Author Archives: Dayle

A Very Overdue Post About the Holidays

We weren’t able to visit family for the holidays thanks to work schedules, so we decided to hunker down and enjoy some quality time with each other.

This post covers the day before Christmas through the day after, IIRC. I wrote it but never got around to cleaning it up and posting it! It’s now rather poignant given the Alan Rickman videos we watched…

We tagged Christmas Eve Day as our junk food and movie-watching day:

Movies (and other TV ephemera)

  • Trading Places
  • The Nightmare Before Christmas (paused halfway through for nap reasons)
  • Moon (not a Christmas movie; just something we’d been saying we wanted to watch for ages)
  • a few episodes of The IT Crowd
  • The Great Santa Claus Switch (a 1970 musical Christmas special featuring The Muppets. With Art Carney, who I suspect was drunk during filming, as both Santa and the bad guy, Cosmo Scam. Also the first appearance of a Muppet who would later be named Gonzo [in the special, he was called Snarl and wasn’t an alien].)
  • a TED talk about happiness
  • various videos on YouTube, including Marillion’s “Carol of the Bells” and Texas’s “In Demand” (possibly the sexiest video ever because Alan Rickman is in it) and Alan Rickman making tea

Junk Food

  • hot dogs for lunch (organic grass-fed beef hot dogs on whole-wheat buns, broiled and topped with melted Havarti, sauerkraut [for me] and organic ketchup, because we are not heathens) (okay, yes we are. But still.)
  • crab dip (cream cheese and crab meat mixed and topped with a sauce of ketchup, horseradish, garlic powder, and lemon juice) on Triscuits*
  • party rye bread (party/appetizer rye bread squares topped with a mix of mayo, parmesan, and onions, broiled)*
  • homemade baked mozzarella sticks (I used this recipe, http://www.thegunnysack.com/baked-mozzarella-cheese-sticks-recipe/, except we were out of panko crumbs so we just used regular breadcrumbs, and I added some dried parsley. It was waaay too much flour and breadcrumbs, so we’ll probably halve those amounts next time.). Dudes, these were sooooo good—so much better than store-bought/frozen, and not all that hard to make. A keeper recipe. Noms.
  • jalapeño poppers (store bought, and a letdown compared to the other food).
  • subs for supper (except on cheesy rolls rather than hoagie rolls, at Ken’s request. However, I was too full and did not make one for myself. By that point, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to poop for days.)
  • ice cream (we are hooked on Talenti brand ice cream and I can’t conceive of even looking at another brand, it’s so good)
    *party food my mother made during my childhood.

Funny story aside #1. In high school, one New Year’s Eve my friends and I spent the night at Laura’s house; her parents went out to a party. (Attendees were Teri, Laura, and I; I’m not sure if this was the year Bridget was there, the year Patty was there, or if they were both there the same year. I’m not even sure how many years we did this. Honestly, I remember several New Year’s Eves in high school/college that I spent alone at home. I’d watch a cheesy 80s fantasy flick on video, watch the ball drop, then write my novel on our Apple IIe while listening to Styx on my boom box. Because babees, I knew how to party.)

Anyway. Laura’s house. Teenage girls. Parents gone. Liquor cabinet not locked. Crème de menthe is really good in hot chocolate is all I’m sayin’.

The next morning, the cat walked on the piano and everyone but me was hung over and groaned in agony. Me, I was hungry. So we crawled out of our sleeping bags and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Everyone else ate cereal and complained that their Rice Cripsies were too loud. Me, not being fond of sweet things for breakfast (plus who was the evil bastard who created a ticking time bomb of food as a breakfast option?), well, I pulled out the leftover crab dip I’d brought for the previous night’s shenanigans. Because I was a lazy teenager, I’d just mixed all the ingredients together, which had created a pinkish-red blob of cream cheese with lumps in it.

Nobody else at the table thought this was a good idea. Shades of green appeared. I muahaha’d and hunched over my delicacy like Snoopy pretending to be a vulture. Mine, all mine!

Funny story aside #1a. Every single time I try to type “crab dip,” I type “crap dip.” This is not a commentary on the appetizer itself.

