Feeling Frisky

NEED REVIEWS!

I have officially set up a FREE promotion for my book on Kindle. It will start at midnight on the 24th of April. Which is tonight... Anyways, I need reviews, not on my blog, not on my Facebook, or my Twitter. I need reviews on Amazon. If you are a self published author, you know, reviews are basically your life line on Amazon. I have over 7000 books out, yet I have on review on Amazon.... I really do appreciate all the awesome comments and compliments via my social media sites, but I really need you to tell everyone else what you think!

I will post the link below, please share with as many people as possible, emphasize my dire need for reviews on AMAZON! And no I wont be mad if you leave a comment that isn't exactly glorifying my writing. I understand, some people have bad taste! ;) Just joking everyone! 

Please download my book and leave a review once you are finished! I know it seems unimportant, but it's basically what gets an indie author noticed! 

Thank you everyone, hope you enjoy my book, especially because it is free!

It's a Secret... FREE ON KINDLE

Converted to the Dark Side

The Dark Side Brings Light

So it seems, Twitter is actually half way decent. That is until you get suspeneded because to many people follow you to fast. Seems to me Twitter has its priorities all jacked up. Regardless, you should follow me, if you don't have a twitter, I will post my Facebook Fan Page, if you still cant connect then I will give you my Google+ account! 

Thanks guys, and remember to follow my blog! I get over 5,000 views a day but not even half that in followers. Stay with me my friends! 

Author Twitter

Facebook Fan Page

Author Google+

Thank you everyone, this means a lot. Remember, don't be a stranger!

My First Book Signing

That was Interesting

I really didn't expect a huge group... I should've raised my expectations.

Turns out my friends and family have been promoting like crazy!

I had over 490 people show up for my book signing!

I wont lie, I feel a little famous.

Anyways.

Today overall was a good day to be a writer, I talked to a very interesting old man today.

Anytime I see a homeless guy over the age of 50, I feel inclined to talk to them.

He went on to tell me about all the adventures he entertained in his youth.

I cant say I am as couragous as he was, but I try my best.

He told me a story that really shook me to the core.

It was about his life on the streets.

And the story goes like this.

"I am not out here because I couldn't find work, I am not eating scraps and being a slob because I am lazy. I am doing it for a much more fundamental reason, something you probably would've never thought of. I am out here because I realized this was my last chance to have an adventure. I was told 3 years ago that I had cancer, and it wasn't looking good.

Instead of waisting away in a hospital bed, I resorted to finding out the answer of my last question.

I wanted to see first hand, if the world had more good people then bad."

So naturally I asked, "So what did you find?"

He said, " It's not that simple, my friend. This is a story that wont ever have an ending, it can't be told by one person, especially not by me. I have lived a life of good and evil, I am a sinner and I hope I have been forgiven. This world is like a balance beam, and when someone dares to venture across its narrow path. Sometimes we lose our balance, sometimes we sway, sometimes we are evil, and sometimes we are saints. The best lesson I have learned, was from a young man not much older than you. He told me, " It is okay to be afraid, it is okay to misunderstand, the most important thing you must say to yourself at the end of the day, is it is okay to be alone, and to love like there is no end." I was just as skeptical as anyone else, I was taught to be a big strong man and have no fears. But it dawned on me that I have mostly lived a life of fear, and hide from the reality that keeps us alive."

He paused for a few seconds and looked into the sky before saying, " Tanner, this is my last adventures, you will most likely be the last to hear my story. I am dying and I can feel it more everyday, I disappeared one day and left my family to wonder why. I wasn't punishing them in any way, I just didn't want them to anticipate how much they would miss me when I was gone.

I know it was selfish, but they did their best to understand. This is my way of teaching them a lesson that will never fade away. They know how much I love them and that's all I had left to offer. 

My only question now is, do they miss me everyday, do they drive by a lost man like me and wonder if it's me? "

I did my best to reassure him that no matter the circumstance, they will miss you till their day comes to meet you in that special place. 

And just like that he walked away, but I like to think, he was finally going to go home and stop living in fear. Death is apart of life and I think he finally came to terms with the stories he told. 

The Ryhthm of the Night

Fracturing Functionality 

We reside in the dark, so we can shake off the light.

Never thought we would be here, and now look at us over there.

This is the rhythm of my life, This is the rhythm of the night.

We sleep for a higher meaning, we dream to finally start breathing.

The tides are turning the gears that are grinding.

