Thursday, December 26, 2013

A Rose by Megan Eggers

If you know me, you know that reading and writing are my havens, my RX and my go-to salvation. I love when I'm given something that someone poured emotion and concern into. The following short was sent to me by a fellow writer and friend- Megan Eggers. She's such a sweetheart and a bright literary talent I have no doubt will shine bright in the very near future. She sent me this short-story to--to me--show not all roses wish to shine in the garden.

Some just wish to be left alone to flower in the dark.


Thank you Megan. It's beautiful.
The greatest gift of all is words inked from the heart and penning from the soul. 

A Rose
By Megan Eggers
For Jas T Ward

She had always likened herself to a rose.  Not in a conceited or selfish way.  A rose didn’t ask to be beautiful, just as she didn’t ask for her beauty.  And the fate of that beauty was to forever be sought out, plucked from her home to be displayed as a trophy, then to be discarded when the beauty faded.   Like any rose, she had thorns, had to have some protection against those willing to use her for only her beauty.  The price of protection was to be alone, a solitary rose, untrusting of the world around her. 
Lila pulled her mind back from the melancholy thoughts and focused on her work.  Leaning over the drawing table, her long red hair fell forward, hiding her face as she preferred.  The house on the blueprint in front of her was coming to life, its base drawn in dark, straight lines.  Now she focused on her favorite part…the details that made this house stand out, made it extraordinary. 
The office bustled around her, but she paid no attention.  Her philosophy since childhood was still her guiding principle.  If she ignored them, they would ignore her.  It didn’t always work, so she helped it along by dressing in baggy, drab clothes, wearing her hair long and glasses she didn’t need to hide her eyes.  She walked with her head down, hoping that one of the snakes in the garden wouldn’t notice her.  It was a lonely life, but she preferred it to betrayal and pain.  Hiding in the weeds would protect her and her aloof, impersonal attitude would work as thorns when someone got too close.   Lila tried not to let anyone too close…except one.
Adding a second sloped roof that gave the house an angular feel, she set down her pencil and shook out her hand.  Opening and closing her fingers into a fist, she stretched her fingers out, but kept her head down.  She longed to lean back in her chair and stretch, but worried that too much motion from her would incite someone to speak to her, to notice her.  Packing her bag, she put it over her shoulder and slipped out of the office, no one noticing her in their hurry to get home.
The walk home was short, planned on the quickest and busiest route, the idea to get lost in the crowd, to be just a part of the ever moving wave of people.  Her building was secure, but with no doorman, chosen for that very reason.  In her apartment, she locked all the doors, paranoia forcing her to secure herself and her home before she could relax.  Lila dropped her bag, pulled off the glasses she didn’t actually need, and hung up the ugly, baggy sweater she detested.
Cooing to her kitten, Jack, she poured food into his bowl and scratched behind his ears.  Lila re-heated leftover spaghetti from the night before and then sat down at her computer.  As she ate and waited for it to boot-up, she smiled.  Now was her time to talk with the one person that could make her smile, the one person she could be open with.  This was the person she loved.  The one with which she could dream.






 



Friday, December 20, 2013

Zombiepalooza Radio and Me



So, tomorrow night (Friday December 20th) I am going to be on the air via live stream with the lovely Jackie Chin at Zombie Radio. (Okay fans at other places--So I got the night wrong, but when I arranged all this, I was battling the flu--apparently when I made that picture too..sheesh). I haven't done radio air time in years.

The last time was almost 18 years ago when I did my own radio show on FakeRadio.com and it was an adult sex advice show. I gave advice to newbs who were curious about S&M and BDSM. Yes yes, we even gave away a sex toy to a caller with trivia. It was a lot of fun. There was the one night that we had a caller who got his ___ stuck in a portable..well...vagina. We advised a hammer (in jest) and he took us seriously. On the air.

And apparently had very bad aim. It was both hilarious and grimacing to listen to.

But anyway, as I got my bio and background ready for Jackie to ask questions, she wanted to dive into the person behind the writing and how writing saved me and helped me. The "meat and potatoes" of the author. I froze. I sat there with my Word in front of me and had a minor anxiety attack.

I can talk about my writings all day long. I can chat up about the characters for hours. But me? I usually shut down.

But then I had a realization--my past made me. It got me to this point in my life where I write these stories. These tortured and pained characters that other people seem to love. A past that taught me about pain, heartache, suffering and the true darkness of the nature of human kind.

I am no longer ashamed of my past. I am not afraid for people to know it. In fact, I'm damn proud of my past in the fact that I survived it. I survived it and I grew from it. I used it to mold myself into something I always dreamed of being- An Author. And one that people want to read the writings of.

So...I typed away and went very much into depth about my past. And as I sat there and hovered over the send button (not knowing if they'll use any of it to base their questions on), I realized I just got over a huge hurdle.

My past....deciding my present and my future. No more.

And it feels good.

If you want to tune into me tomorrow night at MIDNIGHT FRIDAY (Eastern), there here is the link. They have a chat room and you can even call in. Hope to see you there.

http://ztalkradio.com/listen-live-chat/

Thank you as always and take care.

Friday, December 13, 2013

Whispers to the Writer: Jace Camden - Function



SERIES: SOUL BOUND SERIES
BOOK: Book One: Warrior
RELEASE DATE: Fall 2014

Jace Camden is the main protagonist in the Soul Bound Series: Warrior. This is the first book of the series and Soul Bound is very dear to me. Book one deals with  manic depression, the tragedy of suicide and the victims the pain leaves behind.

  Jace is a man whose haunted by a love still wanting him despite the darkness of death due to bonds of love. He's a tragic figure. Very rough childhood due to being gifted with second sight that was thought to be "from the devil" when he was very young. His own family wanted nothing to do with him and he was committed to a brutal asylum to be "saved" at the early age of eleven. It wasn't until he found some peace as an adult as he tried to come to terms that he was "insane" when he met Laura Camden. The youngest daughter of a prominent man in his home town, Jace finally found happiness and his soul mate. But things became twisted and pained as his beautiful new wife's soul was overtaken by something sinister. 

The insight below is a year after Laura's tragic death. A death that almost all believe Jace was the cause of. A murderer that got away with a murder. 

Our hero isn't doing very well. He's still trying to convince himself he's just insane, that he's just one RX from coping and what he sees and hears and feels...cannot be real.

***************************************************************************************************************

"Function. That's what I keep telling myself. Just function. Wake up, get up, do what you have to do and function. It's what every fucking shrink tells me to do. It's simple Mr. Camden, just function day to day."