Funny story aside #1b. When I was little, I knew the word appetizer, and I knew the word my mother sometimes used for “appetizer,” which was pronounced “whore derves.” I also knew, from books I read, that there was a weirdly spelled word that meant appetizers, which in my mind was pronounced “horse d’overs.” I remember the day I figured out they were the same word, and it was magical. Choirs of angels, &tc.

Right. Where was I? Oh yes, holiday fun. Let’s move on to Christmas morning.

I ate crab dip for breakfast (see Funny story aside #1) and it was gooood, man. No regrets.

The theme for Christmas, at least for me, was booooooks! Bookity bookity books. My preciouses, let me hug them to my ample bosom and sing to thee. Ken looked at my wish list (the WishCentral.com version, not knowing that I’d recently moved much of it to Amazon, but thankfully the books were in both places) and then went to Powells. And somewhat to his chagrin, Powells had more of the books than expected. Although he says because most of them were used books and thus cheaper, he spent less than expected. So that’s good, right?

Funny story aside #2. Christmas tradition in our family was that on Christmas Day, we turned the TV to the Yule Log Channel and everyone was required to stay in the family room all day with the tree and the presents (except for my mom, who got to escape in order to cook supper). There was no retreating to one’s cozy bedroom to read one’s books in solitude, oh no.

This would have been acceptable if I got books for Christmas, but I almost never did. My mom likes to read a bit, but other than that, I was the weird outlier of a voracious reader. Once I started to transition out of childhood “gets toys for Christmas,” I was fucked. I was bored, and not interested in adult conversation (my sisters are seven and nine years older than me, so by this time, they were adults), and not able to get to my (small) stash of books in my room.

One year, I received, among other things, a couple of horse statues (I was horse mad as a child), a nonfiction book called Famous Horses and Their People (see, e.g., being horse mad), and a bell for my bike.

Once present-opening was done and the long dark teatime (without tea, even worse) of the soul of an afternoon commenced, I read my book.

As in, the whole book.

I possibly read it a second time. I sort of played with the horse statuettes, but they were two different kinds (one was sort of bronzeish and the other was plastic), and I knew they were really for display, and I had no other dolls or similar implements available to turn this into a full script.

So I proceeded to morosely ring my bike bell until my father roused from his nap in his recliner and took me out to the garage where he deftly affixed the bell to my bike.

We lived in upstate New York. It was below freezing in the garage. Even if I had the desire to shiver, teeth clattering, in the garage to continue ringing the bell and dreaming of summer, nobody else would have to put up with that incessant noise.

Smart man, my father.

I think the fact that I relayed this story more than once this December has something to do with the piles of books I received.

I should also note that I did not receive a bell for my bike. (For the bike I have yet to buy. Goals.)

Funny story aside #2a. Ken did, however, buy me this Minion on a stick that, when you press the button, sings in Minion language. It’s Stuart, by the way, holding his ukulele. Unlike my father would, Ken finds it utterly adorable when I press the button and giggle hysterically at the song.

Right. Back to the present.

Ken also found a used CD store nearby. Halloo, British version of the Chess soundtrack (among others…).

Plus tickets for indoor skydiving in a wind tunnel I’m so excited I can’t even! Eeeee! https://www.iflyworld.com/portland/

I got Ken, among other things, a contraption that stirs natural peanut butter, because the only reason he won’t eat natural peanut butter is because dealing with the oil separation is too much of a hassle for him.

Because I know how party, people.

Meanwhile, there were phone calls with various members of family, including my eldest niece who got to give everyone in the family the gift of the announcement that she’s pregnant with her second child.

Strangely, I am now a fan of the Yule Log Channel, or in this case, a free app on the Apple TV (there are paid versions, but I’m not sure how they can be better, except maybe they have music, which the 1970s/1980s Yule Log Channel played). It makes crackling fire noises, and that’s enough for me. And my idea of Christmas afternoon at home is curling up in front of whatever fire is available, even if it’s on a TV screen, and reading. Which we did.

Until it was time to shower and dress and go out to dinner with friends (Gayle, Trent, and Jeanne) at the Zeus Café, which is in the Crystal Hotel, a McMenamins property dating to 1911.