You go to sleep alone, in a house that is not your own.

Don't talk now, just tell us how.

Lust is our only source of love, we hate to be known by those faces we miss.

Have you seen my soul? It went missing when I went into the mist.

I found a true story, I found your lies more often then not.

I lift your emotions so you can smile, I take the burden that extra mile.

He is hungry in a bedroom alone, what am I supposed to do when you are not you anymore?

We hide in the light, so we don't have to live in the dark.

Always thought we would be here, now we are stuck somewhere in between.

This was our rhythm, now our song is static heat break.

Cant sleep anymore, my dreams turned against me.

The waters are still now, the storm is settling in the stones that stopped our turning.

You found someone to love, only problem is, it isn't me.

Can we talk now? How am I supposed to do this?

I am lusting for your love now, I hate knowing your face is something I will always miss.

I sold my soul, to the man who owns us all.

I lost my fairytale story, all it took was one line to finish them all.

You dug me a hole that stretched for miles, my emotions needed the room to breed.

His tasteless words fell short of my tongue, all I want is, whoever you want to be.

Have you ever lost someone you loved and hated?

 

 

 

Feeling Free

Feeling Free!

I am in a free kind of mood! Everyone likes free stuff right? Well I think it is about time to do another free promo on my book via Kindle.

Last time was a huge success but sadly only ONE person left a review... I guess people don't know how important reviews are for self published authors! 

This time we are going to go BIG! I will post the link when the promo starts, I want to see double the numbers. Last time I ranked number 1 in several categories, I gave away over 1100 copies. 

Anyways, how is everyone doing today? 

As for me, I am doing great! I am working on landscaping my entire backyard at the moment, I came across an interesting finding. At some point, someone decided to put cement in the entire yard... 

Makes sense, considering I have been waging a war against the soil for the past year...

This should be an interesting process! 

I will post before and after pictures, I have some crazy sketches going on, so hopefully it will look amazing!

TIME FOR BUSINESS

I just started a new community on Google+ called, " The Writers Cartel." Everyone who has joined has been awesome, if anyone is wondering what a writers cartel is, I will give you a brief description.

I learned in a writing group I was in, that every writer needs a cartel!

In this cartel, you should have writers, readers, editors, and publishers. Literary Agents would be a big plus as well! In this cartel, everyone pulls together and helps one another, I am attempting to build forever professional and personal friendships. 

Anyone and everyone is welcome to join, feel free to promote your work, ask for reviews, we can help you critique your work, and guide you through the art of self publishing or traditional publishing.

This is going to be an interesting adventure, collectively we are all writers and authors, soon we will have much more diversity. My goal is to give everyone a fun place to talk amongst other professionals.

Please join us, share us, and talk to us!

The Writers Cartel

Obviously, if you are reading this, you found my blog! Be sure to share it with friends and family. I also have a Facebook Fan Page and I will post links to my book!

Just like I mentioned above, for any self published author, reviews are extremely important! 

Be sure to watch my book on Kindle, I will be doing a free promo within the next 48 hours.

The links will be below, please forward to friends and family.

Also I want to reitterate my attempt at donating to the victims and families effected by the Boston Bombings. 

For the next two weeks every penny that I make off my book will go straight to my donation. 

PLEASE HELP ME HELP OTHERS IN NEED!

Here are those links I promised you!

Facebook Fan Page

It's a Secret... Kindle

Tanner Lane/ Author Blog

Don't be a stranger, add my on any of the links above and say, "Hey!"

Have a good day everyone, and God Bless.

 

Book Preview. Boston Bombing Donation.

"It's a Secret..."

PREVIEW!

Please read the bottom. Important information about my Boston Bombing Donation.

