Here is the synopsis I came up with for my book. This is what will appear on both the Amazon and Barns and Noble listing. As soon as the purchase links are available, I will post them. Some of you may already notice the updated links to the blog. While I am getting things set, the book is not yet available, but will be in the next day or so. Enjoy.
Rumbling Heart Synopsis
After escaping the clutches of his abusive ex-wife, John finds himself living a rather dreary and reclusive life in Eureka, California. By choice, he works at a menial job where he gets paid very little, and barely makes ends meet. One day he comes home after quitting his job during an altercation with his boss to find a strange note taped to his door, instructing him to check his email. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he checks to find an email waiting for him from the international conglomerate known simply as The Company. The email offers him a chance to secure employment with one of the most employee friendly companies on earth so without delay, he replies to the email and provides The Company with all of his personal information. Within minutes, he is contacted by phone and an interview is setup. As he gets additional information about the company, he is told about all the benefits he will reap once he is employed. One such benefit is so bold and unique that is takes him completely by surprise and because of it, he is eventually introduced to an emotionally odd, yet adorably quirky woman named Anna who is also employed by The Company.
As their friendship progresses, John is forced to look inside himself and reexamine his life as he and Anna’s relationship begins to morph and change into something much more than he expected. Weary of getting close to anyone, John struggles with his past, but ultimately decides to try to open himself up to new things, but little does he know, his new companion is hiding something from him that will rock the foundation of their friendship and send him into a tailspin of emotion.
He also unexpectedly grows closer to the beautiful and intelligent Human Resources manager Emily, his first contact within the company, who appears to have only his best interests at heart. As he begins to trust the bold and confident Emily with more, he finds that she too may not be who she seems. Soon, John finds himself in a minefield of mystery and deceit and over time, he finds he must either deal with the gatekeepers of secrecy or devolve into lunacy as his past continues to haunt his thoughts and his life.
So since my date of release is looming, I decided to get together my acknowledgments page and I am trying to think of all the people who have helped me in getting this project off the ground and kept me inspired through its development. Some people are very obvious while others I am still trying to nail down. I am not putting people in it just to appease friends or family. I am looking for those who have offered some sincere insight into what I have been trying to do.
Looking back to the end of October when I just opened up Word and started writing with no real purpose, things have changed a great deal and some people have played a role in the completion of my book. It saddens me to think that there have actually been 2-3 people who have looked down on me not only for writing, but even for going back to school. I kept thinking to myself how awful their lives must be to find nothing better to do that to try and tear someone’s dream down and make them feel as if they will never accomplish anything. Well, I am happy to say to those few people who hated on me…KISS MY ASS.
In less than a month, my dream of putting my work out there for people to read is going to come true, and to be honest, I don’t care if i sell just a measly 10 copies. I will be happy to be read by any and all readers, and if my work can leave even the slightest impact, I will feel as if I have accomplished my goal. It’s not often that people can see a life dream come to fruition, but I am thankful that it will for me. Obviously, any money I make off the project will be welcomed as I am still just a poor college student. I never expected to get rich off of this; all I wanted was to be heard.
Well, as the day draws closer, I am clearing my throat and hoping for the best. That being said, even if the best doesn’t happen, I will never stop writing…I can’t stop writing. My mind will never rest. I have accepted that. It is the reason I cannot sleep. I wake in the middle of the night after maybe an hour’s rest and cannot help but turn on my computer and write until my fingers tingle with pain and fatigue. And the few hours I am able to sleep, the dreams never stop coming. They haunt me and speak to me and the voices carry on like a choir of musing. The inspiration surrounds me from all sides as if i am being pursued by a ghost of ideas as it desperately pleads with me to share it’s ideas with the world.
I will always be that outcast and I will always be different from everyone else, and now I know why. I am who I am and I write what I feel, and the voices in my head will not rest. Ever. My legacy will be intertwined with my creations, and through my work, they and I will live forever.
Cherry blossoms trickle down from the sky, and the grass is soft, lush, like a bed of down on a cool, spring day. I look skyward and speculate on the clouds before me, wondering what each one looks like. Trains and trollies, and teddy bears consume my being; the light, northern breeze kisses my exposed skin. My knees are pointed up and I feel as if I am being watched, in fact I know I am for I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She stares at me and wishes her wish of carefree days and endless nights, the pattern of bittersweet days having taken their toll. Her red hair sways out across her rosy lips as the wind plucks her lavish locks out from under her hand which attempts to hold their listless flight at bay. Her heart beats and rumbles, and her blue eyes glisten with sweet delight as she steps closer to me. Finally, I turn to her and our eyes meet, and startled shivers exert their force upon her shadowed visage. Her eyes show her grief and we both know I cannot stay here like this, relaxing in her silhouette for long. Four days and six hours have passed, and every waking moment we have spent together, and every moment in slumber she has been in my arms. I’ve read her mind, her thoughts melancholic, and I know her heart for she has told me of her incorrigible desire to keep me with her. We hold each other’s gaze as we listen to sounds of children at play, our unborn child still just a dream.
