let the devil wear black: FREE!

if you have a kindle, my first novel is FREE ON KINDLE RIGHT NOW, for a limited time! although, it’s always on kindle unlimited for free, right now anyone can get their paws on it.

it’s not the sort of story that i ordinarily tell (as is known, i’m usually all about the horror or fantasy, & this one is more psychological), but it’s a story that i told. & it’s free until (unintentionally) midnight, on valentines day. šŸ§›ā€ā™€ļø

cover design by Mitch Green at radpress publishing.

CLICK ME. I’M WHERE FREE STUFF IS.

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writing (a) novel(s)

i’ve finished writing a novel. a few people have asked advice. i will make another post about what the hell i plan on doing with it, because… i have no idea! i think i’ve decided to go the old-fashioned route and send it to literary agents rather than self-publish (for now), consequently, probably building an even fuller rejection folder.

this post was inspired by an email conversation i’m currently having with n. ian mccarthy. who btw, is awesome.

before you decide to read this post, i need to present a full disclaimer: i have no idea what i’m talking about, and i am not fishing for any advice / personal opinions, although,Ā  advice / personal opinions aren’t necessarily uninvited. i am also not saying that i am any kind of expert, because trust me, i am nothing near an expert at anything. except maybe avoiding conversations in public.

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Continue reading “writing (a) novel(s)”

art is long, time is short.

why the silence?

poems used to pinch me out of no where. they’d tap me on the spine in the bathroom, press their cold nose on my ear while i was at the grocery store. they’d well up in my mead glass and i’d drink them until the grin on my face was a glasgow.  they’re miniature autobiographies, fiction, non-fiction, the smallest stories, can fit them into a dollhouse.

but my time is scarce. this isn’t a personal diary (i wouldn’t have time for it, even though that might be amusing), and even if i’ve mentioned personal things here before, i prefer to just be my work as much as possible. ‘when mozart died, he just became music.’ — and so, all my time, tiny as it was, has been devoted to writing my novel. the novel is now finished. which means maybe, just maybe, poetry will stab me again. and again.

of course, this means editing for hundreds of years on that novel, but the accomplishment is done and the time has partially freed up. i’ll also be figuring out where i’d like to send it out to, whether or not to use kindle, as this is not my magnum opus. a first novel never is.

i intend to get to work on another novel soon, as well, but i’m taking this time to let the story take root within me. it’s actually a half-finished novel from years ago (the one that i may be working on next, that is.) and i need to bake longer.

as for my book i’ve just written, it’s about a woman who goes on a road trip to kill the man who’s killed her daughter. as i edit, i’ll post excerpts, perhaps from each chapter.

i’ve got a few drafts saved here on wordpress, full of cobwebs and carcasses and carapaces, of some rants about pictures i’ve found in vintage stores, being a mom, which i suppose could pass for prose, so i may be editing those shortly and posting them here.

i also have piles of half-done poems, sad, i know.

and a list of places seeking content…

so here i go to become music again.

 

i somehow forgot to mention.

some time ago, i submitted a horror story for an upcoming halloween anthology taking place in salem. the story’s called ‘let’s kill her‘ and they just accepted it to be published in the book. more details to come. i’ve put an excerpt of it here before, i just don’t want to dig for it. no need to read any further if you’ve already read it before, it’s the same excerpt. also, please tell me to commit to sleeping more.

i am still working on a novel. 30k isn’t a bad word count for how little time i have to truly get into the mood and let go, and just write and write. it’s a slow process. i am waiting to get my rejections from the reviews i’ve submitted to before publishing my poetry book. it’s nothing that anybody hasn’t read on my blog or on sudden denouement Ā already, perhaps only a few unpublished pieces.

and isn’t it the biggest curse of the creative to find ourselves in stagnate ruts and have no idea how we got there? the stars align for me sometimes, or maybe it’s all ritualistic for me to feel driven. although, i am interrupted often by screaming, or MAMA, MAMA, which doesn’t help my already delicate concentrationā™” so much to do, so little time. lately, it seems anything can put me in quicksand. the reason i was so disappointed in the movie a quiet passion, was not only because it royally sucked (my cousin rachel was much, MUCH better, yet strangely has a lower rating? i have a thing for period pieces.) Ā but because i can relate to the isolation that emily dickinson gladly, and at times perhaps not so gladly, placed herself in. it became a bad habit of mine to isolate myself when i was staying in florida. i’ve moved away from that awful place of course since february, having too much of my genes be comforted by the cold to ever stay where i was so lost in the constant heat. even new orleans isn’t as bad. i could sip absinthe happily in the pirates alley all day and get beignets when my stomach went sour, but i couldn’t wait to breathe somewhere that wasn’t florida. the habit has carried over to where i live now, somewhere that makes some semblance of sense, Ā but i’m slowly working on it. the only place i really go is the gym, and everyone leaves you alone there. best place ever. i guess i’m a model introvert who can speak to people easily, but prefers peace. not that i get any with twins. especially now that one of them talks. it’s so fucking cute.

anyway, i was getting at admitting that i am nervous as fuck to go to this book release event that’s coming up. the other book i’m in, well, that my poem is in, has a release event. other poets are reading their work live. i already told them i won’t be doing that, but will be very, very happily attending. by happily i mean anxiously, because it’s going to be quite a crowd. so back to the excerpt.

‘let’s kill her’ is a short story about a murder that takes place halloween morning, and is avenged on halloween night.

Continue reading “i somehow forgot to mention.”

a virgo unsurprisingly complaining, a link to ‘across lots’ & an excerpt from “let’s kill her.”

so my life has been insane. how fitting, since i am too. or at least that’s what they say.
has been? is. currently and always. in some ways and in many.
i have an urge to pour out an intensely personal blog post, but i’m too exhausted or afraid.Ā i live far too much in my own mind, and although typing makes it easier to get it all out, lately it’s hard for me to talk about anything.
but hey, remember how i’ve mentioned that i was working on another short horror story for an indie anthology? finished and submitted. we’ll see what happens.
speaking of anthologies, i’m going to be receiving my physical copy of “the mountain pass”, theĀ other indie anthology i wrote ‘across lots’ forĀ sometime soon. it’s available, along with the sample,Ā on the publishers website and on amazon kindle. my story is actually the first one in the book, so you can read most of it in the sample on their website,Ā but if you want to read the entire thingĀ (my story, not the whole book), go to the sample on amazon. šŸ˜‰ there’s a little bit of the second story in there as well from another writer. i can’t wait to read all the other stories in it.
i’ll be working on my own novel, which i will painstakingly attempt to publish at a bigger house, and self-publishing my poetry book onward. any poem i write for the book will be put on my blog or at sudden denouement anyway. the book isn’t intended to be all original work.
maybe i’ll put together a few other stories for indie places if i have time.
i still need to smash the remaining entries of the horseman into one post… soon.
without further ado, here’s an excerpt of what i’ve sent to an anthology call askingĀ for stories taking place on halloween, in the same city (salem) in different decades. i chose 1973. a few years after the manson murders.

let’s kill her

Continue reading “a virgo unsurprisingly complaining, a link to ‘across lots’ & an excerpt from “let’s kill her.””