Lets out a bitter laugh and rubs hands over his face. "That's such bullshit. No matter how many times I tell myself to function? I know it's a lie. It's a lie when I'm sitting in meetings listening to the blah blah of this or that and can feel her. It's a lie when I really want to enjoy just watching mindless blather on the television and she speaks to me. It's a lie when I try to sleep and she won't leave me alone. When I can feel her wanting what I can not give. It's all a fucking lie."

Drops hands and lets out a desperately long sigh. "I keep telling myself I just need to up my dosage. I just need to see about more sessions. Maybe run more. Sleep less. Eat healthy." More laughter and a pained sound. "I know that's bullshit too. I was supposed  to go too that day. Both of us. I know that now. I know that Laura never meant to spend eternity alone. That she had a plan. And it failed. But she's still trying to succeed. Sometimes I wish she had."

"I tell myself that failure is a good thing. That I'm still alive. I'm still able to wake up" curls lip in disgust "and function. Function. Function. Function." Smirks and spins copper bracelet on his wrist. "Fucking function. What does that mean really?"

Pins with a haunted hazel gaze. "Does it mean you get up? You get dressed? Toss some food down your gut? You smile when spoken to. Respond when asked a question? Yeah. That means everyone is fooled. They all think you're fine. They all can easily be tricked into not worrying. To assure themselves you're okay. You're no longer a danger. You're out of the fucking woods. Because they really don't want to think otherwise. It's easier to believe a lie than try to see the truth."

"Function. I hate that word. There's some days I want to just stay in bed. Refuse to function. To just lay there, let her come to me and beg and cry for me to go with her. To just close my eyes and cease to function. Would it end it? Would this fucking nightmare finally run its course and it can just...be...over?"


Drops his head to stare at the floor as he slowly shakes it. "Function. Did you know that no matter how hard you try to will your heart to stop beating it wont. No. It just keeps thumping along in your chest. That no matter how much you tell yourself not to breathe, your lungs betray you and will do what they want?"

Closes his eyes and rubs his palm over a ear that is forever ringing. Forever reminding. "That no matter how much you tell your head to give you a fucking break? It never does. How much you beg your heart to just stop hurting. To give you some peace. A minute would be nice. A day would be amazing. It just hurts more?"

Sighs and stands. "That no matter how much you say you're going to be okay. That one day it will be better and you'll be happy? You'll be able to function?" Looks back. "You know it's a lie."

Looks down at Laura's cold hand wrapping around his own. "And she knows it too. It's just a matter of time."

video




 

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A Holiday Gift - The Ward Way

So, it seems like everyone is doing holiday books, novellas, stories and the news feeds and Amazon are packed with them. Holiday's are not my thing and in years past--I've been a down-right mean person about them. They are getting better, but still don't match when you used to have a houseful of kids, family get-to-gethers and all that to add up to holidays. With me?

It's me. And the dog. And a cat (that tries to eat me when I give her love...). But in the spirit of Christmas and all things Falalalala, I've decided to write a Holiday story of my own. And in the spirit of being lighter and more joyful for the holidays, I've filled it with love, laughter and joy. 



Well....The Ward Way.  ENJOY!
A Holiday Gift- A Love Story. No Really. Okay...you got me. It's not.  

"Come on. Move it!" Craig had sweaty palms and his leg kept tapping on the floor board as he tried to coax just a little more speed out of Ole Blue (aka the 20 year-Chevy he was given by his dad). It was Christmas Eve and he had rushed out of the Foster family Christmas dinner way later than he had wanted. But Aunt Deja was there. And Aunt Sara, Aunt Susan, Angela, Andie, Ariel, Megan, Missy, Wendy, Lisa, Trisha, Kristal, Charlotte and sooo many more. All of them wanting to pinch his cheeks, pat his ass and tell him how grown-up and handsome he had become. Sheesh, he was seventeen, what did they think happened in all those years? Not to mention he had just seen that whole same gaggle of women last year at Christmas. The whole bunch of them were so...well, them.

Turning down the road to Jessica's house, the sweaty palms doubled in their effort to make him look like an idiot. Beads of the same stuff was tickling down his back. Just two more blocks. Two more blocks and he would be at Jessica's house.

Sweet, beautiful, perfect in every way Jessica.

They had been sweethearts since Junior High and now they were seniors in High School. All the guys were jealous of him and all her girlfriends thought she was lucky, because he totally and completely spoiled Jessica like crazy.


That last part was probably because she hadn't put out. At all. Sure they kissed and made out like the horny teens they were, but she had never let him have the hallaluhaha I'm in your pants and you're in mine celebration. She wanted to wait. Wait till it was right. Until it was just the right time. Special.

Yeah yeah. Whatever.


But she had called him last night to let him know that her parents were heading to the coast for the holiday and she had to stay here due to volunteering at the soup kitchen to help there (see, totally good girl) and that meant.

"Oh god. I think I'm going to be sick..."

She was all alone. And....


It was time.

"I'm gonna get laid. I'm gonna get laid!!!"



"Hello Craig."

Craig looked around. "Wait. Where am I?" Clouds were misting around his feet and there was Christmas music playing in the air. And in front of him? "Who are you?"


The pretty girl in the soft white robes smiled gently. "My name is Holly."

Craig narrowed his eyes and looked around more. "I was on my way to Jessica's house. How?"

"Oh that? You were broadsided by a truck. You died." She smiled that sweet smile again as if she just told him he dropped a candy cane. 


Wait. DEAD??

Craig lost it. No way did he just hear that. Maybe it was all the loud-ass music that was playing. "What? No! I can't be dead. No no no!" he spun around and slapped his hands over his face, "This can not be happening. I need to be with Jessica! You don't understand! This so isn't fair!"

The, well he guessed it was, angel just blinked at him as she spoke with a confused tone. "You are not happy to be in Heaven? Most are quite happy to be here rather than" she pointed down with a finger as her face got a grimacy look, "other places."

"I'm really going to be sick now." Craig dropped to sit and wrapped his arms around his legs with his head going to his knee in total don't-pass-out-and-look-like-a-wuss pose. "I don't want to be here. I want to be there." Holly gasped and he waved a hand around. "Well not that far down. But you know, back there. On earth. So I can see Jessica." He lifted his eyes. "It's really, really, really important that I see her. It's Christmas. She" his voice squeaked "has a really good present for me. One I've never gotten before. One I've dreamed about. Thought about. Wondered how it would be wrapped. If it would come with bows. Or maybe other accessories that would be fun to undo. See" he let out a huge sigh "I've never had anyone give me that gift. Even though I've told all the guys I've gotten that gift like a ton of times. It's a lie. This was going to be my very first gift ever. And now" head dropped back to his knee "I won't be able to even see it. Do all kinds with it. Because" threw both hands out with his head still on his knee "I'm dead."

