Author Archives: Kate Sparkes

About Kate Sparkes

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Kate Sparkes was born in Hamilton, Ontario, but now resides in Newfoundland, where she tries not to talk too much about the dragons she sees in the fog. She lives with five cats, two dogs, and just the right amount of humans. USA Today bestselling author of the Bound Trilogy (mature YA Fantasy), Into Elurien, and Vines and Vices. Writing dark, decadent, and deadly Urban Fantasy as Tanith Frost. www.katesparkes.com www.tanithfrost.com

WIPpet Wednesday: Consequences

Last week’s WIPpet snippet was short. Of COURSE I’m going to give you something massive this week. I won’t be offended if you skip it. 🙂

This is from chapter… probably three. I’m not too clear on chapter divisions yet. This is extremely rough, please excuse the everything. Set up: things haven’t been going well since the end of Bound (so much for happily ever after, right?). So SPOILER ALERT I guess, if you don’t want to know whether people survive that one.

Still with me? Good. Rowan has convinced Aren to take a walk with her on the beach, saying she wanted to search for treasure. He doubted they’d find any, but went along anyway. He doesn’t get to spend much time alone with her these days. :/

12 + 6 paragraphs for 12/6  (plus one line so it makes sense)

Rowan seemed to be trying to get her bearings on the beach, running back and forth, looking down, when she suddenly dropped to her knees to rake her fingers through the pebbles. I jogged toward her, holding tightly to the cloth-wrapped item in my pocket. She stood and held her hand out to me. “Told you there was treasure.”

Glass. Two pieces, one green and one brown, the edges smoothed and the surface dulled by the rocks and water. “That’s it? This is what you were looking for?”

“Mm-hmm. I didn’t think you’d come with me if I told you.”

“What, that we were looking for old garbage?” She looked at me expectantly, and I sighed. “No, I still would have come along.” I fell in beside her as she walked closer to the water.

“It’s not old garbage.”

“It’s broken glass that somebody threw away, or that floated off of a shipwreck. It is the very definition of garbage.”

She stopped to pick up a few more pieces, and motioned for me to hold out my hand. “No,” she said. “This is garbage.” Clear glass this time, and new, probably tossed over the cliff recently. I closed my fingers around it, and the point of the triangle bit into my skin. When I opened my hand, blood welled up from a tiny puncture. Rowan frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can’t heal it, you know.”

“It’ll go away on its own soon enough.”

She shook her head, and a sudden breeze off of the ocean blew her hair around her head until she caught it and tied it back with the ribbon she kept in her coat. “This, however,” she continued, “is treasure.” Clear glass again, but turned white by its pitted surface. It was perfectly smooth, and aside from its colour was indistinguishable from the round pebbles that littered the shore. “I suppose it was garbage once, but after a while it becomes beautiful. Don’t you see it?”

As she added to her collection, I started to see. No one would ever mistake the glass for gemstones, but they were beautiful in the same way that someone like Rowan thought beach rocks were beautiful, or a mossy forest, or the swirling patterns in driftwood. I didn’t notice those things the way she did, but I was learning. It reminded me of her; if the women I’d known in Luid were diamonds and sapphires, she was the amethyst-coloured glass she handed to me, which seemed to glow in the fading sunlight and became more interesting the longer I looked at it. She was a strange person, but in ways that I liked very much. I thought again of leaving, and felt ill. I didn’t know how to bring it up.

A dull flash of green caught my eye. “What about this one?” I asked.

She turned the glass over in her hands. “Almost there. See how this edge is clear? It probably broke off of something not too long ago, and the ocean has to work on it a bit more. It’s a shame; the colour’s good.”

I sat on a weathered log that had landed above the tide line, and Rowan followed. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked.

“It’s time,” I said. She was silent for a few moments, then smiled, sadly.

“What, just when things are going so well here?”

