Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Excerpt from First Visions: Second Sight Book One

So, I'm set up to do a blog tour towards the end of the month, but I thought I would share an excerpt from my novel now. I'll be making stops at a ton of fabulous blogs and participating in guest posts, giveaways, reviews and all sorts of other fun things. In the meantime, the following is the Prologue of  

First Visions: Second Sight Book One:

Kate Edwards Journal

May 8

I always prided myself growing up as being one of a kind. Being fearless and never giving a damn what anyone had to say about it. In high school, I was one of those girls who refused to fit into a mold. I wasn’t with the glue sniffers out back under the bleachers, but I wasn’t sitting with the head cheerleaders either. I felt in charge of my destiny and I was going to pursue my dream of being an artist despite the odds stacked against me. If anyone had told me otherwise, I had no problem telling that person where to shove it.

Little did I know, it sometimes really blows being one of a kind. For starters, I contracted bacterial meningitis in college. What are the chances? Only about 1,500 people in the entire country get it each year. I think there were more kids than that in my graduating class of high school. Once a person has meningitis, she has an eleven percent chance of dying and a twenty percent chance of losing a limb or suffering from brain damage. Nineteen years old and there was a good chance I was either going to be dead or armless.

Lucky for me, I woke up from the coma I fell into. No brain damage, both arms in tact and alive and kicking. Kate was back in business and ready to kick ass and take names. However, fate decided to kick my ass instead. I came back from the dead not the same old Kate. No, I was now Kate with a second sight.

Some people may not understand why I don’t simply bask in the glory of having psychic abilities. Set up a psychic hotline, write a book or maybe open a palm reading shop. My mother and I could move to a mansion and I could rename myself some cool mystical name like Clairvoyant Caterina.

Well, the first reason is— that idea isn’t possible. I have no control over what I see. I’ll go to sleep at night and dream myself unwilling into someone else’s head. It’s unimaginable how truly awful that could be. Do I really care about that special day my mailman spent with his first dog Skippy at the park during the summer he turned eleven? Or do I need to know about the yearlong affair my dentist has been having with his secretary? Worse yet, I haven’t been able to predict anything. I may be able to tell someone what he ate for dinner on a first date ten years ago, but not if he is going to die choking the next night.

Sometimes I think maybe there is some way to control what I see. Or maybe I should be doing something worthwhile instead of destining myself to a life as a shut-in. I just can’t understand why this happened to me. Whose brilliant idea was it to nominate Kate to see inside other people’s heads? And now that I’ve been given this gift, what the hell am I supposed to do with it?    

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