"Creatura" goes to High School

Bookplates! 

A few weeks ago I was completely taken by surprise when I was asked by www.readforyourfuture.org to donate a couple of copies of "Creatura" to the Middletown High School library in Middletown, Ohio. That brought me such enthusiasm that I think I practically jumped. The thought of how many students will get to read the novel puts a smile on my face every time.

*GO MIDDIES!*

Then something equally as exciting happened:

I was contacted by an English teacher at Lopez High School in Brownsville, Texas, to be a guest in her five English classes. Immediately and without hesitation, I agreed. I was so excited to receive the invitation and flattered that a high school teacher would even consider "Creatura" in the classroom.

I offered the first chapter of the novel to the teacher by email and posted it on my website for easier accessibility to the students ... and to the rest of the world, of course. Some of them have already purchased the book through Amazon.com (it's also available through other online retailers)

     *If you're a goodreads member you'll find Chapter 1 under the "read excerpt" tab of the novel. 

A fair amount of students from Lopez High School have befriended me on Facebook, and after chatting with them, I've found they are just as excited as I am to be able to meet in person. It seems the first chapter has had a good reception by the majority. Let's see how the rest of the book is liked. I supposed I'll find out next week when they've had a chance to read further. Until then, I'll be looking forward to August 31st with eager and excited anticipation. I can already hear that Lobo Pride!

*SEE YOU SOON, LOBOS!*

Oh, by the way, the sandpaper I mentioned in the prior post was to sand down my "golden boy" before we applied the gold makeup. He was a real trooper! Thanks, Tristan!

A few pics from the Book Launch

Launch Party: T-minus 24 hours

Tomorrow is the big day for the "Creatura" book launch party, and I'm very excited and nervous. I'm trying to write out a schedule to see when it is that I'm going to have time for myself to get ready, but I haven't quite figured it out. There's so much I have to do starting from noon and on. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Today, I received a call from the owners of the Los Ebanos Preserve and Casa Los Ebanos. This is the residence that I used as the setting for the hero's (David's)  home. I'm so happy that they'll be attending. Casa Los Ebanos used to be their home until a few years ago. The historical southern style home is now available to book for weddings and parties of the sort. I would've loved to have the launch there, but I had to consider the costs to be incurred. *sigh* Maybe next time.

Something that has been creating a little humor in my mind today is that I don't consider this my party, but the book's party. Isn't that strange? It's like the novel isn't an inanimate object, but more of a personality. I suppose books do have personalities if you stop to think about it: Romantic, adventurous, horrifying, witty, humorous... etc. In a way, they're much like people. I believe that's why we can easily fall in love or easily dislike them.

Did you know that the author has to go through personality changes as she writes? I mean, how else would she write so many lines that only that certain character would say? It's very impressive to me how books have to dominate a personality that isn't really the writer's.

Anyhow, I'm supposed to be making dinner for my in-laws that are coming in from out of town to attend the shindig, and I'm typing my little fingers away instead. lol! Oh, and one more thing before I go: the oddest thing I have ever needed for a party is sandpaper. I have yet to acquire some. I'll tell you guys about it later when I post the pictures.

Toodles, beautiful creatures!

The Soirée is on the Way

The cake's been ordered, the place reserved. It's roughly two weeks until the official release party for "Creatura". Invitations have been mailed and some will be hand delivered. In all honesty, party planning is something I very much enjoy. However, this one takes precedence over the rest of the parties I've ever had to coordinate. It's absolutely nerve wracking! 


I'm a planner - not a party planner, but a planner in general. Often, I tend to think of every detail that would please me if I were an attendee. That's not so bad is it? Okay, yes it is! Call me obsessive or compulsive...or both. I'm a female, for goodness sake!  


The release party will be held in the City of Los Fresnos, Texas, also the setting of my book. Why Los Fresnos? Because at the age of 13 I moved there and hated it,  BUT then something extraordinary happened - I fell in love. Not with a guy, with the town! It's small, it's friendly, it's simple. Yes, it may only have a population of 4, 512, but it's home, and home is where the heart is. I consider it my hometown even though I didn't move there until my teenybopper years.


