Author: Katie L. Carroll (Page 28 of 144)

ECOSYSTEM by Joshua David Bellin Blog Tour

April 20, 2018 / Katie L. Carroll

Today’s guest is Joshua David Bellin, who is here to celebrate the upcoming release of his YA fantasy ECOSYSTEM. The full blog tour schedule can be found here. Check out the excerpt below and don’t forget to enter the giveaway.

ECOSYSTEM blurb:

Seventeen-year-old Sarah is a Sensor, gifted with the ability to survive within the sentient Ecosystem that swept away human civilization centuries ago. While the remnants of humankind huddle in small villages of stone, Sarah uses her psychic connection to the Ecosystem to travel freely in the wild in search of food, water, and fuel. Sarah doesn’t fear the Ecosystem—but she hates it for killing her mother when Sarah was a child. When she hunts, she hunts not only for her people’s sustenance but for revenge.

Then Miriam, an apprentice Sensor, is lost in the Ecosystem, and Sarah sets out to rescue her. Joining Sarah is Miriam’s beloved, Isaac, a boy who claims to possess knowledge of the Ecosystem that will help their people survive. The harrowing journey to find the missing apprentice takes Sarah and Isaac into the Ecosystem’s deadliest places. And it takes Sarah into the unexplored territory of her own heart, where she discovers feelings that threaten to tear her—and her society—apart.

A thrilling fantasy adventure from the author of Freefall and the Survival Colony series, Ecosystem is the first book in a YA trilogy that includes The Devouring Land (2019) and House of Earth, House of Stone (2020).

Ecosystem on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/39663460-ecosystem

Ecosystem on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ecosystem-Trilogy-Book-1-ebook/dp/B07C2HDF9G

ECOSYSTEM excerpt:

The Ecosystem breathes.

I crouch at the edge of the forest, waiting. Waiting for its attention to shift so I can make my dash across the greensward. Waiting until I can Sense its thought in my bones.

There are no guarantees, Sarah, Aaron told me before I set out this morning. There is only the Sense of things: eyes and ears and nerves and muscle. And, he added, smiling, a little bit of luck.

The Ecosystem rustles, settling. I edge forward, my eyes focused on the patch of bright green turf just beyond the dense tangle of bushes and creepers. I breathe shallowly, lowering my heart rate to a relaxed, steady rhythm. The suffocating smell of vegetation surrounds me, but I detect no threat from the sultry air. The Ecosystem has lost sight of me in the tall grasses, failed to track me from the kill site. Its final assault will come at the edge of the village, where its anger runs deepest. Where there’s nothing to attract its thirst for blood but me.

I rise to a sprinter’s crouch, fingers braced against moist earth. My heart pulses in my fingertips, and I hope that isn’t enough to rouse the Ecosystem’s ire.

The Ecosystem doesn’t sleep, Aaron reminded me. But it dozes. It sends signals from place to place, heightening some zones while dulling others. Always conscious, but not always mindful. Not always. Not everywhere.

Not here, I think. I Sense. Not now.

Now.

My body uncoils, hurdling the fringe of underbrush that separates forest from lawn. My foot strikes the turf, but only long enough to propel me into my next stride. Stumble on the grabgrass and I’m dead. I cross the green in a random, zigzag pattern, hoping the individual blades can’t anticipate my next move. I Sense snares exploding in my wake: a sinkhole, a clinging tendril, a venomous thorn. But the Ecosystem is sluggish, emerging from dormancy, too slow to catch me. I leap from living grass to the charred circle surrounding the village stone, and the vines the Ecosystem hurls at my back clutch nothing but air.

I trot across the boundary circle, bare soles crunching on blackened turf, heart hammering in my throat. When cool village stone lies beneath my feet once more, I turn to the forest. The Ecosystem’s many tongues erupt at the sight of me: winged cicatrix chatter, prowler monkeys hoot, bloodbirds screech. I smile, pull my first kill from the pouch at my belt, and dangle the dead thing before the forest’s face.

“I am Sarah,” I say to it, enunciating each word despite the raggedness of my breath, the heaviness of my heart. “You have taken what was mine, and now I take what is yours.”

With an exaggerated motion, I twist the spine of the thing I killed until I hear a sharp crack. Then, while the Ecosystem howls in thwarted rage, I cross the stone terrace and enter the village.

