Amanda Hocking

Kurt Vonnegut always says the words I need to hear.

So after yesterday’s blog, I thought now I should be post about something happier. And what’s a better way to start off 2013 than with good news about my books?

For the month of January, Wake (the first book in the Watersong series) is only $2.99 for the Kindle, the Nook, iBooks, Kobo, and Sony eReader . So if you haven’t checked out Wake yet, now is the perfect time do it. Plus, the second book, Lullaby is already out now, and the third book Tidal is coming out in a few months.

To get Wake for $2:99:
Click here for the Kindle
Click here for the Nook
Click here for iBooks
Click here for Kobo
Click here for Sony eReader

And for those of you who have finished Lullaby and are chomping at the bit for Tidal, I highly recommend you check out the short story Forgotten Lyrics. I originally intended it to come out between Lullaby and Tidal, and it really sheds the light on some important information coming up in Tidal.

That’s basically my big news right now. I do plan on posting more this month and getting back on track with blogging and life, the universe, and everything.

Will there be another book in the Hollows series?

It’s a question I get a lot. And while it’s a simple answer, I’m going to explain the whole story to you about Hollowland so you can understand.

Hollowland was written as a stand-alone novel. My intention and my belief was that Remy died at the end of the novel. True story. That’s how I wrote it, that’s how I planned on leaving it. And if you want to scroll back through my older stuff, you’ll see that when I initially published Hollowland, I made no mention of sequels or it being in a series, because it wasn’t. I fully 100% wrote it as a stand alone novel.

But my mom said, “I want there to be a sequel. Write another one.” So, because my mom loved the book and she asked, I wrote another one.

Again, with the second book, I ended in such way that I felt like I didn’t have to write another book if I didn’t want to. Because this was never intended to be a series, and I don’t have a long arc for it. It was supposed to be a standalone novel. I did discuss as I was writing both books that I didn’t actually enjoy writing either of the Hollows. They’re difficult for me to write, I think, because they’re so action heavy, and because there’s only so many different ways to describe zombies/killing zombies/zombies killing people before it starts to seem really redundant.

With Hollowmen, I decided to give them a bit more of a Happily-Ever-After because I thought that would satisfy readers a bit more in case I decided not to write another a book, because after I wrote Hollowmen, I was thinking that I probably wouldn’t. I didn’t have ideas and didn’t know where the story could go.

So where does that leave a third Hollows book?

I worked on an outline for it at one point, but it felt redundent, so at this time, I saw there probably won’t be a third book.  But I still think the ending of Hollowmen stands up and won’t be that different in the regard that I don’t ever planning on defeating the zombies in the Hollows world. There will always be zombies, so any kind of HEA will always be relative to that.

So that’s it. There may be another book, but there probably won’t be.  For all intents and purposes, the Hollows is finished as a series.

For those wondering, my mom has not asked for a third book. And even if she had, I don’t think it would change much. The only definitive answer I can give is that I have no plans for a third book at any time in the near future.

So my last blog was November 30th, and I was like “Hey watch out for my blog and all this fun stuff happening!” And then I never posted again. December 2012 marks the first month in the history of this blog that I didn’t blog at all.

I knew I needed to take a break from blogging, but I didn’t want to say why I was taking break, because I’d have to explain it, so I kept putting it off. And then I didn’t want to blog, because I’d have to explain why I hadn’t been, and that would mean really talking about it, and I didn’t want to.

But now I think it’s time.

The best way for me to tell this story is to tell it all. This is going to be a long blog, so you can choose not to read it. But here’s the beginning: My favorite person in the whole world died. Not my fake favorite like Tom Hardy, but the actual person that meant more to me than anything.

I think that’s the best way to say it, because saying “my grandma died” doesn’t actually articulate what happened. Nor does it convey even slightly the tremendous loss the world has without Nanny.

I’m sure most people love their grandparents and think they’re awesome. But Nanny truly was the most awesome grandma ever. I describe her as a cross between Michael Caine and Betty White, but that doesn’t even explain her awesomeness. She was British and had the quickest wit and she was so warm and she was everybody’s grandma or mom. Everyone loved her. Everyone that knew her loved her.