Stephen Kane Skyes


It’s a Secret…

    ...We all have one, so why should I feel so guilty? For as long as I can remember my secret has dwelled inside me like a festering wound, so desperate for attention. Seventeen years in the making and it will never see the light of day. Hiding among memories, some that are broken, most that won’t be forgotten. My lips will remain sealed while the voices in my head punish my thoughts and destroy the essence of my dreams. Don’t get me wrong, the voices want to be heard, but sadly my secret's biggest fear is to be said and fall on deaf ears. I want some place safe to store such crippling fantasies. Though I know once the layers are peeled back and I’m exposed, the truth will spread like a wildfire, everyone will know and then everyone will be able to see the real me. No more whispers in the hall ways at a new school which is started every year. “Who is he?” I have managed to be the “new kid” every year, which is an inescapable reality when your parent, in my case my father, finds their calling in the military.
     It’s a hard life to live, not only for the soldier, but for the family as well. Change is a constant reminder when the boxes start filling the rooms where memories barely had the chance to be bred. We can’t choose our family, or so the saying goes. Sometimes I wish the escape button found on my keyboard could be applied to my life, especially as it sits right now. My dad drunk as usual, mom knitting away at some blanket that will find its way in an all you can eat buffet, moths only. I try drowning out his nonsense, he holds the remote which controls the volume to his voice or so it seems. The louder he gets the more I cringe, the lessons are always seamlessly the same, “Hey boy, yeah that’s right I am talking to you! Look at me while I fucking speak to you! Are you fucking retarded, why is it so fucking hard for you to man up?” He, for whatever reason has a growing complex about his leadership skills. I assume it’s because the fuck ups he claims as “his marines” continue to fuck up. I know he has a stressful job, my hat always goes off to him for being able to stay in as long as he has. I couldn’t fathom my entire life time plus three years spent in near death situations. So regardless of his alcoholic tendencies and the demon that lives inside, he will forever and always have my respect.
             Although his intentions are raw, the pain they cause could easily be averted but like anything else in this life style, the course of correction is inevitable and rules are made to be followed. He sees a lot of himself in me, which I would most certainly hope so, or else I would've always had the heavy question of “who is my father”…If  Darth Vader would like the opportunity to claim me as his long lost son, I would be very easily convinced to follow him to the dark side.
    Growing up in the military has its cons, Religion seems to follow it. Once again here I go assuming, but it seems throughout history they both go hand in hand, which in turn means my entire life is succumb to preset beliefs. See my dad has assumed the role of God in my life. He created his ten commandments, which just like the all holy Lord and Savior; there are consequences to not following his rules. So I have learned to be a rather obedient child, yet the voice we all know so well buried in our subconscious is screaming, “Shake the foundation, and watch your structured life fall to pieces…” All I want is to be… me…. But at what cost?





Riona Phea Richardson


It’s a Lie…

    ...Yet they always sound the sweetest. You would think the taste would be bitter, especially when the words are found on everyone’s tongue. All the words come together, they dance in the stars, hearts race and hearts break. “I love you.” Terrified as a child I can’t recall my mom ever saying those daring words, she left us, my dad and I, not by choice. Cancer took her like the grim it is and walked away with any opportunity I had to be just like her.
     My dad can be found on any street corner posting of wanted criminals. He wasn’t always a bad man, not until the monster came out to play just after mommy died. Now a days I find it hard to restrain myself and keep everything a secret. The police are convinced that he played a part in some type of drug ring. I never had the opportunity to hear the finer details but I wouldn’t put it past him. I will give him the benefit of the doubt though, he has taught me a lot about life. Daddy showed me what men would do when they went hungry. I learned firsthand how addiction can take a good decision and make it a nightmare. Most of all I realized what happens when you haven’t had a fix for a few days and your only currency is your daughter’s body. Those men, those men were really hungry.
     This life is lawless, the justice system has tried to establish the rules, but those words fall silent in the dungeon I call home. Isolation is my sanctuary. I haven’t known anything other than that lonely world. Daddy wouldn’t give his daughter an opportunity to be better than him. He claimed home schooling was how he learned everything there is to know about the world. My only argument still rings true, “Daddy, knowing how to make a bong out of a bottle of jack, doesn’t make you a genius.”
    These four walls create the only amount of space I can feel safe, when he locks me away in the closet just down the hall from the devil's playground. I turn off the lights and imagine being a princess, locked away for her own good by the Kings and Queens of ole, anticipating the arrival of prince charming. I always manage a whisper when my whole world goes dark, “Please hurry, I need to be saved.” One day I know I will be free from sin and I can walk amongst the angels, finally be able to meet mommy. I often wonder what the consequences would be if I spoiled Gods plan, if I jumped off that bridge, and went plummeting head first into oncoming traffic. I reckon it would be pretty much the same, living in hell, living with him, what’s the difference? So any time that thought crosses my mind, no matter how tempting, I just talk to my mom, and promise her we will meet as soon as time has graced me.


