Just F*cking Stop


Over 6,400 people have died this year due to terrorism. 6,491 souls already gone in 2015 because someone just doesn’t fucking like the way you look, the color of your skin, where you’re from, or whom you pray to…or for whatever other fucked up reason they can come up with like, you know, they think they’re the rulers of this world.

Just stop.

Look, you may or may not want to know what’s happening in the really real world because that’d make the horrors, well, REAL. I get it. You’re safe in your house in [insert city here], USA or wherever. Live vicariously through your television or computer. But there are people in the world who aren’t feeling the same, and you know what? That could very easily be you. If you’re laughing at that, it tells me you haven’t really studied history. I just want to point out what exactly has happened in the past year, and you should (I certainly can’t make you) read it. It’s not like I can twist your arm, and it’s probably a good thing they haven’t made that possible through the interwebz.

THIS is what terrorists have done in 2015 up to this point, but I’ll highlight a few of them below:

In January, over two thousand people died. 2,349 to be exact. I’m not including the perpetrators in these numbers. This was also the month when Boko Haram kidnapped 40 boys and young men in Nigeria. Two attacks in this month occurred in France, one of which was the Charlie Hebdo attack where 12 people died for the drawing/printing of a cartoon of the prophet Muhammad.

In February, 179 people died in Nigeria, Pakistan, Ukraine bombings, Denmark’s mass shooting, and Boko Haram killed at least 91 people by shooting and burning them. Burning them. They burned mosques and churches in Cameroon.

In March, it was 308 who died in Yemen, Turkey, Afghanistan, Egypt, India, South Korea, and Tunisia in bombings and attacks and shootings.

On April 1st, 147 people died in an attack at Garissa University in Kenya. 316 total died throughout the month.

In May, 279 people died in bombings and attacks throughout the Middle East. You’ve been desensitized to this news so it’s really no longer news, even though 279 people died due to violence.

In June, 704 were killed and the only one you probably know about is Charleston, SC where 9 people were killed during Bible study, but nine days later, a person was decapitated in France, their head—with unknown Arabic writings on it—placed near the entrance to a factory in Lyon where they blew up a gas canister.

In July, there were 854 people murdered, 145 of which were killed in numerous mosques in Nigeria by Boko Haram. These assholes pretty much dominated this month alongside the Islamic State with death tolls.

In August, 321 were killed, most occurring in Iraq and Afghanistan.

In September, 291 died. Boko Haram once again targeted markets and mosques, killing at least 145 people.

In October, 617 people were killed, 102 of which died during a peace rally in a suicide bombing on Ankara central station in Turkey, and 224 died in the suspected bombing of Metrojet Flight 9268 over Egypt, which I believe Russia has now confirmed.

In November . . . 273 have died halfway through the month. As you know, approximately 137 people died in the three attacks on Paris on Friday the 13th. On the same day, 19 died in a bombing in Iraq. The day before, 43 people were killed in a bombing in Beirut. And all three were perpetrated by ISIS/ISIL. Since writing this, just before publishing, I’ve had to add another 32 for the Boko Haram bombings in a farmer’s market in Nigeria…again.


No, these numbers don’t include fallen police officers and/or people killed by police officers in the U.S. or elsewhere, because THIS post focuses primarily on terrorists, but still, re-read that centered, bolded sentence above again.

Fourteen years, ten years, one year, one month, one day, every day—it doesn’t matter when or which country is being attacked by terrorists. The point of the matter is that we are ALL being attacked. Click on that link and look at that list. It is worldwide. This is not a “country” problem; it is a “world” problem, and it needs to be resolved. If we as a people—the human race—don’t stop this, there won’t be a world left worth living in because they’re blowing it to hell in a handbasket.

Tears for France_960x651

My heart broke for Paris and Beirut when I heard the news Friday afternoon, and I have been watching Syria, Iraq, and pretty much the majority of the Middle East with a heavy heart for a while now.

Stop making these acts part of your fucking agenda.

Stop blaming these attacks on anyone other than the terrorists.

Stop making it about race or creed or politics or ANYTHING other than what it is–people killing people.

Just fucking stop.