We had the best waiter ever. I finally figured out he reminded me of Peter Capaldi as Danny in Local Hero, one of my favorite movies and which solidified my love of Peter Capaldi back in 1986. Except he didn’t have the Scottish accent. Our waiter, I mean. He was efficient and smart and attentive and patient and funny. We tipped him well.

They were out of the goose (sadness!) so Ken had the salmon, which I’d considered, but instead I ordered off the bar menu and had a falafel burger, which was topped with feta tzatziki and a dash of Aardvark Hot Sauce, and it was stupendous, even if it wasn’t proper Christmas supper food.

The best part was hanging out with friends, and I’d insert a funny story here about Gayle wanting one of the enormous chandeliers and the long conversation we all had about how to obtain it (culminating in asking our wonderful waiter for it, but he explained that he’d already called dibs on it), but you kinda had to be there.

Also, the first cocktail on the bar menu really sneaks up on you. And apparently wipes your memory of what was in it (it was really good, though).

Eventually we came home (after dropping off one friend and hanging out for awhile) and determined that it was too late to watch White Christmas, so we watched the Doctor Who Christmas episode and then Ken fell over and I watched a Florence + the Machine concert that just happened to be on TV right then, and then I came into my office and wrote this before I forgot any of it.

I’ve still probably forgotten some of it.

But it was awesome.

Except for the part about not seeing family, or friends other than the friends we did see.

Ken’s off work for the week, but I have work I need to do tomorrow, and we have a few errands to run. But it’ll still be a quiet day, hopefully also with a minimum of Internet and a maximum of time together.

And reading. Because boy howdy, do I have a pile. (And Ken has a few, too.)

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Thoughts on competition and biology

Ken and I have Apple Watches now. I really only wanted a Fitbit, but thanks to Ken’s amazing company and their amazing holiday white elephant gift exchange, he snagged me a watch for Christmas. It does more than I need it to, but as I explore its functions I’m finding more and more groovy useful tools.

The watch’s fitness tracker shows you your progress in three areas: how many minutes of exercise you got (out of 30), how many calories you burned (you set the minimum), and how many times you stood and moved in twelve hours. At 10 minutes to the hour, if you’ve been sitting, it beeps and reminds you to stand up and move around.

It’s funny when Ken and I are watching TV or a movie, and my watch will buzz a second before his does, and then we’ll both stand up and shuffle around.

This works well for me because of my stubborn, competitive streak—there’s no way I’m going to let Ken beat me!

All of which means I’ve never been so jealous that men can pee standing up.

(Excuse me, gotta go…my watch just beeped…)

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What’s on your holiday playlist?

Even though I sing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” at Halloween, I love me the heck out of the Christmas holiday season—and you know me, I love heck out of music. Here are some of my favorite holiday songs…what are yours?

  1. “All I Want,” Styx
  2. “All I Want For Christmas,” uh, the kid from Love Actually (I really need that soundtrack!)
  3. “The Chipmunks’ Christmas Song,” The Chipmunks (stuck in your head yet? hate me yet?)
  4. “December Will Be Magic Again,” Kate Bush
  5. “Dickens’ Dublin,” Loreena McKennitt
  6. “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” Band Aid
  7. “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” Loreena McKennitt
  8. “I Believe in Father Christmas,” Greg Lake
  9. “Mid Winter’s Night,” Blackmore’s Night
  10. “Ring Out, Solstice Bells,” Jethro Tull
  11. “Ring the Bells,” Styx
  12. “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” Bob & Doug McKenzie (and a beer…in a tree!)
  13. “Wizards in Winter,” Trans-Siberian Orchestra (it inspired my story “The Queen of Christmas”!)

(Yes, this is a repost from a few years ago. I still love the heck out of holiday music, dammit!)

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First holiday story of the year

Sometimes you get an idea for a story but you just can’t figure out how to execute it. The underlying idea in this women’s fiction/crime story has haunted me for years, but I only recently figured out whose story it was to tell. I hope you enjoy it.

Clap Your Hands webEsme Blaylock, missing her deployed husband, wants to be curled up in her warm home with her baby daughter on Christmas Eve. Instead she’s at an upstate New York prison, assigned to interview Jennifer Duschanes, who poisoned her own children one year ago.

