10 Minute Novelist

Hi. I’m proud to say that I’m a 10 minute novelist.

One day I was looking for inspiration. Believe it or not, no matter how many times I told myself I’d write every day, it didn’t happen! I came across this wonderful website called 10 Minute Novelists right before NaNo. How is it already December?

The founder, Katharine Grubb, says “I decided that my dreams were worth fighting for. I decided that doing something was better than doing nothing. And I decided that if I waited until I had the perfect conditions, I would never get that novel written.”

Besides finding the 10 Minute Novelists website, I also joined their Facebook group. Their three goals–tips, encouragement, and community.

So far, I’ve found motivation to write every day. Not necessarily always fiction, but writing nonetheless. I have to keep a steady blog schedule somehow.🙂

I discovered that just finding 10 minutes out of my day to focus on writing has really, really helped. I’m writing about 400 words each session block. Hopefully, I can keep up this momentum.

Thinking in terms of 10 minutes has improved my goals in so many ways:

  • It takes the pressure off of me, not feeling guilty for not writing in long sessions
  • I get bursts of energy, feeling productive in these quick sessions
  • I found my balancing act with novellas, short stories, comics, reading, scripts, and editing/revising

For any inspiring writers out there, please know your first draft doesn’t have to be perfect. Just focus on getting your words down on paper; you can always edit later. And, you don’t have to commit hours upon hours a day to consider yourself a real writer. No siree. Everyone has their own schedule, their own pace. If you can commit to 10 minutes a day, then you’re good to go. At the end of the day, writers write.🙂

Good luck!

For any writers out there, how do you find motivation to keep working on your fiction or other writing projects?

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

Book Review: Expulsion by Angel Gelique

WARNING:

This book contains extremely gory, depraved, disturbingly graphic material that many may find offensive, including a descriptive scene of a self-performed abortion. Adult readers only!

Wait…!

Perhaps you’re ready to give it a try despite the warning—maybe even in spite of it. But be fully warned, this story is truly revolting. Imagine seeing a child get struck by a truck. In his last moments of fear and agony, he feebly lifts his head off the ground, leaving the right side of his face upon the pavement. No doubt you feel terribly for the poor child. But does morbid curiosity compel you to watch? Or do you turn to flee, emptying your stomach along the way?
Please only read this book if you are able to tolerate extremely vile situations.

You have been warned.

Twice.

Elizabeth thought that she got rid of her unwanted baby.
She was wrong….

On a stormy Sunday afternoon, twenty-four-year-old Elizabeth Cotton has a bizarre encounter with a stranger dressed in black, which leads to an unexpected and unwanted pregnancy. In an act of desperation, Elizabeth aborts her unborn child, savagely expelling the fetus from her womb.

Years later, she is happily married to Martin Howe and in her second trimester of pregnancy. Plagued by horrific nightmares, Elizabeth has a dreadful feeling that something is terribly wrong.

When she gives birth, it is immediately clear that the baby is not a typical newborn. Elizabeth believes that she is being punished for her past—for deplorably terminating her unborn child’s life. But she isn’t the only one tormented by the aberrant infant.

Evil has been unleashed and mankind will face its ultimate challenge.

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I absolutely loved this crazy, crazy, crazy book. Did I say it was crazy? I was impressed with the author because she didn’t write in fear. She showed in great detail kids, women, babies being tortured. I was extremely grossed out and knew not to eat while reading the book. I appreciated Angel Gelique not holding back because reading a book about an evil child shouldn’t be sugar-coated.

The setting was Cortlandt, a small town that hardly had any crime. The small town was turned upside down when Elizabeth and Martin, wife and husband, entered the hospital. She was pregnant, unbeknownst to her it wasn’t a normal baby.

Four years earlier, Elizabeth had met a mysterious evil man, Malum. She lost her virginity to him, then did a horrible, horrible, horrible act. The self-performed abortion scene was so sad! I felt horrible when she puked on it afterwards. The author did an amazing job creeping me out with her visual details. Sign of a truly talented writer.

