Disintegrate release day!

Today is release day for Disintegrate, my first young adult novel! *\o/*

Disintegrate

editors

To read an excerpt, click here.

  • Young Adult, Paranormal, Suspense, Romance
  • Word Count: 51,000
  • Published By: Evernight Teen

Description:

Emily just wanted a normal life: a boyfriend, college, two parents who loved her. Instead, her dad disappeared when she was fourteen and her life at college is anything but ordinary.

When you can manipulate matter like putty and you have no idea why, how do you pretend to be like everyone else? What happens when you meet a guy who has the same powers? Do you trust him to help you find the answers you need?

Emily desperately wants to believe that Jax can help, but the stakes grow higher than she’d ever expected: someone is after them and they’re not afraid to use violence to get what they want.

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Where to Buy: 

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What are people saying about Disintegrate?

Do the write thing

A wonderfully suspenseful YA novel that tackles not only such topics as special skills, bio engineering, and abuse of science, but also themes close to any reader, adult or young adult, like themes of family, friendship, love, belonging.

This novel is easy to read in one sitting as it pulls you in from the first pages and doesn’t let go to the very last surprise in the Epilogue. The relationship between the two main characters, Emily and Jax, is marvellously dynamic and evolving. Their relationship changes them, changes their view of life. It helps them find the strength to search for the reasons behind their special skills. That secret, in turn, is the basis for the intense, action-packed plot that doesn’t disappoint with twists and turns and surprising revelations.

Emily’s struggle to find her place, to belong, is something many young adult readers will be able to identify with. She is different, but only on the surface, deep down she’s searching for parental love and guidance, for friendship that she finds in her roommate, for love that comes along in the form of Jax, a boy with skills similar to her own and even bigger problems. When they are being mercilessly hunted, attacked, and even kidnapped, they come to realize that friendship can give you strength, and that family is not always who you’re related to.

Disintegrate cover reveal!

Disintegrate

Coming April 19, 2013!

  • Young Adult, Paranormal, Suspense
  • Word Count: 51,000
  • Published By: Evernight Teen

Description:

Emily just wanted a normal life: a boyfriend, college, two parents who loved her. Instead, her dad disappeared when she was fourteen and her life at college is anything but ordinary.

When you can manipulate matter like putty and you have no idea why, how do you pretend to be like everyone else? What happens when you meet a guy who has the same powers? Do you trust him to help you find the answers you need?

Emily desperately wants to believe that Jax can help, but the stakes grow higher than she’d ever expected: someone is after them and they’re not afraid to use violence to get what they want.

editors

Disintegrate releasing April 19, 2013! – read an excerpt

My release date is official: April 19, 2013!

This is a lot sooner than I expected, but I’m thrilled. I’m sure I’ll have a cover reveal coming soon, but in the meantime, would you like to read an excerpt? If so, scroll down…

Teencoming-soon

Disintegrate, releasing April 19, 2013!

  • Young Adult, Paranormal, Suspense
  • Word Count: 51,000
  • Published By: Evernight Teen

Description:

Emily just wanted a normal life: a boyfriend, college, two parents who loved her. Instead, her dad disappeared when she was fourteen and her life at college is anything but ordinary.

When you can manipulate matter like putty and you have no idea why, how do you pretend to be like everyone else? What happens when you meet a guy who has the same powers? Do you trust him to help you find the answers you need?

Emily desperately wants to believe that Jax can help, but the stakes grow higher than she’d ever expected: someone is after them and they’re not afraid to use violence to get what they want.

Excerpt:

“I … think you’ve got the wrong impression of the two of us,” she mumbled. “We’re just friends.” And that’s all we’ll ever be, Emily told herself.

The woman shook her head. “No. I don’t think I do.” She wiped at the bar, nodding once as though making up her mind. “He’s a good kid.” She moved off, pouring a beer as she made her way down to the other end of the bar.

Emily blinked, confused by the bartender’s confidence. Jax sang on, oblivious to the conversation they were having about him only a few feet away.

And then the wall by the door exploded.

Emily froze for a split second while the bartender looked stupidly at the mess, then rushed for the stage, shoving through the few people beginning to realize something was very, very wrong. Jax hadn’t reacted and her first instinct was to get him to safety. She knew they were there for her, and she also knew they wouldn’t hesitate to destroy anyone near her in an effort to get to her. The best thing to do was get out.

