Anna Carey's five favorites are below, send in your personal favs for a chance to win some wonderfully Eve-alicious prizes!
I just finished Rise, the third and final book in The Eve Trilogy. The greatest thing about ending one series and starting another is the time you have to relax, reflect, and take in all the culture you’ve missed while you’ve been writing away. Here are a few of my favorite books, movies, and music. Some are old favorites, others I’ve just discovered. All of them have served to inspire.
I can’t get enough survival stories. I’m a recovering I Shouldn’t be Alive addict, and as a teen I devoured books like Hatchet and Lord of the Flies. My more recent favorites are Life of Pi and Wild. There are so many rich, vivid descriptions in Life of Pi—the book has stuck with me in the seven or so years since I read it. I’m halfway through Wild, about a young woman hiking the Pacific Crest trail, and really enjoying it. She leaves for the trail after the death of her mother. Those passages describing her loss, and how her marriage came undone afterwards, are some of the most moving I’ve read.
I recently went to see The Hunger Games and The Avengers. I loved every minute of The Hunger Games. I was literally giddy watching all the added scenes with the Gamemakers creating the show. It was one of those rare instances where I enjoyed the movie as much as I did the book (in different ways, but still). The Avengers was another fun one…did anyone else tear up towards the end? Tony Stark! Noooooo!
I’m obsessed with Mad Men. It’s rare to have a main character so impossible to predict. What will Don Draper do next? We’re never quite sure. I was also a huge Alias fan—no one does cliffhangers better. If you wanted to be Sydney Bristow too, you may want to check out Kyle XY. The show ran a few years ago for just three seasons—but those seasons (especially the first one) are fantastic. It has Alias-like mystery, adventure, and cliffhangers, but it follows kids in high school.
I’ve been listening to Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun for a few years now, and it still hasn’t gotten old. I can always count on it to rev me up (and provide the perfect soundtrack for car dancing). Sia’s Breathe Me is awesome for those more angsty moments. It’s the modern “Everybody Hurts”.
Lately The Big Black and Blue and The Lion’s Roar by First Aid Kit are always on. To put it simply, I just love their sound. The Swedish folk band consists of two sisters. They have the clearest, sweetest voices. I could listen to them all day long (and sometimes do).
What are your recent favorites? Is there anything I MUST check out before I disappear again into the ol’ writing cave?
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As a teaser, here's a Once excerpt!
This excerpt is from the first chapters of ONCE. After spending several months in Califia, Eve has been kidnapped by one of the King’s soldiers. She’s taken to the City of Sand, a post-apocalyptic Las Vegas. Here she sees the Palace for the first time and discovers the fate that awaits her...
The Jeep was turning left, cutting up a long road that snaked toward a massive white building. Rows of government Jeeps sat out front. Soldiers were stationed along a strip of narrow trees, machine guns slung across their backs. I stared up at the expansive structure. The main entrance was lined with sculptures—winged horses, angels, women with their heads cut off. After driving so many miles we were here. The Palace.
The King was waiting for me.
Stark took me from the Jeep, his hand clamping down on my arm. I could barely breathe as we entered the circular marble lobby. The King’s face had haunted me for months. I thought of the photo I’d grown up with in School. His thin grey hair hung over his forehead. His skin was loose around his jowls and his beady eyes were always watching, following you wherever you went.
Soldiers milled about the lobby, some talking, others pacing in front of a fountain. Stark took me through a set of gold doors and into a small mirrored elevator. He punched a code into the keypad inside. The doors slid shut and then we were moving, up, up, my stomach rocking as the floors flew past—fifty gone, then fifty more.
“You’re going to regret this,” I said, straining against the plastic rope around my wrists. “I’ll tell him what you did. How your men threw me to the ground in that parking lot. You threatened to kill me.” I looked down at the gash in my arm, where the blood was crusted black.
Stark shook his head. “Whatever it takes,” he said, his voice flat. “Those were my orders. Do whatever it takes to bring you here.” Then he turned to me, his eyes bloodshot. He clutched the collar of my shirt and pulled me toward him so my face was just inches from his. “Those men you killed were like brothers to me. They served with me every day for three years. The King will never punish you for what you did, but I will make sure you never forget what happened that day.”
The doors opened before us with a terrifying bing! Stark’s nails dug into my arm as he led me to a room across the carpeted hall. “You’ll wait for him here.” Then he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced the plastic restraints in two. My hands tingled from the sudden rush of blood to my fingers.
The door closed. I leapt up and grabbed the handle, knowing before I even tried it that it would be locked. A long mahogany table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by a few heavy chairs. A massive window looked out onto the City, a two-foot ledge just a few inches below. I went to the glass, wedging my fingers beneath the pane, straining against it. “Please,” I muttered under my breath. “Please just open.”
“They’re sealed shut,” a voice said. I turned. Standing in the doorway was a man of about sixty. He had gray hair and thin, papery skin.
I stepped away from the window, my hands dropping to my sides. He wore a deep-blue suit and a silk tie, the New American crest embroidered on his lapel. He stalked forward, taking one slow lap around me, his eyes scanning my tangled auburn hair, the linen shirt soaked through with sweat, the scrapes around my wrists from where I’d been bound. He studied the wound on my arm. When he finally finished his survey he stood before me, then reached out and stroked my cheek. “My beautiful girl,” he said, running his thumb over my brow. “You’re here.”