, peering over and wondering why I'm still climbing upward when I could just let go and fall into the abyss with no effort whatsoever.<br />
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But then I remember, this never and still isn't about 'winning' or 'money' or the number of likes I have on facebook or how many conferences I can go to. It's much, much more personal than that. Therein lies my problem. Writing for me is such a release; a journey to a place inside my heart where I can't be touched by the outside world. A place no one can ever take away from me and then sharing that place with my readers in the form of stories. That's what it's about for me. I'm not good at deadlines. I'm not good at writing challenges or announcing my word count every day. I wish I could be more like that, but my inner Gollum comes out and my preeeecious (aka: anything I write) becomes so important to me I selfishly hoard it and live in it and do the backstroke in it for weeks before I want anyone else to know about it. <br />
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I have moments of self-doubt because regardless of my writing abilities, if I don't market myself correctly or enough, I won't progress in the industry like I hope to. So the two sides of me are constantly in a battle of wills - one telling me to meditate and let my mind wander so those creative juices have somewhere to flow. The other screaming at me to get on facebook! tweet on twitter! make some bookmarks! share some links! make some pretty pictures to share on said twitter and facebook!! make a storyboard on Pinterest! research book events! read other authors' blogs! That nails-on-a-chalkboard voice (whom I picture as Betty White which raises the odd factor even further) pushes me until I'm one panic attack away from a straight jacket. So until I can find that healthy balance, I'll likely regurgitate my worries, doubts, and inner nuclear wars for you fine people to read. <br />
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-50409709979790118502013-07-22T17:06:00.003-07:002013-07-22T17:08:37.147-07:00How'd you come up with that, KDay??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Let's play a little game. A little game where I give you all the answers and you sit back and enjoy! Box that up and sell it in your stores, Hasbro. Unfortunately I haven't come up with a Shoots & Ladders game based on Daughters of the Sea (Shrouds & Reveries?), but I have realized this brain of mine has a way of sucking inspiration out of anything and everything I hear, see, feel, taste, or dream up in my sleep. I just chose a character's name (who will be introduced in Hearken) from a random rap song on the radio while driving my car. I heard the name and only had enough time to think "Aha!" before a full fledged conversation sprouted out of nowhere and I had half a chapter written in my head. It's a miracle I still have the ability to be a functioning part of society, really. It's hard to concentrate on cooking, checking out at target, or driving down the road when the fictional characters living in your head suddenly shove a new scene in your face.<br />
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So anyway, I'll leave my embarassing, public conversations I have with the people in my head for a different post. I've listed out some of the settings, characters, names, and other random tid-bits from the books and where I got them from! Have something else you want to know about? Leave a comment with your question!<br />
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<u>Finn's last name: Morrison</u><br />
Based on Jim Morrison's last name from the The Doors. That dude proved genius can come from a big slice of crazy with a scoop of borderline personality disorder.<br />
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<u>Anastasia's</u> <u>nickname: Stasia</u><br />
A couple years back, I was introduced to a friend of a friend's sister who's name was Stasia (short for Anastasia). She was actually a twin and they were in fact Greek! For some reason, her name stuck with me and it just seemed perfect for my heroine! here's a pic (in true stalker fashion)<br />
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<u>Nadia's name</u><br />
A gymnast named Nadia Comaneci was an incredible gymnast in the late 70's that had always fascinated me me while I was taking gymnastics (way back in the day). Although I didn't actually get to see her compete (I wasn't born until '78) she was still a huge inspiration to me. Much shorter than most girls (like me), she looked much younger (like me) and was very shy (like me) but she became a completely different person once she hit the spotlight - consequently capturing all of her dreams. That slight transformation taught me a number of things I still keep with me today.<br />
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<u>Nicolet's name</u><br />
My younger brother's fiance's name. I'm not even sure they'd been together more than a couple months when I saw her name on facebook in the caption of a picture - loved it and had to use it.<br />
I'd put a picture of her, but she is extremely talented in making sure there are no pictures of her on the internet... doesn't she know people want to stalk her!? <br />
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<u>Cyrpus:</u><br />
The island where my editor/bff's family originated and still live. It had everything I needed for a setting!<br />
<u>Phoebe's nail polish addiction</u><br />
Based completely on my own irrational, pointless nail polish addiction.<br />
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<u>Finn's 'last supper' food choices</u><br />
Most of them were based on my husbands favorite foods.<br />
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<u>Tina's name</u><br />
Stacy's sister who actually lives on Cyprus's name is Tina! She's greek, beautiful and was the perfect muse.<br />
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Unfortunately most of her posts read like this... And I can't speak Greek...</div>
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<u>Stasia's surname at birth: Theophanides</u><br />
Stacy's maiden name <br />
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Okay that's all for now! I'd love to hear any specific questions if you have them! I'll answer anything! Well almost anything...<br />
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-83217919591326179042013-07-18T14:56:00.005-07:002013-07-18T14:56:45.834-07:00You Might Be A Southern Belle If...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In honor of the Southern Author Event next year in Greenville, NC that I am out-of-my-mind-excited about I decided to jot down a few things that scream "I'm a GRITS!!" No, not the delectable corn-based breakfast option found in every kitchen below the Mason Dixon line, but <u>G</u>irls <u>R</u>aised <u>I</u>n <u>T</u>he <u>S</u>outh! Also known as southern belles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now you may be asking yourself - how do I know if I'm a southern belle? First of all - if you're questioning your southern belle-ism, then you probably need to brush up on your southern belle etiquette. So, check out my Top 25 "You might be a southern belle if you:" list!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>You might be a southern belle if you:</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">1. Were told every day of your childhood to ‘act like a young lady’</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2. Know where ‘over yonder’ is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3. Have a high appreciation for pearls and sundresses</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4. Your middle name is Anne, Grace, or Lynn</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">5. Know how to use ‘bless her heart’ in twelve different contexts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">6. Want a guy who goes hunting with your daddy and brings flowers for your mama.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">7. Have shot a potato gun</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">8. Understand the importance of a good pedicure</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">9. Calculate distance in minutes, not miles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">10. Have perfected the art of being a damsel in distress to get what you want</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">11. Have been given a handmade blanket. Every Christmas.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">12. Family reunions require renting out a park</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">13. Know there is no such thing as ‘tea’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is and has always been ‘sweet tea’. Don’t get it twisted.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">14. Spend all week putting together your GameDay outfit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">15. Own something Vera Bradley</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">16. Don’t get mad, you get even</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">17. Always ready to entertain and all parties must be themed or they aren’t worth having.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">18. Own a pair of cowgirl boots for each day of the week</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">19. Can drive a stick shift, change a tire, and do a burn out…in heels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">20. Know every word to Sweet Home Alabama</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">21. Made lightning bug earrings</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">22. Have five generations worth of silver</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">23. Know what ‘silver’ is</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">24. Know you're worth waiting for.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">25. Believe the war’s not over…it’s just halftime.</span></div>
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Have any to add to the list? Leave a comment and let me know!</div>
Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-69254052114880749842013-07-15T18:49:00.003-07:002013-07-15T18:49:34.260-07:00The Great Beach Escape: Guinness, Shark-Infested Water, and Shrimp Kabobs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes the universe sits back and allows you to take the reins; giving us the chance to f*ck things up royally or bask in the glory of our successes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then sometimes the universe rubs its hands together, lets loose an evil, maniacal guffaw, and creates its own agenda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several different words might be popping into your thoughts right now - karma, yin & yang, bacon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, the universe doesn’t fall under the veils of evil or good - it just…is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s main driving force?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-vkAjs0N4QV8cy9gfpxf8t0tzrC8seWSpVOjVonAHRjHQTmVhTMx7bcRxekNjXYMnlQjp2-2dKsZjRG4zqXFLSr6tfXqBCa7RzU_n5EjGa62CNhyphenhyphenyZwd9XcIJW7MFmvBbmvMpggkw-uN/s1600/Kday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-vkAjs0N4QV8cy9gfpxf8t0tzrC8seWSpVOjVonAHRjHQTmVhTMx7bcRxekNjXYMnlQjp2-2dKsZjRG4zqXFLSr6tfXqBCa7RzU_n5EjGa62CNhyphenhyphenyZwd9XcIJW7MFmvBbmvMpggkw-uN/s320/Kday.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last week, I could feel a ‘shift’ coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve felt it every time the course of my life switched directions - oddly enough it’s only for good things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any horrible, soul-destroying changes tend to sneak up on me and pounce when I’m least expecting it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time I felt it when I was typing away 2 days before we left for the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I even almost wrote a blog about it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then I remembered how completely RIDICULOUS it sounded to say *in my best stoner voice*:“Did anyone else just feel that cosmic shift, cause it totally just happened.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So instead, I tucked it away in the recesses of my mind and looked ahead to a week at the beach!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Writing 101: that was foreshadowing</i>) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So what, you say, does this have to do with Guinness, Shark Infested Water, and Shrimp Kabobs?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s begin from the very moment we left Mooresville -er-tried to leave Mooresville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Math has never been my strong suit; however I learned a very important equation on that fateful Sunday:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(Bungee cords + stubbornness) - 4 tie down points / (insufficient rack width + wind velocity)*70mph = 1 rogue orange kayak bouncing down I-485 as cars behind us bob and weave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBtaKXCnJM2tFfRYrf1Bxc-vgjZqQPWzKv-D6MJgzQrmNt_Mmdriy6HKs0xw7CBWTdcN3T_QQU9ObV9OZg3IpJJEQ7JuUhLEhLP7G0Gpp_E3qx1bTDxifKl2z3cLFdyZv2UlYOz-01YrF/s1600/Kayak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQBtaKXCnJM2tFfRYrf1Bxc-vgjZqQPWzKv-D6MJgzQrmNt_Mmdriy6HKs0xw7CBWTdcN3T_QQU9ObV9OZg3IpJJEQ7JuUhLEhLP7G0Gpp_E3qx1bTDxifKl2z3cLFdyZv2UlYOz-01YrF/s320/Kayak.jpg" width="235" /></a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtt9kyj9oOS8LXzDYUWP7_6qdTHBqaDtGFbMDvT56mrL-3ImEGGIBGdU45vujcD-QdVwOpYOAsiFTNYTU_Nn6Ppcv3Ivpak7pmgfjkTwcMTLsfc9jhnXF5-zAwtk0A_-DN91s7Qo2zbpWh/s1600/Kayak2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtt9kyj9oOS8LXzDYUWP7_6qdTHBqaDtGFbMDvT56mrL-3ImEGGIBGdU45vujcD-QdVwOpYOAsiFTNYTU_Nn6Ppcv3Ivpak7pmgfjkTwcMTLsfc9jhnXF5-zAwtk0A_-DN91s7Qo2zbpWh/s320/Kayak2.jpg" width="248" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This little incident bought Stacy and Brian *in best announcer voice* “A round trip ticket to the booming metropolis of Kannapolis, NC!!” where five Yak Straps lay in wait amongst the other items in their garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After an hour of avoiding eye-contact with each passer-byer trying to figure out why we were standing on the side of the road and one knee-slapping story about a trailer gone wild (courtesy of B-Ri), we continued on our journey to the coast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Later that night, our bags were unpacked and hopes were high for the week ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a glorious Monday of immersing ourselves in the sand, sun, and surf of Oak Island, we headed out to a place that always seems to welcome my restless soul with open arms - Bald Head Island. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A packed ferry of sun-bronzed teenagers and children delirious with the expectation of a new adventure took us across the Cape Fear river toward the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The water either resembled a nice sizzling glass of Pepsi or an overflowing glass of Guinness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The unprecedented amounts of rains NC has been muted with appeared to drain from every part of the state - creating a mass exodus of dark brown, frothy river water into the unsuspecting Atlantic Ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is when I imagine a school of Nemo type fish bumping in to one another - blinded by the dingy run-off or a great white shark becoming disoriented and jumping onto the ferry to eat us all in a fit of rage…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I digress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you’ve delved into the Daughters of the Sea series, you’ll also recognize Bald Head as the main setting of the books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a reason for that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seemingly oblivious to the magnificent wonder they currently stand on; the island-goers hop on golf carts bound for vacation homes or gather up their families for a journey across the island towards the awe-inspiring expanse of sand we call Cape Fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, the absense of car motors, the brooding trees stretching their mangled limbs above the golf-cart sized roads, and sounds of birds and cicadas lessens the reality based mass of barbed-wire encircling my heart. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its secluded, unspoiled landscape speaks to me intimately and brings out the contentment I crave in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, back to the books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The photos below are from our visit to the cape and how it relates to the book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfNVejkCasFDhDwAvDOrN91rmptR9nWvsvN2cbLLJc6jLtn2WVx97dQZ3eGoGj7KVZuX7iCDrS_A585iaHreO0AiKZLke0BtIcCvW54Z_noVdefTcqSiaM_PhbjmX6Q_1WFN3f7ge4lwA/s1600/Cape3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfNVejkCasFDhDwAvDOrN91rmptR9nWvsvN2cbLLJc6jLtn2WVx97dQZ3eGoGj7KVZuX7iCDrS_A585iaHreO0AiKZLke0BtIcCvW54Z_noVdefTcqSiaM_PhbjmX6Q_1WFN3f7ge4lwA/s320/Cape3.jpg" width="239" /></a> </span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Calibri;">From this viewpoint, we can see the Cape Fear's point as it stretches out into the Atlantic Ocean. This is where the bonfire was held as well as the setting for a very important scene for </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stasia and Finn. *wink, wink*</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VAXab7jfc0nYeGV6enaav0daYJhp9c-l56xGMCKOXFs6M9lioj0m03UTzTbEGdYeM2EBE5CO1DhUHv1a37_oz_BHS7_JhCoxm4FhNAWh9QLk462aRus7W87n4Jn8gTmtcRPeBjx-WSEj/s1600/CapeDunes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VAXab7jfc0nYeGV6enaav0daYJhp9c-l56xGMCKOXFs6M9lioj0m03UTzTbEGdYeM2EBE5CO1DhUHv1a37_oz_BHS7_JhCoxm4FhNAWh9QLk462aRus7W87n4Jn8gTmtcRPeBjx-WSEj/s320/CapeDunes.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Stasia sat near a sand dune just like this one while waiting for Finn to arrive at the Cape.</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEineYwHpRME-F0l379rF5_0pLeK59XJetiZuufG84Q8JD6xJsln3KdspeqOkcYtLk0goVnmo-4m-kDB_TZiWPnrbl8RSa-f84Gq1TvCrr8JwlkOEimADRhu-qFoiX0cp0twB3_voheVb3dp/s1600/FryingPanShoals2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEineYwHpRME-F0l379rF5_0pLeK59XJetiZuufG84Q8JD6xJsln3KdspeqOkcYtLk0goVnmo-4m-kDB_TZiWPnrbl8RSa-f84Gq1TvCrr8JwlkOEimADRhu-qFoiX0cp0twB3_voheVb3dp/s320/FryingPanShoals2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>From this side of the Cape, the Frying Pan Shoals are easily seen by way of the rough waves farther out in the ocean. The shoals are a compilation of sand pushed into an massive underwater speed bump by the Atlantic Ocean and the Cape Fear river as they meet.</em> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRPCtZX8WUyLySrF5OI_oBks6AwDz6uo697fFd_mnnlBwF9fTWgvm9zQXtgGG2NxlRxfZUgrxv3Mhrn61XsXpdAmr1bcKyBOMQRTZS6L5LR0vmXF4adYt4I3VOdVe5qUcDelKC-f8PjRL/s1600/FryingPanShoals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieRPCtZX8WUyLySrF5OI_oBks6AwDz6uo697fFd_mnnlBwF9fTWgvm9zQXtgGG2NxlRxfZUgrxv3Mhrn61XsXpdAmr1bcKyBOMQRTZS6L5LR0vmXF4adYt4I3VOdVe5qUcDelKC-f8PjRL/s320/FryingPanShoals.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>A closer look at the waves kicked up by the invisible shoals beneath the water. Hundreds of ships failed to see the warning signs - resulting in their hulls running aground and ultimately sinking the ship...inducting this area as part of the Graveyard of the Atlantic.</em> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we rode the ferry back to Southport and drove back to Oak Island, I was completely unaware of the cosmic shift heading my way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Writing 101: More foreshadowing and building of suspense</i>)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have you ever felt like there’s a dark cloud of doom & gloom following your every move - itching for the right moment to destroy all things good in your life and reality as you know it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you do, it means at some point (most likely during those impressionable childhood years) that really DID happen and now you are simply waiting for the inevitable karma fairy to unleash her wrath upon your life once more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One karma fairy is enough to drive anyone insane, but I’ve got four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wasn’t a typo, people. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said FOUR.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of my life as four separate lives - intertwining within my own reality but never mixing or touching in an effort to thwart any diabolical plans the karma fairy may have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My four separate lives which consequently result in a varying of Kristens could be categorized as Mom’s house, Dad’s house, Friends/School, Spiritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, in my experience, the mixing of those four lives results in the implosion of all things Kristen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To clarify a bit more, by ‘lives’ I mean mixing the actual people within each, my personality/belief system resulting from each, and the mental struggles/issues that have come out of each.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The imploding of Kristens is not very fun and in the past has not proved very well for my mental stability.