My favorite lines: 1) Yet, something about this particular rainstorm unnerved her greatly. 2) “I can help you feel better,” the man said, his flawless face devoid of emotion, yet irresistible. 3) “Is it dead?” Elizabeth cried out. “It’s dead, isn’t it?” 4) “I am death, decay and deception, disease and disorder. I am lust and greed and wrath and chaos. I am the destroyer of minds, bodies, and souls. I am sin itself.”

I really liked the hospital staff, but I wished those scenes would’ve been shorter. The book really picked up after Elizabeth got discharged from the hospital. I really enjoyed the tension and conflict between Elizabeth and Martin. She was scared of her baby and wanted nothing to do with it. But Martin loved it unconditionally. I wanted him to snap out of his naivety, but then there wouldn’t have been a story haha. I didn’t like Martin at all because of his lack of support. He came around towards the end though and I grew to respect him.

I had to pause and catch my composure after reading two scenes. It really hurt my heart and I wept. The first scene was Elizabeth taking matters into her own hands regarding her first baby. And the second scene involved the aftermath of a dad’s greed of insurance regarding his two daughters. That scene really shook me to the core–in a good way. Once again, a sign of a brilliant horror writer!

I RECOMMEND this book to read.

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

5 Things I Learned From Mark McGuinness’s “Productivity for Creative People”

  1.  Don’t try to multi-task because there’s no such thing! That chapter truly blew my mind and explained why I wasn’t really accomplishing anything writing-related even though there was an illusion of doing something productive.
  2. Nothing is more important than doing the creative work that you want to do. This is where you find your motivation. If you keep starting your day by doing projects/assignments for other people, then your creative juices become drained.
  3. Use a monthly calendar to track your writing progress, only including word count days. Don’t include tasks like doing research, plotting, or character sketches. The key is to mark the month red. Color the days red when you wrote. Color the days blue when you relaxed or skipped writing.
  4. There’s four categories of work: ongoing, event, backlog, and asset-building. Ongoing work is something done every day like checking email, monthly reports, maintaining blogs and websites, and writing a column. Events are launching a new book, attending conferences, book signings, and major project deadlines. Backlog work is anything that you wished you’ve accomplished already but haven’t gotten around to it yet. And, asset-building is anything that helps you learn the craft of writing, something like investing in your author brand. Asset-building work includes taking classes, attending webinars, writing books, blogging or guest blogging, and growing your mailing list.
  5. For any day, a sustainable workload is ongoing work plus one event, backlog, or asset-building project at a time. That chapter also blew my mind and explained why my to-do lists always seemed pointless. It seemed like I was never marking anything off. My mistake was grouping all of my activities together instead of dividing them into four groups.

For all the writers out there, is there anything beneficial you’ve learned of staying productive during the day?

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

Nico’s Blood by Yawatta Hosby

Nico’s Blood

by Yawatta Hosby

Copyright 2016

Deanna slammed the bathroom door shut as someone pounded on her front door. She muttered under her breath, exhausted with the morning’s events. She could only hold the producer off for a couple more minutes–she was under contract after all.

She walked towards the door, her hand on the knob. Before she opened it, she happened to glance down at her shirt and gasped.

Blood stains all over her gray v-neck!

“I’m coming,” she yelled through the door, then proceeded into her bedroom. In the hallway, she made sure to pause for a moment to stare at the bathroom door.

Could she pull this off?

Her freedom depended on it.

It didn’t take long for her to change into different clothes. Within a minute, the producer, camera man and sound guy of the popular reality tv show Married At First Glance were in her living room, setting up equipment. Deanna dreaded filming days–her “husband” Nico was such an asshole. Where had the casting director found him?

Deanna and the producer sat on the couch. She offered him something to drink but he refused.

She glanced at the sound guy who was taping a small microphone onto a lamp near the wall by the bathroom!

Deanna’s heart beat quickened.

