SAVOR HOLIDAY RELEASE BLITZ w/ EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT

 

 

Savor Blurb:

Mature and explicit content. Not recommended for readers below 18-years-old. Yup, you’ve got to be that old to read my story. Consider yourself warned.

 

I’m Dakota Collins, a tough talking, eye patch wearing, workaholic photography student. Why am I important? Well, maybe because I get to spend an entire month with Vicious, only the sickest indie rock band out there.

 

You see, I needed a subject for my Spring Showcase introspective in order to graduate. During a chance encounter at a club I’d been sent to cover for the Daily Gossip, our ironically named college paper, the features writer I usually teamed up with introduced me to the band—by accident, I might add. It involved a run in with a scary, bald bodyguard. Anyway, long story short, I signed a contract to take pictures of Vicious.

 

I should have known their handsome yet way too serious for his own good bassist, Luka Visraya, wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. He’s gorgeous and all, but the way he smiles spelled trouble with a capital L. I’m in for a long month with him around.
 

Crazy shit happens and then some. So, if you want the skinny on Vicious and the events revolving around my stay at Lunar Manor, read my story.

 Again, refer to the warning above.

 

Buy Links

Amazon:

B&N:

The Book Depository:

Crescent Moon Press:

 

Author Bio:

 

When Kate Evangelista was told she had a knack fori wrting stories, she did the next best thing: entered medical school. After realizing she wasn't going to be the next Doogie Howser, M.D., Kate wandered into the Literature department of her university and never looked back.

 

 

Today, she is in possession of a piece of paper that says to the world she owns a Literature degree. To make matters worse, she took Master's courses in creative writing.

 

In the end, she realized to be a writer, none of what she had mattered. What really mattered? Writing. Plain and simple, honest to God, sitting in front of her computer, writing. Today, she lives in the Philippines and writes full-time.

 Author Links

Website: 
Twitter:

Facebook Page:
Goodreads:
Add Savor to GR link:

 

 

 

 

Savor Exclusive Excerpt

 

“Dakota Collins!”

I lowered my camera. The use of my full name never came with good consequences. I blinked my vision back at her even if I wanted to spend the rest of the night taking his picture. Sweat rose over my upper lip. I may just have found my subject for the Spring Showcase.

The only problem?

I had to find a way to convince him to be in my project. Something told me this wouldn’t be easy. By the way my heart beat in my ears, drowning out the music and Silvia having a fit in front of me, I wanted it too much. I wanted him too much.

“This the guy you were saying?” I showed Silvia the picture I’d taken. This seemed to pacify her because she sidled closer, mesmerized like a moth to a flame.

“Luka Visraya,” she said with a moan like she’d just tasted the most luscious chocolate before taking a long gulp of her cocktail. The name didn’t register. Silvia must have noticed my blank expression because she continued. “He’s the bassist for Vicious.”

Still no pings of recognition in my head.

She slapped her thigh. “Where have you been? It’s weird that you haven’t heard of them. Their songs are on the radio like every second.”

Of course I hadn’t heard of them. I liked listening to country and I hardly kept up with current events.

“Name one?” Okay, I had a name. Luka. Exotic. A bassist. Part of a band I should know about. So he’s famous. I slowly felt my chances of asking him to be my subject slip from my grasp. If he was someone famous, fat chance he’d say yes to a graduating photography student like me. I just about deflated when Silvia mentioned one of their songs. “Oh, I know that one!” By accident. It played in the radio of the cab I rode in to Sacrifice. I stared at the picture of him then lifted my gaze to where he sat. “He’s gone.”

“What?” Silvia whipped around in time to come face to face with a wall of man. “Whoa!” She pushed at him. “Watch it, buddy!”

“Give me the camera,” he said in a threatening tone.

Big. Beefy. Bald. The three Bs that made up the quintessential bodyguard.