Holly let out a little sniff, touched by his words as she wiped a tear from her perfect cheek. "Oh. It is Christmas Eve, isn't it." She knelt down to touch his knee and said softly, "That is very sad. So this gift, from Jessica, you've never gotten a gift of such love before?"

He looked up and shook his head, his lip jutting out for impact with his eyes filled with sadness and loss. "No. Not once. Dreams don't count do they?"


She let out a consoling sound as she rubbed her perfect little hand on his jean covered knee. "You have touched me Craig. I am going to give you a gift. We are only allowed to use it once. It is very special and once it is gone, it can never be used again. Or returned. It is saved for only the special of people and is never to be taken lightly. And once I've given it I can never take it back. Oh sure, I could lie about still having it, but being an angel, I am not very good at lying. The other angels would know. They would know I gave up my most precious gift. So I must choose wisely. Am I choosing wisely with you Craig?"

Craig blinked and his mind did wonder if the hot little angel babe was about to give him the gift that Jessica was going to give him. But as he listened he wasn't so sure so he shrugged. "I think so. It's a very special gift. So maybe that's what its used for?" He had no freakin idea "Maybe?" he couldn't help when his eyes wondered if the robe made her boobs look big. He hoped not. Jessica had really nice ones. But he did wonder about all the Victoria's Secret bags in his girlfriend's room. Gosh, she loved to shop...


The angel stood and smiled. "I'm going to trust my instinct Craig. I believe in love. I believe in the eternal light of the heart that can shine through the darkness. Can give hope the the needy. To give song to the silence!" She threw out her hands and Craig thought for sure she was going to break out into that whole Sound of Music crap like in the movie his mom made him watch every Thanksgiving. But then the angel looked down and held her hand out. "Yes Craig. I am going to give my gift to you." She lifted her chin and then her hands and Craig smiled. Angel booty. Death might not be so bad after all. "I am going to allow you to return to Earth. To see your beloved as my gift to you. You will have just the hour of midnight. And it the only time I am allowed to do it to celebrate this most wonderful time of the year. But I believe it is right. Is that what you wish Craig?"

His head shook so fast it was like a bobble as he jumped to his feet to take her hand. One hour? Heck, he'd probably only need 10 mins. Okay, maybe 20 mins if he wanted to be romantic about it. But one hour? Plenty. "Yes. I so wish that. Like that would be" stopped himself from dropping the F-bomb. Heaven probably frowned on that. "falalalala fantastic!"

She bounced with joy. "Yes. Fantastic yes." She threw her arms around him in joy and Craig thought that yep, robes were so deceptive. Maybe she should check out Victoria's Secret too. She pulled away and kept his hands in hers. "So Craig. Are you ready? As I give my gift to you in the spirit of Christmas in the name of love."

He smiled. "Oh you have no idea how ready I am. Years and years this has been building up to getting this gift. It was so bad some times, I thought I would go blind. Or grow hair on my palms. Or wear it down to a nub."

The angel blinked in confusion, her smile wavering. "You human say things that make no sense to me. But I don't get out much. So is that a yes? You have to say- Yes. Please give me your gift and it make it so." She got a serious look, "And know, I have given this gift to none other. And I can never give it again."

Craig smiled, so wide he thought his face was going to never be able to do anything else. "Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Yes. Oh you betcha. Yes. Please give me your gift. Make it so."

She smiled. "Then Merry Christmas Craig."



And just like that, Craig was standing in Jessica's bedroom. The moonlight was shining in through the window and Jessica was laying on the bed. She must have fallen asleep waiting for him to get there. Stupid aunts.

Rephrase for epicness--Jessica was laying on the bed...Naked. Except for a wide satin ribbon tied around her waist. Craig's jaw dropped and would have hit the floor if it wasn't hinged to his face. He swallowed so hard he probably hurt himself as he looked down on a body he had fantasized about for years. Slender waist, long legs with a soft brown little tuff of happy fuzz between them. His eyes went to her breasts and he frowned. Wow, he had really thought they'd be bigger than that. How could clothes have made that different? Oh well, they were still pretty nice and he couldn't wait to get his hands on them. And his mouth and any other parts that Jessica would let him put there.

It was Christmas after-all. 


Standing there, he whispered out her name softly. "Jess. It's me. Craig." She stirred a little bit and rolled to her stomach, still asleep.

"Oh.My..." he stopped himself considering the gift from heaven and all as he stared at her pretty much perfect backside. He couldn't wait any longer. He only had an hour and he was pretty sure Jessica wouldn't mind being woke up with him unwrapping his gift. He moved towards the bed and then....."Hey? What the hell?"

He had moved through the bed. As in, he was now on the other side. He panicked and looked at his hands and he could see them. But now that he looked? "Oh no. No no no!" He reached out to desperately shake Jessica awake but his hands went right through her too. Without a single feel of touch. He couldn't touch her. "Oh no no no!" He couldn't feel her. And she didn't seem to hear him. He was...

"OH COME ON!"

A ghost.


"Merry Christmas Craig!"










Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Why Choose 12.04.13 for Release Date for Madness?


See, when it came to deciding the release date for Madness I wanted it to be a date that was significant in my life. Some date that had ties to other things in it. There's not many good dates from the past. But I am a creative soul so here's the 'equation' if you will.

12+04+13 = 29

When I was 29 years old. I found my freedom. I had been in a very violent and abusive relation that lasted a few scant years. But the residual issues from that and the person that I unfortunately was a victim of, didn't stop when the papers were final. My day-to-day became a nightmare.

When I turned 29, I was a parent raising three kids and living on a shoe-string budget. It was very hard and I had the nightmare of my past still trying to destroy my future. And stop me from being happy. If not stop me from breathing.

One winter night-- that came full circle when my past once again visited. And this time...I fought back. It was not pretty and it was the stuff of nightmares. I tapped my own personal Madness that night to find strength I didn't know I had. I turned the demons that had me feeling weak, worthless and useless to my side. TO fight darkness. And to come to terms with it.  To not only acknowledge my own darkness inside, but to feed it, maintain it and realize it was a part of me that made me balanced and whole.