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Through my mind’s expert level of compartmentalization, I’ve been able to grow and deal with things and become the person I ultimately wanted to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the flip side, the ability to re-join those separate lives was lost to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As it stands today, I don’t need the defense mechanism of compartmentalization.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, Barnes and Noble doesn’t have a self-help book detailing the steps to take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Enter the universe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That tricksy false universe that thinks it’s so smart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Long story short, my four lives - complete with the same people, struggles, and doubts came crashing back together into one massive supernova contained on a small island in the Atlantic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned people are capable of forgiveness, I’m stronger than I realized, and the shattered shards of me create an even brighter light once I give them the opportunity to shine as one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no soul implosions, suicide attempts, or mass rejections followed by a chorus of jeering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new ‘whole’ Kristen will take me a while to get used to, but something is wonderfully uncomfortable about this newfound outlook on myself and my past lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Not to mention I was able to see some very important people I hadn't seen in a long time...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo95sVn8f8H-jEIwFU18rmAmmewTaYUa4cNQGvX75sac2YYGSmh0VtKqQB6OaWn8Y-ZM2-T7BkTx5FRj6lEj4gnbLGHKgPjiQ5zuS1qXrVK8eFKVt6SJ-DpVPTGSuGxh0alXghGfW_4PVc/s1600/MeDrew2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo95sVn8f8H-jEIwFU18rmAmmewTaYUa4cNQGvX75sac2YYGSmh0VtKqQB6OaWn8Y-ZM2-T7BkTx5FRj6lEj4gnbLGHKgPjiQ5zuS1qXrVK8eFKVt6SJ-DpVPTGSuGxh0alXghGfW_4PVc/s320/MeDrew2.jpg" width="240" /></a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXHO8XPZH8b1q45rcNqWeHOxBOtpp-j6wA7HeF7cMWYs9tKgJaxOh0sJJdxJm6KtrL9eTU0D3IbLuA1yvxRIWwrjNa5o2gNopHSgnAeat929rfEN2Z0JBJ_bIAnvetJQVqBpx77QE_Bl6/s1600/MeRachel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" nya="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXHO8XPZH8b1q45rcNqWeHOxBOtpp-j6wA7HeF7cMWYs9tKgJaxOh0sJJdxJm6KtrL9eTU0D3IbLuA1yvxRIWwrjNa5o2gNopHSgnAeat929rfEN2Z0JBJ_bIAnvetJQVqBpx77QE_Bl6/s320/MeRachel.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The universe made sure I had the people with me that had the ability to keep me strong and stable no matter how many earthquakes and tsunamis came my way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even at the age of 34, I love learning new things and unfortunately for my love/hate relationship with man-eating sharks, I feel at home in the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing like an afternoon paddleboard lesson to shake up your courage and refuel the art of prayer…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After wading out past waist-deep breakers, I had to dive under the larger ones that pummeled us each step of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The momentum of the water washing over me and the calm silence of being beneath the water soothed my thoughts and had my heart singing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gory thoughts of my leg being eaten off by a 10ft great white shark was happily replaced with the concentration and bravery to hop on a paddleboard atop some of the harshest surf I’d ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least if I was standing on the paddleboard I wasn’t dangling a steak the size of my leg, awaiting my bloody demise at the teeth of a shark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or atleast that’s what I told myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After three tries I was successfully standing up on my own and actually remaining that way for the majority of 10 seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all the anticipation it had completely slipped my mind that a fair amount of exercise and exertion would be needed to pull paddleboarding up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once my arms had turned to jelly and showed no signs of being able to pull me up on to the board again, I stepped aside for my husband and little brother to give it a shot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t decide if it was more fun falling off the board myself or laughing at them tumbling towards the water with the grace of an elephant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Later that night, while getting ready for dinner I overheard the news and stopped in my tracks at the words ‘shark attack’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both eyes now fixed on the television, I read the headline at the bottom of the screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Shark Attack on Holden Beach’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now for those of you who aren’t familiar with the area, Holden Beach is roughly 2 miles away (by water) from the very spot we were gleefully and paddle boarding in only hours earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I picked up my stomach from the ground and made myself take a breath, I made sure to share my terror with the rest of our group and watched their jaws hit the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that slimy thing that rubbed up against Matt’s leg wasn’t a fish after all….</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several more beach days, a visit to the aquarium, I sat down in anticipation of selling and signing books at the signing on Saturday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was still rearranging my way of thinking and letting go of old beliefs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also felt strangely lighter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wouldn’t believe how exhausting it is to juggle four different versions of yourself all of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want you to think I came around to this conclusion years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh no - I figured all of this out while lying in bed last Thursday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hindsight really is 20/20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After a successful book signing, we prepped for the neighborhood cookout which was being held at the coffee shop at 7pm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My older brother the coffee genius/paddleboard & surfing expert/musician/five star cook single-handedly pulled off the best 6 course meal I’ve ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Several others brought desserts and some shrimp and grits that would rival any restaurant in Charleston, SC!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But for the main courses of fish, shrimp kabobs, and veggie kabobs, he showed just how good of a cook he really is!</span></div>
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So if you're still with me...or if you've passed out from boredom - drool pulling beneath your snoring mouth onto your keyboard - thank you for going on this journey with me! It won't be slowing down anytime soon and I can't wait to see what craziness the universe throws at me next.</div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-66703438196898391072013-07-05T07:28:00.001-07:002013-07-05T07:40:24.397-07:00UtopYA: Growing Pains of a Free Spirit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What they say about growing pains is true. The adolescent body stretches upward in an effort to reach its full potential - a healthy, sturdy miracle of bones, muscle, and blood. This ever so slight stretching of cells requires a steady stream of unabated persistance laced with strands of fearless indiscretion. But what happens when its our mind growing? Our hearts? Our souls? Can we feel it? Does it hurt? Is there a slight tugging in the pit of your stomach that signals a shift in your being? If you dig deep and allow your soul to speak to you - really speak to you - you can feel it. You can hear the chime of your heartstrings as they become taut with the pressure of true growth.<br />
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For me this chiming of heartstrings signals a piece of myself shifting and morphing into something brighter, stronger, and wiser. That chosen piece sheds its skin, giving way to a new beginning. One armed with hope, contentment, and strength. Piece by piece the shards of my heart and soul are reborn and given the chance they truly deserve. This past year I've barely been able to keep up with the constant shfiting and growth within myself. I've become accustomed to that small vibration in the pit of my stomach thrumming with apprehension and excitement. It dances joyfully; awaiting the metamorphosis. <br />
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This past weekend was no different. What, you say, could possibly cause this amount of jubilation and evolution? UtopYA. Apart from the amazing people, new information, and all around awesomeness; I experienced acceptance. Not from the people you think though... It was slightly disconcerting and far more intimdating to have readers and other authors giddy with excitement at the opportunity to meet me. But this acceptance was not visible to anyone but me. The little voice in the back of my mind that enjoys mocking my crazy imagination, dark visions, and endless dreams was quieted for the first time in my life. It gazed outward - into the eyes of an entire mass of people who share my love of words, who understand why I stay up until 3am to finish writing that last chapter, who can relate to the closeness I feel to my imaginary characters. <br />
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But most importantly I was surrounded by more than 300 people who share my ability to stare fear and self-doubt in the face...and give it the middle finger. People who never hesitate to push through that fear to acheive their dreams. I know that sounds hokey and a little dramatic, but there there are the people who talk about chasing your dreams, talk about not giving up, talk about confronting rejection. And then there are the people that don't give their fears a second glance. Instead they arm themselves with sarcasm, imaginations, and downright craziness before riding into the abyss. The difference is the knowledge that the abyss only looks scary from the outside. It only seems dark from the outside. Once you take that mental leap and step inside - an entire new world is laid at your calloused, tired feet.<br />
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So although I learned priceless knowledge about the industry and promotions and blogs and pricing - I brought home something even better. The acceptance that I am truly special and there is no one else in this world exactly like me. No one else who is able to share MY experiences and beliefs through the beautiful art of writing. No one who knows what I've been storing for years - piece of me waiting for the opportunity to materialize via words. And I've decided it's time for the world to read them.<br />