I spent most of my weekend offline because after seeing that horror occurring in Paris and Beirut, I couldn’t bear to watch people on social media tear each other apart/down with blame and shame and guilt for showing one or the other some small token of support in whatever way they could, be it a French flag or links on where to seek help for those in the affected areas. I cry for the dead, and the disrespect shown them. I feel for those taken from this world, and those who cannot find it in their hearts to feel. I mourn the loss of so many lives taken before their time, and the dignity and compassion that is lacking in those who judge the rest of the world.

It doesn’t matter how or when or where it happened. What matters is that people are dying at the hands of men who want to blow this world apart and force you to live the way that they want you to. It doesn’t even matter which group it is. No one is more prominent than the other right now because at least three of them top that list.

As far as the Syrian refugees go? These people have lost their lives, livelihoods, and their homes. They need help. What happened to…

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

…this country so proudly once claimed?

We once said “no” to Jewish refugees as well, and placed Japanese-Americans in camps on U.S. soil during WWII. And if you think either one of those is okay and those folks aren’t scarred (just talk to George Takei about his memories), then I am sad for you as well, my friend. Very sad, indeed.





The Secret Life of Jinxie G: Part III


Depression corner

I’d started this post last week, but then it became entirely too personal. Depression had reared its ever-so-ugly head yet again, but I’ve got a handle on it now and can write somewhat sanely about it. You know that edge of depression, where you’re fucking teetering, about to lose your balance and fall over? I’d passed that breaking point several weeks back. You may or may not have noticed it. So I’d like to talk a bit about depression today.

But let’s first talk about my wonderful allergies! I know, you’re so excited. And you know that I’ve struggled with this since February, which has of course, caused bouts of depression due to the HIVES covering my body. There isn’t much more frustrating than trying to go about your day and figure out what you can eat that won’t make you break out in hives or cause more. And living in the State of Perpetual Heat hasn’t helped at all. But….

I recently–FINALLY–saw an allergist and guess what? I’m not allergic to food. Nope. It turns out that what I’m really allergic to is…grasses and weeds. You know, typical allergy bullshit, only I’m like really allergic to them, apparently. Prescription medication combined with OTC medication 24-hour dose twice a day PLUS my pseudophedrine Claritin-wannabe allergic to this shit. Which is fine. Because I CAN EAT AGAIN!

Mostly, anyway. Certain foods do cause a pollen reaction, like bananas and grapes, and gluten products still make me queasy unless they’re organic. But apparently that food allergy test has a 90% false positive rate. Remember that, folks. Essentially, my immune system freaked out for some reason. And the worst time of year in this state for those specific allergies is between March and November. Not much of a reprieve there; only a couple of months, since mine started in February. But still, Phew! Let’s hope this area of my health is figured out because if there’s one thing that annoys the fuck out of me, it is doctors not having any kind of success in figuring me out.

Now I just have to deal with the weight gain. It’s called lack of activity. I sit behind a desk all day, and then I go home and sit behind a desk. Because I have more than one job. And really, as a writer, I wear many hats: writer, editor, researcher, designer, formatter, critic, etc. They all require me to sit behind a desk. So while my jobs require this of me, I have to make time for activity, whether it be working out on the elliptical, going for a walk during a break or at lunch while I’m at work, doing something, anything on the weekend that requires physical activity (which rarely happens). Thing is, as a single female who’s inclined to follow the road to Hermitdom because fuck most people and their bullshit drama fake reality whatever (with exception to friends), I need to get up and move because there’s no significant other to say, “Hey, let’s go hike A mountain,” or “Woohoo! It’s Sunday Funday. Get that bike out from under the mountain of clothes, woman!” or the like. I need to make myself do it, and really, I’d rather not. Road trips, though, I miss those. I bought some 5-lb. weights just for my “office” so even when I’m sitting in my chair working or watching whatever, I can pick up those weights and do something for my arms and chest and upper back. When I’m playing the Assassin’s Creed games where I’m vigorously running around the globe killing people, I’ll stand up during a cut scene and do squats and stretches just to keep the blood flowing. One of my co-workers, whom I call Ponch, says that he’ll do push-ups or squats during cut scenes and the like.

Getting back to depression, which weight gain can also trigger….


Depression comes in many types, and pain and lack of activity help push it along, all of which I’ve experienced. It’s difficult for me to talk about something I’ve had to live with my entire life. I’m used to the darkness, maybe even comfortable with it, which can be a dangerous place to be. If you get comfy down in that dark and dreary well, you might not climb back out. Worst case scenario has me at two years to climb out. Then there’s getting to your feet and standing up straight. Last go ’round took me another two years after climbing out of the well. I’d suffered with a pinched nerve during those four years. If you’ve never felt that level of pain, I hope you never have to. I don’t like being miserable. It makes it too easy to feel sorry for myself and make excuses. And that will drown you in the well.