I took her hand. It was so small in mine. “I would stay if I thought it would help you, but I think I’m just in the way right now. I’m not doing any good here. I’m tired of being unwanted and useless. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing now, but it’s not this.”

Rowan squeezed my fingers. “It’s not getting any better, is it?”

“Did I ever tell you what Mariana and Arnav said to me at the Grotto?” She shook her head and sat beside me. “They said that it was admirable that I wanted to renounce my past, but that I needed to learn what I was living for. Right now I have nothing but you. I think I could spend the rest of my life living for you, but-”

“…but that’s not fair to either of us. I know.”

Life is hard, kids, stay in school and don’t fall in love too quickly. Quality advice from Auntie Kate, right there. I have a big problem with stories where people fall in love too quickly and then that’s it.  I will NOT have codependent characters. *end rant*

And yeah, I know, it’s wordy and needs editing. I’ll get back to it. 😉

Want to join in the WIPpet Wedesday fun? Head on over to our host’s blog (KL Schwengel at My Random Muse), click on the linkie and share the love with the other WIPpeteers, and add your own link to a bit of your work in progress that relates to today’s date in some way (12 lines, 12 words… 12+6 letters, something from chapter or page 12… whatever).

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Treasure ahoy!

I guess I owe a #ROW80 update, too, especially since I missed Sunday’s check-in. JuNoWriMo is putting the pressure on, but I’m behind. I need a few good days with no distractions to get caught up. 2,000 words a day is just not happening right now. I’ve given up on reading Fallen (see here if you really want to know why) and have started Matched, which I thought sounded very not me, but I’ve enjoyed the first few chapters. Housework is going well, too, even if I refuse to acknowledge that as an official goal.


Well, That Was Fun

I did it. It took longer than it should have and ate up hours that could have been better spent writing,* but I picked a new theme and I PUSHED THE EFFING BUTTON.

It’s not perfect. It doesn’t represent my work in any meaningful way. But it’s fun, it’s got a bit more colour, and it will do until it’s time for me to set up an actual website with fun things like THEMES and BOOK COVERS and THINGS THAT ARE NOT MY BLOG. Huzzah.

So come on in! Have a look around. Everything’s the same, I just re-painted and rearranged the furniture. Mind you don’t trip over that rug there, I need to get some tape under that. Drinks are still in the fridge, you know where to find them. No, help yourself.

If only settling into and redecorating a real house was this simple!

*No, I’m not exaggerating, I really am that indecisive.


Daring To Fail

Eeeeeeyup. I struggle with this all the time.

Kait Nolan's avatarKait Nolan

In my inbox this morning:

It’s not the dazzling voice that makes a singer. Or clever stories that make a writer. And it’s not piles of money that make a tycoon. 

It’s having a dream and wanting to live it so greatly that one would rather move with it and “fail” than succeed in another realm. 

Yeah.  That.

It seems well-timed, given I’ve been having some flail and worrying about failing and screwing stuff up.  But that’s the thing.  Failing or no, I’d rather do this than ANYTHING ELSE.  Because when I’m NOT in the middle of Post-Critique Flail (which is most of the rest of the year), I friggin’ love what I do.  I love hanging out with these characters and exploring new worlds and having both surprise me.

Writing is one of the only areas of my life where I was ever willing to take a big risk…

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I Got Nuthin’

Seriously. I have nothing for you today. I should be working on my JuNoWriMo word count; instead, I’m browsing WordPress themes, because “Forever” isn’t doing it for me anymore. I like it, but the header font is flimsy, and I can’t afford to customize (even though I found the perfect font… sigh). I haven’t found anything that really matches the image I want to project, so maybe I’ll just go with something fun, see how that goes.

I know, such a professional, right?

Also, I changed my gravatar image to show you what a mean Groucho Marx impression my cat Charlie and I can do when we team up. You’re welcome.

groucho


Stop Being Awesome. Stop it NOW.