     The anticipation is growing, the knot is forming, and just one more year and I can finally feel security, safety, in numbers I hope. Friends would be nice, a boyfriend would be better, someone I can finally call home. I wonder what that life would be like, will I find my prince charming, or will I be caged by another monster? Only time will tell, which by the looks of it, it’s standing still. Leaving me with the question, am I already dead? Is this my hell?





Stephen


Not again…

    ...Every Sunday eight am sharp, “No time for beauty sleep, wake up kiddo”, comes screeching out of my mother’s throat like a train on a collision course with a truck stuck on the tracks. Wish I was in it. It’s routine around here that keeps this house moving forward in the “right direction”. Before church; brush my teeth, pretend to take a shower, comb over my greasy hair, dig through my dirty laundry to find church appropriate attire. On the way; act like I am excited, talk about last week’s sermon, prepare to be judged… Sitting next to my parents; giving off the impression we are a normal family, search for a deeper meaning behind the message, my eyes feeling heavy, now I am asleep. This is my life. Well let me rephrase that statement, this is the life they want me to live.
    Towards the end my parents bow their head for prayer. I tend to keep mine straight up, and I mean come on if God is in heaven why would you bow your head towards hell? I heard someone going on in a rant one time claiming “If the bible is God’s book, then why didn’t he give it to everyone?” At first the point was nowhere to be found but the more I think about it, the more mind began to wander. What if the bible was written under the devils influence? It’s possible considering a man wrote the damn thing… All those wasted prayers...Who’s your father now? Anyways, on the ride home my dad is going on about how the message has really opened his eyes, blah blah blah. Guess what? The second we got home he sat his lazy ass down in his chair, cracked open a beer, and started bitching about the world. It was a real eye opener. Like I mentioned before routine is the key word here, but today I decided to do something different...
    Generally I would go hide away in my room, but not today. Today I was knee deep in curiosity. A split second decision left me with the idea to break the chains of my captivity and venture into the world, a new face in a fresh place. We just relocated to Newcastle, Oklahoma. It’s a pretty small town, not a whole lot going on. Thankfully they didn’t decide to stay on base this time. After being cooped up in a two bedroom apartment with neighbors surrounding us on all side, my parents decided to rent a house. Well it’s not really a house it’s more or less a double wide with a wraparound deck. The inside is not what I was drawn to as we drove up the gravel road; it was the sheer beauty of the land the house called home. I had never seen so many trees, for once the landscape was not orderly by any means as they crammed so tight that not even a glimmer of light broke free of the branches and leaves. It held so much mystery, like me. Those old oaks knew a life longer than most and soared high above reality where so many of us are trapped.
    
  I haven’t even had a chance to get grass stains on my new jeans. The second my dad dozed off in one of his afternoon naps, I busted out the door and ran across the field filled with tall grass that was in motion with the wind. At the foot of the woods I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets this new place has to offer. For the first time, I had a place to call home. But for how long?




Riona


Must’ve misplaced my tongue…

    ...I don’t know what is more embarrassing, my dad in hand cuffs in front of the only mall in this pathetic excuse for a town, or the fact that the crowd gathering around, staring at me from all directions is listening to my dad go on about how the coke is mine…. Talk about being in a fish bowl with piranhas. Once the cops finally got a hold of my coked out father and had him secured behind bars two cars behind, it was inevitable and obvious it was my turn on the spot light. They had to call in a female cop to search me, can we emphasize the word embarrassing? Attempting to not make contact with all the wandering eyes spectating as this bitch was ripping apart my bra, like a pirate in search of treasures. After the search turned up nothing to back up my dad’s claims, it was now time for the interrogation…
    Oh the questions are always the same, it’s not that I don’t like helping the police; I am just tired of answering them. So I stand there silent and calm projecting my mind elsewhere. As usual the blank stare on my face pisses them off something awful and in the car I go. Booking is my favorite part just because for once, I get to talk to someone about my life and guess what, I never hold anything back. Usually they think I am just some tweaked out prostitute looking for pity… But there was something different about the way she looked into my eyes, studying my body movement, soaking up every tear. I think when she saw me, it was like looking into a mirror, and she saw my soul withering inside. She wanted to save me…
    This time wasn’t like the others; there were more questions, more strange faces, more sympathy. They asked me about my father, my life or lack of it. It was strange but the words fell out with ease. The sentences began to form, my story for once was being heard, and it was actually making sense this time. Even for me. I can’t say I was looking forward to a small cot in a cold room with a woman that wanted to take whatever innocence I had left. I wasn’t much of a fighter so jail to me, was all the horror stories you hear about but never believe. This time the soft spoken woman, my guardian angel, that brought so much attention to my lifeless existence, held my hand and guided me to a room that was all mine, a warm bed made just for me. She took into consideration that I was hungry and brought me the biggest cheeseburger she could find, extra mayo please. I felt like one of those rich kids you see on TV, but in my reality I was nestled between four white walls and a glass door. I was in a cage again, but at least this one didn’t have a monster on the other side. Finally, I can sleep with both eyes closed.
    I must’ve escaped while I was off dreaming, because when I opened my eyes I was in a whole new world. New faces, new questions, one which I am still asking myself. What happens now?