Heart pounding, she grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him down and off the stage. His guitar strap broke and the instrument hit the floor with a harsh twang. She winced, knowing it was his dad’s guitar, and important to Jax, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t afford to do anything about it. Her skin was jumping and buzzing and she yanked—

Jax fell over her, hands raised, and Emily chanced a look back. There were three of them, huge and intent. Their faces were covered. One had a shotgun, oh God…

“Get down!” Jax yelled, shoving her over.

She ignored him, pulling until he had no choice but to follow. It was that or step on her. He still had his hands up. Something went boom—the gun, she thought—and then the staccato crunch of wood splintering around her bled through her panic. She shoved Jax ahead of her, hard. The door behind the stage hung ajar, and she stumbled for it, skin prickling as static arced around her fingers.

“Get back!” she panted, and Jax tripped. She tried to pull him up, but his muscular frame was too much for her thin frame. “Jax, you’ve gotta get up.”

He stared at her from the floor, dazed. A trickle of blood ran from a cut near his eye.

Was he hit? “Jax, get up!” she hissed.

Finally, he shoved off from the floor and staggered to his feet, falling against her. Not shot then, she thought, relieved. He wouldn’t be standing if he’d been seriously injured.

She tugged him down the dark hallway. When she looked back, she couldn’t believe they hadn’t been followed. Or at least not yet. Swallowing hard, she grabbed his hand, ignoring the electric tingle of his skin, and dragged him into the wall. He oofed as his head hit the paneling, but she had no time to worry about it. She pressed her fingers to the dirty surface and pushed, concentrating on dissolving the bonds of matter in her body and his. It wasn’t easy. She had to sort of push her energy into it, harder than she’d ever had to before. It felt a little like juggling upside down. She needed to hang onto him and release everything else, simultaneously. She had to keep his hand solid in hers while phasing their bodies out. For a moment, she thought she would fail or go mad, and then something clicked—

Thank God.

—her hands sank into the wall. She shuddered, hating the sticky feel of molecules sliding into her like this. One finger, one hand, no problem, but her entire body? That was creepy and weird. What she was doing wasn’t natural. Humans weren’t supposed to be able to shove pieces of themselves into pieces of other stuff, and here she was trying to shove her entire body, and Jax’s too, into the filthy inside of a bar wall. She almost sobbed … it was taking too long, they were coming—

—and then Jax’s fingers tightened around hers and it felt like electricity shooting into her bones. He gasped and then they fell into the wall together, their matter pressed into and within the wood and concrete and insulation.

Nausea rose. She fought it down. No time for that, she snarled to herself. No damn space for barfing. She gripped Jax’s hand, trying to keep still and quiet and think while also somehow conveying to him the need for calm. He could freak out later.

And he would, she knew. They were completely hidden, existing half in reality and half in the shadowy space between atoms that she’d been able to manipulate since forever. He would want to know how she did it. He would want do know why she’d dragged him into this.

A short, sharp boom echoed weirdly through her. They’d made it to the hall, though she couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anything. Her eyes didn’t work inside the wall. Jax’s iron-willed calm filtered slowly through her veins, as if she could feel his emotions. God, this was completely horrible, she thought, willing the men to just go away. She needed to run—

—and then there was silence. She didn’t know how long it had been quiet, but Jax was pulling at her. She forced herself to think move and let go and enough and she stepped forward and out—

—and they fell into the hall, coughing. She stifled a gag, her right hand burning from the rough flooring. She’d just caught herself before her head hit the opposite wall.

“Jesus, what—” Jax choked, turning to her. He wouldn’t let go of her hand.

“We need to see if they’re gone,” she managed, rubbing her face on her shoulder. Her knees hurt. She felt filthy, as if she’d ingested the dirt that penetrated every portion of the wall.

Jax leaned down and put his free hand flat on the floor. He closed his eyes.

Emily stared. What was he doing?

A second later he shook his head. “Everyone is gone.” He grimaced. “Or dead.”

“How—” she began to ask, but then the skin on her hand prickled, the one he still held. Jax looked at her arm. She looked at his palm. Tiny sparks arced between them, silver stars that made no sense.