Seriously, guys. I go away for the weekend to the Land That WiFi Forgot, and I come back to an impossible number of tempting blog posts in my WordPress reader. Even being selective has left me with over a dozen open tabs waiting to be read.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?

Knock it off with the insight and the encouragement and the sharing of links that I then have to click on and read because they are ALSO useful or delightful. Stop making me happy to see your names on those posts and your smiling faces beside your re-blogs.

Stop being such an amazing community of writers, because it’s super distracting. I don’t have time for this many superstars in my life.

*sigh*

Ugh, fine, don’t look at me like that. You just keep doing what you do, I’ll deal with it somehow. Just don’t expect big word count numbers from me until I get caught up. 🙂

(I wish I could say I used the weekend for that,  but I find it hard to get writing done at the in-laws’ house. I did get more editing done on Bound, though, and I’m thinking I need a couple more beta readers for mid-to-late summer. I’ll put up a post requesting those when the time comes, but if anyone wants to volunteer to subject yourself to that, I’m just looking for people who are willing to point out story/character issues, slow spots, unanswered questions that absolutely can’t wait for the sequel, WTF moments… the big stuff, no need for nitty-gritty grammar issues just yet. Raise your hand, shoot me a message at kate.sparkes (at) live (dot) ca, send up a smoke signal somewhere visible from my house, whatever. And bring the awesome!)


Older Engrish

I have a special treat for you guys today. I recently dug out this old dollar store children’s diary I found several years ago. I forgot how good the Engrish is. Most of it is weird, random sayings. Some of it is just… well, look at the cover. (I’ll type it out, in case you can’t see it on your screen)

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“Good Luck
You’re always on my mind I’ll be there until the end of time
My heart is flammable when I see your beautiful eyes.”

Um… thanks, sleepy sheep!

And in case you didn’t get the message there at the top:

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It only gets better.

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MY LIFE PURE LOVE WILL SAVE THE MEMORY”

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“BEST WISHES FOREVER
You have a way of making me really
high on life.”

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“Wishing you every success in your future career”

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“BEET WISHES
I have come here to give you good luck”

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“Let’s go! Hurry up! Welcome to fat land  Oh, shit too past”

I’m sorry, what was that again?

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That’s what I thought you said.

Engrish, you are SO GROUNDED.


WIPpet Wednesday: First Five (and tiny ROW80 update)

*sings* Wednesday, Wednesday, gotta WIPpet on Wednesday…

Since it’s the fifth, and since this is the first Wednesday of JuNoWriMo, here’s the first 5 lines of this month’s work in progress, Torn. This is a few months after the end of Bound, and Aren gets to start this one off.

“Just try to relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“No, you’re not. You’re thinking about it too much. If you want it too badly, you’re never going to get there. Don’t try to do it, just let it happen. You’ve almost got it.”

She shot me a look that told me to shut up before I said something she’d make me regret, then closed her eyes again.

Yep, starting with dialogue. Because I’m a rebel like that.

Want to join in the fun? Every Wednesday the WIPpeteers post a selection from a work-in-progress that relates in some way to the day’s date (today could have been something from chapter 5, page 56 [for the fifth of June], yadda yadda). To see what everyone else is offering today, head on over to our host blog, My Random Muse (and check out a fun new option today!), and click on the linkie in the side bar. Feel like contributing? Come on in! After all…

seanbeanwippet

Now, as for my ROW80 update: JuNoWriMo is in full swing, and I’m doing… OK. It’s going. I’ve been having trouble squeezing writing time in, though. Also, yesterday I had the stupid. No, I didn’t DO something stupid, I had a bad case of it. My brain got borked, yo. The weather changed overnight in a big way, but instead of a headache, Mother Nature gifted me with a thick mental fog that made me feel like Back Seat Guy in the opening scene of Super Troopers, except less paranoid. Everything anyone said to me sounded like “Littering and? Littering and?”