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-70808487497660814592013-06-24T13:25:00.001-07:002013-06-24T13:25:12.448-07:00My name is Kristen Day...and I'm a Conference Virgin<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So the countdown has officially begun - only a couple more days until UtopYAcon! I have to tell you - I am anxious, excited, apprehensive, terrified, jittery, and flat out OUT OF MY MIND right now! Stacy and I have been working our little butts off..er...big butts off (sad but true - we are what you the kids call 'thicky, thick') on the table, swag, itineraries, and most importantly our wardrobe! Fittingly so, Stacy has purchased some nail polish called Please Sea Me to beautify her nails and subsequently feed my uncontrollable nail polish addiction! <br />
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Being my very first conference, I'm not sure what to be nervous about so I'm just nervous about everything. I figure it wouldn't be successful without at least 10 panic attacks. Lucky for everyone else attending I have plenty of happy pills to calm my nerves (don't judge)! If you spot me aimlessly wandering around in a bed sheet, just direct me back to my room before I start eating my tongue or foaming at the mouth.<br />
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What intimidates me the most is my lack of experience - I have a feeling a sign taped to my forehead that reads 'CONFERENCE VIRGIN' would be appropriate since the staring wide eyes and shaking legs will be just as noticeable. The only thing I have going for me is that I'm not afraid to make a complete dork out of myself in front of people (years of practice. Seriously)! If people know I'm a hot mess upfront, they won't realize I can fake normal pretty well. That'll be our little secret - just between me, you, and the entire internet. o.O<br />
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What I do plan on doing is documenting this long, strange trip for all of the world to see (you're welcome)!!! I can promise you horrible videography skills, sub-par photography skills, and even worse narration ($10 to the first person who can understand my southern accent!) of what's happening throughout the conference from table setup, exploring Nashville, getting lost in the labryinth (hopefully), stealing awkward pictures of Stacy when she's not looking, and us looking all professional and stuff at our booth!! It will either be Fame-tastic dance numbers....<br />
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But either way, it's gonna be awesome! You'll be granted VIP access to the late night Yoohoo and Butterfinger binges, Stacy doing my makeup, me messing up said makeup when I sneeze, people eating seaweed and drinking coconut milk for the first time, our transformation from semi-normal young women to completely weird fangirl nerds and so much more!! <br />
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I'm finishing up my dress tonight and tomorrow so I'll be posting some pictures! Stay tuned!<br />
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Sea you later!!<br />
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-89753436439566999212013-06-18T11:38:00.000-07:002013-06-18T11:52:52.089-07:00Hearken Cover Teaser!! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I had this idea. Occasionally, this little noggin of mine lands on a way to drive all my readers absolutely BONKERS (cliffhangers, anyone?). Such an idea clawed its way through the jumbled mess of pointless chatter and wacky thoughts into the forefront of my mind. Everyone does book teasers - a chapter, a couple quotes, a prologue here and there... But what about...wait for it...wait for it...<br />
<strong>COVER</strong> <strong>TEASERS</strong>!?!?! <br />
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I know, I know it's genius. I'd even be willing to bet that I'm only the 5,496,396th person to have this idea. I'm on the cutting edge for sure. It could have a teeny weeny bit to do with the fact that I CANNOT wait for you guys to Hearken's cover!!!!! So in an effort to leave all of you hating my guts - here's your randomly vague, slightly blurry, and completely maddening teaser!!! *rubs hands together diabolically*<br />
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I can't wait to share the rest of the cover with you guys tomorrow for my cover reveal! There have been close to 60 bloggers sign up for it! 60!! As in 6-0, 30X2, 40+20, or my personal fav and most accurate: a SHIT TON!! So join me tomorrow in my happy dance and let me know what you think!<br />
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PS - can you guess who's on the cover? </div>
Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-17919442678735679092013-05-14T17:32:00.003-07:002013-05-14T19:02:59.850-07:00The Seven-Layered Cake of KDay<br />
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If you know me at all, you know I heart/love/crave/obsess over anything containing that sweet delectable, powdery substance we like to call sugar. Throw in some chocolate, peanut butter, strawberries, or cream cheese icing and I'll give up my first born for a single bite. I saw something on Pinterest (if I had a dollar for everytime I said that I'd make Channing Tatum very happy) that consisted of a seven layered cake - each layer a different flavor and color than the last and topped off with that sinfully delicious cream cheese icing I can't resist. <br />
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My first thought was "Mmm...cake." My second thought was "Mmm...cake." After fighting my way out of a cake induced hypnosis (don't judge - it happens), my third thought was one of a profound epiphany - the kind that makes me grin because only my brain would see a piece of cake and equate it to the multiple layers of my heart and soul. I thought about how difficult it would be to grab of piece of each layer with just one swipe of the fork. You'd have to chip away at the top layers in order to make your way down to the pink and purple center. Or have a really long fork. Either way, taking a single bite of all seven flavors would take a high level of skill. So how on earth could you REALLY experience the cake if you can't enjoy all the different layers it has to offer at once?<br />
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With a metaphor only my deranged mind could conjure, I thought about the different layers of people and the sad fact that we can never really experience who a person is until we see all their layers together at one time. Have you ever been able to really 'see' someone like that? Have you ever let anyone see all of your layers at once? Not just the happy blue layer and logical green layer, but that dark purple layer of painful experiences. That red layer of anger and resentment. That yellow layer of imagination and dreams you hold so close. Even the chocolate layer of deceipt and guilt you pretend isn't there. We all know it's not all unicorns and rainbows out inside of us. People like train wrecks. It's a proven fact. Just watch Cops.<br />
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How can we really invite others to know us if we give them a taste of just the first two or three layers? Tobias might only have four fears (for those of you who fail to get that reference - READ DIVERGENT. Seriously. Stop reading this and go buy Divergent.), but I have hundreds and they are all tangled up in the seventh layer that makes up ME. I've listed out my seven layers - some of which everyone sees, others that can only be glimpsed through my poems and writings, and even fewer still that I keep under lock and key in the depths of my darkest layer.<br />
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1. <u>Confetti Cake</u><br />
Confident, smiling, and witty - this layer masks any other layers that become unruly at any given moment; my 'social' personality.<br />
2. <u>Chocolate Cake</u><br />
Empathetic and self-sacrificing - this layer puts others first and will listen for hours just to make the people around it happy. Not many people notice it all the time because it's always there - they usually only notice when it's absent.<br />
3.<u> Red Velvet Cake</u><br />
Idealistic and imaginative - this layer believes anything is possible and that everything should be possible. It buys into the fairytales and feeds on the promise of love and magic. It craves time completely alone and seperate from everyone else.<br />
4. <u>Spice Cake</u><br />
Curious and Intellectual - this layer soaks up history, literature, legend, and mystery. It wants to read everything ever written. It wants to write what has never been written. It wants to travel to the places it's read about and recreate it's own reality over and over.<br />
5. <u>Fruit Cake</u><br />
Quirky, creative, and spontaneous - this layer has to be reigned in daily in an attempt to appear somewhat sane to the rest of the world. It could spend all day lost in a myriad of paintings, music, free thought, and contemplation. It retains a holistic rejection of all things 'normal'.<br />
6. <u>Angel's Food Cake</u> <br />
Innocent, vulnerable, and childish - this layer remains untouched and untainted by the cruelty of life. It hides in the corners of my heart; reveling in the safety of secrecy and security of the other layers lying on top.<br />
7. <u>Devil's Food Cake</u><br />
Dark, sexy, and evil - this layer harbors the scars of past experiences and the dark pockets of empowerment that fuel me from within. My fears are converted into strength and my suffering buffered by years of self healing. This is who I am at my core. It's not pretty, but it's real.<br />
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How many layers do you have? What are they? Have you ever let anyone in your life see them ALL?</div>
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PS - Bill Cosby has nothing to do with this post, I just thought this was HILARIOUS. Guess where I found it?</div>
Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-8252578629119610602013-04-29T12:12:00.001-07:002013-04-29T12:19:37.155-07:00Musings of a Mad Woman #1I'm an author, it is true. I have written 3 novels that I am incredibly proud of with another on the way. But what the world doesn't see are the litany of notebooks, journals, and random pieces of paper I've regurgitated my thoughts onto over the years. They press against my skull and chant for my undying attention until I finally release them. That stream of endless words that rushes from the pits of my soul are more telling of who I really am unlike any novel I could ever write. As a thank you to all of you who have supported me this past year, I'm going to reveal one of those journal entries, poems, or short stories each week. It will from now on be titled...Musings of a Mad Woman! I can't promise you unicorns and rainbows, but I can promise you this: It is me - raw and naked (figuratively speaking of course) - stripped of my defenses and walls that I've constructed over the years. You've been warned. Proceed with caution.<br />