About the Author:

Joshua David Bellin has been writing novels since he was eight years old (though the first few were admittedly very short). A college teacher by day, he is the author of three science fiction novels for teens and adults: the two-part Survival Colony series (Survival Colony 9 and Scavenger of Souls) and the deep-space adventure Freefall. His new book, the YA fantasy Ecosystem, releases on April 22, 2018 (Earth Day). Josh loves to read, watch movies, and spend time in Nature with his kids. Oh, yeah, and he likes monsters. Really scary monsters.

Website: http://www.joshuadavidbellin.com

Blog: http://theyaguy.blogspot.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/TheYAGuy

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/joshuadavidbellin

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7393959.Joshua_David_Bellin

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Picture Post Winter and Spring 2018

April 10, 2018 / Katie L. Carroll

I’ve got a lot going on right now, so I thought it would be a good time for a picture post. I’ve labeled this winter and spring, but spring sure seems to be taking its sweet time getting here. Friday looks like it’s going to be sunny and warm (knock on wood), so there’s hope.

The Real Pirate Lore That Inspired PIRATE ISLAND

April 3, 2018 / Katie L. Carroll

As I think about what I’m going to talk about at the PIRATE ISLAND book launch party coming up in a couple of weeks, I realized I haven’t ever discussed here on the blog the inspiration behind the book.

It goes all way back to my childhood really. If you grew up in Milford, CT (like I did), you’d know of Charles Island and likely have even gone out to it. It’s a little island (14 acres small!) in Long Island Sound about a half mile off the coast of Milford. It’s pretty unassuming to look at, mostly covered by trees and some old ruins that you can’t see from the coastline. But it does add a distinctive feature to the view (the teaser image uses an actual picture I took of Charles Island).

Knowing only those few facts about the island, you’re probably wondering how it could possibly inspire anyone to write about it. But what if I told you that you can walk out to the island? “What?” you might say. “How could you possibly walk out to an island?” Twice a day at low tide, the waters of Long Island Sound recede enough to reveal a tombolo, locally referred to as a sandbar, that goes all the way from the Silver Sands Beach in Milford to Charles Island. Okay, so things are getting a little more interesting…but still, not necessarily interesting enough to be inspiration worthy.

But what if I told you that this little, unassuming island has a very conspicuous history? It was originally called Poquehaug and was used as a summer resident for Sachem Ansantawae of the local Paugussett tribe. The island and Milford (before it was called that) were purchased by English settlers from the Paugussett Tribe in the 1639 for six coats, ten blankets, one kettle, twelve hatchets, twelve hoes, two dozen knifes, and a dozen mirrors. (For a comprehensive history of Charles Island, check out An Historical Account of Charles Island: Milford, Connecticut by Michael C. Dooling.)

Over the years, Charles Island has been a tobacco farm, a summer resort, a fish fertilizer plant, and a religious retreat site. The tobacco farm failed, the abandoned hotel ended up burning, and people have lost their lives trying to get to and from the island. All interesting, but still not the whole story.

This is where history gets fuzzy and turns to legend. Sachem Ansantawae’s daughter may have been kidnapped, causing him to curse the island. Infamous pirate Captain William Kidd (Billy, the main character of PIRATE ISLAND, tells the pirate’s history in my #CaptainKiddHistory blog series) may have buried his lost treasure there, and also maybe cursed the island. Sixteenth-century Mexican emperor Guatmozin’s Aztec treasure may have found its way to the island, a treasure that was cursed and thereby cursing the island. So there’s a chance that this tiny island in Long Island Sound has actually been cursed three times (or “thrice-cursed” as Eleanor Birch from PIRATE ISLAND would tell you).

So now do you think Charles Island is worthy of a story? Well, I certainly did. And it was the history and legends of Captain Kidd (and, at the risk of being a teeny bit spoilery, maybe one of the the others), that caught my imagination. As you can probably tell, I’ve done a lot of research about the island. I never thought Charles Island was an apt name for it, so I decided to name the island of Billy’s obsession Pirate Island.

I’ve included a lot of these historical tidbits both about the island and Kidd in the actual PIRATE ISLAND story, but I also made up some things. It was fun to play around with the legends and mix them with my own imaginings.