Stephen

Coming to terms…

    ...With the mental realization that although I try my very hardest, every attempt I make at pride turns up disappointment. Not in my eyes, in my eyes all I see is the grass getting greener, yet it’s always short lived, it’s a brief existence of pure happiness. When I get home I am judged, I am scrutinized for the way my mind develops ideas. When does one come to terms with the fact that maybe it’s time to finally spread ones wings and fly far, far away? Looking at the clock standing still while life can only be found in constant motion, waiting for the pages to start turning the days to start wasting. One more month, holding my breath, I will then have the legal right I need to finally breathe. Until then it’s off to school for this tired mind. The anticipation is long overdue. This time I will be the nail that sticks out the furthest. I will get hammered the hardest. Any amount of force is only going to drive me to push harder, to run further, to be better… for me….

    And here we are, once again a new face in a scary place, high school; cliques of every nature, rules made for disorder, corruption at every corner. This place is strange; It lacks the feeling of temptation. The walls turn up nothing but white paint covered by propaganda, hand written. Someone took the time to color in the lines yet the purple plastered across the canvas shows no conviction. The hand was forced and the idea went stale. After a lonely walk down the long hallway I finally reach the point of no return, the office. I hadn’t even made it inside when I realized everyone was staring back at me. I think to myself, “We should tread carefully, we are on dangerous grounds.” The rules are laid out once again, tardiness is no excuse! No off campus lunch! The consequences are the usual, detention, suspension! Here’s a new one, you have a decision… Take the time behind bars or choose a swinging position for the old man at the top to hit you with a paddle on your ass….. If I didn’t already fear for mankind’s vulnerability, now we are subjected to letting a pervert get his rocks off by telling you to bend over so he can give you an all too powerful golf swing right in the hole.
     After that brief moment of disgust I am off to my first class, English. Not my favorite but I suppose I manage better than the minorities that put me to shame in Spanish. The door slams shut behind me as I walk awkwardly into the most well behaved class in the world, scratch that, everyone is just whispering “Who is he?”…. again…. I am directed to an empty seat dead center in front of the class but before I can sit, I am instructed to stand before the class and tell everyone a secret. My face throbbing with every blood vessel bursting. I think out loud unknowingly, “I’m not giving any of these idiots any fuel to make my life hell.” The silence breaks with laughter, my face once a shade blood redder then most has evolved into a bright purple. I am the nail, they are the hammer. How bad will this hurt?



Riona


To late…

    ...Too realize I made a mistake, too late to go back now. My story stirred up a lot of attention, but not the right kind of attention. My dad is being sentenced today and it’s not looking good for him. In his case he went before the judge and jury already being guilty, no innocence in his soul. Your questions are stacked as high as mine. What happens to me? Where do I go? No family left alive, looks like foster care for me. Is it as bad as they say? Will I share a room with 20 girls that are as tainted as I? Only time will tell. For the first time I am screaming for the hands to stop turning, but time has a funny way of showing you that it was made for suffering. Ever think about those nights you can’t sleep? Have some where to be early in the morning the next day? The clock strikes 6 and you are left without a single dream. There is no escape, no pause, no refresh. We are forever travelers of time, not backwards as we wish but forward to our deaths. We have to sit and watch as our loved ones turn to rust, our skin begins to wrinkle as our eyes start to shrink.