The breeze picks up and she sits down beside me to show me her cruel and lovely intentions. Her theft, of such brilliant and tireless devotion, was only the beginning of our unforeseen affinity, and the loss of such a strong defense was not bitter, but a welcome circumstance. Her company was not granted, but more a luxury, a state of which much due diligence had been paid. As I turn my eyes back toward the heavens, she joins me for the critical view, and I take a breath that precludes all fallacy of reason.
Static is all I hear and it might as well be silence. I’m not sure what it is I am listening for, but I know it’s more than this. Highlights and twilight beckon and I am not certain of very much anymore. Nothing new I suppose, confused incontinent mind unable to grasp my foreseeable future. My fingers spitting out toying words and subject matter of the 7th degree; not making much sense as I deal with illness and dizzying tiredness. I’ve lost 6 pounds of water weight just today and I am not sure if I want to look at that as a bad thing just yet. I inhale bottles of the stuff, yet it melts off me as my mild fever comes and goes. I dress in layers, warm ups covering my legs and I even place the wool cap on my head, but I can never seem to get warm enough. Two blankets I place over my body. The one I feel on my torso is soft and comforting while the other is stiff, its material eliciting an itch which I cannot help but scratch. I toss it from my chin as my patience is beyond exhausted.
No longer can I rest so now I must write and express and tell stories no one will understand, but I write them anyway. Words keep coming, but no sense is assigned. Mindless and tired, sometimes we do things out of habit more than for survival. While not bothersome, my habit is never being able to let my mind sleep. Even when I do sleep, I am restless and my body tosses about on the bed till I am sitting on the floor once again harboring delusions of fanatic assumption. I crave sleep. Admittedly, I sleep to dream and dream I do, but my mind, forever writing its stories, battles my fantasies and forces touches of reality into them. While I imagine others sleeping and snoring and perhaps unknowingly smiling in their slumber, I can feel myself moving, twitching, unable to let myself relax.
At times, I cannot tell if I am dreaming or waking up. I force myself to become self-aware which is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing so forth, the knowledge of dreaming, exhuming the fossils of my nature and the demons of my past, yet the curse lingers. Knowing my mind is lurking and hiding reality from me, sitting, waiting to procure enough sentiment to cause my logic harm, I tread lightly and wait for the storm to arrive. Still, I cannot help but let this happen for dreaming comes much easier to me that the realism of the world outside my bedroom door, for in my dreams, I can create and write however I like without fear of prudence and judgment. In these dreams, I can see her and only her and she makes me feel normal and real and safe. Her hair long and flowing, her body small and almost fragile. I look into her and she stares back, looking into my nothingness and finding what is hidden and blackened by disdaining aberration. However long the night or complacent the façade, she tears it all down and reveals what is real and I begin to feel content. The opening of my eyes enemies my infatuation and need to be with her, but I know my time with her is limited, so I must revel in its glorious splendor.
Been sleeping quite a bit lately. Then again, I have been staying up a lot longer than normal. Somehow I have managed two 30 hour days this week so of course once asleep, I stay asleep for upwards of 14 hours. Today i actually hit 16 hours, only waking because i figured 16 should be more than enough. Plus I need to make sure I am not all out of whack come Monday, first day of spring classes. I wish i were having worth while dreams at least. Maybe the sleep would be better if i were, but sadly my tiny muse had yet to visit me the last few nights. It does worry me, but its likely because I am focusing on other things and other people.
Did have a dream about high school that was somewhat graphic. I was in a math class in my old high school when the teacher told us to open our books and answer a few questions. I did this, but the the teacher went on to demean me in front of the entire class, calling me names and trying to embarrass me. I was somewhat self aware in the dream so I got up and slammed and broke a desk over him, leaving him sprawled across the floor in a bloody mess. I apologized to the class and left. I went down stairs and into the main office where there were two pianos. I sat down and played for awhile as more people noticed the songs I was playing. A small crowd gathered and I played on till my teacher made his way down and accused me of assaulting him, blood still on his face. I told the people why I struck him and they instantly turned on him.