Jennifer sees a kindred soul in new mother Esme, and for the first time, reveals why she committed her heinous crime.

The truth will change Esme forever.

Available in ebook format from these fine establishments:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Smashwords | Omnilit | iBooks

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Uncollected Anthology, Issue 6: Enchanted Emporiums

BugIt’s time for another magical trip into the minds of the Uncollected Anthology authors! Check out our new cover design, by the immensely talented Allyson Longueira…it’s perfect.

This quarter, the theme is Enchanted Emporiums: magic shops of all types. From a Manhattan bodega run by a two-thousand-year-old djinn to a magic shop that can cure a Halloween hangover, this issue gives you places to spend your hard-earned money—urban fantasy style.

Rebecca Senese is our Guest Author this issue. I can’t wait to read her story about a magical coffee shop! (Aren’t all coffee shops kinda magical when you need that hit of caffeine?)

All the stories are listed below—happy reading!

“What You Wish For”

Dermatis WYWF cover smallWhy does a two-thousand-year-old djinn own a convenience store and spice shop in Manhattan?

The world has changed, for one thing, and Wadid isn’t proud of some of the things he’s done in the past. But really, he loves that he can help the magical community—and enhance the cooking skills and palates of some of his customers.

That’s all well and good until two gunmen burst through the front door and threaten him and one of his customers. Wadid breaks his personal code and uses his darkest ability to make them go away.

Not that it matters. Because the next person who walks through the door is the last person he would wish for.

“What You Wish For” is kind of a sequel to my story “These Chains,” which appeared in Uncollected Anthology, Issue 5: Magical Libraries.

Buy it at any of these fine online retailers:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Omnilit | Smashwords | iBooks

The other incredibly fabulous authors—go check out their stories!

Lang-Fear cover small

“Fear’s Mirror,” Michele Lang

Viv Levy, owner of the Sacred Circle magic store in New York City, knows she runs a big risk in her job. All kinds of supernatural currents, including quite dangerous ones, run under, through and above the streets where regular people walk. And evil often seeks a place of power…

A mysterious stranger seeks Viv’s help in dealing with a sinister magic mirror, and another stranger arrives when all appears lost. But will Viv herself have the courage to look into Fear’s Mirror?

An urban fantasy short story set in the world of the Ms. Pendragon series!

Reed HangoverCover small

“All Hallows’ Hangover,” Annie Reed

Teddy woke up the day after Halloween with the mother of all hangovers. The kind that comes complete with wagging tail and a lack of opposable thumbs.

Tabby owns a magic shop that carries just what Teddy needs, but Tabby’s dealing with her own brand of post-holiday hangover. The last thing she wants in her life is another complication.

Even if this particular complication has the cutest grin and the most soulful brown eyes she’s ever seen.

Leslie Gods cover small

“When Gods Hunger,” Leslie Claire Walker

Beth embraces her new, immortal life and forever job as apprentice to Malek, the serpent from the Garden of Eden cursed into human form. Neither immortality nor her magical gig changes her essential curious, risk-taking nature. In fact, the power Malek passes to her opens the door to greater risk—and more disastrous consequences.

When she takes a short cut with her new magic, she finds herself in Hell—or a hell, anyway. She comes under the watchful gaze of a new enemy—a power of Biblical proportions whose unrivaled skill at temptation threatens to trap Beth forever. Finding a way out—a way home—becomes Beth’s priority number one, but there are more lives and souls at stake than her own.

“For more than a decade now,
I have adored the work of Leslie Claire Walker.”
— Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Cutter SweetShopCover small

“The Sweet Shop,” Leah Cutter

Tong Yi waits for something to happen—for his brother to return from the war zone, for his boss to trust him again, for his magical training to be expanded.

Something. Anything.

Then powerful wizard Uncle Bei takes him to The Sweet Shop—a magic shop more special and strange than Tong Yi has ever imagined.

Tong Yi finally returns to the war zone as well, delivering a message to a client he’d never expected.

But he must now make a decision about the war, about his place in it, about his magical training.

And everything, everything, has a price.

“The Sweet Shop” is a sequel to “Dancing with Tong Yi” and “War on all Fronts,” both also available from Uncollected Anthology.