A few steps further and he may open the bathroom door! It’s not like she could stop him. Or could she?

“I’m sorry to say, but Nico isn’t here.”

The producer rolled his eyes. It’s not like this wasn’t a common occurrence. Nico believed in the philosophy that every rule had loopholes. Like he could be “married” on a tv show but during non-filming days leave to screw his ex-girlfriend who had conveniently found love for him again since he became a star. “Where is he?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you.”

“I’ll be right back.” The producer stepped out of the living room into the kitchen in a haste, frantically whispering into his cell.

Good. The kitchen was far from the bathroom. She looked over at the sound guy again–he’d made his way closer to the bathroom door!

Deanna slumped into the cushions, her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She was too afraid of showing nervousness by fidgeting. Just then, her feet kept tapping the wooden floor. Just then, a bead of sweat fell into her eyes, stinging her vision. Just then, a tear fell down her cheek. Just then, the smell of blood invaded her nostrils.

She breathed heavily again. No stop that. Take deep breaths. Act normal, damnit.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she took deep breaths and counted slowly to ten. The long winded kind…one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi, seven-Mississippi, eight-Mississippi, nine-Mississippi, ten-Mississippi.

When she opened her eyes again, the producer was standing in front of her, looking down at her with an amused expression dancing within his eyes and smile. “I couldn’t get ahold of him,” he had hesitated as if he was debating if he could get away with teasing her or sticking to just the professional banter they’ve always had.

Sexual harassment was a sticky situation, after all.

Deanna gulped, wiping her eyes, trying to stop the stinging to no prevail. She gave a nervous grin when the producer sat beside her again.

Even though he wore cologne, all she could smell was blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

Nico’s blood…

All she had to do was stall long enough for them to leave once they realized they couldn’t film without the “couple.” All she had to do was hold it together. Hold it together, Deanna, her thoughts mocked her.

Or was it Nico playing tricks in her mind? Like he was haunting her from the grave? His grave–the bathtub.

What a mess!

But he deserved it!

Deanna got a little kick out of that thought and gave a wicked grin. Catching herself, she bit her bottom lip and turned her face away from the producer.

Keep it together, Deanna.

Stop mocking me, Nico! You suck, you dead bastard!

“Are you okay, Deanna?”

Afraid her voice may betray her, Deanna simply nodded. She braced herself (thank goodness for meditation and yoga lessons) then met the producer’s gaze, as if nothing had ever happened.

As if there was no dead body in the bathtub.

Did she even remember to close the shower curtain to hide the evidence in case someone walked in?

Did you remember, you stupid bitch?

Nico stop mocking me! Nico, you dead stupid bastard!

“So…I don’t want to get him into trouble but I haven’t seen him all night. He never came home.”

“Do you think he’s at her place?”

Deanna liked how the producer said “her” as if the ex-girlfriend’s name coming from his lips would be a betrayal of her trust.

Deanna was the laughing stock of this social experiment. She heard through the grapevine that the other two contestants got amazing, attentive husbands, so why did she get the jackass?

I’m not a jackass!

Shut up, Nico! Nico, you dead rotten bastard!

Come in the bathroom and make me. Make sure someone follows you in here!

“Shut up!” Deanna covered her hand over her mouth, realizing she said it out loud.

Damn you, Nico! Damn you, you dead rotten bastard!

“I’m sorry to mention it. Don’t worry we’ll find Nico.” The producer hesitated before patting Deanna quickly on the arm. He leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry. We’ll give Nico the bad edit, but I’ll deny ever saying it if you blab that secret to anyone.” He winked.

Deanna’s heartbeat calmed down. She gave a genuine smile, pleased that the producer was on her side.

“And if you don’t?”

“We will. There’s no show without the stars.” The producer winked again.

Deanna wondered if winking was his go-to defense mechanism in a crisis.

Oh no, she hadn’t been paying attention to the sound guy. It only took a second. A second for her life to be over. A second for someone to find her haunting secret.

She had to get them out quickly!