A lot like Reno.

So that winter night I fought. 

And I won.

My tormentor was put away. And I never had to see him again. 

So....the number 29 is very important to me. 
But I didn't just want to put it out on the 29th of some month. No.

Because it was December 4th, so many years ago that I found my own Madness, when I was 29....could be my friend and save me. 

Thank you....as always.

And thank you Reno and Emma- For being those persistent voices in my creative head. 

-J

MADNESS HAS BEEN RELEASED


 

 
WOW...what a day. After a week of DBP fighting with the presses in a game of Yes We May Be Small but this book is AWESOME and....losing PART of that battle and having to delay the print shipping to today when the book dropped on Amazon, B&N and KOBO with Apple ramping up any minute. It started at 6:30AM with a call from my son who let me know he had a soldier friend overseas that was looking for Madness on Amazon. After explaining all the details of such I decided there was no way I could sleep (Keep in mind, sleep was very elusive last 48 hours). The OVERWHELMING response on Madness being released has been AMAZING. Sales hit the moment the links were put up. Fans started sharing it, blogs started blasting it. Same with other pages for books.  For over an hour my newsfeed was FLOODED with MY book cover. MY book details. Links to BUY MY BOOK. I sat and watched it all for hours (much to Author Dog's dismay since she hadn't been taken out yet and I was still in my PJ's). It was like watching an actual dream become just a haze in your brain to something you could hold, share and give to others as real. This book has meant so much to me. The character Reno is like the manifestation of the inner child I never had a chance to be. Reno helped that inner shattered child learn to smile and laugh again. I owe this character a lot. Or as Reno would say: A lot. A lot. So here's to MADNESS release day. Its amazing and its not even half way over. A HUGE thank you goes out to all the fans, peer authors, Dead Bound Publishing staff and anyone and everyone that had a part in this. YOU ALL DID..whether it was encouraging me YEARS ago to write or not letting me kill off Reno and the book would have never happened. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. NOW..Go get infected....WITH MADNESS. 

Links to purchase:

Signed, Numbered, Printed: shop.deadboundpublishing.com

Review of Walker's Run by Mel Favreaux

 My Grey Matter's Take on Walker's Run:


I'll be honest-- I am not the best person to make commentary on the world of paranormal as there is so much out there for werewolves and the like. It's hard to tell the good-- from the bad-- from the humdrum. 

Howl in Walker's Run by Mel Favreaux-- the author's latest work in the Sanctuary Series. Eureka, I was intrigued. Her main female lead is a refreshingly strong and independent woman. And I found myself really finding bits and pieces of myself in the character for she was so real and well created.  The male lead was not over the top Oh-Please alpha but you had no problem realizing he truly was as these two met up. You can feel the chemistry with no doubts between the two.

The drama is very realistic and the flow of the story keeps you going along at a pace you forget you're reading, instead you're running right along with Walker's Run. I am new to Favreaux's writings. But I now consider myself a fan. And thank you for giving us something new and fresh in the genre. I look forward to reading more.  


Sunday, November 17, 2013

Stories from the Streets: Hope a Little Longer


As most know, or should know, I've spent some times on the streets. It made its definite bends in my personality and not something I will ever forget. In those times, I met some remarkable people whose stories will never be told, names never known. Every now and then some of those times whisper to my creative ear and I feel the need to tell a story- some of them fictional, some of them based on actual events, people.

The following story is fictional, but it can be stated that of course its based on the very true reality of what happens every day to those that are forced or choose to live a life on the streets as displaced or homeless persons. 


This is such story that has been nagging my brain for the past week. And perhaps its due to the holidays-- make sure you give a gift at this time of year to someone you may never know the story of, or the name of....but know you made a difference without needing the return. Or so you think...for what you give...always comes back to you in one way or another. 

Volunteer, donate-- give something. 


Thank you- J



"Mommy, I'm hungry."

She looked down at her two-year son and felt guilt wash over her. She had tried to get them to the Southside Mission on time before they met their quota of space by 6pm, but got there minutes too late. Now they were facing another night on the chilly streets with empty stomachs. She dreaded a night of holding her son tight, crying with each grumble of hunger her son's tummy sounded.

How had it gotten this bad so quick? They had an apartment and his father to help just a mere 6 months ago, but it all went away when she lost her job. Her boyfriend had decided that there was no reason to stay and there went their only income. The landlord has been less than forgiving and had evicted them after only missing one month of rent. She and her son had come home to the small, cold apartment being padlocked from the outside with a trash bag of their clothes sitting on the stoop and the rest of their belongings locked up inside to be sold to pay the debt.

She had frantically tried to find a job and child care. Had signed up on the housing program wait list that was three years backlogged. So far she had found nothing and each day was a struggle to just get food and find a place to sleep. Competing with each other homeless person and family seeking the same. The shelters and missions only had so much space, so much food, before they had to turn people away and it was a first come, first serve basis. Some days she was some of the first. Other days, like today, she was not.

"I know baby. Mommy's trying." Her son pressed himself against her leg, wrapping his arms tight as she shifted the heavy tattered backpack on her weary shoulders. It held all they owned-- clothes, toothbrushes, hairbrush and their id's and his birth certificate. Long gone were the days of toys, except of the one stuffed puppy her son would not let go of. She had no fancy lotions or soaps, no makeup or shiny hair adornments. She had almost forgotten what those were like as she kept the few ponytail holders that remained on her wrist so she could keep her greasy-- washed whenever she could-- hair in a ponytail. As her fingers brushed through her son's hair, her eyes looked around desperately for some solution, knowing it was useless. She was too tired to go across town to only be turned away from the other missions as she did not even have the few coins to take the bus. She fought back the urge to cry. To just sit and let herself give in to the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness of what her life had become. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just her...but knowing she couldn't take care of her son?

Soul shattering.

She could have given up by now. Ended it in front of a bus, jumped from a bridge, given in to the hunger and the cold and hope she'd be forgiven on the other side. But as she looked down at those big always trusting eyes of her son, she knew she'd keep trying. For him. She was all he had. And he was her everything. And as much as it seemed to be better to give him up to one of the adoption agencies or the state, she couldn't and wouldn't break that trust. Not yet. Maybe soon...she knew with heartbreaking realism... but she wasn't there yet. But almost...

As she looked up the block, she made a decision and squatted down to whisper to him. "Wait here okay?" He nodded and she gave him a hug with a kiss on his dirt smeared cheek. "I'll be right back. Promise." He searched her eyes, squeezing that tattered stuff dog and then whispered back. "I promise too."

