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…and the nominees for Debut Author are…

Hello all! I’ve been nominated by Twisted Core Press for Debut Author for my short story, Envy.

I really am grateful for this honor and I would greatly appreciate your help!

It takes a few seconds and there is nothing to sign or pledges to make.  Thank you all. I’ve felt the support and love since day one and really appreciate it still!

Clink the link and vote!

http://twistedcorepress.com/

Word. 

“Envy is more than jealousy. It doesn’t simply covet what another has, it hates him for having it. Christoph hates Jhonen, not just for what he has, but for who he is in the eyes of others. Christoph’s envy drives him to unspeakable acts against those who would show him kindness. Can Christoph be saved from the darkness consuming him body and soul? And if so, what could be powerful enough to overcome the deadly sin of ENVY?”

-Envy.

About Envy: Envy was an excellent exploration into the nature of man and I have a new ten dollar word in my language arsenal: Schadenfreude! -Dawn Jayne

Five star reviews! 

Review of Envy by The Bookish Brunette

This humbles me, yes.

Envy II


Embrace Hope.

I say we make this happen. We must set this world ablaze with hope. We can. We are the fuel.

I saw this status posted on Facebook by Jennifer Wright, who in turn found this somewhere else. I take no credit for the idea…but yeah…

…we can make this happen.

Whether she wears pink or blue…or GOLD, something like this can and will make an enormous difference.

Here you can sign a petition.

Petition

Here you can Like and support pages that spread this cause!

Hope.

Beautiful and Bald Barbie! Let’s see if we can get it made

…and if you’re on Facebook, join here.

Mattel Make This

Like so many movements, it starts with one.

That one lit the match.

#wearethefuel

The author of this plea is Randall Cooper of Aiken, SC.


Writers Need Outlets!

Like I told my brother-in-writing Jeff Beesler, writers need outlets! because many of us have so much going on in our heads that a one blog, Twitter account, Facebook, four Like pages, a deviantart account, ummm…in short?

It’s not enough.

So I jumped on the tumblr wagon and I must say, I like it. It’s basically an add-on to my blog but will allow me to share more at a quicker pace. Like mashing my Twitter feed with my blog. Again, I’ll be able to share my musings and such plus, music, art-BRILLIANCE!-and more of my writing, well, snippets.

Join me if you’re on tumblr and I will do the same.

P.S. It’s very new and shiny so please…remove your shoes.

TymothyLongoria.Tumblr

Yeah. I went there.

Word.


A Quick Look At A Small Part Of Any Writers Day

The writer sits at his desk and opens up his word doc. He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders a few times. He sighs and looks at the screen.
“Okay,” he says. “Here we go.” The writer takes a sip of his coffee and stares at the screen again, for what seems like hours.
He exhales and looks to his left. “I don’t like you,” he says to Doubt, who’s sitting next to him, smiling.

 

Doubt. Five letters. Extremely powerful, if we let it. Give a writer 26 letters and he will create worlds never before imagined.

Kick doubt in the arse and write.

Word.


Pemberton Returns to the Forest That Screams

When we last saw the boy he was waving good-bye to his family in the ville,

the thought of them afraid of the dark, well it just made him ill!

His story continues with a little poem of sorts

never mind the ghastly GrumGrum beast’s snorts.

Tonight’s the night the ghouls and superhero’s feast!

On treats and goodies, some candy corn…at least.

They will come to the door, and don their disguises,

and better for their candy bag, if they should surprise us.

But one young man, oh, he has no joy.

He has no plan of action or ploy.

See  though it be Halloween this night,

And the spirits about will come out to fright,

Lil Pemberton is not smiling, no he is down, he is forlorn

his spirit is remiss, yes, oh yes, it is torn!

for tonight is the last night he can sit and be free

Underneath The Juniper Tree.

The October Issue is going away, along with the dead,

and Pemberton is filled with such dread.

“But wait, young boy,” eerie voices team,

“Remember when you first walked into the Forest That Screams?

There is no need to cry, or pout,

or whine or to shout…”

The voices drew closer and ever closer still

The kind that could be break even the strongest man’s will.

It then continued in it’s haunting, dark speech

and now Lil Pemberton was within it’s cold reach,

“there is most certainly a reason to fear…

The November Issue…is coming, my dear.”

Into_the_Light_by_daniellieske

 

Matter of fact, the Issue is here! Read on and bedefrighted. |m|

Read the Halloween Issue  as well, and also check this interview of Tex via Andrea Hurst & Associates!