The PIRATE ISLAND book launch party will be held at the Milford, CT Public Library on April 17 from 2-4 pm. You can learn more about how the local lore inspired the story, play a fun fishing game and win a prize, grab a pirate cookie or a signed book, and take a picture at the photo booth!

A thrice cursed island, a legendary pirate treasure, and one not-so-brave boy. What could possibly go wrong?

For centuries, the whereabouts of Captain William Kidd’s lost pirate treasure has remained a mystery. When Billy’s best friend, Andy, proposes they look for it on nearby Pirate Island, Billy thinks it’s just another one of their crazy adventures. It’s usually Billy who ends up in trouble as a result, but he goes along for the ride…like always. The more he delves into the life and death of Kidd, the more he thinks the treasure is real and that it might be buried on the small island in Long Island Sound. Billy–nope, call him William–becomes obsessed with the captain of the same first name. He even believes he’s possessed by Kidd’s restless soul. Now he and the spirit of a long-dead pirate are leading the crazy adventure on Pirate Island. And what they find is far bigger than the treasure they imagined.

Find PIRATE ISLAND at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, IndieBound, and other book retailers.

Book Excerpt of the YA Contemporary I AM ME by Kai Strand

March 23, 2018 / Katie L. Carroll

Let’s give a big Observation Desk welcome to my good writing buddy Kai Strand. She is here to share an excerpt from her latest novel, a YA contemporary called I AM ME. Welcome, Kai!

I AM ME blurb:

Despite—or perhaps because of—her fancy car, private school education, and life of privilege, Lola Renaldi has become a volunteer junkie. Feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, visiting the elderly—if it’s a good cause, she’s done it.

Lola’s favorite stint, building affordable houses, puts her directly in the path of Rodney. He refuses to discuss why he’s doing community service, but it’s clear he’s hiding something dark about his past. As their friendship grows, Lola begins to question the true reasons for her obsessive volunteerism and her view of those she has pledged to help.

She is only beginning to understand how lucky she truly is when her life falls apart. After losing friends, her boyfriend, even Rodney, Lola finally recognizes which parts of her life she wants to hang on to and what specifically she wants to go after. But with all she’s been through, will she be able to hang onto who she wants to be? Or will she lose all that defines her?

Excerpt:

Hank is now around the north side of the house talking to a man and a boy who looks to be about my age. The man seems very official somehow. Maybe it’s the way he’s standing, with his feet shoulder width apart, his back ramrod straight, thick arms crossed over his chest. He’s sporting a crew cut that emphasizes his strong jaw. He looks a bit like a Stretch Armstrong doll, like if Hank and I each grabbed an arm we could taffy-pull all those thick muscles until his arms were long and thin and able to wrap around Talia’s house. The grim line his lips form when he isn’t talking, the flex of muscle in his jaw, his shifting eyes that take in everything around the job site, all warn me not to eavesdrop, so I slow my approach.

The boy has caramel brown hair that hangs into his eyes. He’s in a t-shirt even though the air is still crisp, especially on the shady north side of the house. His arms are pretty thin. I’m cold just looking at him even though he appears unaffected. He’s tall. Taller than Hank, but his hunched posture almost camouflages it. It’s like he’s a turtle hiding in a shell. He isn’t slouching, just inward somehow. He nods at something Stretch Armstrong says without turning to look at the man. Maybe he’s being scolded or lectured. I reconsider eavesdropping.

Hank sees me and smiles. He raises his voice, so I can hear him. “Perfect. I can pair you with Lola. She’s a longtime volunteer and knows the ropes.”

Oh splat. Now I have to meet them. I want to glare at Hank for saddling me with Stretch Armstrong for the day, but instead I just nod and smile pleasantly as I join their group.

“Lola, this is Dave and Rodney.”

I turn to Dave—Stretch Armstrong—to shake his hand and I have to school my reaction when I see the embroidery on his polo shirt. LINDSEY COUNTY JUVENILE DEPARTMENT. Dave squints at me and then glares at Rodney.

I turn to the kid next and offer my hand. He all but sighs when he digs his out of his front pocket. “Good to meet you, Rodney.”