She made sure he was hidden behind a off-duty cab and trash cans as she jogged across the street, the heavy weight of the backpack feeling like it was loaded with rocks. On the corner, a sandwich vendor was selling hot sandwiches as he called out his menu to passer-bys. She put her head down as she moved through the late day crowd, unnoticed. She always wondered why the homeless became invisible to those that were not. She used to get looks from men with her petite frame and wide hazel eyes but not now. Now she was just another forgotten, unwanted, unwashed and useless waste of humankind. It was easier not to be seen than it was to deal with the wrongs of society.

As she approached the sandwich cart, she paused as the vendor became occupied with a customer before she moved forward and past to snag a sandwich as she walked by.

"Hey! I saw that! Stop." She hadn't made it but a few steps before the vendor was grabbing her arm and yanking the sandwich from her grasp. "You stole this? From me? I am sick of you street trash thinking you can just take what you want and not pay. Police! Hey you..." A police officer was walking a few yards ahead and turned to appraise the situation. She felt fear paralyze her as the officer walked over.

"What's going on here?"

The vendor went on to say how she had stolen and he wanted her arrested. The officer, who had the kindest brown eyes, looked down at her. "That true ma'am? Do you have money to pay for the goods?"

The officer most likely knew she did not, and she felt tears sting in her eyes as she shook her head. She didn't. She didn't have a single dime. Not a sole penny. Her eyes drifted over to see her small little blonde haired boy who was hugging the light post amidst the trash cans. Panic filled his eyes with fear bleaching his skin pale. Oh god, if they arrested her, he would be alone on the streets. What had she done?

"I don't. I'm sorry. I just..." The vendor ranted and raged about how he was tired of losing inventory to street vermin and wanted her to be taught a lesson. To her his words became a dull white noise as she closed her eyes. She just needed to get back to her little boy. "Please. I was just hungry. I just needed....I tried the mission." She was fully crying now as she pointed down the street where the mission was located "But they were full. No more allowed tonight. It's just a sandwich." Her eyes went back to the  little boy who was starting to step forward as if to make a stand for his mother. To save her as she always saved him. She shook her head no to him. They'd take him. They'd arrest her and put him in the system. She wasn't ready for that to happen yet. She still had hope.

Or did...

The police officer had just been minutes from being off-duty. The last thing he needed was a confrontation between a sleazy sandwich hocker and a street woman. But as he watched the woman, he noticed where she was frantically looking and that's when he saw the little boy. Oh damn.

"How much is the sandwich?" The vendor stopped his tirade to look at him. The thing with street vendors was as soon as cost was brought up, their indignation usually vanished if they were going to get paid.

"Ten dollars."

The officer's eyes went to the hand-written menu on the cart and saw the price was actually five dollars and smirked. "Fine. Then give me two of them and lets call this done. It's the holidays and shit."

The vendor let her go and handed the officer another sandwich to go with the first one she had stolen and the officer handed the guy a twenty-dollar bill. She was confused and not sure if the officer needed dinner before he arrested her or what. Her mind had not even considered what it meant until the officer pushed the two sandwiches into her hands. She frowned and looked down at the cellophane wrapped food and back up at him. "I don't understand...?"

The officer moved her away from the now "all good" vendor and leaned in to say low to her. "Take the sandwiches. And this" pushing a few bills in her hand "and don't try that again. Your little boy is watching. Set a better example if you could lady."

Her tears started anew and she nodded. The officer looked away and thumbed on his shoulder walkie-talky. "Stan. You at the Holy Mother mission?" A voice came back with an affirmative as the officer then replied back. "Good. They got space?" The voice responded with a yes.

The officer looked down at her and said into the walkie. "Tell the sisters to keep a space for a woman and a kid? I'll bring them myself. Hardship and a favor. Let them know I'll coach two extra games if they'll save em for me." His co-officer laughed and said no problem.

She had no idea what to say. Or do. She hugged the sandwiches to her and gave the officer a small smile. "Thank you. So much."

The officer smiled and nodded with a tip of his hat. "No problem ma'am. We serve all. Not just those that don't want it or think they deserve it." He walked with her across the street as her little boy came running up to cling to his mother's legs. The officer squatted down and said with a smile. "You like police cars kid?"

The little boy's eyes went wide. "Are we arrested?" The officer felt a sadness that the kid's mind went there without too much thought as he shook his head. "No. Just special guests. We give all special people rides."

The little boy looked up to his mother for confirmation and she gave him a tear-filled smile. He then too smiled, something she realized she rarely saw anymore and said in a voice full of  hero-worship awe at the officer. "I like police cars. I think they're cool."

And she felt hope once again....

for just a little while longer.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

When all your dreams come true...: Interview with Jas T. Ward

When all your dreams come true...: Interview with Jas T. Ward: I had the pleasure of sitting down with Jas T. Ward, author extraordinaire and entrepreneur. I say that because she started her own publ...

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Oh, the Places I Go!: A Rare "Madness"

Oh, the Places I Go!: A Rare "Madness": When I sat down to read an ARC of "Madness" by fellow writer Jas T. Ward, I knew I was in for an adventure of epic proportions tha...

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Mel Favreaux: A Review for Madness By Jas T. Ward: Review of Jas T. Ward’s Madness By Mel Favreaux An  electrifying  read that makes walking the fine grey line between good and e...

The Bitches of Eastwick: Interview with author Jas T. Ward

The Bitches of Eastwick: Interview with author Jas T. Ward:        Hello friends Sgt Tibbs and I would like to introduce you to a new friend of ours author Jas T. Ward. Thanks for stopping by Jas. W...

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Bread (A Short)

"Look. It's not that hard. All you have to do is distract and I'll grab okay?"

She nodded as she peeked around the corner at the bread truck. Her mouth watered with just the thought of fresh bread rather than stale slices in which she had to pick off spots of mold after it had sat in a dumpster for days. She was weak from hunger but fired by craving for that warmed baked goodness.

Her friend was the fastest runner she knew for Timothy had lived on the streets longer than she had. She also had a bit of a crush on the seventeen-year old boy, two years older than her, but she would never tell him or anyone else that. No, that would be a weakness and she had learned that weakness was one thing you could never show.

"Ready?"

She nodded as he all but shoved her around the corner. She stood there on the sidewalk wearing her dirty long sweatshirt over torn jeans with duct tape wrapped sneakers on her feet in which she kept stuffed with tissue because they were two sizes too small. People scorned at her, quick to circle around her as if touching her would somehow make them homeless too.

