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.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

The Long Awaited Beyonce Post

*reposted from theprosers June 2012

I've been challenged by my friend Maurine to write more honestly, and from the heart. 

So here goes.

I'm secretly BeyoncĂ©.

Same Person

Several years ago, in the first official Proser post, I mentioned how I think I'm like Queen Bey, and it wasn't a joke. I hear her music, and it's like our brains are the same brain. I close my eyes, (and my curtains), and I get to booty-shaking.

Yes, my kids do laugh at me, (how'd you know?).  They don't see what's happening in my head. In my mind, I'm wearing a leotard, and the spotlights are bright and trained on me, and everyone watching is thinking, "Dang, that girl is talented."

The difficulties come when I'm in my car, and one of Beyonce's songs come on the radio. There are no curtains in my minivan, and I can't listen to Beyonce without singing along. I shake my hair, and shimmy my shoulders, so every car around me gets a free Beyonce show.

Aren't they lucky?

But the other drivers aren't grateful for the Grammy Award quality show that's going on in my head. No, there is sometimes laughing and pointing, and I suddenly realize that I am a white girl/ mom/ driving a minivan/ making a fool out of myself.

My Hero Lucille Ball.

It makes me feel like Lucy Ricardo.  Lucy wants, more than anything, to be in show business. The problem is, she's not a good singer, or dancer, or actor. She is all desire, and ambition, and light on talent.

I feel like that.

 I want to be a writer, more than anything. I've always been this way. I started my first novel in fifth grade for crying out loud. I'm trying. I write almost every day. I submit my stories, and my novels. I'm doing everything I can.

But most of the time, I feel like I'm putting on a costume, and looking ridiculous, as I stand with my heart on my sleeve, and every drop of talent I have don't have on display.  People laugh. People ignore me. I make a fool out of myself. I fail, even though I want so hard to succeed. 

I can't stop, because I believe in myself to the point of delusion. In my head, I think that everyone who reads my stuff will think, "Dang, that girl is talented."

But that's not what happens.  I realize occasionally that I'm ignoring my children/house/ reality, so I can look foolish.

My soul sister knows what I'm talking about.

Sweet Dreams.

My guilty pleasure, I ain't going no where

Baby long as you're here I'll be floating on air

'Cause you're my

You can be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare

Either way I don't wanna wake up from you
(Turn the lights on)

I mention you when I say my prayers
I wrap you around all of my thoughts
Boy you're my temporary high

I wish that when I wake up you're there
To wrap your arms around me for real
And tell me you'll stay by side

Clouds filled with stars cover the skies
And I hope it rains, you're the perfect lullaby
What kinda dream is this?

This just took a turn for the sad,  (Beyonce will do that). I'm not trying to get sympathy, or support, or even adulation. That's annoying. I'm just trying to be honest as challenged.

See, that's part of the difficulties about having dreams. Not everyone who dreams will have their dream come true. Not everyone who dreams is good enough for it to happen. And you don't know which person you are, so you can't stop trying, just in case. Years pass, and there's no guarantee that all that effort will pay off.

Sometimes dreams are actually nightmares, dragging their victims around by their hopes.

Either way, I don't wanna wake up. Because in my's beautiful.

So I close the curtains so it's just me and the bright lights, (and occasionally a leotard,) and I get to booty-shaking. 

Talented or not, successful or not, I love to dance, and I love to write. Who cares about the destination anyway? I find joy in the dreaming.

I'm not gonna quit singing and dancing in my minivan when Single Ladies comes on, even though people may laugh. It might be the only time they laugh the whole day. Why on earth would I want to stop? 

I'm not gonna quit writing when the inspiration hits me either, because I write for me.

I don't need an ever after to be happy.