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Being the first of many posts of this kind, I'm going to give you a journal entry AND a poem!<br />
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<u>3.12.2010</u><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Oh, how I wish I could fly across the sky littering the clouds with all that I long to release.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I refrain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Struggling to keep my angst wrapped up tightly in a velvety square box tied with a suffocating bow and ribbon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For fear of rocking this big rickety boat so big and pregnant, refusing to catch the tide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With one menacing storm it would CRACK and be lost to the ocean forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, how great that loud, booming, sound would feel to my tired soul!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Setting it free!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it is not my weighted vessel to sink – I must stand back and wait for the bottom to drop out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My always hopeful, forgiving soulmate will continue to rock it ever so slightly, just enough to stay afloat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only to make things unbalanced and lopsided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Causing men, trinkets, and maps to slide all over the rusted old boards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A splinter here, a splinter there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmm…those tiny slivers of bark are the ultimate silent stalker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shooting pain with every movement…but hide so easily!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Could that be better than my big catastrophe with boards and anchor flying?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A soft tearing of nails and wood, giving way to a slow and painful journey down to the abyss?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh I think so!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How clever my love is!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years of backstabbing words and hidden lies – a long, slow descent to a final goodbye</span><br />
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Some of you may have already read this in my 'Pieces of Me' tab, but I wanted to share again:</div>
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<u><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Harbor<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Brittle breaks of beautiful bounty</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Taking its toll on the tiny triumph</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chasms collide as cold winds cover</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Below the brunt of bitter battle</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Folk and fiction are forgotten forever</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Laughing lightly at the life she loves</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sings to his soul, softens his cries</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once the whirlwind wanes of war</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And cries of casualties, cast the cure</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her baby bursts of blissful bloom</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sacred he stirs, safe in her womb</span></div>
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<br />Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-25980726614866324722013-04-23T12:06:00.005-07:002013-04-23T12:10:15.012-07:00Social Media & Popularity = Recipe for a Creative FAIL?Once in a blue moon, an ephiphany will come tumbling out of the clear blue sky, ricochet off of the dogwood tree in my front yard, crash through my bedroom window, and knock me upside the head - opening a portal to clarity and understanding. Usually I spend my days winding through the maze of ideas, possibilities, emotions, and chocolate cravings in my head so when an epiphany presents itself I pay attention. <br />
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This most recent epiphany came about while browsing facebook. I found an article about the effect of Instagram on Middle Schoolers (which you can read here: <a href="http://taylorandsarahbrooks.blogspot.com/2013/04/parents-word-about-instagram.html">here</a>). Even though the label 'Middle Schooler' no longer pertains to me (of which I'm thankful for - who misses those awkward, acne riddled years?) the phenomenom of popularity and social media definitely do.<br />
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I was that barely-there, smaller than normal, underdeveloped 7th grader you didn't see slinking behind you on my way to class. I was the shyest and loudest (marinate on that) cheerleader on the black squad at Carrington Middle School but 'popular' wasn't a label I carried around. Being 'popular' sounded like a lot of work and it was much easier to go home and read my The BabySitter Club books. Unlike kids today, I didn't have people 'liking' my every picture or 'following' my every thought. Thankfully, I didn't have people 'unliking' my every picture or 'unfollowing' my every thought, either. It was easy not to care about being popular when it wasn't being tracked on a website...or six.<br />
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7th grade Kday didn't have a quantifiable way to be measure her popularity but unfortunately, 34 year old Kday does. After becoming an author last year, I've crashed onto the social media scene with a vengence. My end goal was to simply have readers enjoy my books. Over the last couple of months, my end goal has gotten a little foggy. Keeping up with the Twitterverse, Facebook, Instagram, and every other social media portal invented has created a sort of vaccuum that my self-esteem has begun spiraling down into - fading away into a chasm of insecurity.<br />
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Instead of concentrating only on ratings/reviews - I've found myself not only tracking the sparkly, new, tempting quantifiable ways to measure one's popularity but also comparing my numbers to other authors in an effort to see where I rank in the sea of wordsmiths out there. Likes, follows, shares, unfollows, # of comments, and smiley faces haunt my dreams; mocking me in my sleep and laughing at me during my waking hours. I feel as if I'm climbing the same rickety ladder as the other thousands of authors - scratching, pulling, and stomping my way to the top.<br />
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But I'm not a stomper or a scratcher! I'm a writer! Words, stories, characters, and creating a world that readers never want to leave - those are my passions! And as easy as it is to forget that in the wake of 30 new followers, 7 new likes, 13 shares, and that dreaded unfollow - those passions are the reasons I began writing Daughters of the Sea in the first place.<br />
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So here and now I'm promising all of my followers, unfollowers, likers, haters, fangirls, and perpetual sharers: I will be the best Kday I can be, the best writer I can be, and the best cheerleader (of other authors and bloggers - not the 7th grade basketball team at Carrington) I can be! I love you all and remember your worth as a person, blogger, or writer is not reflected in your facebook page stats, twitter followers, or blog shares. Its in the smile your campy reviews evoke, the tears your heart-wrenching reunion scene has caused, and the giggles your random tweeter feed elicits. Because bringing sunshine to someone else's life - that's what really matters, isn't it?<br />
<br />Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-71806306413893358142013-04-21T16:51:00.001-07:002013-04-21T17:34:07.036-07:00How I get to my Fantasy Worlds...& away from reality<div style="text-align: center;">
Even after displaying the inner workings of my soul onto the 5X8 pages of three novels, I still find it odd that people are interested in how my mind works. Especially since up until the last year, I hadn't really put much stock in it. I've always liked reading and I've always liked writing, but I never really thought about why I've been able to visualize entirely imaginary worlds that I felt more comfortable in than our own reality. So I've always dipped into those imaginary places when I needed somewhere safe to go. When I needed to make sense of the things going on around me and within me. </div>
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Books, music, and art were the portals that allowed me passage. They still do. Books took me to other people's worlds - places created by someone else, but that I enjoyed visiting. Listening to music gave me a small reprieve that would allow me to feel any and all overwelming emotions vying for my attention at any given time. Lastly, art and photography were conceptual visual representations of those emotions and allowed me passage through those representations. </div>
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When a story is evolving in my mind it demands I find audible and visual representations - my own passages back to the worlds my mind creates. When its time to write again, those passages take me right back to that imaginary world I've created - in every way. That's what it takes for me to successfully tell a story, describe scenes, and grow my characters. </div>
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I wanted to share some of the photography and conceptual art that have become passages for my Daughters of the Sea world. Most have nothing to do with the actual Daughters of the Sea - they have more to do with...me.</div>
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*</div>
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Visit my my Pinterest boards below to see more random awesomeness that inspires me!!</div>
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<a href="http://pinterest.com/kris10day/dre-m-a-little-dre-m/">http://pinterest.com/kris10day/dre-m-a-little-dre-m/</a></div>
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<a href="http://pinterest.com/kris10day/d-rk-inspirations/">http://pinterest.com/kris10day/d-rk-inspirations/</a></div>
Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-14804792437438360922013-04-18T12:11:00.001-07:002013-04-18T12:50:24.783-07:00Daughters of the Sea #4 - brace yourself!<div style="text-align: center;">