I clutched my DSLR closer to my chest and looked up at him with my good eye. “And why would I do that?” The patch didn’t seem to intimidate him because he just reached out. So much for my Bond villain aspirations. I moved away from his grubby hand. No one touched my camera but me.

Despite her size, Silvia came between me and the mountain. “We’re here to cover Sacrifice for our college paper. You don’t have the right to take away my colleague’s camera.”

Yeah! You give it to him, Silvy.

Not that I couldn’t take care of myself. But if Silvia wanted to play hero, I wouldn’t stand in her way.

“What seems to be the problem here?” a soft, authoritative voice chimed in.

The bodyguard moved aside to reveal the Gothic Lolita. She stood at just about the same height as Silvia, but she possessed an older aura even if she seemed to be our age.

“She’s been taking pictures,” Baldy said.

Lolita’s kohl eyes landed on me then shifted to my camera.

“As I was saying to the big guy,” Silvia explained. “My colleague and I are covering the opening of Sacrifice.”

“For what paper?” Lolita asked without taking her eyes off me. I clutched my camera like an extra appendage. In some ways it was. After losing half my sight, I relied on my camera like an extra eye, seeing the world through its lens. I would rather die than lose it.

“The Daily Gossip,” I said before Silvia could answer just to relieve some of the awkward tension building in me under her gaze. “We study at Wexler U.”

She tilted her head, crossing her arms.

“Okay,” I quickly stammered out. “I get that the name of our paper sounds like a tabloid, but the Daily Gossip is a cool campus paper.” The last part maybe only I believed since Silvia raised her eyebrow at me, but Lolita and the mountain didn’t have to know that.

No one spoke after that. Even in a noisy club, the silence in our group rang in my ears. Not waiting for the situation to get any more awkward, I plowed forward with my own selfish intensions.

“You know Luka.” I said it more as a statement, but it came out like a question.

Lolita nodded.   

“I’m Dakota Collins and I’m graduating this spring. I was wondering if Luka would be interested in—”

“What would I be interested in?” a smooth voice joined our group.

The walls of my throat closed, chocking the rest of what I had to say. All eyes turned to Luka. Silvia dropped her empty glass. It bounced off the bodyguard’s shoe and landed in a clatter but didn’t break. Even with my height, I still had to look up at him.

“What are you doing here?” Lolita admonished. “You should be backstage.”

One side of his lips came up. God. Without the scowl, his face lit up. I had to stop the urge to lift my camera and start snapping away. And his eyes were piercing blue. The kind that stretched over my mother’s farm in the summer. Damn.

Seeing him up close, I knew I’d give any one of my kidneys for a chance to take his picture in a formal shoot.

“We have five minutes. Chill, Yana.” He tugged at one of her pigtails.

“Luka,” Silvia managed. “I’m a big fan. Will you sign my chest?”

Bypassing my petite colleague, Luka’s intensely blue gaze studied me. He reached out and I flinched back. His fingers almost grazed my patch. What the hell was the matter with him? Trying to touch my eye patch was tantamount to poking a bandage over a wound and asking the person if it hurts.

Gothic Lolita—Yana—yanked Luka’s arm down. “I’m so sorry!” Her whole aura changed. She went from all business to panicky. “My brother sometimes forgets his manners. He didn’t mean anything about touching your…” She bit her lower lip, maybe trying to keep herself from saying the wrong thing.

That little faux pas cleared my head of the Luka haze and spurred me into action. “Luka, will you let me take your picture for my final project?” I didn’t know where my courage came from, but I knew if I didn’t take this chance, I’d regret it. I had to have him as my subject.

Still not removing his gaze from my face, like my patch transfixed him, he tilted his head to one side very much like his sister did earlier.

“Luka, don’t!” Yana said, but from the consideration on Luka’s face, she was too late.

“You’re a photographer?”

“Yes.” I nodded, in case the word wasn’t enough.

“And you’d like me to be the subject of your project?”

God yes! This time, I could only nod. I didn’t want him to see how eager I was. And I couldn’t live with myself if I embarrassed myself further.