Guest Author

Senese TMB ebook cover small

“The Magic Bean,” Rebecca M. Senese

After a safe life, an inheritance affords George the chance to leap for his dream: his own coffee shop. He even finds the perfect spot: a small, rundown shop.

Soon George is planning and polishing. Every day the shop looks cleaner, feels newer. Flaws melt away.

But every night strange images haunt him and threaten his sanity.

Is George’s desire to run a coffee shop a dream or a nightmare?

Final Info

As a reminder, we do have a website and a newsletter, for the sole purpose of telling you when the next batch of stories is available. Check them out!

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I trust…

For a number of years now, I’ve been choosing a word (or a word chooses me…) for the coming year. I first heard about this from the glorious Shanna Germain, and it seems like the practice has spread among creative types. Past words of mine have included Create, Joy, Focus, and Present.

We’ve just begun the Celtic New Year, and I started pondering this year’s word a bit before our Samhain ritual. Immediately several things clicked into place: a realization I’d had after doing some meditation on why I was blocked a couple of months ago; some things that came up during recent business of writing workshop I took.

But it still took me a while to find the right word. I started by trying to figure out what the opposite of fear was. Of not being afraid of things, of not letting myself put up walls and say “That’s too hard” or “I don’t know how” and use those as excuses. I proved myself wrong several times at the workshop—those things weren’t so hard after all. The opposite of fear, but not bravery, or fearlessness, or even confidence, although the latter was close.

It wasn’t until got home from the ritual and, yes, looked at thesaurus.com that the word on the tip of my tongue was so very obvious:

Trust.

It’s kind of a loaded word. There are so many caveats “Yes, but…” Yes, but don’t be stupid. Yes, but keep a clear mind.

Yes, but…yes. Trust.

For me it’s about trusting my abilities. I’m in the middle of change—leveling up, if you will. I love learning new things, but I’ve always hated the middle bit, the flailing around and feeling stupid and awkward and uncoordinated. Problem is, lately, it’s made me feel like I don’t know anything, which is flat-out wrong. I haven’t backslid; I’m just in a period of growth. I have to trust the abilities I already have, and trust the process.

Usually during our Samhain ritual, we draw a Tarot card to help clarify the coming year. This year, because I was working with different friends (and it was wonderful!), I went for a three-card spread. I won’t go into details here, except to say that it was for Past, Present, and Future, and the future card stole my breath away.

It was the Chariot. The deck we were using was Halloween-themed, and depicted, of all things, a hearse. It had navigated down a twisty road but the journey was just beginning, and it was clear it was going to be a doozy. But the hearse had wings above the windshield, and instead of a rear-view mirror, there was an eye, looking forward—not behind.

Whether I like it or not, I’m behind the wheel. The road ahead is twisty and turny and scary, but I still have some level of control. It’s my choice whether to trust my abilities or to take my hands off the wheel and cover my eyes and scream. Either way, I’m going to be hurtling down that road. Better that I keep my eyes open and steer. Because I have the skill to steer around those blind curves.

It’s going to be a roller coaster, but damn, I love me some roller coasters. Controlled terror. They say that the Chinese characters for fear and excitement are the same, and whether or not that’s true, the physical reaction to both is pretty similar. I’d rather call it excitement than fear. Wouldn’t you?

Trust. It’s not about leaving things to chance, or blindly trusting. It’s about doing what I am capable of doing, of setting things in motion. It’s trusting my experience to help me make the right decisions. Of trusting others’ judgment and counsel when I need advice. Trusting my gut, when need be.

I trust me, and my abilities.

I trust the process.

I trust that if I ask for help, I’ll receive it. I trust our connection.

I trust that if I step off that cliff, I’ll have the wings to fly.

I trust that if I fall backwards into your arms, you’ll catch me.

I trust…

‘Tis the season to be haunting!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! And this year I even found a black T-shirt with that quote and witches and pumpkins and bats, etc., in orange on it. I bought one for Morgana for her birthday, too, because she has always been my partner in crime to go wandering through Michaels and Halloween stories cooing over things and singing that very phrase.