Who wants more Finn?? *raises hand and bounces in seat* Who wants more Stasia?? *raises hand higher and starts waving it* Who wants more Nadia?? *scowls as blood pressure rises* Ha! I can't tell you who all will be in the fourth book of the Daughters of the Sea because that would ruin the surprise! And by the number of thrown kindles, flying curse words, and people staring daggers at my twitter page, I can tell you guys know I LOVE a good surprise - especially surprises that have an added twist. So although I can't promise I won't subject you to more blood curdling cliffhangers, I can absolutely promise another book filled to the brim with soul-wrenching, heart-warming, blood-boiling, hair-raising, mind-numbing, and shiver-inducing AWESOMENESS.<br />
*</div>
<h2 class="me">
heark·en</h2>
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<span class="pronset"><span class="show_ipapr" style="display: none;"><span class="prondelim">/</span><span class="pron">ˈhɑr<img alt="" border="0" class="luna-Img" src="http://static.sfdict.com/dictstatic/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" />kən</span><span class="prondelim">/</span> <a class="questionmark" href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/luna/IPA_pron_key.html" jquery1366310800309="22" target="_blank"></a><span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"><a alt="Toggle for Spelled" class="pronlink" href="http://www.blogger.com/null" jquery1366310800309="23" title="Click to show spelled">Show Spelled</a> </span></span><span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim">[</span><span class="pron"><span class="boldface">hahr</span>-k<span class="ital-inline">uh</span><img alt="" border="0" class="luna-Img" src="http://static.sfdict.com/dictstatic/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" /><img alt="" border="0" class="luna-Img" src="http://static.sfdict.com/dictstatic/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" />n</span><span class="prondelim">]</span> verb</span></span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">1.</span> </span></span><span class="labset"><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Literary.</span> </span></span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">to</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">give</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">heed</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">attention</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">what</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">is</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">said;</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">listen.</span> </span></div>
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<span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">2.</span> </span></span><span class="labset"><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">Archaic.</span> </span></span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword">to</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">listen</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">to;</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">hear.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;">*</span></div>
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<span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Sometimes our souls hear what our minds and hearts refuse to accept. It will whisper its continuous cadence until we're strong enough to glimpse the truth. When the soul's whispers morph into screams, we're forced to gaze into the mirrors of time and see ourselves for who we really are. Would you be able to handle what gazes back?</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;">*</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTAvwRc2FlNWhZq98pL8dpf2m7FyVVURloh7Y9aHcjX2kgh4qtCs6SvCPOAPkO3Bcf_JmKMk73yvfEu42AGHENdJyrnodMKypbd3K6BJrXc3rXLAMSfKxbcLvACyxYx2hTKyXbzZ6rXOO/s1600/HEARKEN+announcement.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dua="true" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoTAvwRc2FlNWhZq98pL8dpf2m7FyVVURloh7Y9aHcjX2kgh4qtCs6SvCPOAPkO3Bcf_JmKMk73yvfEu42AGHENdJyrnodMKypbd3K6BJrXc3rXLAMSfKxbcLvACyxYx2hTKyXbzZ6rXOO/s400/HEARKEN+announcement.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"> <em>*this isn't the cover pic</em></span></div>
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<span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">I can't wait to share this next installment of the Daughters of the Sea Series!! </span></div>
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<span name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Stay tuned for the Blurb and Cover Reveals this summer!!</span></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-17431989250762292582013-04-16T08:52:00.001-07:002013-04-17T19:00:42.599-07:00Guess That Book Title!<br />
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It's time to put on those thinking caps, meditating mu-mus, contemplating shawls, and pondering ponchos! If you are without all of the aforementioned items I would suggest closing your eyes really tight and channeling your inner dictionary. Because I've got a totally awesome and equally pointless game for us to play!! Unfortunately I couldn't figure out how to play Battleship with thousands of people (best game EVER), so I had to be a little more creative...</div>
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As you may or may not have noticed, all current books from the Daughters of the Sea series titles are adjectives or verbs ending in -en. So taking that into consideration, there are a limited number of words left in the english language ending in -en that could be used for the fourth book in the series. </div>
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Here's where your caps, muu-muus, shawls, and ponchos come in. What could that elusive fourth book title possibly be?! Take your best guess and WIN! The very first person to get it right will win a free signed copy of Forsaken! </div>
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Please either tweet your guesses to me @kris10_day or email them to me at <a href="mailto:kris10day@yahoo.com">kris10day@yahoo.com</a> I'll give out hints periodically - below are the first two…</div>
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HINT#1: 7 letters</div>
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HINT#2: contains the letter ‘a’</div>
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<span style="color: red;">HINT#3: Listen closely and it might come to you</span></div>
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Ready, set, start guessing!!!!!</div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-81712266396232550972013-04-14T08:26:00.003-07:002013-04-14T08:28:59.391-07:00Blurb Reveal - Promise Me This by Sarah Ashley Jones<div class="yiv7011903953" id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2054" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2062" style="color: black;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2061" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2060">I don't usually post the normal book blogger type events, but because I truly believe in this amazing new author, I wanted to be a part of her blurb reveal. AND it's her birthday!! Happy Birthday Sarah Ashley!!</b></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrhyphenhyphenF64RaGQEFm_uXMe42Exnnx7kkOc0wUyHdHzGU0l8B6g3Rex2bxvq_J34AqQt_GKRCL9M1QkmqzrszMvXXgeKEEzWIHm2KGYDPAvh9dmFA9YctMHgVCw7KHcNC2zCV2goUGOmdrHYT/s1600/blurbrevealbanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bua="true" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrhyphenhyphenF64RaGQEFm_uXMe42Exnnx7kkOc0wUyHdHzGU0l8B6g3Rex2bxvq_J34AqQt_GKRCL9M1QkmqzrszMvXXgeKEEzWIHm2KGYDPAvh9dmFA9YctMHgVCw7KHcNC2zCV2goUGOmdrHYT/s400/blurbrevealbanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>BLURB:</b></span></span></div>
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<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2057" style="color: black;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2059" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Welcome to the South</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> -</span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2056" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> where the tea is sweet and the accents are sweeter</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">T</span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2065" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">his Southern way of life is all Charlie has ever known. It’s not until she </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">loses</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> the only person who pushed her to break free of the Southern Belle mold that she starts living the life she need</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">s</span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2066" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> and not the life her parents </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">forced on her.</span></i></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2069" style="color: black;"><i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2068"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2067" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Jhett has lived on the edge for as long as he could remember - constantly teetering back and forth between being a rock star and living a normal life. His rebellious and sometimes arrogant attitude </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">is</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> known to get him into trouble, especially with the girls who h</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">a</span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2071" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">ng on his every move.</span><u></u><u></u></i></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2074" style="color: black;"><i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2073"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2072" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Charlie never thought that a trip to pack up her brother’s apartment would leave her feeling even more unsettled about the grainy details of her brother’s death. Her quest for information leads her straight to his old hangout and into arms of Jhett, who suspiciously knows more about her situation than he ever should. </span><u></u><u></u></i></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2078" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2077" style="color: black;"><i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2076">Only a few questions remain - Can you trust someone based on their word alone? And if you make a promise, how far will you go to keep it?