I waited with baited breath.

It seemed everyone in our group waited with baited breath for what the golden god had to say about my brazen request. I soon realized when Luka spoke, everyone listened. The way he pronounced every word precisely yet still spoke so smoothly, like butter on warm toast, captured everyone’s attention. To say he captivated us was an understatement. Something in me certainly wanted to hear him keep speaking. He could read from an accounting textbook in that voice and no one would get bored.

“I need to know that you’re good,” he finally said.

Something about his words seemed to hold a different meaning. I must have missed the alcohol in the soda Silvia had given me. Maybe I was drunk and this was all a blackout dream.

“What are you saying?” Yana faced Luka all the way now, her petite form all rigid.

He unleashed a full on megawatt smile my way. I almost had to cover my eye from it. At my side, Silvia gasped. Her long nails dug into my arm. Like staring at the sun, I couldn’t take my gaze away from him no matter how bad it was for me.

“We’re about to perform. I want you to take several pictures then send them to Yana. If she approves, we’ll see about your request.”

Then, like smoke, he disappeared into the crowd.

SAVOR COVER REVEAL- KATE EVANGELISTA

 

 

You've had a TASTE of Kate Evangelista's world. Now it's time to SAVOR it.

 

Okay, that was me being cheesy. It's too early in the morning for me to try and be clever. I am extremely thrilled for Kate, and I love this beautiful cover. I haven't read but a snippet of SAVOR, and I'm dying to get my official copy.

 

I shall forever and always be Team Luka.

 

Which makes me very happy and I'll share why. Fellow team members, if you haven't heard about FERVOR, you're in for a special treat. I'll let Kate tell you all about it so click on the book title for the full deets.

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

When Kate Evangelista was told she had a knack for writing stories, she did the next best thing: entered medical school. After realizing she wasn't going to be the next Doogie Howser, M.D., Kate wandered into the Literature department of her university and never looked back. Today, she is in possession of a piece of paper that says to the world she owns a Literature degree. To make matters worse, she took Master's courses in creative writing. In the end, she realized to be a writer, none of what she had mattered. What really mattered? Writing. Plain and simple, honest to God, sitting in front of her computer, writing. Today, she two published Young Adult novels TASTE and REAPING ME SOFTLY.

 

REAPING ME SOFTLY COVER REVEAL- KATE EVANGELISTA

Well, it's a great day. The official cover reveal for my critique partner, Kate Evangelista's REAPING ME SOFTLY, by Omnific Publishing. Expected release is October 30, 2012.

Isn't it gorgeous? I'm so in love, I had to make it supersized. Sorry if it's hard to read the title, but I wanted you to be able to see the details.  Here it is again.

Book description:

Ever since a near-death-experience on the operating table, seventeen-year-old Arianne Wilson can see dead people. Just as she’s learned to accept her new-found talents, she discovers that the boy she’s had a crush on since freshman year, Niko Clark, is a Reaper.

At last they have something in common, but that doesn’t mean life is getting any easier. All while facing merciless bullying from the most powerful girl in school, Arianne’s world is turned upside down after Niko accidentally reaps the soul of someone she loves. This sends them both into a spiral that threatens to end Arianne’s life. But will Niko break his own Reaper’s code to save her? And what would the consequences be if he did?
Check out Goodreads: 

www.kateeveangelista.com
Like me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Find me on Goodreads

Many thanks got to AToMR Tours for hosting this Cover Reveal. They are also opening sign-ups for the ARC Tour today for those interested in participating. The tour is scheduled for October 29-November 3, 2012.

 

SHARING OUR VOICES- KATE EVANGELISTA

I asked Kate Evangelista to write an SOV post to coincide with the release of TASTE today, in the hope that readers would gain some insight into what inspires this amazing, debut author.


However, the source of Kate’s inspiration wasn’t quite what I expected. No words can fully express how overwhelmed I felt upon reading this post for the first time. 


AN ODE TO A WRITING SISTER

To be perfectly honest, I already had a post for Angie’s blog ready to send to her after a couple more editing glances. It was supposed to be about being Filipino. How I might not look like a Filipino, but I’m still proud of where I was born and raised. Anyway, all that changed as the days drew closer to the release of Taste. Just as a little backgrounder, I keep a journal. I started writing entries every night since I decided writing was the career I wanted for myself. Through my journey, I realized, no one has been there more than Angie.


This feature on her blog allows writers to show their readers how their writing was influenced by where they came from, their culture and tradition. Being naturally rebellious, I will deviate from that trend and focus on the person who influenced my writing. She is someone who I haven’t met in person, but she has always been there holding my hand through the moments when all I felt was hurt when one rejection came after the other and she was there celebrating along with me when Taste and all my other novels found their homes without the help of an agent. She was there when I broke up with said agent too. Basically, I can’t imagine my writing life without Angie in it.


I know I share her with many of you. She is a critique partner unlike any other. She’s kind and gracious. She’s sharp as a tack and keen on finding plot holes. She never lacks compliments while at the same time unafraid to tell you what isn’t working in your latest WIP. These are just someone of the reasons why she’s always the first to see my latest. She’s seen my rawest work and helped me mold the piece into something acceptable for the eyes of editors. A perfect example of this is with Taste. Angie has been with Taste back when it was still called Lunar Heat. In fact, she was the one who gave Taste her title today.


Taste wouldn’t be the novel it is today without the guidance of Angie. So, if you asked me what influenced my writing the most? The answer would be her opinion. All she has to do is say she doesn’t like something in what I’m working on and I would immediately change it, no questions or arguments. Such is my trust in her taste, forgive the pun. And one thing you should know about me is that I don’t trust easily. Because of past experiences, I’ve learned to build walls around myself to protect me from the cruelty of the world. I guess it’s the many betrayals I’ve suffered in the hands of those I thought were friends that made me more comfortable interacting with the characters in my head. Where else would I be able to stare at someone as handsome as Demitri with being thought of as a stalker? And where else would I be able to have tea with Dray while he concocts a new formula to inject into Phoenix?


Anyway, I digress, as I am wont to do.


Would you believe Angie and I were never supposed to be critique partners?


To those who don’t know, when you’re searching for a critique partner, it’s usually customary to exchange a few pages to see if your editing styles mesh. At the time that Angie and I exchanged pages, I was under the influence of another critique partner. This led to my rejecting a partnership with Angie. But I soon realized my mistake and came crawling back. I never regretted my decision since.


It’s been more than two years since then, and every time I read something new from Angie, I am amazed at how much her writing has evolved. Like wine, she gets better and better with experience (I’m not saying age because I believe she is an ageless goddess benevolent enough to allow me into her life).


I honestly would have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for Angie’s continued encouragement. She must have edited Taste with me more than ten times, and never did she say no to re-reading the story again. She was the one who helped me figure out how to edit Phoenix’s voice, which ultimately led to Taste finding a home. Even now, she took time from her schedule to read the finished product. That’s commitment that I value and find very rare. And because of her unfailing support, I dedicated Taste to her. When you get your copy, take a moment to read the dedication page. It was the least I could do, but I know it could never measure up to what she does for me and my writing.


Because of all her help, and all the hours we spent chatting, I call her my writing sister from another mother. And I look forward to the day when I read an email from her that says a publisher finally came to its senses and recognized the talent she has for weaving words together into a lush story.


Angie, I know I’ve embarrassed you enough with this post, but I just want you to know that I continue to believe. And I continue to admire your strength and dedication. You teach me every day to find a sense of calm in the chaos. You never hesitate to help me every time, and know that I would do the same and more. I have the champagne chilling, anticipating the day when it’s your turn to see your writing babies make it into the world.



www.kateeveangelista.com
Like me on Facebook
Follow me on Twitter
Find me on Goodreads



By the way, Kate's wrong about one thing. We were always meant to be critique partners. I'll tell you a secret I don't think I've even told Kate. It's rather embarrassing in the Whoo Whoo weird kind of way. But hey, what kind of writer would I be if I didn't give in to my superstitious side every once in a while. 