 

 

 

10/31> And of course what Hallow’s Eve would be complete without Ichabod Crane. We all now what happened to the poor Mr. Crane* so let us enjoy…happier times.

*or do we?

WORD.


We have our winner.

The call? Be inspired by this piece by Zenos Frudakis called: Freedom and write your freedom story or poem.

The entry that captured the feel, the message, the one that showed the sculpture’s intent and inspiration, for me, was this one.

Stuart Nager has a gift.

You are free. To live. To learn. To love. Go...go!

..and i will be free

Freedom, and the taste of it is so sweet.

Elephteria, released, ran out into the quad and raised her arms and head to the heavens. Five years of interment, awake the entire time. The madness that she thought would never end, ended. She was ready to take flight, ask for forgiveness, ask for acceptance.

Xaris, released, tried to warn Laurel, to hold her wild rush. His fear for her was brimming over. He, too, was aware the whole time, and what he heard as people sneered by made him dread this day. There was no forgiveness, in his heart, to ask for. Xaris knew he would never be accepted.

Laurel, released, was hesitant, and despaired in what she witnessed. Five years of hatred for Elephteria, five years of tearing herself apart knowing Xaris was only thinking of her. She was twisting in despair, and she wondered if he would ever forgive her, if she would ever accept herself as she was.

Raffaele, released, refused to be, for he had not forgiven himself in these long five years. He felt the four of them should stay imprisoned, in that immobile state until all who knew them were long gone. There was a need for atonement, for them all, and he hit the button under his palm that encased him again. He did not wish to have to deal with any of them ever again. He accepted that.

News Ding 2049/15/11:  Freedom, and the taste of it is so sweet.

The October Malcontents were realeased  at 0700, back into the land we love. Fiver years ago, the collective tried to break down our beloved system, saying NO to the rules that keep us all safe. Shouting slogans against our beloved establishment, the rousing of ire caused their downfall. Here’s hoping they have learned their lessons.

****************************************************************************

Stuart is on The Twitter as well.

Continue reading


This Message Brought To You By Hope

This quick message brought to you by Hope, perseverance and the letter T.

If you have an idea for a story.

If you have a picture you want to draw.

If you have an idea for a movie, or t.v. show.

If you have a sermon to share.

If you have a song to sing.

If you think you can.

If you…

believe you can…

Aspire no more,

and walk through that open door.

Continue reading


Karly Kirkpatrick: No

Karly, one of the founding Authors of DarkSide Publishing writes a powerful post about a simple and yes teeny tiny word.

For being such a teeny tiny word, NO can be a very powerful one. This applies not only to writers, but also to many aspects of life. For a lot of people, NO is an end point. Once they’ve been told NO, dreams are shattered and paths can be ended. In the publishing world, most of us have been told NO numerous times, more than we can count sometimes. We’ve been told no by agents and editors for the most part, and hey, we can even count those critique partners, although their NOs are meant to help us.

What is important is that we look at NO not as an endpoint. Consider it a challenge. If you get a string of NO’s on a manuscript from agencies, analyze them. If they were straight up form letters, maybe your query needs some work, maybe your manuscript could use another edit or a fresh set of eyes. Continue reading


First Ever Submission Call!

Ladies and Gents of the Write!

Earlier whilst perusing the Facebook or as I like to call it the PhotoBook, I came across a picture shared by my friend Franki Sinopoli Hunt.

The aforementioned picture was that of a sculpture called Freedom by artist  Zenos Frudakis. Here it is and this is the best shot I could find of it.

The piece, for me, is stunning and thought provoking to say the very least.

It also inspired me to write something, not so much about it, but along the lines of what is happening here. Fighting for freedom and the feeling one may or may not feel if he/she succeeds/fails.

So, that inspired me further.

And that is this:

Write your piece, under 500 words for short story or a suitable length for poetry 

Title? I’ll keep it simple.

Freedom.

What will you get? The writing experience, the joy of creating, a spot on this blog and permission to gloat on Facebook, The Twitter and anywhere else you choose. You may even find a new audience. That’s always good.

How’s that? Cool?

Cool. 

Send submissions to me at tymothylongoria [at] yahoo.com.

If I get more than a few, I’ll go through them with zeal and pick the most captivating.

The call begins today, October 3rd, and will run through Sunday October 16th, deadline for submissions. Get your hearts in check and write on!

See you there.

Be blessed.

thwip!


Friday Night Music, #7DS Site and The October Premier of #UTJT

I’ll keep this post short, sweet and with just a hint of ruckus. 

First, it’s #FollowFriday on The Twitter. Swing by, Tweet, Follow and Support your favorite #writers #artists and creators.