My earliest memories are being with her. She used babysit me all the time, and I’ve lived with her on and off most of my life. She would read to me, and I would tell her stories. Nanny was the first person that encouraged to me tell stories, and she nurtured the imagination and loved me so unconditionally that I absolutely couldn’t have done any of the things I’ve done without her.

A few years ago, Nanny started getting Alzheimer’s. Everything happened so fast after that. By the time I was publishing books, she was too far gone to read them. She could still read, but she no longer had the attention span or memory to get past a page.

And for years – probably my entire life – I told Nanny I would be an author, and I would take her to England. By the time I could finally afford to, she was too far gone to travel. If there’s anything in my life that I regret or that I’m truly angry about it’s that. She left England in 1957, and she’s only been back three times since then, even though her mom and brother and sisters were there. And I just I wanted to take here there, and I never could, and it pisses me off and it hurts and there’s nothing can do about it.

The first time she forgot my name was one of the hardest days of my life. My aunt was living with Nanny and taking care of her, and she needed my help with something. And I went over, and Nanny knew she should know me, but she didn’t. And she was crying, and I kept reassuring her that it was okay. But I went home and I bawled because that’s when I knew I was really losing her, that Nanny wasn’t going to be here much longer.

The thing about Alzheimer’s it’s that you get to lose them twice. Her body was here, but her mind was mostly gone. But then she’d had have these moments of almost-clarity where she’d sound like herself, and that was the worst. Because then it was gone. And I just wanted to talk to her. 

On November 16, 2012, the Friday before Thanksgiving, my mom and I went up to Nanny’s care facility (she’d been living in a memory care unit for some time). We thought it was just for a meeting to see how she was doing since they’d adjusted some of her meds. Instead, they sat us down and told us that Nanny was dying, and she maybe had six months.

It was this surreal moment when the head of the facility sat us down. As soon as she did, I knew that Nanny was dying, and I kept thinking, “But she doesn’t have cancer. She was just at the doctors, and they didn’t do tests. She can’t have cancer.”

Well, no, Nanny didn’t have cancer. But her body was shutting down, and she didn’t have much time left.

We went to talk with her, and Nanny was so drowsy and out of it. She barely spoke to us. She was barely awake. But when my mom hugged her, Nanny kept telling her it would be okay. Then we left. And that was the last time I saw her alive.

On midnight on December 4th, Nanny passed away in her sleep.

My mom had gone to seen Nanny between the day we found she was dying and the day she died. But I didn’t. She was so out of it, and I… I don’t know. I want nothing more than the world than to talk to her again, but I couldn’t talk to her like that. She couldn’t really talk.

I know she loved me, and she knows I loved her. I know that. And that’s the one comfort I have.

Because of the Alzheimer’s, I expected her passing to be easier. Because I’d already lost her. But the finality of death has really made this excruciating. I will never talk to her again. The brutality of that statement is immeasurable.

When I was 14-15, I lived a block away from her. I used to walk over to her house in the afternoon. We’d go through her old pictures and we’d talk. And I am so very grateful for that time. That’s probably been the best use of my time in my entire life.

But I still miss her so much. It’s like all the times I spent missing her over the past few years, I’d bottled them, and they’re all here now. It’s a wave of emptiness, and it feels like its taken the best parts of me. She was all love and laughter. I know that doesn’t make sense, but anything she gave me, I still have, but it feels like a part of me gone. Like a huge chunk of me just disappeared.

And it doesn’t seem possible that she’s not here. It doesn’t seem fair that the world can exist without her. And I’m mad that I have to live without her. And I’m mad that my kids will never get to know her. I’m mad that nobody will ever get to know her agian, the world has been deprived of her.

And I know I’m doing a bad job of telling how amazing she truly was, but it’s because there aren’t words. There was something intangible about her, something utterly lovely and charming and warm and genuine and funny, and you felt it whenever you were around her. She made you feel loved and special, and she was quick and smart.

And I know that I should just feel grateful about the time I had with her. She was amazing, and many of my favorite memories from my childhood are with her. I got to her know, and she loved me. And I should be grateful, and I am.

But I’m also greedy. I wanted more time. I just want to talk to her again. I’ve never wanted anything more. I didn’t even know it was possible to want something this much. And every time I think I can’t cry anymore, I cry more.

So that’s it. That’s why I haven’t been blogging or writing or really doing anything all that useful the last few weeks. I hadn’t written anything since Nanny died, but I started writing last night. I miss her, and I will always miss her.

Nanny and me in 1995

I love 28 Days Later. It’s my favorite zombie movie (George Romero fans everywhere a calling a Judas). Part of the reason that I enjoy it as much as I do is probably because it was such an intense viewing experience for me the first I saw it. I’d just gotten a snug piercing.

This is a rook piercing

The “snug” piercing is the the thick part. Not the three ones in the lobe.

I love 28 Days Later. It’s my favorite zombie movie (George Romero fans everywhere a calling a Judas). Part of the reason that I enjoy it as much as I do is probably because it was such an intense viewing experience for me the first I saw it. I’d just gotten a snug piercing.

The snug piercing was the most painful thing I’ve ever done, yet stupidly, I went on to get a rook piercing a few months later.(I’d always thought they were both rooks, but in research just now, I discovered they were different things. I was also unable to find a picture of of anyone that had a rook & a snug in the same ear, so apparently, I’m the only one stupid enough to do that).

Neither of the piercings fully healed. They frequently got infection and were full of problems. I had them for something like 5 years, and that entire time I could never sleep on my left side (the side the peircings were on). Taking them out was probably the smartest thing I ever did.

But anyway. I got the piercing, and I went to the movie. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched a zombie on the big screen while you’re in huge amounts of pain, but it’s very intense.

Zombies freak me out. A lot. There’s current trend in literature to humanize that I’m super into. The point of zombies is that they’re a senseless mass. They don’t feel pain. They don’t feel remorse. They can’t be reasoned with.. Their hunger is never satiated. And no matter how many you kill, there’s always a thousand more waiting behind them. That is terrifying.

It also makes them the most awesome monster because they’re so unstoppable. You can’t ever really defeat zombies. You can kill some, but there will always be more. You can only hope to hide out somewhere long enough you to catch your breath.

Since I’m afraid of zombies, it probably seems weird that I would write about them.

But then you consider that I’m super terrified of trolls (like I have to check under my bed to make sure they’re not hiding under my bed like Cat’s Eye or Earnest Scared Stupid to this day). I do not like trolls. They’re gonna live in my walls and steal my stuff and kill my pets and then one day murder me. 

I’m also frightened of the ocean. Not immensely so, but I assume there are monsters in there that are going to eat. I am afraid of sharks, but that’s not even what I fear so much as like some weird sea creature with ten billion teeth and Angler Fish. You find one thing more terrifying looking than the Angler Fish. You can’t. They are monsters.

One of my favorite movies is Labyrinth, but to this day, I’m frightened of the goblins. I’m actually scared of at least 50% of Jim Henson’s creations. I used to have nightmares about Sam Eagle.

So given all this, it seems a bit strange that I’d write books about zombies and the ocean and trolls. But since I like Jim Henson and 28 Days Later, maybe I like being frightened.

No. I do not like to be frightened. Not all. But I am obsessed with my fears. I’m really incredibly neurotic. So all of my thoughts naturally go to the things I fear most, like zombies, trolls, dying alone, Christian Bale. (I’m also terrified of Christian Bale. People mistake my obsession with him for a crush, but it’s really terror).

Every book I write about is just me working through my fears. You guys are all part of my therapy. Thank you everyone. You’ve been very helpful through this time, and I’ve actually been able to stand in my room with the lights off without being certain that a tiny troll with a very strong grip is going to reach out from under the bed and grab my ankle.

The moral of the story: 28 Days Later is a very good movie. The zombies are awesome, the cinematography is wonderful, and Cillian Murphy is the greatest.

(Another side note: My favorite part of all of The Dark Knights Rises was Cillian’s cameo. I squealed aloud in the theater, but I think everyone around me was cool with it, because they’d been clapping a lot. They clapped 5 times during Batman Begins at the trilogy viewing at the AMC I was at. Five times. I was like, “Dude. This is a movie. Christopher Nolan can’t hear you, and right now you’re applauding over the dialogue so I can’t hear Cillian Murphy talk.”)