I’ve climbed out of the well a few times, on my own. I didn’t seek help because when I was 19, I did, and that particular counselor left such a good first impression on me that I declined to seek counseling to save my marriage many years ago. Is it good for me to feel this way about that profession? Absolutely not. But it’s something I need to deal with, and it is just not at the top of my priority list these days.

But you should seek help, especially if you’re feeling suicidal. I learned how to deal with my suicidal tendencies years ago. You are not me.

My main problem is that I never learned coping skills. I don’t know how to deal, but the weird thing is that I sort of do. Big Problem occurs, I freak the ever-living fuck out, then I sit down and think of Solutions. That’s how I cope. Not sure it’s actually coping, but it works for me. I just try my best to not do it in public. They’d lock me up at 24th & Van Buren.

People deal with shit every goddamn day of their lives. Every person you pass on the street, in the hall, smile at…or don’t…is dealing with something possibly overwhelming and horrible. And everyone deals with it in their own way. That way may not always be productive, but as the child of an alcoholic (recovering), I know you can’t force someone to do something they’re not ready for just yet. But you can listen.


Last week, the world got a small look at one of my rare meltdowns. I just happened to be showing a bit more online than I normally would. Not sure why yet. Maybe because I wanted the world to die. Maybe not. I’d like to think I’m nothing compared to what’s happening in the really real world. That I’m not important unless I’m starting a war or making some stupid-ass statement while running for President or creating interstellar space travel (but my name is not Elon Musk and my IQ isn’t quite that high). But I’m just a fucking writer with a seriously fucked up life that’s been difficult to deal with, and I know there are people who have it worse, but that’s the thing about depression; it drags you down and when you’re drowning, you can’t see anyone else. My world fell out from under my feet two months ago, and I’ve been dealing with the repercussions since then. Literally, everything hit me in one big dump, so imagine my surprise that I’ve held it together this long.


Life, eh? Yeah, we all know she’s the biggest bitch around.

For now, I’m okay, and that’s all that matters. Okay is good. Okay is workable.

If you’re experiencing Depression, you can learn more about the big D here. At the very least, talk to someone you know and trust. I have very few people I trust, and even less that I would talk to on such a deep level. Last week, I broke down in someone’s office. I’ve known her for over 15 years and she’s one of few who knows my situation and that I trust enough to talk to about it.

And she listened. That’s all. And that’s exactly what I needed.

SUICIDE PREVENTION HOTLINE: 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)
Use that same number and press “1” to reach the Veterans Crisis Line.


Open Letter to Those With Mental Illness

Jinxie G:

I was working on a post about Depression, but I think this post says it all….

Originally posted on Wicked Women Magazine:

{Note from WWM: As someone who struggles with my own mental illnesses, which have landed me in the hospital twice, this hit so close to home. Rachel absolutely nails it. I know it may look and seem long, but I promise this is worth the read. Please share this.
So often we think we’re alone, that no one else will or can understand. But there are others who do understand. We know exactly what it feels like. And it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to cry. It doesn’t make you weak.
Rachel’s post is below.}

(Originally posted on Rachel’s blog – reposted with her permission.)

img_7371Dear Person With Mental Illness,

You are not a monster. You are a valuable, unique, wonderful human being who deserves everything grand that this life has to offer. Come out of the shadows and stand proudly in who you are.

You are

View original 2,025 more words

Labor Day Celebration Multi-Author Event

….because giveaways are always fun!

That’s right, it’s time for another event with awesome prizes like a Kindle Fire and Amazon gift cards!

When: Now! I mean, August 31st through September 4th.

Where: Online, of course, on Facebook.

Prizes: I already told you the big ones, but each author throughout the event will be giving away prizes too, so join in the fun!

Who’s involved: *points down*

Join the celebration on Facebook by clicking HERE!!!