Everyone says, "write what you know", but I wrote what I imagined. My imagination ran amok in that town and the surrounding areas as I wrote "Creatura". That's where David Chios came to life in The Ebony Estate (AKA Casa Los Ebanos at Los Ebanos Preserve). It's where Isis Martin attended Los Fresnos High School, and where Claire Martin, Isis' mother, worked for the County, as a paralegal in the courthouse. It's where Krystle, Sheila and Patrick - Isis' friends- graduated high school, before Isis. My characters have a life in Los Fresnos! They're very real to me. Holding the book launch within my town was the only feasible choice. 


*I should mention that Krystle, Sheila and Patrick are real people and not just cameo characters in the book:
        Krystle - my sister
        Sheila - my sister's BFF
        Patrick - my sister's BF
     **They will be making an appearance at the launch. Who knows, maybe they'll be asked for their autographs. 


So, what am I doing to prepare? I'm hot gluing my fingers to the bone - making centerpieces and detailing the event. I'm thinking of a speech and a paradigm. I'm thinking of great treats to serve and of how to set up the room. Plan, plan, plan! Yes, I am obsessive, but if I didn't obsess, how would I have ever detailed all those character personalities in "Creatura"?


*By the way, my apologies for not posting any new short stories or blogs recently, but writing chapter two of the book series has been keeping me quite busy. 


Anyhow, I do believe I'm due for a well-deserved break. I'm off to relax with a good book that I'm eager to finish, and then I'll nestle myself into bed, where Morpheus, with a grin, will lure me away. Therefore, I must bid you adieu. I have a long day tomorrow: appointments, post office, burned fingers and crossing off other items on my "to do" list. Wish me luck! 

Toodles, beautiful creatures!

Eternal Dreams

**Per special request, here is another short story.

Eternal Dreams

by Nely Cab

He came to me in a dream. He wasn't a handsome fellow, but there was something about his personality that drew me to him. Surely, I must be crazy to have fallen in love with this, a figment of my imagination. I was obsessed -- fixated on the idea of him. His name was Daniel.

"But he's only a dream, Claudia," I told myself, trying to reason.

I had dreamt of this boy, now a man, for the major part of my thirty years of life. I never knew another male in the way I knew him. He was my life and my everything. I rejected every suitor that ever showed the least bit of interest in me, but things would be changing and soon.

I was, against my will, betrothed to a gentleman of the age of fourty some odd years, previously widowed. His name was Pascual Leumas. He owned a debauchery store in the upper west side of Manhattan. He was a man of good wit, pleasant, and handsome. Pascual had but one child, already a young woman; I would become her mother.

But what was I to do with the man in my dreams? I was in love with him. I had the hope that one day Daniel would come into my life, that we would marry, and have a family -- be a normal couple.

Tonight, as I dressed for a chaperoned dinner with Father and my new fiancée, I could think of nothing more, but how heart broken Daniel would feel if he knew I was to be wed in three day's time.

As I viewed myself in the full-length mirror, I could swear that I saw Daniel standing behind me, observing me as I pinned up my hair. I instinctively drew my neck back to view him, but there was no one there. Oh, how I wished that he would come for me at haste before the wedding.

In the dinning room, my father was present with Pascual and his daughter, Sophia, awaiting me to begin the dinner. I was nervous and slightly shook as Pascual kissed my hand. Sophia's smile was wide with enthusiasm.

This was the first time I had met Sofia. She was blonde and had brown eyes, like myself. There would be no misinterpretation that I was not her mother. That set my nerves at ease, somewhat.

Through the dining room window, I saw a tall figure standing, looking in at me. I gasped in surprised fright and held my hands to my mouth. My father asked what had taken my breath. I told him it was nothing, but indeed it was something.

Daniel was standing there in a suit with a wool coat on his arm. He pointed to the front door. I quickly excused myself and scurried to foyer. He gave two knocks to the door before I could reach it. I ran across the anteroom and swung the door open. Finally he was here! My love had arrived!

"Daniel," I said to him. "How I've longed for you! Take me from here. Let us be as we are in my dreams."