</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><b>TEASER: Here's a little treat from Jhett's POV. </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">“It’s kind of hard to think when you have me in such a compromising position.” </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">She wiggled against the </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">hands beneath my grasp.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2084" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">I never held her hands down too tight or against her will, but I</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">’d</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> figured out what she liked, and it was exactly that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: black;">“I could guess one thing you’re thinking about right now.” I let go of one wrist, which left me free to explore the curves underneath me that continued to drive me wild. My hands slid down her chest and side, blazing a trail straight to her thighs. Her unsteady breaths let me know that she was enjoying every minute of the sensuous torture I had planned.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: black;">Charlie’s hand slipped up to my face, and she locked her eyes onto my own; the deep blue color acting as my kryptonite. “I’ve only got one thing on my mind…” The soft pad of her thumb ran across my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine. She caught me off guard as she pressed her lips on mine with only the slightest amount of pressure, causing me to breathe in deep through my nose. </span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2095" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2094" style="color: black;">“How many hours of sleep you’re going to get after I rock your world all night?” I couldn’t even recognize my own voice anymore. It was deep and husky, filled with a kind of need and lust I’d never heard come out of my mouth. </span></span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2093" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 115%;"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1365952891379_2092" style="color: black;">Charlie took my earlobe into her mouth, only running her teeth lightly over it before she released my sensitive flesh. “What bathing suit I’m going to wear tomorrow at the bonfire…” </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><b>EXTRAS:</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">GR: </span><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17465633-promise-me-this" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17465633-promise-me-this</a></div>
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-36612149810080852052013-04-05T14:00:00.000-07:002013-04-05T14:00:23.293-07:00Goodreads Forsaken GIVEAWAY!!!Who wants FREEBIES!!! (If you replied no to said freebies, please have your pulse checked). Everyone likes freebies! And so do I! So I'm giving away two signed copies of Forsaken on Goodreads!! The giveaway is only available until Tuesday, April 9th! Go sign up right now!!<br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15764736"><img alt="Forsaken by Kristen Day" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1360635177l/15764736.jpg" title="Forsaken by Kristen Day" width="100" /></a>
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15764736">Forsaken</a>
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by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/179153.Kristen_Day" style="text-decoration: none;">Kristen Day</a>
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<p>
Giveaway ends April 09, 2013.
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See the <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/49646" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/49646" class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink">Enter to win</a>
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</div><script src="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/widget/49646" type="text/javascript" charset="utf-8"></script>Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-78082105627866991752013-03-12T16:30:00.003-07:002013-03-12T17:11:00.085-07:00Editor Interview! The Girl w/ the Red Pen!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfR95Uw2S5VYEgJwL0AmU4booafCHPCp4EkyPQ5cncbL8v7OwCMRbGq-l-RWhR93_d005m62x_qik-maBYpRhuj_xguafcls_OKk_C2_HsPd_LGSocP_ZJ5R0VNwJiKMiN17R_KDAyu-vc/s1600/Gate10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfR95Uw2S5VYEgJwL0AmU4booafCHPCp4EkyPQ5cncbL8v7OwCMRbGq-l-RWhR93_d005m62x_qik-maBYpRhuj_xguafcls_OKk_C2_HsPd_LGSocP_ZJ5R0VNwJiKMiN17R_KDAyu-vc/s400/Gate10.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Guess what?? Today a VERY special someone has stopped by to chat with me (yes I know - we chat every day, all day but that's besides the point) - Stacy 'The Girl With The Red Pen' Sanford!! As my best good friend and editor, I know most of her quirks and oddities, but I had a feeling there must be more hiding under the surface, so what better way to find out than to throw her in a interrogation room and drill her with questions? Cue the Law and Order theme song....<br />
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<strong><u><span style="color: red;">Warning</span></u></strong>: Keep all hands and feet inside the ride at all times. The monkeys will bite.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kristen: *drags a blushing Stacy out into the open* Tell us why you're called 'The Girl With The Red Pen'? </span><br />
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: You know, I have been made fun of for many, many years because I have some sort of obsessive quality in regards to grammar and such. But even when they mocked, they still asked me to look over their papers/presentations/emails, etc to check for errors. It kind of became my thing. When I started editing for my first author, I used a red pen to edit with because I could see it better against the black and white of the paper…and because, secretly, I’ve always wanted to be an English teacher. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: *raises eyebrows* An English teacher?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: *shrugs* I get it – it’s not sexy or anything – but I think I could totally be some kind of awesome, awkward super hero who rights wrongs in the world. And bad punctuation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: I hear the, bad [punctuation rate; has skyrocketed in the :US in the last - ten years,</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: *stabs her red pen into Kristen's left eye while smirking*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: Okay, next question... What is your #1 pet peeve 'error' to find while editing?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: Honestly, while editing I have no ‘pet peeves’. ‘Cause it’s my J-O-B, people. I like it when I can take something that is confusing or that rambles on and on (and on) and I can turn it into a well composed thought. I’ve found that with a lot of writers, they are ‘in the moment’ people. They have flurries of creativity *waves hands in air to show what flurries would look like* and sometimes they just vomit all over the page in a hurry to get all of their thoughts out on paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So the basic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">idea</i> is there, but the execution is, well, not. And when you work with an author on multiple books and see that their execution gets progressively better – well, that’s just freakin’ awesome.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: So, if you had to pick one word out of te English language that you love the most, what would it be and why? And it can't be LIncoln.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">Stacy: Wowza – my first inclination is to go with “hmph”….that derisive snort that seems to convey so many emotions in one tiny little exhalation of breath…but alas, not sure if ‘hmph’ has made it into the dictionary yet. Hmph.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">I think I like the word ‘peculiar’, but mainly because it’s fun to say. Peculiar. Pe-CU-liar. Pe-CU-li-AR. And the more times you say it, the less sense it makes. Hmph. Peculiar, no?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: Pe-CU-liar. Pe-cu-LI-ar. PE-cu-li-AR. Hmph - you're right! So i know you've read about any and every paranormal creature, but if you could actually be one, which would you choose and why?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">Stacy: Uh, that’s a tough one. I’ve always liked mermaids, but then you have the whole can’t-go-on-land thing. Elves are cool, and I am a fan of pointy ears. I like brownies (not the food, although I AM a fan of those, too. Dang it! Now I’m hungry. Broooowwwwnnnniiieeeeee).</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">*Ten Minute Brownie Break*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: *licks fingers* So if it's not a little chocolate square of heaven, what exactly is it?</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: A brownie is small and a little misshapen, they do household tasks but only at night, and they expect some sort of food morsel or token in thanks, or else they’ll take something of yours. So, pretty much it’s ME, but I don’t get food morsels as rewards.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kristen: Since I don't really see you morphing into a brownie in the near future, how hard is it to to turn ‘off’ your editing talent?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: Impossible. It’s incredibly annoying, yes – but I can’t shut it off EVER. Ugh – the worst is when I see public signs that are misspelled. I’m like, ‘Do you not have a friend who could tell you that your sign is jacked up?’</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: *shrugs and grins smugly* Not everyone has the best editor on the planet as their best good friend...</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: *rolls her eyes at Kristen*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Kristen: Let's talk about your bucket list - Name one thing from it that you would absolutely drop everything to do? </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">Stacy: Cyprus….I want to go to Cyprus! Two of my sisters live there, and I haven’t seen them since they were young. Now they are in their 20s and are AMAZING people. My father’s family is Cypriot, so a huge wish of mine is to go to the rocky shores and reconnect with that side of my family.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">And I want to pet a unicorn. But I digress…..<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kristen: Did you know that unicorns like to eat Leprechaun poop? True story.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Stacy: *stares blankly* I want to know how you actually caught a defecating leprechaun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Kristen: *shuffles papers* Moving along.... If you had a superpower, what would it be?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">Stacy: </span><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue;">Hmmm….I’m gonna have to go with my kickass dance skillz. That’s right – with a Z.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: inherit;">Oh, and I make a mean meatloaf.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;">Kristen: *scribbles furiously and mumbles* dance...skill...z... Got it</span>. </span>What one book or piece of literature has influenced you the most in your life?</span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">Stacy: ‘East of Eden’ has long been a favorite of mine, and I read it every year or so. But I gotta give props to my nerd roots and go with LOTR. I’ll explain what that is for you non-nerd-speaking folks: Lord of the Rings. I Love (with a capital ‘L’) that series, and Tolkien was an absolute genius. The level of detail that he put into each work is astounding, and I don’t think we see anything to that degree nowadays.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;">As a matter of fact, in my very first phone conversation with my now-husband, the first question I asked him was ‘What are your thoughts on Lord of the Rings?’ That’s not a joke….he still makes fun of me about that to this day. But you know what? He said he was a fan. And that’s why we’re married.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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Kristen: *pictures her husband as a hobbit and giggles* <br />