The night before Kate emailed to apologize and ask to work together again, I had a dream about her. I mean, I hadn’t heard from her in months. Why a dream?

I think the universe was preparing me to be open to forgiving her. I'm glad I put my fear of being rejected again aside. A friend like Kate is a rare gift, and I'm thankful to have her in my life.

KATE EVANGELISTA- TASTE Book Trailer and Excerpt Reveal

Are you excited for a little TASTE? Here is a teaser to whet your appetite for Kate Evangelista's novel TASTE, to be released by CRESCENT MOON PRESS on May 1, 2012. So, feast your eyes on this amazing trailer…and dream of flesh.


  

Song Credits: "Hunger" © Noelle Pico.

Wasn’t that trailer haunting? The song, HUNGER gave me the chills. It’s available for download from the amazingly talented Noelle Pico. For more on this talented songwriter, please check out her SOV post.


Still not sated? Need another bite?

At Barinkoff Academy, there's only one rule: no students on campus after curfew. Phoenix McKay soon finds out why when she is left behind at sunset. A group calling themselves night students threaten to taste her flesh until she is saved by a mysterious, alluring boy. With his pale skin, dark eyes, and mesmerizing voice, Demitri is both irresistible and impenetrable. He warns her to stay away from his dangerous world of flesh eaters. Unfortunately, the gorgeous and playful Luka has other plans.

When Phoenix is caught between her physical and her emotional attraction, she becomes the keeper of a deadly secret that will rock the foundations of an ancient civilization living beneath Barinkoff Academy. Phoenix doesn’t realize until it is too late that the closer she gets to both Demitri and Luka the more she is plunging them all into a centuries old feud.

TASTE

 Excerpt 2

I sat up and followed Calixta’s gaze upward. I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t know what I was seeing at first. A statue? ¬My brain refused to snap together coherent thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d fallen so close to one of the garden benches until I stared up at the boy that sat on one. He was strikingly beautiful. His tumble of blonde hair curled just above his sculpted cheekbones. He wore a silk shirt and a loosened cravat, like he’d become bored while dressing and decided to leave himself in disarray. His ivory skin and frozen position was what had me mistaking him for something carved from marble by Michelangelo. Then he sighed—a lonely, breathy proof of life. If I had to imagine what Lucifer looked like before he fell from heaven, the boy on the bench would certainly fulfill that image. My brain told me I had to look away, but I couldn’t.

“Luka,” Calixta said again, her voice unsure, almost nervous. It no longer contained the steel and bite she had threatened me with, which made me wonder who the boy was.

He leaned on his hands and crossed his legs, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the night sky. His movements spoke of elegance and control. I’d encountered many people with breeding before, but his took on the air of arrogance and self-assuredness of someone used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

I only realized I’d been holding my breath when my lungs protested. I exhaled. My heart sputtered and restarted with a vengeance. Luka tore his gaze away from the stars and settled it on me. I’d expected pitch-black irises, like the other Night Students, but blue ice stared back at me.

“Human,” he whispered.

He reached out, and with a finger, followed an invisible trail down my cheek. I stiffened. His touch, cooler than Demitri’s, caused warm sparks to blossom on my face. He lifted his finger to his lips and licked its tip. He might as well have licked me from the way my body shivered.

Luka’s curious gaze held mine. “Leave us,” he said, but not to me.

“But—” Calixta protested like a spoiled child.

He spoke in a language I hadn’t heard before, remaining calm yet firm. The words had a rolling cadence I couldn’t quite follow, like rumbling thunder in the distance. They contained a harsh sensuality. The consonants were hard and the vowels were long and lilting.

Footsteps retreated behind me.

Luka reached out again.