"Yes, my dear, Claudia," he replied, taking me by the waist and laying his cold lips on mine. "Let us go, now."

As I looked back to close the door behind me, I saw my lifeless body on the ground. My father, Pascual and one of the servants huddled over it.

"What has happened?" I asked Daniel.

"We are eternal lovers, now, my Claudia. Nothing shall keep us apart -- not even death."

We walked hand in hand, into the night and into that eternity of love.

www.nelycab.com

Crazy in Love

**Occasionally, I write short stories. This particular one is not for the faint at heart. For those of you wondering, the book is nothing like this.

Crazy in Love 

by Nely Cab

"I loved her," I said. "She was the one I was meant to be with forever." That was the only plea I could think of.

April was a brunette with a wonderful sense of humor. She was a fine cook and a beautiful woman. She held the greatest attributes that a man could ask.

One summer day, she said she was leaving me. I knew we had our ups and downs, but this didn't mean it had to end. I could change. I could be whatever she wanted me to be. She said I hadn't failed her, that she was just not in love with me anymore. 

I had never cried in front of her, but this time, I couldn’t contain myself. I felt torn, frantic, and lost.

Holding her by the arms, I pled with her to stay.

"No," she said that single syllable word that crushed me.

I hugged her and pled with her some more.

"Please, April!" I was desperate to find a way to keep her, but she was intransigent.

There I sat, on the kitchen table, staring into the nothingness that my life had become in but one moment.

"Have you thought about the children, April? Have you given thought to what you're doing to them?" I wondered.

"I'm not taking the children, Ed. I don't have any means to support them," she replied.

Could she be seeing another man? I stood from my seat and shook her. "Who is he?!" I demanded.

"It's not a he…" she pushed me away, “it’s a she.”

I was in disbelief. What on earth had this woman, who I had been married to for seven years, turned into? I felt belittled. The pain of betrayal consumed me.

"You're insane!" I turned her around and slapped her. "You're not leaving me or the children. Do you understand?"

April tightened her fist and took a right hook at my face. I stopped her fist before it struck me. I tensed my grip on her small hand with such force that she fell to her knees. I grabbed her by the face and kissed her against her will. She bit my lip so deep, that I felt her teeth cut into the skin. The bitter taste of blood spread through my mouth.

I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her away from me. She slapped me, repeatedly, with all her might.

"Bastard!" She wept as she wiped my blood off her chin. "I detest you for making me into a wife and a mother. I detest you for making me cook and clean. I curse you for being a man."

April stood in the middle of the room, her loathing stare burning through me. 

My ego was in shreds. I had never heard her voice such wicked and hurtful things about the life I had prided myself to give her.

I walked to her slowly. I extended one arm and clenched her by the neck. She gasped and tried eagerly to pry my fingers from her throat. I saw her eyes redden and glisten with moisture. Her face turned red; then, slowly, it became pallid.

She fought hard to escape my grip, but I couldn't make myself release her. Her body slightly jerked, before her eyes rolled back into her sockets. Finally, she stopped breathing. Her body was limp. I let it fall onto the kitchen floor, next to the table.

I heard laughter coming from the backyard. Our two children had been playing outside the whole time.

My eyes glanced between the backdoor and April’s body.

What had I done? I had murdered the love of my life and mother of my children.

Nervously, I took April’s body to our bedroom and lay her on the bed. She looked as if she were fast asleep, aside from the discoloration in her face.

I went downstairs and prepared some chocolate milk for the children, along with a very strong dose of sleeping medication.

“Kids!” I called them into the house.

I handed them each a glass to drink, making sure they consumed every drop. Then, I sent them to play in their rooms.    

 Tormented and drowning in guilt, I wept in the bathroom awaiting silence to take the place of my children's innocent voices.

Within fifteen minutes they were both asleep on the floor of their bedrooms. I placed them beside their mother on our matrimonial bed and rummaged through the night table drawer. There,I found my gun.

Loading the handgun,I stood before my three little angels knowing exactly what I had to do to be together forever.

My hand trembled each time I pulled the trigger, shooting each of us in the head.