Disintegrate – coming May 2013 from Evernight Teen

I can finally announce the fabulous news I’ve been sitting on for more than a week: I’ve signed a contract with Evernight Teen to publish my young adult novel, Disintegrate! It will be coming out in May 2013 in both print and e-book format.

Teencoming-soon

Disintegrate, releasing May 2013!

  • Young Adult, Paranormal, Suspense
  • Word Count: 51,000
  • Published By: Evernight Teen

Description:

Emily just wanted a normal life: a boyfriend, college, two parents who loved her. Instead, her dad disappeared when she was fourteen and her life at college is anything but ordinary.

When you can manipulate matter like putty and you have no idea why, how do you pretend to be like everyone else? What happens when you meet a guy who has the same powers? Do you trust him to help you find the answers you need?

Emily desperately wants to believe that Jax can help, but the stakes grow higher than she’d ever expected: someone is after them and they’re not afraid to use violence to get what they want.

Love poem for Valentine’s Day – Rumba-lady’s wrap

ballroom - cover w text

Rumba — lady’s wrap

I’m a fox and he has his hands
on me. I step back, wild.
He moves closer, twists somehow
and I’m curled in his arm,
walking forward.

I have no idea how I got here.

She says, now turn her again
and he unwraps me like a candied chocolate.
An exotic pear, un-netted.
A hairpin slipped loose.
I try to dance away
but he catches me
easily.

I’d say I was lost but it would be a lie.
The music is a leash and he is
turning me again.
I’m trapped
against his other side, walking backwards,
dizzy as a maple seed.
He pivots
and I follow.
I am a kite on a string.
Horse and halter. He smiles into the wind
and I let him let me go
into a double chassé.
Suddenly I am a stray balloon.
A missing key.

A dropped penny, desperate for him
to scoop me back up.

first appeared in Diode v5n2

Poet in Residence at Touch: The Journal of Healing

TouchTheJournalofHealing

 

For the past year, I have had the privilege of writing for Touch: The Journal of Healing as its Poet in Residence. I wrote a series of three essays focusing on the journals concept of Evolution into Insight: Experience. Intent. Craft.

It has been my pleasure to work with the editors, O.P.W. Fredericks and Daniel Milbo. Their friendship and editorial insight elevated my prose in a way I couldn’t have managed on my own.

If you’d like to read the essays, here are links to all three.

Experience – Evolution into Insight

Intent

Craft

‘Tis the Season

xmas tree ball

Some of you may know that I sometimes write completely ridiculous holiday poems. Here they are—this year’s gem and a few earlier attempts. Enjoy!

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‘Tis the Season

The malls are insane but you have to go shopping
for ribbon and candy to fill the last stocking.
You can’t stop to cry, ’tis the season for snow
and ice covered roads jammed with cars going slow
slow, so horribly … oh! There’s a dude dressed in red
on the side of the walk. He’s clutching his head
like someone hungover. His pants are all goopy:
the knees ripped right out, the butt kind of droopy.
You slow down to stare, but then offer a ride.
He kisses your cheek as he ducks down to hide.
“What the hell are you doing?” you ask and he smirks:
“Rudolph got wasted, went kind of berserk.”
You gape, shake your head. “Oh please, you’re not Santa.”
He shrugs and explains he was over Atlanta
when someone cracked open a bottle of whiskey.
“Three shots and the next thing I knew they’d got frisky.
Comet kicked Dasher right in the——”
“Stop!” you freak out, “Just keep your mouth shut.”
He laughs and you blush, thinking this must be a joke,
he can’t be St. Nick, he looks like a hoax.
“You can drop me right here,” he says while you frown.
“Prancer’s waiting right there, at the edge of the town.”
You slow down, still dubious, but the dude is quite right:
near the tree is a reindeer, head down, fur a fright.
“I told them they shouldn’t imbibe in December.
You’d think they’d believe me, or at least remember
the last time this happened.” He wrinkles his nose
and suddenly yells, “You dumbass! I almost froze!”
You freeze, not believing that Santa would curse,
but Prancer just snorts and throws up on your purse.
“Um—” you say, shocked. The reindeer looks sorry.
You gulp, and inch backwards: Santa’s no longer jolly.
He takes one step forward and scratches his ear—
the next thing you know there’s nothing but beer
left on top of the snow. And footprints. And barf.
You sigh, somewhat pissed, enough is enough,
but as you turn around twice to get out of sight
you trip on the vomit … UGH. What a night!
Next year, Santa please, don’t let them drink booze.
I’d like to go shopping … with clean shoes.