It took me a minute to realize he wanted to help me up. I hesitated. He smiled. I smiled back timidly and took his hand, completely dazzled. Even with my uniform soaked from melted snow, I didn’t feel cold—all my attention was on him and the way his callused hand felt on mine. Without moving much from his seated position, he helped me stand.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He had a voice like a familiar lullaby. It filled my heart to the brim with comfort.

I swallowed and tried to stop gawking. “Phoenix.”

“The bird that rose from the ashes.” Luka bent his head and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

My cheeks warmed. My head reeled, not knowing what to think. I couldn’t understand why I felt drawn to him. And the strange connection frightened me.

From behind, someone gripped my arms and yanked me away before I could sort out the feelings Luka inspired in me. I found myself behind a towering figure yet again. Recognizing the blue-black silk for hair tied at the nape, relief washed over me. Calixta hadn’t come back to finish me off.

Demitri’s large hand wrapped around my wrist. Unlike the night before, no calm existed in his demeanor. He trembled like a junky in need of a fix. The coiled power in his tense muscles vibrated into me.

“What are you doing here?” Demitri asked.

I didn’t know he’d spoken to me until I saw his expressionless profile. I sighed.

“Phoenix.”

I flinched. The ruthless way he said my name punched all the air out of me. “You owe me answers,” I said with as much bravado as I could muster.

“I owe you nothing.” He glared. “In fact, you owe me your life.”

“I don’t think so.”

Ignoring my indignation, he faced Luka, who’d remained seated on the bench during my exchange with Demitri. “Why is she with you, Luka?”

“I wasn’t going to taste her, if that’s what you’re implying,” Luka said. “Although, she is simply delicious. I wouldn’t mind if you left us alone.”

There it was again. Taste. The word that kept coming up between these Night Students and I was connected to it in an increasingly uncomfortable way. To taste meant to sample, but what? My flesh? They had to be joking because the alternative wasn’t funny.

“The sins of the father …” Demitri left his sentence unfinished.

Luka’s smile shifted into a snarl. “Obey my command.” His chin lifted. “Kneel.”

Demitri’s stance went rigid. His grip tightened around my wrist.

Okay, weird just got weirder. Why would Luka want Demitri to kneel before him? I thought back to Eli and the others bowing to Demitri when he questioned them, but they didn’t kneel. Seriously? Were they all living on a different planet or something?

“Kneel.” Luka’s detestable smirk made his features sinister rather than angelic. The real Lucifer: a fallen angel.

Without letting go of my wrist, Demitri knelt down on one knee and bowed his head, his free hand flat at the center of his chest. “Your command has been obeyed,” he said formally.

Luka nodded once.

Demitri stood up and pulled me toward the school without telling me where we were going. Not having the time to thank Luka for saving me from Calixta, I risked a glance back. Luka smiled at me. His smile spoke of whispers, secrets, and promises to be shared on a later date. (hint, hint, wink)

When Kate Evangelista was told she had a knack for writing stories, she did the next best thing: entered medical school. After realizing she wasn't going to be the next Doogie Howser, M.D., Kate wandered into the Literature department of her university and never looked back. Today, she is in possession of a piece of paper that says to the world she owns a Literature degree. To make matters worse, she took Master's courses in creative writing. In the end, she realized to be a writer, none of what she had mattered. What really mattered? Writing. Plain and simple, honest to God, sitting in front of her computer, writing. Today, she has four completed Young Adult novels.

 
 
Author Website:
Twitter: @KateEvangelista
Facebook:
Find Taste on Goodreads
Crescent Moon Press page for Taste

SHARING OUR VOICES- NOELLE PICO

I'd like to introduce Noelle Pico @thenoeychu to Sharing Our Voices. I'm a huge fan of Noelle's music. When I listen to her, my creativity is sparked. I get lost in my own world, only snapping back to reality when the song ends. She is source of inspiration for me, and I feel honored to have her here to share her gift with others.