Then hit play on this wickedly epic cover of Journey’s ‘Separate Ways” by a band I discovered just last night, Across The Sun.

Separate Ways cover.

* * * *  * * *

Also, I have some epic news to share. Many of you know I am just one part of an anthology/collaboration of superbly talented Writers/Authors.

Here is the newest site dedicated to the group effort created with awesome by Stephen Penner, a.k.a. Wrath scribe.

Seven Deadly Sins coming 2012 “Can not wait for this to be available. With so many great writer’s involved… its going to be one “HELL” of a read!”–an anxious reader. |m|

Way to bring the ruckus Mr. Penner!

* * * * * * *

Also, reminder tomorrow is the first day/launch of the spookily awesome online magazing Underneath The Juniper Tree!

They are an inspiration.

Here’s a piece that hints at a little short I wrote for them. It was fun to write. Mwahaheehooha.

The Discoveries mute_nOface

Be there and be scared.

This post brought to you my me, the #7DS Crew, #UTJT, Across The Sun and E aka Elizabeth Rose.

Thwip!

Be blessed!


What Say…Me?

The following vid is one I cooked up for Heather Reese, MC of the very cool Blogger Idol. See, a while back I created the Twitter hash tag #WritersAreTheNewRockStars and she ran with that and created an entire contest and really put all of herself in it. So I applaud and commend Heather for that and give a most sincere “you’re awesome” to all of the contestants. Writers.

Congrats to Mama Spaghetti for your triumph! You are truly a writer.

To all of my Fellow Writers…write on!!!

For those about to rock…writers are the new rock stars.

thwip!


When I say, “I’m A Writer”…I Mean It.

A girl in a red cloak…running. Sounds simple enough, right? It was…or at least I thought it was. She wouldn’t leave me alone.

She screamed, “Tymothy…you write!?”

Surprised, I answered her. “Uhh, yeah sort of. I mean I have ideas…but…”

“Shut up!” she interrupted. “Listen! You hear that?” she asked me.

I looked behind her towards the darkness and yes…as I focused on the muted grumbling in the distance it became quite clear what I was hearing. Blood lust. 

“Alright!” she yelled. “We don’t have a lot of time! Come on!” she grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the oncoming thunderous sound of…wolves.

“Are those?” I began.

“Yes! You write?”

“I told you, sort of!”

“Not good enough! Do it!” she was growing more impatient and for obvious reasons. She left my side and jumped high into the trees. “The stories! They’ll come to you! Write about us!” she cried then disappeared. 

As I stared at the last spot she stood the wolves drew in closer. They looked surprised to see me but they salivated none the less. 

“Boy…you mind tellin’ us ‘oo you is?” one of the enormous creatures asked.

“Where’s the…the girl?” snapped another.

As I looked at them and their various razor-lined teeth…it hit me.

I looked at my left-hand and saw a pen. I clutched it tightly and lifted my head to them. They realized who I was and they cowered in their fur. “It’s…it’s the Writer!” one of the wolves yelled in dismay.

“Yeah,” I began, “and you guys are in trouble.”

My love of God, comic books, graphic novels, Del Toro, arte, music! and all things nerd and geek and in between inspire me.

Hey everybody. Thanksa for stopping by. I’d like to invite you all quickly(or my definition of quickly) on a brief trip back in time a few years. *calibrating the Time Clock and waiting on Doc to refuel the DeLorean. What? I don’t have a Delorian? Doc’s not real?

Okay. Well, slight technical difficulty. But nothing we can’t work past, write?

A few years ago, I left the small town I was living in after working seven years as a Corrections Officer in a max. unit penitentiary. It was…difficult to say the least. But I kept my head up and stayed strong, believing my faith and believing deeper in the One I had faith in through it all. We started all over and I quickly learned my entirely new trade. It was night and day coming from corrections into manufacturing. Thank you, my brother for getting me that job. I was happy. I enjoyed creating, working with my hands in ways I had never done.  Then on what would be considered any typical wedding anniversary-my wife and you all will get what I mean..I hope-I decided to surprise my wife, Jennifer, my inspiration numera una- with a “story” written just for her. It was about a robot, me, who was unhappy. He felt lost. Unsure. He seeks out in search of life and laughter and finds his true friend, a flower, the wife. I called it The Sad Little Robot. I shared it on Myspace for a few hours and it garnered a lot of hits and one comment from a lyricist/writer friend of mine, my age, read: “This is so awesome!”