Related to this, I saw Crimson Peak last week, a movie I’d been slavering to see ever since reports came out that it wasn’t a horror movie, but a gothic. I love me some gothic. I eat up gothic novels with a spoon. I can’t stop thinking about Crimson Peak, and I’ll write something up about it soon-ish. I mostly loved it, but the wrong parts were wrong, and I want to see it again just to watch one particular arc because I wasn’t paying attention to it the first time ’round. When I told Ken I wanted to see it again, he said “For the setting?” and yes, I want to drool all over the costumes (which were, from what I’ve read, more period than I realized) and the houses, especially that house.

Because of the workshop I just came home from (see my last blog post), I’m behind in mentioning, pursuant to the season, I have several novels and short stories you might be interested in.

Although not as historically gothy as, say, Crimson Peak, What Beck’ning Ghost (romance) and Waking the Witch (mystery/women’s fiction) have old houses and ghosts and spookiness. Plus, What Beck’ning Ghost culminates in an All Hallow’s Eve ball, and Waking the Witch takes place in autumn, so they’re doubly season-appropriate.

WBG cover ebookTouch not the cat bot a glove…

The MacPherson family crest above the door gives Rachael de Young, genealogist and psychic, an unexpected chill. She doesn’t know that by crossing the threshold, her life will change forever. Because the MacPhersons are a family cursed by jealousy, betrayal, and fire….

Rachael grows closer to the truth even as she grows closer to the ghost of Jordan MacPherson, who died in the tragic fire…and could very well be the person sabotaging her research. But she must trust Jordan’s love in order to find the strength to face her own fears, break her one cardinal rule, and stop a madman before he can kill again.

wtw cover ebookWhat happens when four boys confess to the murder of a woman who died a hundred years ago…?

The violent encounter Rowan Everly survived in college jolted awake her psychic power to see past images while holding a related object. At the behest of a friend, she comes to the privileged prep school town of Millburn, New York, to investigate the current rape and murder, and hopefully clear her friend’s son’s name.

Rowan’s not sure she’s up to the task. Her deeply ingrained mistrust of men makes her question where her loyalties lie. The deeper she investigates, the less anything makes sense. The boys seem truly horrified by what happened—almost as if they hadn’t had control over it.

Her initial encounter with sheriff Toby Candusco isn’t pleasant for either of them. But his calm support of her, and his unwavering desire to see justice done, gives her the strength to not only face her fears, but to reexamine the core beliefs that shape who she is.

Only then can she face and destroy the real menace…and save everyone around her.

Short Fiction

My short-short contemporary fantasy story “The Pumpkin-Carving Contest” is in my collection Small Wonders: A Delightful Collection of Ten Short-Short Speculative Fiction Stories (it was originally published in Crossed Genres magazine).

Speaking of contemporary fantasy stories, how about the inconvenient haunting by “Some Old Lover’s Ghost”?

I’ve written a trifecta of stories about the Devil…all of which are funny:

Or if the spicier side of my writing is more to your bent, may I recommend “The Witch of Venice” by Andrea Dale. It includes a drink recipe…indulge and enjoy!

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Brain…full…

Last week I was at a week-long business of writing workshop, during which I was too busy to blog or write (except a couple of times) or do much of anything else besides hang out with writer-friends and try to get a decent amount of sleep. I took 60+ pages of notes—hard to say how many, exactly, because at some point I started breaking out notes into different files on different topics. My main file is 60+ pages.

My to do list is 4 pages long. Although I managed to do a few of the things on it at the workshop, like set up a proper contact page on my website and finally after two years figure out how to set up my professional email address (dayle@dayledermatis.com).

We covered everything from accounting and taxes to websites and cover design to distribution and marketing to corporations and copyright. My brain is full.

Business stuff for the most part isn’t fun for me, nor does it come easy. I don’t like negotiation, for example, or things involving numbers (like, say, taxes). But in the weeks before the workshop, I successfully negotiated two contracts (thank you, previous workshops), and the bottom line is, even though writing is an art, if I want to be a working artist, I need to put on a business hat a fair amount of the time.

That said, my hat is off to all the instructors, and I hope I don’t forget any of them… Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, ML Buchman, Lee Allred, Allyson Longueira, J. Daniel Sawyer, Christina York, Scott William Carter, Kim Mainord, