Category: Uncategorized

I’m ba-a-a-ack! Back to writing on Book 3, that is, and it feels great!

I’ve been stuck for what seems like forever. For months now, I haven’t made any significant progress in the third installment of the Abnormal series, and it’s had me a little depressed.

Now I’m delving into some subject matter that is both familiar and foreign to me: mental illness.

Yes, anyone who has read this blog for a while knows that I’m bipolar. I’ve mentioned it a time or two. So, in theory, I know what mental illness feels like and how to write it–right?

Except I’m not writing about bipolar disorder. The character doesn’t have that; she has something else, something with similar undertones but entirely different motivations and some wildly different contexts. Still, I’m liking the way things are going this morning, and I hope I can maintain this momentum in the coming days/weeks to get this draft done so I can power through the edits and get it submitted.

Then it’s on to Book 4. Lol

I guess I’m almost halfway through the series now, which is a better way to look at it than “stuck on Book 3.”

I’m going to put my character through hell in the coming days/weeks, but she’ll come out stronger for it, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll come out with a stronger understanding of a condition that I’ll never have.

Sally’s heart sank as she watched the departure board flip through its series of delays. The storm outside raged, and the airport’s intercom had announced moments ago that its flights were all grounded pending a change in weather.

This flight had cost her the last of her savings. Without any extra cash for a hotel room for the night, she’d have to sleep in one of the terminal’s hard plastic chairs. Not something she was looking forward to, especially with her pain level compounded by the stress of recent weeks.

“Good thing I managed to get a room before they all filled up.”

The voice startled Sally, and she jumped. She spun around to see a tall, slender man in khakis and a navy polo shirt standing next to her. He had a slight five o’clock shadow, and despite his attempts to brush it back with his hand, a lock of brown hair kept escaping to fall over his eye.

He smiled down at her. “You staying at the hotel here through the storm, or are you heading into town for the night?”

Sally sighed and shrugged. “I guess I’m staying right here at Gate C.”

He frowned. “What? No. You can’t stay in the terminal overnight. That’s crazy.”

“Look around,” Sally said with a sweeping gesture. “There are plenty of people settling in. I just have to find a comfy chair to huddle up in until my flight’s finally cleared to leave.”

The man shook his head and extended a hand. “C’mon. I got a pretty decent suite for the night; I think there’s even a couch in the room. Come stay with me for a few hours at least. No funny business, just a place to crash until the storm clears.”

Sally looked at the offered hand but didn’t take it. “No offense, sir, but I don’t know you.”

He laughed. “Fair. How about dinner then? We can chat for a while, and if you decide I’m too sketchy then there’s no obligation to come up to my room with me.”

After a few moments’ consideration, Sally nodded and took his hand. She could use a good meal, and the airport bars and restaurants were crowded enough that there would probably be plenty of witnesses if he tried anything.

They sat at one of the airport bars, eating, drinking, and chatting away for hours. Sally warmed to him with each passing moment, and more often than not she found herself reaching out to place her hand over his. By the time the waiter shooed them to the door at closing, Sally had learned that the man’s name was Kevin, he worked in a large corporation (but despite his business casual dress, he wasn’t traveling for work–though he wouldn’t say why he was), and–best of all–he was single.

Kevin put a steadying arm around Sally as they made their way to his hotel room. Despite her initial hesitation, she had enjoyed the meal–and the drinks–enough to agree to his proposition. He even offered to take the couch so she could sleep in more comfort.

Sally took first crack at the shower, and the plush hotel robe felt wondrous against her skin afterwards.

When Kevin took his turn, she giggled as she heard him moan when the water started. He must’ve had a rough day, too, she thought, until she noticed that the moaning hadn’t stopped. Rather, it deepened and grew more frantic.

Curious, Sally tried the knob on the bathroom door–and found it unlocked. She inched the door open until she could see into the steamy bathroom. On the other side of the frosted glass shower door, Sally could make out Kevin’s silhouette. She grinned and entered the bathroom, letting the robe slide to the floor.

In the shower, Kevin stroked his massive cock. Even with all the steam and frosted glass, Sally could tell that he was built for pleasure. She opened the shower door and stepped inside. Kevin’s eyes stayed hooded, and his hand continued to pump, but he whimpered when he heard her come in.

“You don’t have to–” he whispered. “I–“

Before he could finish his protest, she wrapped her fingers around his dick and slid her slender hand up and down the silky shaft. “I don’t have to,” she purred, “but I want to.”

She pressed herself against his hard, wet body and placed her lips to his. For a few minutes they allowed themselves to explore each other, hands roaming and stroking. She shuddered when his fingertips brushed her breasts, and by the time he slid his long fingers into her soaking wet pussy she was more than ready. Sally let out a moan of her own and leaned her hips closer.

Kevin teased for a few moments, pumping his fingers in her tight slit. His breath quickened, and before she knew it, Sally found herself spun around and pressed face-first against the wall of the shower.

She expected a swift entry, but Kevin waited until his fingers had her writhing and screaming in ecstasy before he finally slid his cock inside. He snaked his hands around to her front and grabbed her firm breasts, massaging them as he pumped his hips. Sally arched her back as his thick shaft rammed into her time and time again.

Steaming hot water rained down on the two of them, and Sally was grateful for the hotel’s excellent water heater. She knew that if they’d been at her place, the water would have been ice cold by the time Kevin finished.

He filled her with one final thrust, and they stood under the stream for a few minutes, pressing against each other and trying to catch their breath. Kevin’s hand drifted from her breast to shut off the water. He pulled out and opened the shower door, grabbing each of them a fresh towel.

Minutes later, Sally and Kevin lay snuggled together on the king-sized bed, arms wrapped around each other as they basked in the afterglow. Sally’s head rested on Kevin’s shoulder, and he had one arm around her while the other stroked her nipple.

“Your breasts are so beautiful,” he said. “They’re perfect.”

A bitter laugh escaped Sally’s lips, and despite her best efforts she was reminded of why she had been traveling in the first place. “You can thank the reconstructive team at Johns Hopkins for those,” she said. “They did a great job.”

“Reconstructive? So–“

She nodded. “Yep.”

To Kevin’s credit, he didn’t back away. Instead, he held her closer. “Did they get it all?”

Sally sighed and shook her head. “Nope. Metastasized too fast. This trip was my one last chance to knock a few things off my bucket list. Y’know, Paris, London, Barcelona–I never got the chance to travel when I was younger. Too damn busy with crap that doesn’t even matter now.”

“I hear ya.” He opened his robe. “I’ve had some reconstruction done myself. You can’t even tell which testicle is fake. Sometimes even I forget.”

Sally sat up straight and turned to look Kevin in the eyes. “And yours? Did they get it all for you?”

This time it was Kevin’s turn to shake his head. “This was a bucket list trip for me, too, I guess. Got to see some great sights in Africa and Egypt. I’ll have some great memories to take with me to the grave.”

Sally nodded and leaned back into Kevin’s chest. “Where are you headed tomorrow, when the storms have let up?”

“Home. I’ve got a few things to get sorted before it’s all over.”

“What gate are you leaving from?”

“Terminal M, I think.”

“Oh. Mine’s C.”

He rested his chin on her head. “I remember.”

“Do you think you’ll have time for one more trip? Maybe come up to Baltimore for a few days?”

Kevin shook his head. “Nope. By the time I made the flight arrangements, it would be time for my parents to get started on my funeral arrangements.”

“I understand.”

“Not that I wouldn’t love to take you up on that invitation,” he said.

Sally and Kevin’s phones buzzed in unison on the bedside tables. Sally pulled out of Kevin’s arms and checked her message.

“Guess the flights are back on. Gotta get back down to my gate.”

“Me, too.”

Sally stood up and started to put on her clothes. “So–I guess I’ll see you again on the other side?”

“Sounds like a date.”

Rumor mills. Gotta love ’em. Or not.

I’ve been pretty quiet in the SCA so far. Not quite three years in, I tend to keep to myself and my circle of friends and don’t really rock the boat. This coming weekend, however, I may have to do some investigative work to find out where the rumor about me is truly coming from, because it seems that, despite my low profile, I’ve become the target of some gossip.

It’s not terribly bad gossip, but it is incorrect info that’s being spread, so I have to put the kibosh on it before things get crazy. I know that a lot of people have my back, but that’s not going to stop people from spreading misinformation apparently.

Am I terribly worried? Not really, but I can’t just let it go. People shouldn’t spread gossip regardless of how big or little the effect of said gossip might be. If you don’t know the whole story, then keep quiet. It’s simple. Don’t spread shit, won’t be shit.

Don’t worry, though. I’m keeping a level head about it. I won’t go off on the spreader or spreaders of gossip. I won’t scream or yell or even cuss. I’ll have a reliable witness, a Peer in the Society, with me when/if the need arises to confront the person or persons who are spreading lies. A discussion will be had, and then, hopefully, that will be that. I’ll go on with my life, they’ll go on with theirs, and things will settle down.

In a month, things will slow down as far as commissions go, and I’ll be able to focus on my writing and on projects for myself and my husband. Despite all the embroidery I’ve done for others in the Society, I have almost zero garb with my own embroidery on it!! Same for my husband. Lol So I’ll remedy that in the months following Estrella War. We’ll both be working on using our arts for ourselves (being a little selfish, but after the amount of work for others we’ve both done I think more than makes up for it) for a bit before we start back on commissions for our arts.

I’ll keep on moving, regardless of the rumors floating about. I’m not going to let a little scuttlebutt keep me down. 😉

Hey. How’s it going? Been a while. Yeah. Sorry about that.

I’ve been fighting a depressive episode for weeks. A month or more, maybe. I was so bogged down with deadlines and projects and stuff that I just hit a wall, and I hit so hard that I was knocked back a few pegs. I’m crawling back up, though, and I’m working on getting back to “normal”…whatever that is.

I haven’t wanted to write. I haven’t wanted to even look at my writing. I’ve just been churning out embroidery and sewing projects like there’s no tomorrow. Between my husband autocratting our Kingdom’s Twelfth Night event and the pile of to-dos leading up to Estrella War, I’ve been buried in SCA stuff and haven’t had the energy–physical, mental, or emotional–for anything else. And I’ve suffered because of it.

This past weekend was a productive one, from an SCA/housework standpoint. I finally got Christmas decorations put away, I got most of the laundry done, and I got two things checked off my “list” of pre-Estrella War projects. Most importantly, this productivity made me feel better about life in general, and this morning I was back to doing actual work. I got a short story edited and just about ready to submit to the anthology it’s going in, and I participated in the Write Event hashtags on Twitter, in earnest, for the first time in weeks.

There’s still a lot left to do before the War, but it’s more manageable. Here’s my list of stuff to be done in the next month:

Seems like a lot, but most of those projects are at least partly finished. The Pelican embroidery is about 1/3-1/2 done, the Toothless embroidery is halfway done, the embroidery on the bag is started and the fabric is cut, and my Valkyrie hood just has the pieces to be sewn for the reversible lining left, which are already cut out, so really the only non-started project is the embroidery on my friend’s hood, which shouldn’t take too long.

I always feel a rush of relief when I realize I’m digging my way out of a depressive hole, but I’ve got to be careful; if I get too excited about not being as depressed, I might end up swinging the pendulum the other way to the manic side, and while that might increase productivity for a while, it’s not going to solve the problem. I need to start prioritizing myself and my health, rather than trying to please everyone else.

My writing will be back on full swing after Estrella, but I’ll try to make myself get at least something done every day. The more I do, the more I’ll get done, and the better I’ll feel about it all. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.

I might even put on a little makeup today before work. Y’know, work on getting the outside to look like the inside’s starting to feel.

I’ll be okay. I promise. But yeah, this last episode was a doozy. Still is, a little bit. I’m getting there, though.

I know this blog has been quiet for a while, but I’ve got a nine minute window before I have to clock in for a busy day, so let’s see how much I can tell you….

Life has been hectic. Long work hours, lots of embroidery commissions on my plate, an event last weekend, and a period of three days where I accumulated about seven hours of sleep–total.

Last night I slept well, so I’m hoping that’s a good sign. I’m almost done with the picture embroidery on a Viking hood I’m making for someone, so soon I’ll just need to sew it together and do some seam treatments (which should go fairly quickly). After that, I have a larger project for a friend’s elevation, and after that I have a couple of quick embroidery projects, and–if I can get time–a couple MORE things for myself and my husband.

I’m trying to limit the number of commissions I take on, but the elevation piece was something I couldn’t pass up. After Estrella War, though, I plan on taking a break from commissions and focusing on work for my husband and myself. It looks really silly when I’m known across the kingdom for my embroidery, yet none of my garb is enbroidered!

That’s all I have time for right now! I’ll try to find time to post in more detail later.

I can’t do it. I’ve been trying to ignore that fact, but I can’t ignore it anymore. I. Just. Can’t. Do. It.

What’s “it”? It’s everything. All the things, all at once, all in a short time frame with little to no free time in which to do any of the things, let alone ALL of them.

What do I have to do? Well, let me tell you what’s been keeping me awake last night into this morning:

I have to clean. The house is a disaster.

I have to finish sewing two undergarments and about 70-80 more buttons before the new year, and still go to work all day Monday and Tuesday morning.

I have one writing deadline that’s rapidly approaching, plus other projects in the works.

I have to finish the piles of laundry that I sorted last weekend.

I have embroidery projects that are piling up.

I have scrolls to draw/paint/callig.

I have to take down all the Christmas decorations.

And, until about fifteen minutes ago, I thought I had to go out of town this weekend.

But I won’t. I can’t. Not if I’m going to maintain my health and sanity. It can’t happen. Something’s gotta break here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it be me.

I got less than an hour and a half of sleep last night. Why, you ask? Because I let myself go to a party that I knew I didn’t have the time to go to. Because I knew I had all these things to do, so once I got home from said party (at 11pm), I couldn’t stop thinking about these things. Because these things seeped into my subconscious and invaded my dreams. Because I woke up thinking how I needed to do all these things but was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t make myself start ANY of them.

No more. No more parties. No more extra shit. No more, not until I’m somewhat caught up. I can’t do it. It’ll kill me.

It’s time to admit that I’m at the point where I can’t be Mrs. Nice Guy. I have to be the mean one. I have to say “No.”

Today, I stand up for myself. Today, I say what I should’ve said a week or more ago. Today, I get started on that list up there, piece by piece, and take the time to prioritize and figure out what I can do now, what I can put off a little bit, and what I need to stay home and get done this weekend.

I was literally pulling my hair out trying to decide which crucial thing I should work on first. My stomach was in knots, churning as I tried to stop the panic long enough to focus on any one of the many things I have to do. I couldn’t think straight, because all I could think about was the myriad things that have to get done.

I’m going to take a deep breath. Stop for a few minutes. Calm down. And I’m going to start on the things that need to get done. I won’t get many (any, really) completely done before work, but I can start on some, and a start is more than I had.

Damn. Just damn. I’ve had embroidery commissions, writing projects, marketing for the writing projects, SCA events, work….a whole bunch of crap. And the holidays are in full swing.

I’m still going strong, but it’s getting to me a little bit. I have a light week at work next week, so that gives me a touch of breathing room… but it’s not quite enough.

I’m hoping that catching up on a few things helps, but we’ll see. I’m not, like, in the mental health danger zone when it comes to this stuff, but you never know. Sometimes I think I’m ok, and sometimes I think wrong.