Thank you, Noey, and welcome.

When Angie asked me over to write for Sharing Our Voices, I honestly wasn’t sure how to go about this post. Having followed the features that have been shared so far, wonderful posts about stories and characters and the things that influence these into being… I wasn’t sure how a musician could fit into the mix.

And then I remembered that musicians are storytellers as well.

I have had music in my life for as long as I can remember. When I search my memories, the houses I have lived in have never once been absent of song. This is a thing I thank my parents for, though not so much for music created by their hands (those are the things my brothers and I have done) but more because all throughout, they encouraged the art of listening.

My parents’ personal collection of cassette tapes are a memory of drawers crammed to the hilt – a library of small plastic cases that were to me things to wonder at. It’s a sort of magic, I guess, to have looked at the fine, thin strips of black wound into rolls easily spanned by the length of my thumb; to know how much music was held within. I continue the tradition today, though CDs have replaced cassettes and the albums of my favorites are hoarded like treasures, stacked proudly on my shelves between books and tucked in special boxes.

The road trips we used to take are best recounted through the albums that my family and I all but memorized word for word, note for note: an end-of-summer trip washed over with rain are the songs from the first albums of the All-American Rejects and Dashboard Confessional; a lengthy weekend tucked away in the silence of a resort can be brought back by that one international release by the Irish group Bellefire (a handful of their songs were familiar covers that my parents particularly enjoyed). Drives to hockey practice in college were accompanied by female voices: Vienna Teng’s soothing tones set lyrics of a poetic bent to the keys of a piano, Maria Mena’s bluntly honest declarations of relationships gone wrong were documented by guitar riffs and husky vocals; and Tori Amos’ richly textured landscapes drew together fables and flights of fancy that were still somehow rooted in the very real world.

There are others still, from years before and the day more recently gone by: train rides to and from graduate studies classes were punctuated by the French pop band KYO, the setting sun dipping behind my city’s skyline. Tunes from the Spanish rock group Motel kept me company as I sat in the back seat of a friend’s van as we drove out of town to her family beach house. Japanese Rock prompts me to nod my head as I wait in line at the queue of vans that serve as my means of transport home.

I sit in a coffee shop, walk the sidewalks, browse bookshelves – and always, I carry music with me.


]

Cover, “With A Smile” by The Eraserheads // First shared on 14 February 2012, Valentine’s Day offering on Tumblr.

I wrote my first song when I was seven years old.

Thinking back to the tiny girl sitting at the back of a van, I recall the welcome flurry of noise generated by my brothers and cousins. We are parked outside of a botica, one of the small-town pharmacies found in the province where both of my parents’ trace their roots to. This family trip is not out of the ordinary. It is just another summer break away from the hectic frenzy of life in Manila.

Though I confess to being a city girl by trade and at heart, if there is anything that I appreciate about the small town called Bacolod City, it is that the pace slows significantly the moment you find yourself there. Perhaps it is just that, being out of town, cut off from the demands of your life, you are offered a reprieve; a place and time to think – whether you seek it out or not.

Now, I can’t remember what it was that prompted a desire to write music. I just knew that as I let my mind wander over the collective noise of nearly ten children, I happened to look down at the single page of Hallmark stickers that my mother had given me earlier that morning.

And as cartoon bears declared words of encouragement waving brightly colored streamers or through thought bubbles over their heads, a tune rolled over merrily in my mind.

I have them still; the stickers, I mean. They are preserved in a notebook at home, the sheen of their glossy finish now dull, their colors faded with time. Though I often offer a half-embarrassed smile when my mom asks me to sing it publicly, I cannot deny that there has been nothing quite like that first moment of discovery where a seven year old learned that this – songs – was something that she could do.



“Coffee and Nonsense”, original composition // Piano demo.

Writing music is not unlike telling a story. Take any song and in it you will find landscapes and characters and narratives and concepts that resonate in their universality. Always, you will find that as a cohesive whole it speaks and breathes and relates, because music – no matter the language it is written in – once it touches you, it echoes the things that you know and feel. It is your witness, your mirror image, your darkest incarnation, your best friend.