Suddenly, I felt myself rising and hovering over our four dead bodies.

They came for me quickly. 

I was taken to a place of darkness and despair. A place where there was only cold and gloom. It was a place where no one looked into the other’s eyes, and no one spoke.

I was taken to trial and asked only one question:

"What have you to say on your behalf, man?"

"I loved her,” I said. “She was the one I was meant to be with forever." That was the only plea I could think of.

www.nelycab.com

"It was not for Hunger of Worship or Conceit..."

It's only been three days since "Creatura" was officially released for sale, and I'm ready to have an anxiety attack awaiting the first review from non-bias readers (no offense friends and family).

The people I know have begun to purchase the novel on Amazon from the very day it became available on the website. The sales rating at which it has fluctuated has surprised me.

• A big "THANK YOU" goes out to all of you for promoting the book on your Facebook walls and through word of mouth. I appreciate your support more than you realize. 

It's very scary to put one's own writing out there for people to judge. I knew I was going to have to brave the world when I decided to publish, but I didn't know it would be my own written words that would mock and intimidate me, making me doubt myself. 

Being only human, I have come to realize that it's okay to fear. What isn't okay is to fear not. It's when we don't fear that we walk overly confident and ignorant of the hidden crevices and cliffs on the roads we, ourselves, pave. That's when we tend to fall the hardest. I can only hope that I haven't walked blindly.

Today, I started tiding up my dining room table which is where I can write without being distracted. I had unconsciously created a fort around my laptop surrounding it with boxes, floral wire-cutters, copies of manuscripts, make-up -- you name it, it was there. As I picked up the final copy of the manuscript, I decided to glance at the first chapter, and that's when the nerves began to stir.

I decided I didn't like Chapter One, so I went on to Chapter Two. Chapters Two through Seven were okay. Chapter Eight made me wonder why I didn't write more in Chapters Two through Six. I skipped back to Chapter One and hated it. I jumped to Chapter Nine and fell in love with it again. I skipped to Chapter Eleven, where I found some very enticing details, but  I worried it wouldn't fit in with Chapter Seventeen, which then prompted me to look over Chapters Fifteen and Sixteen, which gave the story some flare. Finally, I read the last chapter of the novel, closed it, and set it aside. 

For seven hours, I criticized my writing. I was on the verge of tears by that point because I just didn't know what to think of it anymore. What if my audience found it ridiculous and boring? What if it was terrible?

Usually, I'm very proud to create something, and I'm a positive person as far as the reaction I expect from others. Today, however, I wasn't that person. 

I sent my sister a text telling her the book sucked, and that I was ready to confess my sins and die. She said, "It's done, and you did it all by yourself. You should be proud." That didn't help this time. 

I stared at the book cover wondering what had made me think I could write and publish a novel. I pulled the binder that contained the manuscript toward me and opened it to a random page to continue my silent self-pity rant. Upset at myself, I glanced at the page I had opened it to, and I found something to which I didn't pay attention while I was obsessing:

“It was not for hunger of worship or conceit from which he placed this..."

I'm hand painting these butterflies for the book launch

After reading those words, I remembered this:

I didn't write my book for vanity. I wrote it to entertain two people -- my sister and me. I didn't even want to put my picture on the back cover, now that I think about it. 

I admit that having it sell and go up in the sales rating list does feel good, but it doesn't mean anyone will be impressed once they're done reading. That's okay though, because you know what?  Both of the people it was meant for do like it, and that's worth the two years it took to write. 

So, if you read it, and like it,  I'm happy; and, if you read it, and don't like it, I'm happy too. 

From now it's nothing but happy thoughts of colorful rainbows and glittery unicorns. And, in the famous words of Forest Gump: "That's all I have to say about that," because, "my momma thinks I'm special," and that's good enough for me.

 I thank you, I thank you, and I thank you for visiting and reading my blog.

 Ciao, bellas creaturas!

Author Nely Cab Confirms the Awakening of Creatura

Author Nely Cab Confirms the Awakening of Creatura

It's Alive! Now What?

This little guy knows fashion!