A trip out of town has hampered me a little today, but tomorrow I’ll have pretty much all day to get some things done. But I also just remembered two more things that I need to do tomorrow…..*sigh.*

I’m trying to slow down. I’m trying to make my list of to-dos more manageable, but I keep compartmentalizing and forgetting that I need to consider all the aspects of my life when I’m considering my limitations on my time and energy.

I’ll let the hang of it…some day.

Probably not today, but some day.

A lot has happened in the week since I last wrote here–and not really much has happened.

I discovered that I’ve lost back the four pounds I gained over Thanksgiving holiday (and then some!), so I’m back on track with the keto diet.

I started on yet another writing project, this time outside the Abnormalverse (and with the potential to create a new universe all its own, if I decide to expand it).

I had a horribly embarrassing experience at work that I won’t even go into here, and it made me want to just curl up and die somewhere.

I revamped the cover for Whispers of Death, and I’m in the process of revising the interior text so it’s fresher.

I had to go to online traffic school for a speeding violation (don’t speed, kids!).

It’s been some good, some bad, some very bad, but I’m making it. I’m not quite sure how I’m making it, but I am.

I’m exhausted. I’m weary beyond words. I can’t wait for next week, when I have three work days off. Of course, I have stuff to do in those three days, but at least I won’t be working.

I’m not gonna lie. I have an Amazon wishlist full of stuff that I want for Christmas this year. Not that I expect to get all of the stuff I want–but I figured it doesn’t hurt to have a selection of stuff for people to choose from, should they opt to get me a gift.

What I really want, though, can’t be bought and can’t always be given. I want inspiration. I want that writer’s block for Book 3 to just be blown wide open so I can continue and finish the damn first draft. I want those things, but no one can purchase those for me, and no one can really give something that specific, anyway.

It doesn’t feel like the Christmas season. I’ve got the tree up, I’ve signed up for the Baronial Yule event and the work holiday party, I’ve started kinda trying to think up ideas for what to get who…but I just can’t get into the spirit this year. It doesn’t feel like Christmastime. It feels like Just Another Day. And that’s kinda sad.

Now, anyone who really knows me knows that I’m not Christian, but that’s not why Christmas means something to me. I don’t put up the tree for pagan reasons, either, but bear with me. I celebrate the spirit of giving gifts to loved ones to show your appreciation of them. That’s a pretty good reason to celebrate, right? And yeah, it doesn’t have to be on a certain day of year, but since the majority of the people I know are celebrating on this day, then hell, I might as well celebrate with them–even if I’m not celebrating the historically-inaccurate birthday of a Christian holy figure.

I feel like I should maybe try to get in the spirit of things this year. Try to fake it, even if I can’t make it. Or something.

Maybe I’ll write up a sweet Christmas-themed story to post on Christmas day. Or maybe I’ll actually get my butt in gear when it comes to the holiday shopping. Or maybe…maybe I’ll just be a Grinch this year.

I wish I could get more in the spirit of things. Get my head in “the zone.” But wishes don’t always come true, sadly.

This weekend is an “off” weekend, for the most part; maybe I can catch up to the holidays then. Get some gifts purchased and possibly wrapped, that kind of thing. If not, well…

…There’s always next year, I guess.

I thought I didn’t really have any special writing credentials to my name. I’ve written books, sure, but I had no clue that when Whispers of Death reached #6 in the Paranormal-Occult category during its first time on a free promotion, it meant I was an Amazon bestseller. Like, I’ve technically been a bestselling author for years now and only just realized it yesterday! Lol

Why is this important now? Well, for one thing, my dumb ass could’ve been claiming that title the entire time I was trying to market and sell Abnormal! Another reason it’s important is that thanks to the Wicked Souls anthology, I’m now an international bestseller!

Yep, Wicked Souls reached #5 in two of its Canadian categories, so I have that new milestone and new title to my name. Feels kinda cool.

I’m far from “done” though; I’ve still got to keep trying to snag the elusive USA Today or NYT bestseller tag. THOSE are much harder and will require more work on my part.

Speaking of which, I’m not going to achieve that goal by sitting here yawning. Time to grab some coffee and get writing 😉