Waking up, I wasn’t sure what to make of the dream. Honestly i didn’t recognize anyone in the dream either so I could care less about it. Unless there are certain individuals who are playing important roles in my life present, I am considering the dream pointless and if I become self aware, I just do anything I want and don’t care about the flow of the story my brain is trying to tell me.
You know what the greatest holiday gift for me is? No, it’s not the super special awesome wool cap I asked for or the gift cards i got. Sure, spending time with my family was great and while I do appreciate that, I have to be a little self centered here and say that coming up with the perfect climatic ending for my book is the best thing. I woke up today and it was all just there, as if i dreamed it all the night before. I was up at about 5am on my own, and not because it was Christmas because honestly, I don’t really care too much for the holiday anymore. Yet on this day, I figured out the ending to my work and I couldn’t be happier. It’s so simple yet so perfect that I don’t even have to outline it to remember. It’s engraved in my heart and mind, so much so that you’d have thought I lived it. I have only one other person to thank for this literary bounty. Have a good holiday and be safe.
Apparently it’s my turn to start dreaming of various different book and movie ideas. Tonights was a bit violent, the second one at least. The first was standard fair. And to better explain what I mean by “tonight” i was asleep by 6pm and got out of bed by 11pm, waking up several times throughout my “night”.
The first was Olivia and I, but our topic of discussion was a little different. We sat there in a coffee shop and we were discussing her stress levels. I was offering her suggestions to help ease it so that her health wouldn’t suffer. We sipped our drinks and looked outside, watching people walk by and go about their lives.
The second…was kind of insane. I assure you I am not some loony. This was just one of those weird dreams that’s kind of unexplainable, yet interesting. I was with a group of time travelers and we would jump from different versions of out world, parallel dimensions. We were trying to find out way back to our world which mathematically speaking may be impossible since according to many scientists there could be an infinite number of parallel universes out there. The only way to force ourselves to move from time to time was to murder ourselves in our current time. Usually it was not difficult to find us, most of the time we found ourselves at home, school, work, etc. There were a total of five of us doing this. Myself, 3 women and another man. The man was about late 20s, one of the woman was a young girl, maybe about 15, then there was a somewhat younger woman about early 20s, then an older woman who was about 45. We had apparently been doing this for some time as we had become exceedingly good at quite literally killing ourselves. We usually hunted as a group to assure our success. We would hunt for myself and the other man…the other me and the other guy to be clear…so that we can move on to the usually easier female targets. As we hunted, we would surround the locations of our other selves and move in for the kill with precision. The other guy would usually break in and scare the other us, flushing them out of the house or into a place in their location where they would be trapped. Once cornered, we would without much talk execute the other us, then move on to our next target. We continued doing this for what felt like 50-60 times and of course we were never transported home after the final kill.
The logic told us that when we got home, we would not find our other selves and that we would simply know we got back because it would “feel” like home. Finally after another successful hunt, we failed to “jump” to a new dimension, thus ending our journey. Out of frustration and knowing we would never get home, we began killing each other. The other man killed the teenager and the woman in her 20 ran for her life. The older woman and the other man hunted each other for what seemed like ages. Finally the man caught up to the older woman and shot her 4-5 times. While she was dying, he moved over top of her and began to chastise her, seemingly blaming her for our not getting home. While he was talking trash, she was able to lift up her shot gun and shoot him in the face, killing him instantly. I heard the shot and ran over to see what was happening. When i got close, the woman was still alive, but barely physically functional. I knelled down besides her and assured her I wasn’t there to kill her. As I watched her die, i took her hand to offer her some comfort and told her that I didn’t think it was her fault, that this was something bigger than ourselves. Sitting there I did not hear the woman in her 20s come back and put a gun to my head. I told her I was unarmed and had not shot the older woman or the dead man lying next to her. I told her that I had no intention of hunting her and that it was pointless for us to kill each other as it would never help us get home. Still cautious, the woman slowly backed out of the room and left again. I looked back down at the older woman to see that she had expired.
I walked out of a building covered in blood, almost in shock over the ordeal I had gone through. I fell to the ground and the woman in her 20 reappeared. She said she thinks she figured out how to get us home and it didn’t involve murder. She sat next to me and held my hand as rain began to fall. The drops washed away the blood from the both of us and we fell to sleep. When we awoke we were home, sitting on a park bench surrounded by children and families having a good time there. We both knew we were home. We exchanged handshakes and vowed to never speak of the misadventure that we shared. We both turned away from each other and walked away.