She mumbled as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt in her fingers. "Distract...how do I?"

The delivery man was turning to grab the last tray which meant the doors would be locked and their chance would be over. She had to think fast or Timothy would be so mad. She couldn't make Timothy mad. Being on the streets was dangerous so having a partner in crime to help as well as safety in numbers, she couldn't let that happen.

Think Elsie think...

She heard Timothy's warning behind as she ran forward and grabbed the delivery man totally winging it. "Dad!" She threw her arms around the delivery man's neck to pull him away from the truck. "I miss you. Mom said you were supposed to come home years ago. I came to find you! She'll be so happy!"

Her eyes tracked Timothy as he ran over to grab the crate of fresh bread before turning to run.

The delivery man yanked her off of him and shoved her away. "You're crazy. Get off of me. And get a damn bath." It was at that moment the man saw Timothy and yelled. "Hey! You! Stop!"

The shove sent her back against the truck as the delivery man went after Timothy. "No!" She grabbed at the delivery man but instead just hit the pavement, scraping her palms when she landed. The delivery man chased after Timothy as they ran across the traffic.

It all happened so fast that it seemed like time had slowed down. Timothy clutching that crate of bread as he almost got across the busy street...until a dark car slammed into him and sent him skyward. Elsie watched the bread fly up to send slices of bread everywhere as Timothy's body came slamming down on the pavement behind the car. "No!!"

She started to run to check on Timothy but was grabbed from behind and then thrown to the ground, her chin striking the pavement. Police had shown up and one had her pinned to put zip-ties on her wrists as another squatted down to check on Timothy. She was yanked up as the delivery man was pointing and telling the officers in a rage what had happened.

But Elsie couldn't take her eyes off of the still form of Timothy laying there on the dark pavement with white squares of fresh bread scattered around him. She frowned when she realized the ones closer to him were turning dark red...

"Get her to the car. Call the meat wagon for the other one."

And Elsie cried as her one weakness laid dead surrounded by bread she would once again not be allowed to eat.

Never show your weaknesses. Because they always hurt when they are gone.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

A Week of Good. A Week of Bad

What a week. It's been full of both ups and downs. Reveals and peoples true nature bubbling up when you least expect it. But all and all? It's good to just shed some of the BS regardless of the backlash from doing so. Those that truly care and have always been there...are well..still there and for that I am grateful.

On the writing front:

Madness is almost done. And even I am amazed how it evolved and became so much deeper than I would have ever thought it could. It has aspects to it that even I hadn't thought about in regards to Heaven and Hell and a war that just created itself within the still being written pages.

I admit, I'm rather sad to see it be done as it was such a tribute to the fans that have come to love Reno. Yes there are five books total in the series. But this was Reno and Emma's. And that crazy guy has such a big piece of my heart and so much of my soul.  And their love story is truly a twisted fairy tale. So... I'm glad his book will do both them justice and the fans proud.

On the DBP Front:
I'm finding both inspiration and frustration there. But maybe how things happen is for the best. That truly talented spark is looking for a home. I just have to be patient until it finds it way to DBP.

Take care- JTW

Friday, August 23, 2013

Where are John's Pants or Life Story? Guess What I Chose.

So, my personal writing challenge didn't quite go the way I planned. Some family health issues derailed it early on. But it hobbled it's way along the tracks and recovered.

Romance writing. I cringed at being called a romance novelist. I can't even explain why but prior to writing Kat and Matt's real life based tragedy, heartache and yes, romance, I do have a new respect for the GOOD romance writing (Admit it, some of it is just cheesy, fluff, so far from reality...well, I could go on and on here) that uses real people, real life situations of the every day. No bad guys. No superheroes, no men that are chiseled, broad yet so sad on the inside being chased or chasing females that flutter when they see their chest, or swoon when they speak or just have no real backbone. THOSE romance writings are the ones I would be falling on a sword rather than to be said I write.

You all know what I'm talking about...they have covers like the one below (By the way-- if ANY publisher puts a cover like this or closely related to this, or has a naked anything on it, I will stab said publisher with my pen. Consider that a warning. And yes, I know, I still use a pen to write, deal with it. I'm old school. I did NOT say I WAS old....). You know what I'm talking about. The book you can't even be seen reading at work or in public because then people know you're a sucker for cheesy romances....like..this one. Yeah...why do all the men have no clothes? And whose breasts look like that?

Get some damn pants John. Sheesh. Shirt would be nice. It is the wilderness I believe. There's bugs there. And other creepy things. And by the way? Your hard, throbbing member is doing NO good in the middle of her shoulders-- might just be me, but that's not really considered an entry point. Shrugs. But I don't really know romance criteria. Or anatomy apparently. But I do wear pants. Score one for the writer.


Anyway...(Eyes back here reader-- stop wondering about John's pants)....

So I couldn't. I did romance the Jas T. Ward way. Figures right?

I've written a book that is seen every day with people you see every day. With problems, and bills, heartache and pain along with so much bitterness and resentment that the reader really wonders if they don't have the right idea in staying as far away from each other as possible.

That would be great if these two didn't love each other in the midst of hating each other that they just can't walk away. Not again.

She doesn't flutter nor give and chances are she's like the kind of woman most romance readers wouldn't want as a friend. Matt is just not a nice person and you wonder if ANY woman would want to have to put up with him, much less someone like Kat. But they have such heart. If they can get past all pain.

This story was inspired actually by real life couples that have had to face some of the hardest of spots in a marriage. Physical and health problems that destroy most all couples leaving very few standing together in the end. With Kat and Matt? They were so far apart before this incident happened that only it could bring them together to work out what was left of their love, if there was anything left of their love....or just realized it too had died with all the rest.

I do love Katy and Matt. Their voices were like a soft beckoning in the crowd of paranormal, supernatural demands in my head. They are so achingly real that even I have shed some tears writing as they told me their story.

It's been life changing to write it. It made me look at some very real aspects of my own life and decide--- you need to face the pain. You need to face the harshness. And you need to show you are not ashamed. You are not less a person but you are not who you want to be.

But I can be.

So I owe Matt and Kat so much. And I couldn't just toss the book away after not completing it in my two weeks self-imposed challenge to finish a romance cover to cover in that time (Which dear reader, is not my nature. I am a challenge driven person. Twiz is relentless in that regard) . Because to be honest? It's not a romance novel truly. Its a life book.

