As you can probably tell, I have had some technical difficulties. The buggies have attacked on multiple things and I… am not tech savvy enough to deal with all of them. Ugh.
It is human to error, but it takes a computer to really f*ck things up.
BUT, I think most things have been worked out.
Granted, they didn’t work out well for me, but they’re at least not ongoing.
So, I had to update to list some of the things:
Patreon thinks I don’t exist anymore. (No one has any idea why) This particular thing is still trying to get worked out. If they can’t, I won’t redo the Patreon because that’s too much work lost and I have become a ball of frustrated.
The good thing is that Crossroad Inn, the serial story I have been writing on Amazon’s Vella and posting on that Patreon is very close to having one whole season ready to publish in book form. Yay!
Which means, as soon as I get the last episode done that I expect to be in the season 1 book, I will prepare for publishing that first season for all of you thirty days later as Amazon requires.
Next, there was some strange glitch with this here newsletter, again– no one knows why!
Gremlins. It’s the only answer that makes sense.
A cleansing is in order, clearly.
But, I have been assured it is fixed and will remain fixed. (Knock on wood)
Last, I have updated my website. Twice. How much of the updates are showing? ZIP. ZERO. NONE.
That’s how many swear words I have uttered in this process. All of them. In more languages than I actually speak. (We all learn the swears first, right?)
I have the best web designer around, and they have fixed the glitch!
So… I will be updating the site. Again.
*Drops head back to stare forlornly at the ceiling and weeps*
All this to say, I’m working on it. Now, back to the newsletter I wrote before even this program decided it hated me.
Little known fact about me, I am a massive nerd of more things than you can imagine.
Seriously, comic books, cars, American football, books, theater, movies, music, and a whole whack ton of other things I dig with a passion that doesn’t always make sense.
This week is the Super Bowl. Neither team is mine, I am a twelve, which means I am a Seahawks fan. And we’re talking from back in the bad days when all we wanted was to beat the Raiders. Yep, I just aged myself because I remember when we were in the AFC.
A whole bunch of people just went, ugh-sports ball. That’s fair, you don’t have to like it. But I will be watching this Super Bowl of teams I don’t care about, and I will lose my mind over the halftime show because holy crap that’s going to be good.
While I do that, I am reminded of a book I have in a drawer with football as a huge component…
I’m saying I may revisit that book if I can find the time between all my other projects.
So keep an eye out!
Also: do you like sports? Are you a nerd like me of a bunch of things?
Stories Ever After
Last week I gave a recommendation for Octavia Butler, this week I’m going to give another one.
Cinderella Is Dead by Kaylynn Bayron.
This is a YA reimagining of fairy tales using the Cinderella story as inspiration.
I love this book. It’s so much fun, and so different.
So if you want to check it out:
The Voice In The Forest
The night was thick outside when some noise, a scraping, low sound that didn’t belong managed to break through my sleeping mind and I opened my eyes.
I wanted to call out to Montgomery, ask him if there was something he could find out, something going on beyond the walls of my room.
But, if there were someone around, my calling a name of no one living might get me sent back to there. Might get me locked up all over again, and for how long this time?
No matter how long it was, it would delay the search for how to help Montgomery pass on.
Holding as still as I could, my blankets suddenly heavy on my skin, I strained my ears past my own pounding heartbeat which was all I heard.
One minute, ten. I wasn’t sure how long I held as still as the grave in my bed, waiting for something else to happen, for another sound to happen while I was awake enough to puzzle out what it meant.
All of the sudden, it wasn’t the sounds I became aware of, it was the absence.
Even if I had called out to Montgomery, I didn’t think he was close enough he would have heard me.
I couldn’t feel him.
Scanning around my room, daring to miss some noise by drowning it out with my own movements, I shifted and looked in every corner.
He wasn’t here.
Montgomery wasn’t in here, I… wasn’t sure he was even in the house.
Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I blinked into the dark.
Keeping still for a moment more, I gave the house another chance to make the noise again, but I heard nothing.
Throwing the blankets off, I climbed from the bed, my toes digging into the soft fibers of the rug beneath my bed.
In the dark, one hand held a few inches in front of my waist, just in case, I made my way across the room to the door in tiny steps that made no noise.
My fingers met the wood first, the touch against it not heavy enough to even shift the door in the frame. With my other hand I took hold of the knob, turning it a fraction at a time, holding my breath and hoping the old mechanisms wouldn’t give me away.
For some reason, Montgomery’s absence, and the noise, made the whole manor seem to grow.
As if I was alone in it entirely, as if it was large enough to not just get lost in, but to never be found. There was an ominous loneliness alongside me as I bit my lip and carefully, a tiny measure at a time, swung the door open, trusting the hinges not to scream.
By some miracle of the lack moisture in the air, the recent work done, or just the more frequent usage since I moved in, the hinges didn’t betray me.
I let out a breath, slow and silent, but my shoulders relaxed with the release. Taking my first step into the hall, I stayed on my toes on the cold wooden floor, using the pace and the slow transfer of weight from not using my heels to keep my footsteps light and quiet.
Somewhere in this grand manor, my mother was asleep next to Trenton. Somewhere in this place, other people snored or shuffled in their beds. From my place in the black of the night, moving through the hall alone, it felt as if the only thing asleep here was the light and none of the others were in the same world as the house and I were. Even though I knew better, my throat started to close, sure that the one thing I couldn’t do in this strange midnight reality was speak.
This must have been what it felt like to walk into Sleeping Beauty’s bed chamber.
Once, long ago, it was my favorite fairy tale. Probably because it was one of the few my mother read to me as a child.
Maybe because it was so real to me.
In other stories, there was good and bad and they were always at odds.
In the Sleeping Beauty, there were good fairies and bad fairies. And for a young girl with a mother like mine when I knew mothers were supposed to be good, it made sense to me.
Now, though, I wasn’t Sleeping Beauty. I wasn’t the one going to save her. And I wasn’t even a fairy, good or evil. As I tip toed down the hallway, I was the deep sleep she was trapped in.
Or maybe I was what Sleeping Beauty was dreaming about and the house was the trap inside her mind.
Finally, I reached the end of the hall and neared the top of the stairs.
The way the air moved… I couldn’t see the moment the wall ended and opened up for the grand stairwell, but I felt it.
Holding one hand out to my side, I searched with my fingers in the deep black of the world for the railing. It was here somewhere…
No matter how comfortable I might have been moving along a hallway I couldn’t see, there was no way I was going to take the chance of attempting to make my way down the stairs.
Trying to stop myself from pawing frantically at the air after I couldn’t find the damn railing, I pulled my hand back and flexed my fingers.
Reaching one more time, slow and deliberate with my hand spread wide, I searched to the side, even taking a step in the direction.
Finally, my fingers brushed the railing and I started to let go of a tense breath.
Until someone slammed their hands into my back.
The air flew out of me with a small sound of surprise that shattered the spell on the house.
Silence and fairy tales were the furthest things from my mind as my feet left the floor, my hands flying out in front of me, and the darkness and unknown of down the stairs loomed in the direction I fell.
|Well, what did you think of the chapter?|
What are your plans for Super Bowl?
Do you care about sports ball? Ha!
Thanks to everyone for their patience with the mail, and with my very large tangent this week.
As always, happy reading!