Aug. 31

6 PM Angela Mcpherson
7 PM Tia Silverthorne Bach
8 PM Twyla Turner
9 PM Jennifer Lane

Sept. 1
6 PM A.M. Wallace
7 PM C.M. Stunich
8 PM Heather C. Myers
9 PM Brenda Pandos

Sept 2

6 PM Mary Ting/M. Clarke
7 PM Alexandrea Weis
8 PM Erin Hayes
9 PM Wendy L Owens

Sept 3

7 PM Heidi McLaughlin
8 PM Lila Felix
9 PM CM Doporto
10 PM N.L. Gervasio 

Sept 4

6 PM H.D. Gordon
7 PM S.I. Hayes
8 PM Jaidis Shaw
9 PM Juniper Grove Book Solutions

The Secret Life of Jinxie G, Part II

You’ve read this blog and likely think my life is an open book and how in the hell could there be any Secret Life, but secret lives aren’t necessarily spy-worthy tales to tell or skeletons in the closet. Hell, those were outed years ago by my uncle and myself. It’s how we amuse ourselves, I guess.


You know how in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty all of his fantasies involved him doing amazing things and basically stepping outside his comfort zone? I do that but with my worst fears. My brain for some fucked up reason has to play out every goddamn scenario that could possibly happen in any given situation. It’s truly exhausting. But, since I can’t stop it from happening, I try to put a positive spin on it….like, at least I won’t be caught off guard should one of these million scenarios actually come to fruition. Because we all know how likely that is.

Hello, my name is Jinxie and I write fiction….because reality is boring as fuck.

I don’t know about you but I believe in the power of three, meaning I believe things happen in threes. I’ve noted this over the years and it’s fucking true. Quite recently (two weeks ago and the reason I was watching movies in the first place), right after I bought my new car, I received some bad news that was not only bad, but was also a month and a half after I could have done anything about it, hence the disappearing into other worlds because not only is reality boring as fuck, it also fucking sucks at times. This was one of those times. Said bad thing is now affecting my paycheck and I’m trying desperately to fix it because if I can’t, maintaining a new car payment and trying to save ANY money for ANYTHING will be nigh impossible. I actually broke down when I received an official notice of my impending diminishing paycheck later that week. It takes a helluva lot to break me to that point. But I sucked it up the next day and found out the information I needed to know….before breaking down again that night.

broken nailOkay, the bad thing doesn’t count as two, but on the 17th, I’d thought I’d lost an ENTIRE day’s worth of edits on my book Nemesis. That’s equivalent to 220 pages, by the way. Talk about not being able to breathe and the unbearable weight of having to do it. All. Over. Again.

And then I broke a fucking nail the day after that. I mean, really. Now, here’s where most people would ask that question of the Universe….WHY?….but I know better. You don’t ask questions that you don’t damn well want answered. In the event that I forget to follow my own advice, I immediately follow it with, “That was a rhetorical question!” in hopes that the Universe doesn’t actually respond with a giant, FUCK YOU, BIATCH. What? It happens.

(Actually, the first bad news I received that week was that my pit bull, Leonidas, had died. Devastation doesn’t even cover the feeling.)

The day after I broke a nail (which was fixed that night by the lovely Jade), I got a check in the mail from the state for my plate that will be transferred from the ‘lanche to the new car. It was only $20, but hey, it’s $20 more than what I had before opening the damn envelope. Right? See, that’s how you have to look at all the shit when your life is constantly bombarded by insanity. That night, I received a phone call from the car dealership and dread filled me as the what ifs started playing through my mind because they wanted me to come back down to the lot. What if they want more money? What if they take the car back; then what will I do? I’d be without a vehicle, and then how would I get to work. OMG I’d lose my job…. And on and on it goes; worst case scenarios. Fun times. Turns out that instead of leasing the car to me, the lender wrote up a loan to purchase it. My payment went up $50, but it ends up being cheaper in the long run AND they extended the extra warranty I’d purchased for the fourth year to cover the entire six years of the loan. All in all, I’m perfectly fucking happy with the deal because I just bought a 2016 Chevy all by myself for the first time in my life. No significant other. No one but me. And at a better interest rate than I’ve ever been offered. Go me!

Allow me to introduce Cruzella

Allow me to introduce Cruzella

That night, after I’d finally gotten my Windows 10 sorted and updated and everything, I found the goddamn edit I’d lost. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of relief flooding me upon finding it. I totally did the hands-up-soccer-GOOOOOOAAAALLLLLL!!! yell of YES! I FOUND IT! MOTHERFUCKER!