I was thrilled. The views and comments were very appreciated. But I was happy I wrote it. An original story just for my wife. I created this. See before, I had written some poetry, I am very proud of it…but that was the brunt of my writing. I never imagined writing would be something I would do for more than just a hobby. Because I did enjoy it. Robut was the first “real” thing I had written. There is a scripture in the bible that says, “The gifts and calling of God cannot be taken away.” YOU’RE TELLING ME!!!

You see shortly after writing Robut, I got ideas for so. many. other. books. Ideas pulled from all the things I had learned in my years in church and from all of the mentors I had in my life. Non-fiction type stuff. God had never spoken so clear than this time in my life and then…I saw the above play out as clear as day.

See. I’m the Writer of The Stories. It’s been over a year. Since then, I have been on Facebook, Twitter, here, New Authors Fellowship, biblical based Ministries on Facebook that I am blessed to be a part of. In addition…I have made and come to know some of the most kind, supportive, brilliant and talented Writers, (self-pubbed, Indie-pubbed and traditionally-pubbed) and I have been most blessed by them all. I have been blessed to be able to write Guest posts and have had the pleasure of being interviewed. I’m still like-WHAAAT? Ya know.

But before, during and after all of that-there is a book. The first book in a series. The book that I knew I would go traditional with. The one I would query. That one I stared at some days and the one I created a fire under on most. See one thing is I never hated writing it. Never. I am happy to share that. I have inspired, thank you all, and have been inspired. I am grateful and humbled constantly.

Back to that whole query thing. I did it. I sent mine out. And you know what? I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I would be. (Call me on that bull some other time, will ya? ;})

Thing is…I never quit. I never stopped believing. When I stood outside that day and saw that truck pass by with the name Tim Lowder on it…I never looked back.

Guess what and praise God-it paid off. Because as of Friday, 9/9/2011-I am, an agented #writer. 

Her name is Bree Ogden* of D4EO Literay Agency And as my very epic friend Dawny says: We were meant to find each other.

This I believe because I do not believe in coincidences.

This is only the next step, albeit a HUGE step for me and I am extremely blessed and grateful to Bree. But this is the next step. Work follows…and I know, truly…The Stories is COMING.

Writers are the new rock stars. I send you #writerlove and doff my hat to you all.

You can do this. When I say I’m a writer…I mean it.

No matter your path…you can do this!

Beesler, Allie, Michele Shaw, Dawny, Mowery, River, Michelle Pic, My BNFF’s, Morgan, Leigh, Tiffany K!, TL, My Bros, Jamie and Twisters in the #YASB, My Fellow #7DSers, Alexia Purdy, Leighton, Milligan, Cribbs, Joseph, Diane Graham, K. Newsome, Ralene, Enamored, Deb, SmashAttack!, @ifollowthenight…I love and thank you all-all of you, ALL-for everything.

WORD.

If you say you can’t you probably won’t…so don’t do that.

*Check out Bree. She is the absolute coolest. Oh, there’s more to come on Aspire No More. I give you my, “Word.”

|m|

The Stories: Book One, “Genesis” Excerpt and Five-Star Review Here: http://allieburke.blogspot.com/2011/09/writer-wednesday-stories-book-one.html


Underneath The Juniper Tree

Okay folks. Have you seen the Nick cartoon Making Fiends? Well get that, some  Shel Silverstein…then mix in some serious spook…and broil it at a temperature that will melt your face for four hours-you get Underneath the Juniper Tree.

This is one of my summer finds and it’s seriously cool.

Their contests are fun and challenging and lemme tell ya-they make me want to further my writing-all over again. I’m writing a horror short called Obey about kids and scariness…so this is perfect.

Did I mention the art?  Continue reading


The Stories: Book One “Genesis”

Chapter Two: Thunder Above Me, Blood Below

“Little, little girl…I am going to kill you,” he said.

She let out a cry that gave her hiding place away.

He pulled back a fallen partition to find the small child, huddled up, shaking violently in her red cloak. “Do you know why you wear that color, girl? Long ago, someone died. That is why! Your race and your symbols!” he growled in repulsion and spat on her hood. “This will hurt you. It will be…painful. But you will be dead soon after,” he said, sure of himself. “Without question, you will bleed. Your blood will spill over your cloak and become one with it, just as the beginnings of your history. However, no honor will accompany you,” the young beast said softly, grinning.

Confused at his words she could only ask, “Where is my Gramma?”

“Dead. You will soon join her, I assure you. Would you die for your Logos? Your Granny did. That is what I’m here for,” he said callously as he raised his long-fingered hand and pressed his claws to her face. One finger pushed into her forehead, breaking the skin.