He reluctantly raises his gaze to meet mine and my smile is suddenly genuine. What yummy eyes he has. They’re the same color as his hair, which strikes me as unusual. The caramel color is light as far as eye shade is concerned. Warm. Glowing. Ringed with black. A toffee colored starburst adds the most compelling depth. Wow. I could spend hours staring at this boy’s eyes…if they didn’t look so hostile.

I look away to discover Dave studying me. “I’m not sure—”

“I’ll be here if there are any questions.” Hank interrupts, which I consider extremely brave. “But Lola knows her stuff. How many homes have you helped us build, Lola?”

“Six now.” I can’t help the pride that swells inside me. It must show on my face because a corner of Rodney’s mouth twists and an eyebrow raises and lowers so quickly I think I might have imagined it. As heat flares in my chest, my shoes become intriguing. I notice that Rodney’s have small holes on either side where the toes bend.

“I’ll be back this afternoon to pick you up,” Dave tells Rodney. “Don’t leave this site.”

“He’ll be fine, Dave.” Hank’s familiarity with Stretch Armstrong almost makes me more comfortable around the guy. Almost. “Lola, why don’t you get Rodney suited up. You two will have the entire north wall.”

Rodney looks at me with a panicked expression.

I laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s not Hazmat or anything. Today you’ll just need gloves and an apron.”

His expression goes blank again as he follows reluctantly.

In the supply shed I throw an apron at him, then I hold a pair of gloves out. “See if these fit.”

He takes them from me, his movements careful like he’s afraid to spook me by moving too fast.

I grab an extra caulking gun, shove another container of caulk under my arm, and skirt around Rodney. “Okay, let’s get started.”

The guy couldn’t look less enthused if he tried. With the work gloves on, he’s forced to keep his hands out of his pockets, but the way his arms hang listlessly at his sides as he trudges behind me makes me think of Droopy Dog.

This is going to be a long day.

Get your copy:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks

About the Author:

When her children were young and the electricity winked out, Kai Strand gathered her family around the fireplace and they told stories, one sentence at a time. Her boys were rather fond of the ending, “And then everybody died. The end.” Now an award winning children’s author, Kai crafts fiction for kids and teens to provide an escape hatch from their reality. With a selection of novels for young adult and middle grade readers Kai entertains children of all ages, and their adults. Learn more about Kai and her books on her website, www.kaistrand.com.

Coming To The Realization That This Isn’t My Story To Write

March 19, 2018 / Katie L. Carroll

In light of some really thoughtful, hard conversations going on in the children’s literature world about representation, I was thinking about a manuscript I’d started but never finished.

I loved the characters. The world I had begun to create had lots of story elements that I both love reading about and writing about. It is a YA retelling at its heart but has unique elements that I thought would make it stand out. I completed over 50,000 word on it for National Novel Writing Month (quite a few years ago). My critique group liked the bits they saw of it. I adore the story, and the plot had really started to come together in my mind. I did quite a bit of research for it. But I never finished it.

I thought it was because I couldn’t find the right character to tell the story. I played around with having a different point-of-view character. I played around with multiple points of view. I rewrote the beginning and tried it in third person instead of first. Yet I could never quite figure out how to tell the story. So I put it away. I had intentions of maybe coming back to it someday when I was a better writer who could maybe find the right voice.

But now, I don’t think I’m going to come back to it. I think I now know why I was having so much trouble trying to figure out how to tell that story. It’s not because I don’t think I could write it and write it well. And it’s not because I don’t think it would make for a good story. In fact, I think it would make a really great story, one I’d love to read some day. But I’m not going to write it.

One of the things that we as storytellers need to be asking ourselves, beyond if we can write a story and write it well, is should we be writing a story. I couldn’t find the right way to tell this particular story–as much as I love the idea of it–because it’s not my story to tell. It deals with cultures and characters who would probably not be best served with me doing the telling. I can (and have) visit the place where my story takes place and research the culture, but I’m not part of it, so the story would suffer for it. It could end up being harmful in its representation.

Maybe I’ll come back to the basic idea of doing a retelling of the tale that inspired the original idea, but with a totally different spin to it, one that I am more equipped to tell. And I have plenty of other ideas floating around in my head and notebooks that I certainly am not lacking for new stories to write.

Of course, it hurts a little to put this manuscript to rest. I’ve put a lot of work into it, and I want to be able to tell it. I won’t, though. And I’m okay with that.