    One door closes and a thousand open right? I don’t have a choice between which pills I take. Knowing my luck both red and blue will be forced down my throat. So down the rabbit hole I go, which end I will come out no one will ever know. First day in the blue, I find my new room and it’s filled with someone new, but whom? There are clothes scattered around, like confetti. I must’ve missed the party. Temporary family placement they call it. I have a family, and I have a lie. Mom, dad, sister, might be a nice change. I will try to conform, play sweet Mormon girl if I must. I can be the girl next door. This mask weighs heavy but this smile breaks down, alone at last in a room not my own.
    “Tracy will be home after cheer practice”, says mother dearest. “Feel free to make yourself at home,” whistles fake father, and down the hall they go. The blankets wrapped around and around once more, I am alone in this house they call home. Look at the bright side right, here’s a new life, maybe the one mommy made available just for me. So I sit quiet waiting for the red to kick in, for the door to open bringing new wonders far beyond my comprehension. I try to close my eyes to remember a time before the noise, before the silence that filled inside, before the violence, before the crashing of the waves. I wish I were still falling, falling for release. I see the ground coming and it’s a one way train headed straight for insanity. Hello red, the color of my dreams, asleep again.
    Dinner is lonely with a room full of strangers, staring, stirring, chopping, and gawking. Is my secret showing? No questions to be asked. They must know my story. Finally the sister’s phone starts ringing, a quick hello goodbye lets the pressure go out easy. A party down the street she pleads, mother leaves one condition, take Riona. In the car we go, my stomach is turning driving down the road in this new city. Newcastle, does this new castle have a dungeon like the last?

BOSTON DONATION

Okay, so to answer all your questions at once. Due to recent events, like the Boston Bombing, I have made the decision to go ahead and donate every penny I make to the families and victims of the Boston Bombings. Please share the links below to your friends and families, like I said every book I sell, I will donate 100% to the families and victims of the Boston Bombings. 

Blog: http://tannerlanecontact.blogspot.com/2013/03/its-secret.html

Kindle Edition: http://www.amazon.com/Its-a-Secret-ebook/dp/B00C47VS5S/ref=tmm_kin_title_0

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1483991733/ref=r_soa_s_i

Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tanner-Lane/453430488062463

Thank you so much everyone. I hope I can raise enough money to help pay for any hospital bills and or funeral costs. Please help me raise the money to help the people who desperately need it.

People might be saying our country is falling apart, but I look at the chaos as an opportunity for everyone to come back together and reconnect. Lets help anyone and everyone we can! 

John 13:34

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."

Tips&Tricks

Tips&Tricks

I have been asked by several people to post some of my tips and tricks.

With that said, hope this helps!

Stay tuned, every day I will post a new tip or trick!

1. Talking to yourself doesn't make you crazy!
   
   I know what you are thinking, "Why on earth would I talk to myself?" Trust me, even though this is one of my best tricks, I still ask myself the same question! Let me rephrase and re-approach this statement, you are literally going to be talking to yourself, but in turn, you are getting to know your characters! When I get stuck in what I call, "The Grey Haze" I always resort to this tactic.
   
   Step 1. Turn off EVERY distraction, lock yourself away in a quiet room and if you must, put a sign on the door in BOLD, UNDERLINED, and in a BRIGHT color that says," I AM WRITING! LEAVE ME ALONE!" 
   
   Step 2. Turn on your computer, or pick up your piece of paper and a pen.
   
   Step 3. Ask a question (write down everything, your question, and the answer!)
    Example: What is your name? Can you tell me what you are doing? How is your day going? I am trying to write your story, but your voice has been very vague lately, care to elaborate?
   
   Step 4. Let the answers come to you, do not force it, just let it happen. Trust me, it will happen! Let your characters inner voice be heard. (see step 3 for the questions of these answers!)
    Example: I have a few names, some of my names can only be heard by the wind, most of my names you wont be able to say. So how about we keep things simple, my name is, Deception.
   I could tell you what I am doing, but I am pretty sure you don't want to know. Oh to hell with it, you seem like a nice guy, I am actually attending to my business in the bathroom at the moment!
   My day has been rather monotanous, nothing to exciting going on. The highlight of my day was when I tripped in front of the girl I am basically in love with.
   I already told you, my story is very obviously boring. Good luck writing a book based off of a guy like me.
   
   
   See there, now I have established a few facts about this character. He clearly has some issues with insecurities, how I figure that is because he wont even reveal his real name. He then talks about the highlight of his day being an embarrassing moment in front of a girl he loves. From here I would continue to ask more probing questions, look at your characters like a stranger you run into in an airport. Ask question you would generally ask someone you hardly know, be cautious at first, gain their trust, then when their walls start to drop. Ask the questions you really need answers too!
   
   
   GET TO KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS! This will help you write their story the right way!