On Friday, June 17, 2011, at exactly 6:43 PM, "Creatura"was born into the world of literature. 

My "baby" is alive and kicking at the publisher's website and will soon be released into the online bookstore retail and ebook markets.  


I'm both thrilled and terrified of the thought of having my book criticized by people I don't know. Thrilled, because constructive criticism is how I learn best; Terrified, because of the negative criticism  that comes with self-publishing. Nevertheless, it's still a dream come true.


So, are you wondering if I've sold thousands of copies upon release? The answer is, "Heck No!" 


The publishing process was a tedious one, but trying to get someone to actually purchase one book takes a lot of hard work, time and effort. Through research, I found that even when a novel is traditionally published, the author has to have a marketing strategy in place. Agents do a lot of the promotional essentials for about the first six months of a book's life. Then, the author is on her own. Many signed and self-published authors hire publicists to do their campaigning. That's a luxury this starving artist can't afford.


I started off by announcing the availability of the novel through my social media networks as soon as I knew I was publishing my novel. After many congratulatory comments, I had to settle down and put my writing skills to work. 

My brother's Creatura t-shirt design

I got help from a friend in submitting press releases in order to gain some publicity through the Internet, even before I knew the book's release date. Thank goodness for sites that provide free press release distribution -  I'd be penniless, otherwise. I'm in the process of putting together an online contest - or contests - for free signed hardcover copies of the book, along with "Creatura" marketing products (ex: totes, shirts, pens, notebooks). Local book signings are a must, but, unfortunately, there are very few bookstores in the area where I live. But these are only baby steps in the promotional aspect. Free publicity is the Cat's Meow, but it won't get the job done.


I need to draw people to my website in order to endorse the product. This is where that rectangular piece of plastic in my pocket comes into play.


Online advertising is a crucial element in directing traffic to the product, but can get expensive at "pay per click" rates. I started campaigning through Google and Facebook and did get results; however, I'm pretty sure that out of the 550 people that have visited the site, only a handful actually took the time to navigate through it. Those people are probably the ones (practically, all from Facebook) that left the nice comments on the guestbook page. I love those guys!

• Thanks to you too, if you visited, or are planning to visit my website. 

So, what are the probabilities that they'll return? Pretty low, unless they see the product and/or link popping up continuously and everywhere. There's no question that we are byproducts of marketing. 


What I have to do now is gain exposure with my target audiences. Somehow, I have to cross into the world of teenagers and adult (YA fantasy romance) readers via their optical fibers, without taking up a second mortgage on my house or going streaking across the country. 

I know I might not be the next J.K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyer (snaps and kudos to them), but I have confidence that readers will enjoy the story. And, as scared as I may be of the harsh words I may, or may not receive, I want to sell my book, because bad reviews are better than no reviews. 


On a final note, my coccyx is killing me from having been glued to my laptop for the past month and a half trying to make the world aware of the existence of "Creatura". I better cut the rambling, peel my butt off this chair, and start planning the launch party.  Toodles!

Item Number Two

I was about 10 years old when I told my mother I wanted to write. She persuaded me to write a story she often told me and to illustrate it as well. I set my No. 2 pencil to paper, took out my crayons and got to work.


My mother's story was quite unorthodox and had a tragic ending, but it managed to keep me away from the stove:

www.nelycab.com

 The main characters were a female ant and a male mouse who were married and lived in the hollow base of a tree. The ant went to the market one day and left her husband, the mouse,  to watch over their dinner -- baked beans. The grey mouse, craving a taste of the beans in the pot, lifted the lid, fell in and died. Yes, I am sad to say that cute little rodent was boiled to death.


When I was done writing my childhood "magnum opus", or so I thought,  I acquired the address to a well-known children's publisher from the interior of one of their storybooks. Neither I nor my mother knew that it was a must to be represented by an agent for an acclaimed publishing company to consider your work. I mailed it.


Several weeks later, my manuscript appeared in our mailbox along with a letter stating that the publisher would not consider un-agented manuscripts. I was thoroughly disappointed, to say the least.