It’s quite entertaining in my house. Truly.

So, even though I still have some shit to clear up, and I am working on it, I’m good. Umi is good. Life….is good. Try to keep your head up if Life gets you down. It’s not always bad shit and it doesn’t last forever. You do have to fight for it, though. Life doesn’t hand you everything you need and treat you fairly just because you’re a good person.


Be the motherfucking lion.

The Secret Life of Jinxie G, Part I

secret_life_of_walter_mitty_xxlgI watched The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (the remake with Ben Stiller) last night and thought about how similar to Walter’s life mine is. I mean, I’ve seen the movie before and knew then that I am oh-so-much like Walter Mitty, but in subtle ways I’m different. For instance, the fantasy at play within my mind never stops and doesn’t keep me from living in the here and now, in reality. I’ve always said that I have one foot in the door of my dreams when I’m here in reality, and one foot in reality when I’m visiting my dreams, but I never realized how true that was until last night while watching Walter “zone out” during one of his fantasies of doing great things and going to wonderful places. I zone out, but I’m usually alone when that happens. However, if you see me staring “through” something or someone, that’s a “zone out.” It’s rare, but it happens, although not while in the midst of talking to someone. Usually.

poster-3Today, I’ve been working on a few projects, one of which is my website here on the Editing page because professionalism is key and I needed to post a sample of the contract I’ve been creating over the past week or so. Starsky, my Boy Wonder co-worker, helped me figure out how to embed the damn PDF so people could just click, open, and read. Well, now it does exactly what I want it to do and I’m a happy girl who can concentrate on other things.

I’m also dealing with an allergic reaction to the half-slice of pizza I ate at work yesterday because I didn’t have a chance to grab lunch and there’s not a whole helluva lot in the area when it comes to take out/drive-thru, but also there’s the aforementioned food allergies pretty much preventing me from eating out.

But I digress…

tumblr_mxr8qz9YmX1rcufbuo1_1280I’ve mentioned my overactive imagination many times, and you’d think by now I’d have multiple books published, right? Well, there’s also a goddamn Perfectionist in me, and she halts most production. I have to sneak stuff past her, and it’s not always prime material, hence the vamp books. I really do love that story line, but I’m thinking I just need to focus on the twins, Trent and Shawn de Laurent. It’s not like I don’t have the material for them already. They have their own damn blog.

I haven’t talked much about this, but one of the things I’ve been changing in my life as of late is my focus and what I focus on. That is to say that I will be focusing more on writing. Just Ink Press will still exist because I will publish my books and anthologies through it, but I will no longer publish other authors. Frankly, I just don’t have that kind of time and it’s not fair to anyone involved. My own creativity suffers, not to mention the other authors’ creative outlet. I’ve loved working with everyone! They’ve been great. But it’s time to become a little selfish and focus on me. I mean, I’m not going to be around forever, right? If only….


So, will there be more stories coming from me soon?

You bet your ass there will be!


Why I Write

 …or, my plans to take over the world.

the brain

Wait…forget I said that. I can’t tell you my plans. That’s completely negating everything between now and my monologuing end (I hope it’s a good death).

*sigh* Fine. I’ll tell you a story. Sort of.

I write because of the need to escape the reality I’ve lived most of my life, to be someone else, somewhere else in the world or universe, to be something other.

I write to illicit emotion because I want you to feel every single emotion I feel when viewing this world or another and its tragedies and triumphs, and then maybe–just maybe–it’ll give me a glimmer of hope that it’s all worth the pain and effort.