(warning: drugs and swearing)

So no writing for me. O.o

But I’ll get there. The story is coming along, I’m almost on track for words. The reading goals aren’t happening so much as I might like, but you know how that goes.

Happy Wednesday, everyone! I gotta go put out the garbage.


Two Things

First thing: Remember the garden? Yeah, apparently the frost date in Newfoundland is JUNE 8. Holy frig. I mean, I love this place. It has incredibly beautiful, rugged landscapes; the people are often friendly and have wicked accents, and I sometimes see moose and bears when I’m driving. Oh, and I live a “yeah, we can go for the weekend” distance from my favourite city. But really? I’m reading blogs where people are talking about the blossoms on their zucchini plants, and I’m like “yeah? Well, mine are dead. DEAD.” I live in the land that summer forgot.

The bean plants are hanging in there, though they’re not growing. The sunflowers are fine, the sweet peas are coming up, the cauliflower plants we bought are OK, though I doubt they’re happy. The wild strawberry plants are doing great, the store-bought ones lost their flowers… I’m just going to pick them from the forest.

I’m not complaining that stuff died when we planted too early. I’m aware of the reality of the place we live, I knew the risks, and the whole thing is really just something fun to do with the kids (who seriously won’t even eat vegetables they grew themselves). It’s just a good thing I’m not taking my little analogy too seriously, because I would have to give up writing right now, because OH THE FUTILITY EVERYTHING SUCKS.*

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In other news (and with apologies to anyone who might have already seen this on Facebook, though I know that there’s very little crossover here), this conversation happened in my kitchen last night. Simon is almost eight years old (holy CRAP) and Ike is 5. Oh, and Ike was wearing his giant fuzzy zebra costume, because that’s just how Ike rolls.

Me: So you think you might want to go to camp?
Simon: How long would it be?
Me: Looks like it would be–
Ike: I want to go on a train!
Me: Yes, later. Four nights.
Simon: I’d miss you.
Ike: Where’s the train?
Me: There IS no train.
Simon: *looks at pamphlet* How old do kids have to be? When is it?
Ike: I’ll go!
Me: You’re too young, baby.
Ike: *slams head into table* I’M TOO YOUNG TO GO ON THE TRAIN?!
Me: No! You can go on the train when we go to Ontario. That’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about Simon and camp.
Ike: YAY!!!
Simon: Sounds like fun. I want to go. But I don’t want to go in a canoe, because the Titanic made me scared of boats.
Ike: But not TRAINS!

*end scene*

In conclusion, that’s why I didn’t get much writing done yesterday. My brain was exploded from my childrens.

*No, everything does not suck, I’m being dramatic, everything is fine. Just so’s you don’t worry. 🙂


Advice to Aspiring Writers

A great post on something I’ve been thinking about a lot.

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WebImageSay hello to today’s guest blogger, Quincy Allen! You can find him here.

Don’t take this advice.

That’s the take-away you’ll have by the time you finish this blog. But you’ll have to read the whole thing to understand why you shouldn’t take this advice. It’s a sort of Catch-22, one that already has a smile on my face. Oh, and if you haven’t seen the movie or read the book Catch-22, stop what you’re doing right now and go absorb that data.

But I digress.

There isn’t a writer—aspiring or otherwise—who hasn’t been informed over and over again by sage experts about the dos and don’ts of writing. We’ve all heard them: “Avoid adverbs” (so sayeth the King); “Keep it under 100,000 words,” (so sayeth the publishers); “Never use a prologue,” (so sayeth the agents); “Third person omniscient is dead,” (so sayeth the critics).

In fact, in…

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Jack Attack: SPEAK!

I scheduled this post in advance… hopefully I’m writing right now or doing something else productive instead of farting around with computer games or facebook. Honestly, it could go either way.

I couldn’t leave you without something today, though. This was a while back, at our old house, when Ike and Jack were both a little younger.  Yes, my dog sounds like a Wookiee, and he has very chewy lips.

Happy Monday. 🙂


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