There are words that I want to share, from a musician who I both admire and respect, but I can’t remember the exact entirety of them, so I’ll paraphrase as best as I can:

Tracing the progression of a musician’s craft through the songs they create is not unlike following the progress of the individual; of a life. The songs you write at seven are not the same ones you write when you are thirteen or sixteen or twenty-five. This is not to say that you will not wrestle with the same angels or battle the same ghosts – it is just that the way you handle these experiences, how you express these insights in reference to the world around you and most importantly to yourself – these will not be the same.

As I look back at a personal timeline chronicled by the songs that I have written over the course of twenty years, I not only see how the music I write today is a far cry from the quick children’s jingle put together from words printed on Hallmark stickers – words of encouragement, of love, of pride. Today, I have learned to understand how the music I create is part and parcel of the person I not only am, but the one I strive to be.

When people ask what it is that I do, I tell them simply: I write about people and about feelings; about people who make me feel and what they make me feel. When I set my fingers over the piano keys or curl these around a pen, I tell the music all the things that my heart knows. At all times, all that has ever been asked of me is that if I must tell a story, then I must tell it as truthfully as I can. In return, the music takes my hand and offers me a tune.



“SALISI”, original composition // First shared on 7 December 2011, featured on #upstairsintheworkshop: volume 1.

I hope everyone enjoyed Noelle's music as much as I do. I think she's wicked talented. She asked me to share with everyone that the studio version of SALISI and Hunger (which is featured on Kate Evangelista's trailer for her novel, TASTE) will be available for purchase on April 16th at http://sheisnoelle.bandcamp.com

I can't wait.

To learn more about this amazing artist, please check her out on tumblr: her name is Noelle

Kate Evangelista's TASTE Cover Reveal

Check out Kate Evangelista's beautiful cover for TASTE, coming soon from Crescent Moon Press. Doesn't it give you the shivers?

At Barinkoff Academy, there's only one rule: no students on campus after curfew. Phoenix McKay soon finds out why when she is left behind at sunset. A group calling themselves night students threaten to taste her flesh until she is saved by a mysterious, alluring boy. With his pale skin, dark eyes, and mesmerizing voice, Demitri is both irresistible and impenetrable. He warns her to stay away from his dangerous world of flesh eaters. Unfortunately, the gorgeous and playful Yuri has other plans.

When Phoenix is caught between her physical and her emotional attraction, she becomes the keeper of a deadly secret that will rock the foundations of an ancient civilization living beneath Barinkoff Academy. Phoenix doesn’t realize until it is too late that the closer she gets to both Demitri and Yuri the more she is plunging them all into a centuries old feud.

KATE EVANGELISTA'S BIG NEWS

My vow of silence has lifted.

Yesterday, Kate Evangelista announced her big news. I’ll let her fill you in on all the wonderful details and get a TASTE (LOL) of the virtual goodies she’s left for you on her blog.

What I want to convey is how proud and excited I am of her accomplishment. This breaking news has been a long time in the making; yet, I NEVER doubted this day would come. This is a testament to Kate’s level of commitment to perfecting her craft, her enthusiasm for her work, and her determination to fight for her dreams.

We’ve been friends and critique partners for two years. We’ve shared the good and bad. Without her, I don’t know whether I would be where I am right now in terms of my writing career. There were times during the course of these two years when I wanted to quit.

Kate threatened to get on a plane, and fly to the states so she could smack me upside the head. Tough love? Oh yeah, she dished it out when I needed it. Other times, she held my hand through my spurts of self-doubt. She taught me how to be a better writer, critique partner, and friend.

She’s my champion and my hero.

I’m so thrilled for her I had to share. So, please pop over to Kate’s Blog and offer her your warmest congratulations and good wishes on her future endeavor. I know she would appreciate it.