assassins-creed-revelations-screenshots-oxcgn-16It’s like when I play a video game; I’m in that world, living that life (we’re talking Assassin’s Creed here, hence the image), and it’s so rich and full of action and adventure and history and being the hero nobody ever knows about because everything you do is secretive. When I write, I live those lives….because I couldn’t decide what I wanted to be as a grown-up when I was a kid. I wanted to be it ALL, everything, from teacher to fireman to spy to vampire to werewolf to alien. Maybe a vampiric wolf from space who’s spying on humans while pretending to be a teacher that’s also a volunteer fireman/woman. Probably the best teacher you ever had and a pillar of the community. I was bound to be either a writer or an actress. I grew up watching classic horror and comedy, James Bond and John Wayne! I’ve fallen in love with the paranormal and sci-fi horror (Alien!), and the anti-hero (Riddick). Oh, the anti-hero! I want to be the hero and the villain. In high school, I fell in love with Shakespeare and Poe, and Indiana Jones. When I studied for my B.A. in English, I also studied Anthropology and Psychology on the side. The human mind fascinates me and I want to know how it works and why people do the things they do (I also realize I will never understand this). Greek and Roman mythology were a hobby in elementary school and that has only expanded to other cultures in adulthood. I took a class titled Magic, Witchcraft & Healing in college; it was basically an anthropology class on comparative religion, though quite fun. I wrote my final paper on Sufism, which is essentially the Wicca of Islam. You didn’t now that existed, did you? I mean, you probably heard the term Sufi, most likely from watching the movie Jewel of the Nile, but Wicca of Islam? Nah. My thesis was on the Battle of Thermopylae because I love ancient history and graphic novels and holy fucking hell, THIS IS SPARTA! *kicks Peter Mensah into well*

*blinks* Shit, sorry Peter.

I need a T.A.R.D.I.S., and if the Doctor appeared in front of me, grabbed my hand, and told me to run, I’d jump right out of my flip-flops and run like the dickens to join him in an adventure or five. And I’d pray to never, ever run into the weeping angels because…Fuck. That.tumblr_mith4t8MUY1rn94bwo2_500

With words, I can paint the images I see within my mind that I am unable to do with acrylics or oils. I can share the movie I’m watching…and throw popcorn at you if you’re being too rowdy, but hey, whatever, I tend to talk during movies so you might not want to watch one with me.

Wonder WomanDark PhoenixStormpunkAs a female growing up in the 70s and 80s, role models were few and far between. All I really had to look up to were fictional characters. There weren’t a whole lot of real world women to look up to other than Mother Theresa and I sure as hell didn’t want to be a nun. I should probably point out here that my mother is an avid reader and always had her nose in a book at night, that my uncle is a collector of comic books (you should have seen his stash before the fire that took out the Uncanny X-Men #1-10), and that my reading scores in elementary school surpassed high school levels even though I hated to read. Really, I just hated reading what teachers assigned to me. It was boring. Wonder Woman, the Bionic Woman, and Lt. Uhura (the actress is my namesake, after all) were my role models, though I do recall Dorothy Hamill in 5th grade having an impact on me (hairstyle…I’m not kidding). Gymnastics weren’t a possibility, however (and this is why I need a proofreader, because Dorothy Hamill was a goddamn ice skater, but I also wanted to do gymnastics and God knows what else at that age). In the 80s, I discovered punk rock Storm (X-Men), and I wanted to be the Dark Phoenix, but this world wouldn’t survive that.


I wrote the typical emo poetry in high school (before emo was cool) and didn’t write my first real adult novel that will never see the light of day until I was 28. I’ve stashed it deep in the files of my hard drive in a sector none should enter lest they have no will to live because Leviathan is in there and they’re pretty hungry. Really, I wrote my first book when I was eight. It was about horses (I had a serious fascination with them and wanted one, but city kids with single parents can’t have those things), and I typed it (yes, typed, as I had my own typewriter from my grandmother who taught me how), made the illustrations, and bound it all together with staples before handing it over to my mother. I’m not certain what’s happened to it since then, but I was damn proud of that creation. And those horses still live in my mind. I had an extremely active imagination as a child, and it really never stopped. Where the Wild Things Are was my favorite book because it played on that imagination. In other words, I’m always writing.

I write because life is a mishmash of boring as fuck or real fucking bad or fan-fucking-tastic (for a brief period), and we all need something to look forward to. Really, reality bites. I write to shut the voices up because those fuckers are damn noisy.

And I write because, well, I figure if I want or think all of these things, then maybe you do too, so I write to transport you to these worlds so you can forget about the here and now and jump forward or backward or dimensions. Or, you know, whatever. Shiny.

Where in The Verse do you want to go?

image description

And never once have I ever allowed someone to dissuade me from writing, whether editor, friend, family, or asshole reviewer. What someone else thinks doesn’t matter to me because I write for me, and if you enjoy what I write, well then that’s just fantastic and I welcome you to my worlds!

Why do you write? Or read?

(Psst! This was supposed to be a flash fiction assignment for an author’s website and I got bombarded by calls and projects at work, so I didn’t get it finished in time, but I thought I’d post it anyway. Besides, I went over the word count)