“Should you go looking for him?”

“I have assistants for that.”

She bit her bottom lip. There was no way they’d stay the full hours required to film, would they?

Would they? Would they? Would they? They smell the blood too! They’re just toying with me!

“Oh okay.” Deanna tried to hold the producer’s gaze but failed. She scanned the room. Camera guy by the door. Mic guy still by the damn bathroom! Producer on the couch.

She rested her sight on the mic guy. When  he looked at her, she said, “Would you like to sit?”

He leaned into the wall. “I’m okay, ma’am. Thanks though.”

Ha Ha!

Shut up, Nico! Nico, you dead rotten bastard!

“Please sit down. It’d make me more comfortable.” She hated that she had to nag him but it was the only way. He had to sit. What if Nico was right? What if guys who stood did have a sudden urge to pee?

She only had one bathroom!

The bathroom with her dead “husband” spawned in the bathtub–guts and blood pouring out of his body like a sausage.

Deanna gave a wicked grin. She was happy that the mic guy attempted to stand up from the wall. Before he could move, the producer said, “You guys can take a break.”

“Thanks boss.” The boys didn’t hesitate to leave her apartment. Two down. One more to go. The stubborn producer.

He’ll save me! You killed me! You killed me, Deanna, and you will pay for it!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you damn rotten dead bastard!

More sweat fell down her forehead. “What happens if you don’t find him? Seriously.”

“If he doesn’t show up soon, I have no choice but to call Mr. Poe and get my ass chewed out over spoiled Nico.” The producer patted Deanna on the arm again. “But it won’t come to that. He’ll come. I know it.”

Blood invaded Deanna’s nostrils again. She glanced over at the bathroom door. The door that taunted her.

Open me. Open me. Open me. You know you want to. Look at your bloody masterpiece. Come on, you know you want to. Ha ha!

Shut up, Nico! Stop taunting me. You dead rotten bastard!

“Do you need a break? I mean, I don’t want them to get the wrong idea with you alone with me.” She was desperate, pulling the fear card. Her life was at stake.

All because of Nico. Nico, the dead rotten bastard.

The producer gave a poker face and stood up, avoiding Deanna’s gaze. “I should take a break. I’ll be back soon.”

Yes, he’s walking away! I win! I win, Nico, Nico–you dead rotten bastard!

It was perfect. She stared at the producer’s back, he never glanced back, his hand on the knob.

Turn it. Turn it, damnit.

But he just stood there with his back still facing her. Seconds seemed like an eternity. She counted to ten–the long winded kind…one-Mississippi, two-Mississippi, three-Mississippi, four-Mississippi, five-Mississippi, six-Mississippi, seven-Mississippi, eight-Mississippi, nine-Mississippi, ten-Mississippi.

Like a horror movie with the most intense scene being played in slow motion with the creepy music in the background to give the full effect, the producer turned around. “Before I leave, can I use your bathroom?”

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss! Ha ha! Justice after all!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you dead rotten bastard!

Deanna stood. If she had to, she’d physically block the door. The door that haunted her. The door that taunted her. The door that smelled of Nico’s blood. Nico, the dead bloody bastard. “The toilet’s broke.”

Taken aback, the producer said, “Oh, well I can look over it. My dad’s a plumber.”

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, you dead rotten bastard! I’ll make sure to hide your body so no one can ever find you. No proper burial for you. No closure for you or your spoiled family.

Good luck with that. He’s going to save the day. I knew there was a reason I liked him.

Shut up, Nico! Shut up, Nico, you dead rotten bloody bastard!

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

The producer shifted his stance to his left foot. “Well? Do you want me to look at your toilet?”

Yessssssssss!

Noooooooooo!

Yessssssssss!

Noooooooooo! “Noooooooooo!” Deanna coughed. “I mean no. No offense but I’d rather have a professional look at it.”

She sighed in relief when the producer sheepishly exited her apartment. The apartment with the bathroom door that haunted her. The door that taunted her…The door that smelled of blood. Nico’s blood. Nico, the dead rotten bloody bastard.

