Wednesday, August 24, 2016

COVER REVEAL-- The Outs by E.S. Wesley

The Outs Teaser 3

I'm SO excited to be a part of the cover reveal for my friend and fellow Pitch Wars Class of 2015 Alumni E.S. Wesley. 


Caleb’s been changing ever since the memory-stealing blackouts—the Outs—started. He used to be a good, dependable, honor-student, but now his parents have vanished, and something inside tells him their disappearance is his fault. That something has a voice—a voice that’s pushed him to kidnap a little girl. Caleb believes he did it to protect her, but now he’s starting to wonder if he’s the one she needs protection from. Then there’s his friend, Kitzi. Kitzi knows a secret she can’t share, locked in her head behind layers of brain damage. Kitzi wants to help Caleb, but she suspects a connection between this little girl and the Outs. If she can survive Caleb’s mistakes and the strange girl’s reality-bending fits long enough to put the pieces together, her secret might save them. Or it could mean the end of everything.


ABOUT E.S. WESLEY A long-time mentor and counselor, E.S. Wesley has worked for years to protect, encourage, and empower young adults to navigate a life that rarely makes sense. He believes all people are just waiting for someone to relate to their stories, so he makes up stories in the hope that someone will read and find a home there.His stories are often strange and twisty.
Wesley lives with his wife in Texas, where he’s always writing. Texas has a lot of things that he likes, but Shelly is the best of them. Second best is his son, who introduced him to his wife. Sometimes we do things out of order—that just makes life more interesting.TwitterInstagramFacebookGoodReadsWebsite ◊ Snapchat: @eswesley


The Outs COVER

Don’t forget to add it on Good Reads!

Monday, August 1, 2016

WIP-- Girl's Camp 2016

For the last four years, I've been the director of a week long camp for teenage girls (age 12-18). I love it with my whole soul.

Mostly, because of the girls. They are phenomenal women. Kind and brave and smart.

Also they fart a surprising amount.

This year we have seventeen girls coming (ages 12-18).   My favorite part about camp is watching the girls do something they didn't think they could do. There's nothing like watching a a twelve year old's legs shake as she climbs up to the top of a zip line, see her swallow, close her eyes, and then let go, and then seeing that gigantic proud smile as she races over the treeline.

I like seeing them be brave. I love serving beside them, and hearing their lives. Hearing about how it feels when they've grown up past soccer, or how they feel when they take the stage in the school play. I like hearing about their boyfriends, and their friend drama, and the kind notes they leave on the pillow of another teenage girl. I love taking long hikes and hearing the stories that they are writing, or their personal feelings about Girl Meet World. (I share these feels. #shaunhunterforever) I like eating the best, naughtiest, chocolate covered food, and not wearing makeup, and building up a smell, and dancing around a campfire as we sing ridiculously stupid songs at the top of our lungs, and looking up and watching the stars and knowing, as loud and as big and as dirty as we are being, we're just a tiny dot in a huge world. I love walking around with my arm around these amazing girls. I love staying up way too late and my shoes melting on the campfire ring.

It's funny, because putting together Girl's Camp takes an incredible amount of work and mental energy, but once I'm up there, it feel like taking off every single stress, and just being a girl in the mountains.

 So that's where my life has been lately. I've been hard at work on a secret story (shh... secret story is secret), I'm helping some CP's get ready for Pitch Wars, and I'm collecting the final touches to make Girl's Camp happen.

See you on the mountain.

Monday, June 27, 2016

Why I Love Libraries

So I'm in the library, a stack of too many books in my hands, and my wild children skipping around while clutching their latest (manga for the Boy Child, Ella Enchanted for my Girl, and a monster picture book for my littlest monster.) I'm trying to remind them that libraries are for quiet, but they heard me squeal as I walked in, so that ship has sailed.

We go to the library every week. Usually on Mondays, unless my inner introvert takes over. But every time I walk into that beautiful building, I see all those books, and book people, and my heart warms, and my pulse lifts, and I think I NEED TO READ ALL THE BOOKS, and a squeal happens. I can't help it.

The best part of the library though, other than THE BOOKS, is that after we check out the eleven or so books I think I can read in a week (I can't, but I'll die trying) is we get home and all settle on my giant sectional couch and we read books together. My house is quiet. My heart and lap are full. My TBR shelf groans.

It's happy town.

Today we brought along one of the neighbor girls. She's my daughter's BFF (a thing she explains to me even though I'm pretty sure my generation invented it) and we love her to pieces.

It's her first time. She's lived next to us for over a year, and she's never been taken to the library.

You know in the big picture, it's not a big deal. She's been fed, clothed. She's safe. The first time she came over to our house, she walked past our bookshelves, and out of nowhere, she told me she didn't want to go to college, because school was boring and there wasn't a point for a girl like her.  She's eight, and she knows how to flat iron her hair, loves to put makeup on, and she tries to be the Bratz doll she used to carry around.

I've seen her at 8:00 in the morning--her arms shaking, her skin pale, and her eyes glazed, because the night before the police took her step dad away-- and she was shipped out of her house for the free babysitting of school. She's seen more than I have, more violence, and heartache, and cold shoulders then an eight year old with narrow shoulders and soft eyes should. She knows she's welcome at our house, and she takes that welcome and she lives here some days. She parrots the words she's been taught to my daughter, and sometimes I need to correct them. Sometimes I just love her.

But we're leaving the library, and today she casts a gaze over her shoulder, holding a picture book story of the Beauty and the Beast that my daughter read in kindergarten. Looking back at all those books, she makes a little noise. She's not like me. She doesn't see all those books, and feel an ache inside that she needs to read them all.

It's a softer sound then my squeal.

It's the beginning of a want. A hope she suppresses.

"We'll come back next week," I tell her. "You are welcome to come along, if it's okay with your mother."

Those were the wrong words to say. At the mention of her mother she glances down at the book she's hugging to her chest and drops it down by the side, like a leash she's holding. "Nah. Libraries are boring."

We dump the books on the library shelf when we get home, and all settle into my cozy sectional. My four year old settles in on my lap, the boy child and my girl crash into pillows and then open their books. My daughter pats on the couch next to her, and my little neighbor sits down, her posture stiff, as she opens the book.

I start to read the picture book, making crazy monster sounds while my four year-old giggles. She leans back against the overstuffed cushions and turns the page of her own book.

Happy town.

And she has a visitor's pass.