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I hope you enjoyed the interview!!! She is THE MOST talented editor a girl could have and I wanted to share her awesomeness with the rest of the world!!Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-82132842627779056532013-02-27T07:32:00.001-08:002013-02-27T07:40:03.936-08:00Racks on Racks on Racks<br />
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For the rap-music-slang challenged out there, that translates to: stacks of money piled on top of one another, where in there are racks upon racks upon racks of paper money. I'm going to take it one step backwards and say it could pertain to anything - not just money (not to mention the cost of the security system to keep it all safe). So it's not too far fetched to say it could be...</div>
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But in the nerdgirl/fangirl world I live in that translates to....books on books on books!!!!!</div>
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Which brings me to the whole point of this post! The Daughters of the Sea series will soon (VERY soon) be available in PAPERBACK!!! Whaaaaaat!?!??! That's right! I'll be able to hold them and love them and nurture them and keep them as my very own!!</div>
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March 5th (that's next Tuesday) will be the day!!!! They'll be available on Amazon.com or Createspace!!! If you don't want to wait, I'm going to offer pre-ordering until March 5th for a lower price!! If you pre-order - you'll get the books for $9.99/each, instead of 14.99/each! If you'd like to pre-order please send me an email at <a href="mailto:Kris10day@yahoo.com">Kris10day@yahoo.com</a>! I'm so excited I can't stand it!!</div>
Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-68868777429101605052013-02-25T11:18:00.001-08:002013-02-25T11:18:44.447-08:00Forsaken Goodreads Giveaway!*clears throat and hits fork against glass*<br />
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So I've been feeling extra giving lately and I've been racking my brain to find a way to spread the love of reading and....sensual, yumtastic book boyfriends. So here's the deal. In celebration of the beginning of the Chosen Blog Tour, I'm going to giveaway 10 Forsaken ebooks THIS friday (as in 4 days from, or if you're counting today as a day then it would be 5 days from now. I prefer the former, but I digress)!! Who's excited!!?? But there's a catch....<br />
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Oh dear. I don't know how that picture got in here. Anyway, the catch has nothing to do with your soul or your first born, although try telling the blonde she-devil child that. <u>To be eligible for the giveaway you must have Forsaken on your Goodreads To-Read list!</u> I'll pick ten readers (at random) from that list to recieve the free ebook copy!! So you have until FRIDAY to add it and become eligible!! I'll contact the winners via personal message on Goodreads Friday afternoon!<br />
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If you aren't on Goodreads or have no idea what I'm talking about, now might be a good time to go check it out. Just sayin. Happy Reading!!<br />
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Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com474tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-80894090719560922962013-02-15T06:22:00.001-08:002013-02-15T06:22:57.345-08:00Why did I change my covers?? Find out!<a href="http://behindamillionandonepages.blogspot.com/2013/02/coverday-friday-26.html?spref=bl">Behind a Million and One Pages: Coverday Friday 26!</a>: Author Bio: Kristen Day is a southern belle at heart with a crazy streak that desperately tries to escape at ...Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-77939705514054148622013-02-05T05:09:00.003-08:002013-02-05T05:54:31.416-08:00Bullying book bloggers - WTF?I just read a post about author bullying as it pertains to book bloggers' reviews and I had every intention of looking that Mike Kearby up, hijacking his blog, and schooling him on how to be a decent human being. Fortunately, I decided to vent on my own blog instead of going to jail.<br />
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As an author, we put our 'babies' out there for the world to read and enjoy - not everyone is going to be candid about their opinions. Some bloggers are more direct than others - they shave off the candy coating and say exactly what they think. Those are the bloggers that usually have the most followers. Just sayin. But the premise behind it all is just that...it's what they think. An author who bullies and takes revenge on a bad review needs to take a look at themselves and try to decide why they are writing in the first place.<br />
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In a writing class in college I handed in a poem that I wrote a couple years earlier. Out of all the poems I'd ever written it was my favorite. I was so excited to hand it in for an assignment and share this awesome talent and innerworkings of my mind with the world!! It got a D+. Take down the congratulations banner and box up the celebratory cookie cake, people. My professor ripped my poor little poem to pieces. It was literally bleeding from the seams. There was more red ink on that piece of paper than a christmas card. <br />
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I had a moment of wanting to slit my wrists, but it passed and I realized although it rolled off the tongue nicely and had some kick ass metaphors throughout - my grammar SUCKED, I had mispelled several words, and I'm pretty sure there was one word in there I had made up completely. So all in all it was a epic failure in its representation of the english language. Hence the D+ grade it received.<br />
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So I guess my point to all of this is that you can paint a magnificent picture, but if its wrinkled, ripped along the edges, and has a broken frame no one is going to want to hang it on their wall. I can build a beautiful story and even describe a paperclip in a way that you'll think it's the most magical thing you've ever heard of, but without my editor it would never make it past my own laptop. I believe the authors that have a tendency to bully are the ones who are surrounded by people in their lives that are afraid to be honest with them. <br />
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It's easy to say that you wouldn't take it personally if you got a bad review, but that is almost impossible. Of course it's personal! It's your book!! However, you have to step back, take a sip of wine, and remember you are not perfect. And in presenting your 'baby' to the world; you take the monumental risk that the world might actually be honest with you.Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7236059557549766504.post-19810647338406970582012-12-28T20:25:00.005-08:002012-12-28T20:29:07.932-08:00Like Mother like DaughterIn an effort to refute any possible stirrings that I might be less than satisfied with my family or my life, I wanted to write a quick post to re-word my earlier ramblings. Don't worry - I am still anything but your normal girl. And thanks to my amazing and anything but normal mom, I am VERY happy being as abnormal as possible. For the simple reason that she is just as abnormal as I am. For she is not your typical mother. So instead of my 15 reasons I suck at life... I am posting 15 reasons my mom is abnormal in the best way:<br />
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1. She taught me the difference between paper scissors and sewing scissors (if you don't know, you shouldn't be using sewing scissors in the first place).<br />
2. She taught me what it means to be trully independent.<br />
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2. She can sew an entire wardrobe with her eyes closed.<br />
4. She sacrificed everything for us.<br />
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5. She took me to the library every weekend and instilled the love of reading within me.<br />
6. She made my favorite stuffed animal and my favorite quilt with her own two hands.<br />
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7. She began working again after retirement to pay for my wedding.<br />
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8. She taught me how to chase my dreams...and catch them.<br />
9. She always created our wreaths out of the bottom branches of our christmas trees and she made our stockings.<br />
10. She's never grown up. And I hope I never do either.<br />
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11. She made the Pinterest-inspired birthday parties of today look like childsplay.<br />
12. She taught me how to make jewelry.<br />
13. She inspires others to follow in her footsteps although she tries to cover those same footsteps up along the way.<br />
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14. She secretly videotaped the cheers and dances for cheer tryouts in seventh grade and helped me get every motion perfect.<br />
15. When I told her I just wanted to be 'normal' when I was 8, she told me normal wasn't always a good thing and that I was perfect the way I was.<br />
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I love you, Mom!Kristen Dayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12662582347653175996noreply@blogger.com1