11 december 2012 — Christine Klocek-Lim

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The 12 days of Catmas

On the first day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the second day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the third day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
eight hissy fits,
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
nine fishy farts,
eight hissy fits,
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
ten tons of fur,
nine fishy farts,
eight hissy fits,
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
eleven spitting kittens,
ten tons of fur,
nine fishy farts,
eight hissy fits,
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas
my two cats gave to me
twelve stolen salmon,
eleven spitting kittens,
ten tons of fur,
nine fishy farts,
eight hissy fits,
seven shredded sparrows,
six stinging scratches,
five piles of poo,
four pathetic howls,
three dead mice,
two hair balls,
and a dingleberry in a pine tree.

24 december 2011 — Christine Klocek-Lim

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Mrs. Kringle’s Lament

They said we’d only get an inch of snow
but when I wake it’s covered up the road
and slush has pulled some branches down so low
my favorite tree looks like it might explode.

I trudge outside with gloves and scarf and salt
to promptly slip and fall upon my rear
before I even reach the curb. “Assault!”
I bitch, then freeze as something licks my ear.

I scoot away, my heart up in my throat
and think: a zombie! when the icy slop
slumps to the side like puke on glass. A coat
so cheery green it makes me want to pop

out both my eyes emerges next to me.
I groan and pinch my nose. I know that face.
Those bells. That burp. He’s grown a sparse goatee
which doesn’t quite enhance the scraggly lace

sewn on his cap. “Oh, you again!” he sneezes,
grabs my sleeve as though I’ll help him up.
Yeah, right. I dodge his drunken grasp and seize
his pointed, chilly ears. He drops his cup.

I just don’t care. He thrashes, tries to kick
but cannot get away. “Where’s the deer?”
I snarl. I wish that Santa’d get here quick
before his merry crew drinks all the beer.

“You think I’d rat out my best friends? Oh please!”
he cries, then vomits just as someone’s head
ducks out of sight behind the frosty trees
like Samurai Jack, but drunk. And wearing red.

“I know you’re there, you might as well come out,”
I call, my spirits sinking to despair
as I catch sight of antlers and a snout
crouched low behind my car. I swear.

This happens every year. No joyful bells
for me, oh no. Instead, delinquent elves,
escapees from St. Nick’s gift wrap cartels,
crash in my yard to sleep. “Show yourselves!”

I yell again, not hoping for too much.
Surprise, surprise, who waddles out? The Man.
Kris Kringle. Santa Claus. I blink and clutch
my head (I drop the elf). “What’s the plan?”

I ask. I hope he knows what’s happening.
He “ho-ho-ho’s” and sways a bit, then slips
and suddenly I feel the bitter sting
of cognizance: he’s drunk from feet to lips.

I sigh and drag his jolly ass to bed,
park the sleigh, coax Rudolph to the shed.
The elf I tuck into an extra room.
The beer, I’m sure, is gone, and none too soon.

10 december 2010 — Christine Klocek-Lim

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 Don’t drink on xmas eve

It happened this past midnight clear:
three crazy elves and two drunk deer
crashed in the yard atop my sled
then slipped downhill against the shed.

The sky was dry, the sunset gone:
where in hell did they come from?
Their groans and moans kept me awake;
I knew there must be some mistake.

In the dark I clomped downhill
and yelled my ire into the chill:
“Don’t you know it’s xmas eve?
Be quiet or I will make you leave!”

The sudden hush, like blocks of ice,
fell on my ears (oh so nice!)
as elves and deer peered up at me
like I was Nick and they: debris.

“We lost our sleigh and drank the beer;
your backyard was so close and clear.
We just could not control our stumble—
here we fell in this great jumble!”

Then their chortles broke the calm.
I dragged them home to wait for dawn.
The barfing wasn’t too severe,
but have you heard of snoring deer?

Santa owes me big for this
I thought as one elf burped a kiss
but it wasn’t till I fell asleep
that Santa came for his lost sheep.

And beneath the tree? What was my take?
Three beers, two bells, and one fruitcake.

19 december 2007 — Christine Klocek-Lim