So in appreciation of what Kat and Matt have done for me in allowing me to write their story, their story will be published as it is. Painful and raw and full of so much love and loss that maybe it can change each of it's readers too.


There is hero in all of us. There is an amazing ability to heal and move on.

So, maybe they are heroes in their own way.

Just like each one of us should strive to be.

Just well, with more clothes and more common sense. (Wink)

Take care.

-JTW

*******************************************************************************
Matt and Kat's book - Love's Bitter Harvest is slated for publication on Valentine's Day 2014 from Dead Bound Publishing.


Thursday, August 8, 2013

Writing Challenge - Meet Kat (Day Three)

Katherine Speaks

So, I am well into the novel challenged by some to write (Yeah Wendy- I'm talking about you woman) and its well on its way. The characters have found their voice in my head and that is at times the hardest part. Now to just keep them speaking to me and telling me the tale they have to tell. With that? I introduce you to Katherine McCall. Goes by Kat, though family calls her Katy (Which she doesn't like). 

Kat is 31-years old. Four years ago she left her small town upbringing clutching her degree in Art and a few belongings to move to New York. What did she leave behind? A husband who thought the sun rose with her and the moon came up only to shine on her skin so he could watch her sleep. But Kat had dreams and ambitions and when told to choose?

She chose to go. 

Fast-forward four years later and a tragedy back home forces her to face what she left behind. The pain and heartache, the rejection of love and home. But now she was the top in her field with a six-figure income and the respect of everyone she worked with. The finest of everything with the small town plain-brown paper country girl she used to be? No more. 

She left herself behind to make herself anew. 

She left behind her best friend, the only man she had ever loved or made love to... Matt. 

Because something very horrible has happened.

And now. She's going home. 


Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Just One More Page.... (Day Two)

So, day two of my personal writing challenge.



I dove into this romance novel I almost felt challenged and dared to do. It's going well. I got 4 chapters done today (remember dear friends and fans- I had told myself 10 a day---- can you say very long sleepless weekend to catch up? Ignore what my GF says, I will get back on target).

I was about to go to bed and the main character Matt decided to make himself known. Katherine, the female lead was pretty easy. But Matt was a bit elusive. Until the moment I told KB that we were heading to bed. And then BAM, Matthew McCall decided to make himself known. He's a total jerk, a brutish asshole that seems very, very familiar. Hmm... no idea why? (Yeah, I smirked when I typed that) But anyway, he started babbling and bitching in my head so I started writing the next chapter where he shows his real nature. I'm not sure if the ladies will truly appreciate the complexity of Matt until later in the book. I really don't know if Kat can even like him at this point. He sure as hell doesn't like himself, at all. 

But...I like him. But us assholes have to stick together.

So..back on track, but still running behind. But at least I'm on the track and not sitting on the side saying I need to get my ass on that track.

We'll see...maybe I'll even reveal some character back-stories of Matt and Kat later in the week. 

Yeah...add that to my to-do-list. 

Until tomorrow....back to Matt and Kat. 

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Best Laid Plans (Day One- Writing Challenge)

Day One: My Own Personal Writing Challenge

Well, that didn't go too well. I went to work as planned and go through the day on like- thinks- 3 hours of sleep. Woke up excited to get this challenge going. WHICH ran out at about 2pm and I was dragging. That's okay- there's always the night. I work better at night. Something about the darkness and coolness of the eve soothes me. Stirs my creativity.

Until, life had other plans.

Que sitting in a hospital waiting room to help a loved one who was having a health issue.



For those who don't know me? I hate hospitals. I hate being contained and told to sit wait here with strangers. I am not a nice person in such situations. But in all fairness, there was even richness and amusement in the 7 hours I sat there (9pm to 4am).

There was this crazy (and yes, I use this term loosely. I have no idea if she was actually crazy as in seeing a therapist, taking meds, etc- this is just my word for well, whatever that was) woman who got upset when I wouldn't let her use my phone. Don't get me wrong. I simply kept telling her no. Repeatedly. Over and over (Give me a break, I could have decked her, no was being nice). Finally she asked why I was there. Told her in two words.

Lesson - do not engage crazy people. Don't answer them. Don't meet their eyes and definitely don't give them an in to conversation. Oooops. I should know this better than anyone. I am after all, clinically crazy.

So, what happened when I gave her this short, curt kernel of info? She proceeded to implore me to pray with her (now, before you start thinking I'm harsh- take it from a former homeless person. You get the mark to close their eyes, get caught in the moment and take all you can. That messenger bag with laptop, e-reader and phone? Total perfect grab. All contained to carry). Knowing what I know, I smiled and said I don't pray. Thanks. Yeah. Remember my advice up there? Remember my lack of sleep? It's all coming into play and biting me in my literary ass.

Lesson - If the subject of prayer comes up with a crazy person. Say nothing. This is when you really need to heed lesson above, and ignore.

To say she got upset is being a bit flippant. No. She got well, crazier. She then proceeded to call me a demon. Now, I've been called a lot of things. Probably been called that too. But never in such a public display. She then spat on the floor and made the sign of the cross at me with her fingers. This was followed with several "fuck you" and  "Jesus will find me".....what did this do?

Caused me great moments of amusement. I broke out into laughter, which just caused her tirade to increase in fervor and zest.  Followed by more laughter from my corner of the waiting room.

Eventually my own personal demon detector friend was escorted out of the hospital by the police. Apparently this individual was often trying to spend the night in the hospital waiting room and was a drug-addict. She resisted arrest and it was not pretty when they had to chase her down through the crowded waiting room.

But, finally (and yes loved one is fine and doing well- they got to sleep in today) got to come home after 4am this morning. Only to turn around and go back to work today.

BUT, through-out day one, I actually did achieve to write 4 chapters. I had planned on 10.

And you guessed- Its a romance novel. With (did you really expect different from me?) a twist. But every day normal people, with no super powers. But I do like the characters. There's even a dog. But it is different to do a straight romance novel.

Hmm.....wonder if I can write in a crazy lady?

Sunday, August 4, 2013

To Write. But What to Write? How fans can change your flow.

So I have decided to take the next two weeks to dedicate solely to writing. No role-play writing, no social media, no anything other than breathing, eating, drinking for writing. I've given myself two challenges to meet (because if you know me, you know I get bored with easy. I thrive in stress and pressure). Those two things are:

1. A writing book camp that was sent to me by a friend at Writer's Digest magazine. A way to flex my muscles not often used in my creative exercises. I think all author's worth saying they can write more than what they know (yeah yeah, I know the saying) should try it.

2. I am writing a novel from beginning to end, in two weeks. I had THOUGHT I knew the one I was going to write. Have it all outlined, pinned to my works in progress wall and everything. See, the best laid plans and all....doesn't always work out. One of my biggest fans recently asked me why I don't like writing romance. Why? When I seem so good at it. It was hard question to answer. There's many reasons why. Some are related to the fact that I am so far jaded and cracked when it comes to believing in love, I find it hard to believe it can exist beyond the pages in the way that seems to exist in books. I am trying but its a battle against myself and the past.

Another part of that is...well..writing romance, turmoil, true love fairy tale tales for my characters comes incredibly easy. As in no effort..therefore...no challenge (see above about liking to be challenged). If its easy? It can't be that big of a deal right? Yeah. It's an odd way of thinking. It would be a total romance book. No supernatural. No paranormal. No fighting of the hero type. Just two normal people, in a normal world trying to find love despite it all.

So...the more I have mulled to put that in the back of my brain, the more its twisting its way right back to me to the front.

Do I write the book I planned? With a lot of my background and history in it in a way. With characters that can speak my past without me having to do it and being ripped bare in showing it?

Or...is that little nagging voice of romance going to get in the way and when my two weeks are over I have a romance novel sitting there going "See....told you they said you could do it" and I go...damn.


We'll just have to see what voice wins out when I hit the blank pages tomorrow.

Tune in here for updates.

Who knows. Maybe romance can be louder than that outline on my wall.

I'm curious to see myself.

Friday, July 12, 2013

Feeding the Writing Need

So, I have a slew of works to get done. But that's how I like it. I move from one to the other to the next. It keeps them fresh, keeps me hopping and its the way I like to work. I am working on Reno's book and its evolved far beyond a simple tribute to a lovable character. The Breakers, Bounce and the whole new world of the Keepers is pretty cool. Reno is just as lovable as always, and Emma is so much richer than she was before.

Add to that weaving the RP and the new into it? Love it. It's going to be huge as we are putting the novella at the beginning and its over 100+ pages as it is.

I will admit, some days I have to drag myself to the PC to get something, anything done. But all and all? My brain juice to get it done is still rich and flowing strong.

The slated winter deadline is approaching, and I am already getting "Hows it going on the book..." from those with a vested interest in its publication. Can't blame them. We learned a lot of lessons on Bits & Pieces and those lessons will be used.

I was asked about pre-sales and its a bit early for that. Its not going to come out until between Thanksgiving and Christmas and that is months away.

Or so I keep telling myself.

Well, time to get creative nose back in the words are my friend grindstone.

Take care, be good to yourself, and if you cant? Be good to someone else so they can.

-JTW

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Just How High Can A Balloon Go?

Wow. What a week it's been.

The autographed copies of Bits and Pieces got out to the fans. And their posts and excitement had me pretty high on the author balloon.

Then our title got picked up by Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million and many other book sellers, including one in the UK. Just how does one get a damn balloon off the moon?

I just don't even have words. Which is saying something for me. I always have words. It's kinda my "thang".

DBP is doing great, still starving but a happy kind of hunger.

For those who don't know where to go for that:

www.DeadBoundPublishing.com

They are even doing a give-away of my book, signed and personalized. So go join their page and like it.

Thanks..and again...amazing week. You, all of you had a part in that.

Giveaway-

https://www.facebook.com/DeadBoundPublishing/app_228910107186452

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Ain't No Get Rich Thang



So...as you know, I am a writer AND a publisher. May I point out I and my business partner are NO where near rich. Not even close. So we are doing this publishing work and working real jobs and writing and doing all the things (or trying to) that we enjoy. I think everyone goes into business with a lofty hope and dream and usually realizes that that was much higher than reality. Its hard. I admit. We are constantly finding ways to save money so we can devote our funds to getting not only my works out there, but now, several other authors.

We are very lucky. We have proofers and editors that either work for free or for peanuts, just to be a part of the vision that we someday hope DBP (Dead Bound Publishing) will be.

Like now...Merchandising. As I peruse through t-shirts, mugs, tote bags and other things I am amazed the cost of it all. Our fans want it, they say they'll buy it, and I admit, I am a sucker for giving them what they want. Much to my biz partner's agony.

Sure we could just toss crap their way and say here you go. But DBP is our baby. It's the heartbeat of our creative body and we have to make sure we do right by it.

So here I sit looking through manufacturers of t-shirts and mugs (who would have thought there would be THAT many colors of grey for a t-shirt and what exactly is a friendly to the drinker mug??) trying to find ways to not only give the fans what they want, but also to keep the coffers filled so we can print the books (You have NO idea how expensive that can be....thank you good printer and distributor for being such a good affiliate)...I eye my poor neglected writings and think.....all I really want to do is write.

I wonder if any one is looking so I can?

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Social Media and Me

Okay, so someone- the one I love, who is wonderful, thinks I should do that Pinterest thing as an author. Yeah. I can't even keep up with all the social media avenues that are constantly merging into the super highway (hell, does anyone even call it that anymore?) seems like daily. If this blog was goldfish, it would be belly-up, bloated and stinking up the place by now.

While I get the whole sharing everything immediately, I long for the days when writers/authors would become known and get their name out there via hard work and good writings. Not who has the biggest blog, the most friends, the herd of followers. Don't get me wrong, I love my fans. I have come to need them for support and encouragement as much as they need me for a few twisted words and tales.

But I like to think its for the writing. (It's definitely not for my sparkling personality and outgoing manner).

I keep telling myself that one of these days I will turn off the modem, disable the data on my phone and shut myself up for 7 days straight and write. Crank out a book in 7 days non-stop. I have yet to be able to pull it off (yes, I too have issues of partaking of the same thing I am bitching about, see sparkling and outgoing above).

But...ONE day I will do it.

Oh..and for the total joy of randomness...


What other words are there for SPENT?

Saturday, April 27, 2013

It's That Time Again Folks

So, my first published work with my name on it hit eBook, and it was great. Very exciting as the sales came in. Now it is time for it to go on it's way to being a work of printed word. It could not come at a better time. This hasn't been the best week for me and none of it has to do with writing. I think the writing and the fans save me. It's getting closer to the time of year of the suicide and while I tell myself I'm stronger, I'll be fine? Yeah, I'm lying.

But I have good friends, a person who loves me despite even me.

I shall survive.

What's a little fire? All it does is make you harder to burn in time.

Take care.