That day, as I re-read the publisher's letter,  I made a mental note: Write and publish a story before I die. That was item number two on my bucket list. Item number one was scratched off my list later that summer when I visited Disneyland for the very first time.



I don't remember being an avid reader as a child. I would fall asleep with opened books, somewhere between pages five and ten. At my elementary school, we were bribed with free pizza certificates for entering book reading challenges. I chose the 20 page easy readers which took me about a week to read through. I must say, I got a lot of sleep during elementary and free pizza every six weeks.


When I was a teenager I was reminded about writing again. My eighth grade English teacher assigned the class a descriptive paragraph due midway through class. We were to read it aloud to everyone and search for reactions.


My paragraph depicted my feet as they walked through fresh, grey, humid mud. I described how the smooth, dense substance seeped up between my toes and over the top of my feet. I received an "Ewww" from my classmates and an "A" from the teacher. I got an "A" in the class for the six week grading period in which we touched on imagery. I never again wrote.


In high school, I wasn't much of a writer, but I joined the Business Professionals of America and competed only once in proofreading and editing and word processing competitions. I won in proofreading and editing and was state alternate for word processing. Back then, I knew how to punctuate correctly and how to skip class without being caught.


After high school, I studied computer accounting. I worked at a bank for several years until I married and moved to Mexico. There, I took up culinary and art classes. After five years of residing in Monterrey, we moved back to the U.S., and I went back to work.


Two and a half years later, I resigned from my job, and I became a housewife again. It was great for the first three months, until I ran out of rooms to redecorate and crafts to create.

FACEBOOK PAGE

During the morning, I would sit and drink my coffee for about two hours trying to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my day. I couldn't think of anywhere to go or anything do by myself in the small city in which I live that didn't involve eating. This is when I began to read and actually liked it. I was 34. Shame on me.

One day, my sister -- a conceited seventeen year-old high school senior, at the time -- pressured me into buying a movie and reading the book. She noted that the book was far better than the movie. Aren't they always?


I read the four-book series in a week. I don't remember feeding my husband or my son in the process, but somehow they survived. I was so consumed in the easy read, that I shut down the world around me for seven days. Then, it dawned on me; if this author could write so simply and still hold the readers' attention, who was to say I couldn't do the same?

I sat in front of my computer for the next two days and wrote about ten pages, before I handed it to my sister to read. When she was done, she turned, looked at me and asked, "And then what happened?" That was a good question. I didn't know. I said, "Nothing. I just wanted to see what you thought of it." She said, "It's good. Finish it. I wanna know what happens next." Her words ignited a spark.


Everyday, for months, my sister pestered me about giving her new pages to read. I sat in front of my computer for a year, working on the story for her. Every other day, I would give her more material to read and criticize. When I was finished writing, the short story I had meant to write, had turned into a novel. Being the bossy little punk she is, my sister started to pressure me to find a way to publish the book.

• I should note that I thank my sister for being so pushy and demanding. Had it not been for her enthusiasm, I would have never had the inspiration to continue writing. In her, I found my prime moral support and the best muse the literary gods could have sent me.  

I decided to query agents, but gave up after an eight month period and twenty-three rejections. I actually did expect the rejections. My query letter was pathetic. I hope my life never depends on writing one.


I had heard from a couple of friends about how they had each decided to self-publish. I thought about it long and hard for about five months. All I really wanted was to hold a book in my hand that named me as the author.


The price for self-publishing is not cheap. I came across companies that charged thousands of dollars, and that caused a state of dejection in me.


While reviewing my email one day, I read an advertisement for a publishing company that knocked almost half the price off of their publishing packages and offered distribution to chain bookstores and the massive ebook market. Wide-eyed, I bought the package.

www.nelycab.com

Currently, I am in the final stages of working with the publishing company, before the book goes to print.  I spent sleepless nights and nineteen-hour days re-editing and polishing the manuscript after the first submission to the publisher.


Item number two has proven to be one of the most challenging and time consuming life goals of which a ten year-old could have thought. Nonetheless, I'm happy to be entering into this new venture.


As for the rest of my to do list, I'm going to empty that bucket if it takes the rest of my life.