THE END

 

Help Me Please! Help Me Please! I Need To Pick a Title for My One By One Sequel!

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I’ve been a busy bee, revising my One By One sequel after getting feedback from a beta-reader. My next step is to possibly find more betas or…skip to finding a cool book cover and hiring an editor.

The only catch…

I NEED A TITLE!!!!!

For anyone who read One By One, you know the book ended with Detective Brown disgusted and traumatized over the crime scene in the woods. He wants to find justice for those poor victims and vows to keep his daughter safe from the horrors of the world.

Sequel time–Detective Brown can’t keep that promise. Alta (Detective Brown’s daughter) and her group of friends leave Voy, Virginia (totally a made up town hee hee) on a road trip to Green Bank, West Virginia (totally real with an awesome secret). Alta and her friends travel there to film footage for their popular alien-centric web series.

What should be a get-in and get-out situation turns into a deadly nightmare…

After brainstorming, I came up with so many possibilities for a title name that I can’t pick one. Can you help me? In the comments below, I’d be very grateful to anyone who leaves a comment revealing the title they like best from my list or coming up with their own. I’d really appreciate it, and I’ll thank you in the acknowledgments page when I publish the book🙂

Here’s what I came up with:

  • Seven Campers. One Survivor.
  • Six Dead. One Lived.
  • Die, Die, DIE!!!
  • Killer in the Woods
  • Killer Among Us
  • Six Plus One

Once again, thank you to all that votes.

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

 

 

Am I Crazy? Absolutely! Let Me Tell You About My Ghost Tour!

I’m crazy, and that’s okay. Being normal is boring. Last year I went to Florida and convinced my cousins to help me search for alligators. Two lived in the marsh right in the house development we were staying in! Now, I convinced my co-worker Leigh to take a ghost tour with me. We believe in ghosts, so it was absolutely, positively fun yet  terrifying.

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During our Sharpsburg Civil War Ghost Tour, Mark P. Brugh was our tour guide. He’s a local historian. He gave us much insight on the aftermath of the Battle of Antietam. That day the town of Sharpsburg only saw red, only saw blood, only saw death.

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This looks like a perfect normal alley, but it’s haunted by three children and a waving man. The tour started at 8pm and ended around 9:30pm. I held it together when there was light…

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…but the dark totally played with my head. By then, we had heard about three ghost stories. I’m such a scaredy cat; it doesn’t take much to scare me hee hee.

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Mark told us that this corner of the brick building has the most paranormal activity. He encouraged us to take turns taking pictures to see if we could get a glimpse of a ghost or orb!

The Children’s Alley ghost tour was so spooky that Leigh and I plan to go back to Sharpsburg to attend Mark’s The Confederate Soldiers’ Passageway Tour soon. I’m shaking in my boots.

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That night I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched…a battered gray cat with a limp followed us throughout the night. First, it crept across a creepy yard. Then, the cat ended up walking in the alley behind us. When we reached the end, it sat there and watched us cross the street. I swear minutes later, I turned my head to find that weird looking cat hovering up the sidewalk, not even ten feet from us!

Why do you think it was following the crowd? Do you believe in ghosts?

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby

 

And the Winners Are…!!!

The International Authors’ Day Blog Hop 2016 just ended. We were asked to do a giveaway to help celebrate books. Mine consisted of asking readers to reveal the craziest thing an ex did to try and convince you not to break up with him or her.

The lucky winners of my suspense ebook, Twisted Obsession, are:

CATHY BROCKMAN and PURBA CHAKRABORTY!!!!!!!

Crazy is an understatement when it comes to Miki. You’ll see when you read the book.

Please email me at author.yawatta.hosby(AT)gmail(DOT)com or leave me a comment on this blog post with the desired format (PDF or kindle gift from Amazon). If you leave a comment on this blog post, please make sure to also leave your email address.

Keep smiling,

Yawatta Hosby