I’ll be honest, coming up with an image that encapsulates me and my work was a task I found daunting. Over the years I had tried a few different types of logos, but nothing that really stuck. Most of them revolved around a lighthouse theme, but for no other reason than I like lighthouses. Which is frankly not enough of a reason to make something your logo. There should be some sort of significance. Then, when getting ready to attend a conference, my agent, Italia Gandolfo, told me I needed up my web game and to get a logo. So my entire site got a revamp and I commissioned a logo. The problem is that I still had no idea what I wanted, so she said she’d take care of it, that I should focus on the rest of the site.

I was in very good hands. Italia knew better than I did what type of logo I needed and once I saw it, I loved it and the symbolism. Because I write for a broad spectrum under the banner of Children’s or Juvenile Fiction, I had trouble conceptualizing how to encompass that same spectrum. What is more perfect than the symbol of a butterfly? Butterflies are powerful symbols of life — they represent significant transformation. On the young end of my writing spectrum, I write for seven to eight-year-olds, but I also write for preteens, and on up through Young Adult. So my target audience encompasses the gamut of the butterfly life cycle.

Children are like the caterpillar exploring the world with fresh eyes and a hunger for new experiences that just won’t quit. Preteens and young teens become introspective and go through a phase of change as they try to figure out who they are and what they want to be, much like when the caterpillar constructs the cocoon. Older teens burst through that shell, dry their wings, and take flight going off to explore the world in a way they couldn’t before.

Besides, butterflies are pretty. But I honestly cannot think of a better image than the butterfly to be the icon for my work. I ran across a video from the Dodo about the life cycle of the Lunar Moth. If you have a few minutes, it is well worth the watch.

The post Behold the Butterfly appeared first on Be the Cat.

In The Journal of Angela Ashby, Angela is smug when she see the crystal ball in the outer portion of the fortune-teller’s tent. To her, it confirmed her belief that the fortune-teller was a fake, despite the mysterious atmosphere. But as she looked more closely, she was a bit shocked to realize the crystal ball wasn’t clear, but cloudy. But the art of scrying only requires a reflective surface.

     A large lavender orb sat on a polished wooden base. I smirked. I should’ve expected to find a crystal ball in a fortune-teller’s tent. No fortune-teller would be complete without it. But the cloudiness of the orb surprised me because I expected the crystal ball to be clear. How would you see the fortune in something cloudy?
     As I gazed, shapes shifted in the orb. Whoa. I blinked and took a couple steps back. That was kinda freaky.

Have you ever tried to see the future or look into the past by gazing into a crystal? Have you ever used crystals to help you relax or meditate?

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The post The Journal of Angela Ashby: The Crystal Ball appeared first on Be the Cat.

Release day marks a very special day in an author’s journey. It’s the day when we finally get to share our baby with the world. Writing a book is a labor of love. From the wondrous moment when inspiration strikes, through getting to know the characters, who they are, how they react, what their motivations are … essentially, what makes them tick, it is a journey with ups and downs. Hours upon hours of research, writing, and the never-ending editing cycle go into each book for me and when at last it is deemed done, we send it off to gain someone else’s acceptance for publication. And even after the publishing home is determined, there are more hours spent on getting the book ready for its final debut.

Up until release day, the book is our own. We can mold and shape at will and a bajillion times do a last minute tweak or two. But once it is released, the book belongs to the world and each reader brings their own experiences to the act of reading and we, the author, the creator, are no longer in control. We cannot tell people how to read the book … the reader will either see what we intended to put on the page or they won’t.

So, The Journal of Angela Ashby no longer belongs just to me … may the world embrace Angela, Mallory, Tatiana, and the rest of the characters and story — it is your time to fly, Angela. And now it is time for me to focus on my next work.

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The roots of this story go back to 2009 while I was working on another book and Angela intruded to tell me that I was going to write her story. At that moment, I was so engrossed with the story I was in the middle of, and the words were flowing at such a rate I could barely keep up, that this new character was more of a nuisance than anything else. I pointed to the end of the story idea line and told Angela to get comfortable … because it was going to be awhile. She didn’t wait patiently.

Of ALL my characters, Angela has always been the most emphatic about who she is and the story she had to tell. Angela embodies the spirit of Be the Cat!! more than any character I’ve worked with. She knows who she is and makes no apologies.

Most of the time, I have some sort of idea of what the story is about before starting the writing process. Not this time. I simply knew my character had a story and it was my job to tell it. So — no outline, no story notes, nothing but me and a blinking cursor on the blank page. Imagine my surprise when this dilapidated carnival tent appeared as if by magic.

I had never written anything but contemporary to this point, and yet here, in the middle (well, more like the middle of the beginning) of the story popped up an object I knew had to contain magic. The last line of the image sums up exactly how I felt at that moment. Wait!! What is this doing in the middle of the story??? It didn’t belong.. (Or so I thought.)

But I was curious. First of all, it was a cool, old, tent and I wanted to know what was inside. This was the moment where the story turned from being an obligation to explore on behalf of my character to needing to satisfy my curiosity. From this moment forward, I was totally hooked, and I hope you will be, too.

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If you like the illustrations, check out the Liana Gardner Collection on Redbubble.

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I’d also like to give a shout out to my publishing-mates Alexandrea Weis with Lucas Astor and Mary Ting for their wins in the Horror: Supernatural/Paranormal (Blackwell) and Science Fiction: Post-Apocalyptic (ISAN) respectively.

This is going to be an incredibly short post, because I have some dancing and skipping around the room to do while marveling over the shiny new gold sticker my book can now wear.

The post 7th Grade Revolution – Winner 2018 American Fiction Awards appeared first on Be the Cat.

This is going to be an incredibly short post, because I have some dancing and skipping around the room to do while marveling over the shiny gold sticker my book can now wear.

The post 7th Grade Revolution Finalist in 2018 International Book Award Competition appeared first on Be the Cat.

I have great power.
That’s what she told me. The old fortune-teller at the school carnival.
I thought I was doing the right thing … with the magic journal she gave me.
But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Or, for what I unleashed.

At a school carnival, a mysterious fortune-teller gives twelve-year-old Angela Ashby a journal and warns her to use it wisely. Nothing prepares Angela for the journal’s power—when she pours her heart onto its pages her desires come true.

She tests the journal by conjuring a gnome, a unicorn, and a farting fairy and then uses it to stop the school bullies in their tracks. But the unintended consequences alienate her best friend and puts her favorite teacher in danger of losing her job.

After she shares her deepest desire of all—that her parents get back together—her adversary steals the journal, and Angela fears she will use it to bring mayhem to the entire school if she doesn’t get it back.

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In 7th Grade Revolution, Selena Woodham is the girl wearing the heels. She is the fashionista of the crew and wouldn’t go out of the house without her heels. But, perhaps a little predictably, while tromping around a tunnel in the dark, she breaks a heel.

     “Ow.” Ahead, Selena stumbled and James caught her before she fell.
     The gang stopped.
     Selena leaned against the tunnel wall and pulled off her shoe. “My heel broke.”
     Pfft. Of course, it broke. Heels weren’t meant for walking through tunnels with uneven terrain and potholes. Now they’d have to listen to her whine about her broken designer shoe and she’d complain about not being able to walk when one leg was four inches higher than the other one.
     Her lips skewed to the side. “Well, it won’t do me any good this way.” She raised the shoe over her head and whacked the heel against the tunnel wall. She gripped the heel and ripped it off. “There.” Selena slipped the now heel-less shoe on, and the other off.
     She whacked the unbroken shoe against the wall a few times until the heel twisted. Then she wrenched it and made herself a pair of flats.

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True darkness is not something we experience often in our current existence. Headlights and taillights add to the beams from the light stanchions on the road. Indoors at night, there is the glow from the alarm clock, or the blinking of the phone, or even an air purifier emitting a blue glow. These days we have light pollution from all the artificial light sources.

Imagine walking through a hand-hewn tunnel with the light of a single torch to see by. I doubt much could be seen ahead as the tunnel narrowed.

     The tunnel narrowed and Curtis’s arm jogged against hers (Rhonda’s) as they walked.
     “Sorry.”
     “It’s all right. Getting tight here.” She took her eyes off the ground for a second and her cheeks burned when he smiled at her. Good thing he couldn’t see her cheeks turn red in the dim light.
     Their voices bounced eerily through the tunnel, echoing against the rock. She wouldn’t want to be down here alone. Scary.
     Curtis stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Single file ahead.”
     Rhonda turned. With the light from the torch playing over their faces, it reminded her of evil witch and wizard cartoons when they stood over a flickering cauldron. Dennis and Maddie brought up the rear, and they were virtually silhouettes with the occasional gleam when the light touched on their hair. “Do we want to turn some flashlights on or light another torch?”

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As much as I’d love to have that straight open run toward a goal — a kind of see it and achieve it situation, there is value to overcoming the obstacles in our path along the way. With every obstacle or misstep, we learn more about who we are, and how important the goal is for us. If things are too easy, did we set our sights too low? Did we truly earn the accomplishment? Maybe I’m perverse, but I tend to value the things that were harder to achieve.

A rope ladder leading into a tunnel running under the school. The thrill of taking the next step along the way to finding the artifact. But then, a simple slip of the foot …

    Rhonda put her foot on the first rung and slowly lowered herself to the second. At this rate she’d take a few minutes to reach bottom, so Dennis worked on untying the knot to remove the cord. A little difficult to do one-handed. He rested the torch against the floor to use both hands.
    Rhonda yelped. The ladder twisted and swished while she clung to the rope, one leg dangling.
    Dennis dropped the torch. “Hold on.” He grabbed the ladder to steady it. The rope tugged against his grip as Rhonda twisted first one way and then the other. The sway slowed and finally stopped. “I’ll keep a grip on the rope. Make your way down.”

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The post 7th Grade Revolution: Dangling appeared first on Be the Cat.

At twelve, I was an athlete — softball and swimming — and I couldn’t figure out how I could excel in things requiring hand/eye coordination and trip over a non-existent shoelace. MUCH later in life, I finally figured out that when doing activities not requiring any concentration, like walking from the kitchen to the family room, my brain feels free to wander so the chair leg my eyes see doesn’t register until after I have tripped over it.

Rhonda is the same when it comes to her klutziness … wrapped up in another world while moving through this one. A recipe for disaster in the making.

The scene from 7th Grade Revolution:

Rhonda picked up her things and hurried to the aisle. She tripped on the chair leg at the end of the row and fell flat. Ouch. It happened so fast she didn’t have a chance to break her fall. She put her hands flat on the floor next to her side and pushed up to a sitting position. Her boobs weren’t big, but falling on them hurt. A sneaker stood about two inches from her hand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, afraid to see who she’d taken a pratfall in front of.

Dang. She’d flopped at Spencer Jackson’s feet.

“Way to go, Grace.” His arms shot out straight and he moaned. “Oooh. Zombies are coming to get you.” He stepped over her legs with a snicker.

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