She let out a cry, a slow and steady one.

Deliberately he joined two more fingers with the first, tearing her skin in two ripping the flesh away. She screamed. He did not muffle her and her voice echoed loudly through the trees. But no one could hear her calls. As the claws neared her eye, she closed them tightly. He whispered into her ear: “No. Before you die, I want you to see your assassin. Open your eyes.” His claws then made their way over her right eye and resumed the cutting into the skin on her cheek. “I wonder if I can mark even your skull. Perhaps I shall keep it…my prize,” he said, heavily invested in his actions. “No, no. Labadon would crush your skull like the dust it is made of. He would revile at the sight of it in his land!” he said softly, taunting her. He hunched over her on his hind legs and almost surveyed the damage he had inflicted as a painter to his canvas. His lips quivered as he looked into her eyes. He delighted in this kill. He lifted his bloodied claws directly in front of her face as if to brag. She attempted to scream as she covered her face. Her hands were soon diverting the blood from her torn flesh on her face down her hands and arms. He then swiped at her torso numerous times while growling a muted growl. It was a horrible attack. Cold, and with no remorse.

She was becoming weak. The intense pain made her unable to cry anymore. She was in shock and her eyes were glassed over. She seemed to stare at him. The sheer strength of his blows knocked her unconscious. She was only nine. The wolf assassin stood up, wiped his sharp claws on her cloak and left, swiftly, after his leader.

“She is dead! It is finished and yet, we have only just begun!” he yelled to his master.

What was once a home filled with joy, laughter and love was now one of silence and ruin. Two innocents lay disfigured. Dead. It was a massacre. Only a beast full of evil could have carried out such an attack. The rain poured down heavily almost as loud as stampeding auroch. The sound drowned out L’rrh’s whimpers as she awakened, an hour or so later. Her eyes widened and she let out a visceral yell. Then silence.

Grandma, she thought and looked out towards the front of the house. A bit of strength entered her body. It was as if her very soul cried out to her and caused her to move. If I can just see Gramma…once more, she thought to herself. The lightning crashed and with each flash a small, broken and bloodied figure was revealed, arising in the darkness. Her knees buckled under her and she fell to the floor. With every inch she moved, it felt like a mile. She pressed on and made her way through the mud and rubble and crawled towards her grandmother’s body. Finally, with the numbing pain in her body and loss of blood an afterthought, she saw Sarah. “I’m coming,” she whispered. Closer and closer still. Through the mud and rain falling ever harder, she winced from the water hitting her open wounds. “I’m here, Gramma,”…she whispered as she grabbed Sarah’s shawl in her little fingers and squeezed as tight as possible. “Gramma…I love you…the stories you t-told me…it was…you…wasn’t it?” she moaned painfully, her grip loosened and L’orrah…the little girl with the red hood…was gone. The sound of thunder whipped the ground, shaking the earth floor beneath them. The rain fell on their lifeless bodies as equally as on the trampled flowers nearby. It knew no better. The Stories:Book One. The tales you heard as a child? Only rumors of what really happened. God willing this will be on your next must-have list. |m| Because in this fantasy…legends have been reborn.


I See My Demons. They See Me Too.

The following is a comment I recently typed out, recently meaning like 10 minutes ago in response to a blog post by Carlos Whittaker on  Ragamuffin Soul. The blog post is entitled Amy Winehouse Is Me And I Am Amy Winehouse. In it he writes, and it’s a brief one, how pastors and the like of many churches use these situations-death by way of od, addiction, etc-to illustrate how not to be. “The demons she battled with are the demons that plague people like her”. Well, he is right on the money in saying to these speakers and teachers that WE are the ones who have demons.

By we I mean ALL OF US.

–Simple yet poignant. A truth we often forget. What is that truth?

Well, the Word says all have sinned. We know what it means of course. But who has sought deeper into what it means that all have sinned?

At that point in history when the author Paul wrote this…well here is a very brief and painfully obvious history lesson: I was not born yet. Neither were you.
I know, right?

Stay with me. Paul knew-I know he did because he heard the voice of God, he lived and breathed Christ-that he was not only speaking of himself and those around him–those alive at the time-and those who would come. People a hundred years from then. A thousand years from then. US. And those who will come after us.

For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. Romans 3:23.

We all make choices. Let us make the right ones. As a Friend on Facebook says-”it is not always easy.”

It was through that Friend, Michael Gomez, that I found my way here.

What is my point? If nothing else it is that we are the ones Paul speaks of when he says “all”.

Yes, Carlos, You are Amy. And Amy is you…and so am I.–


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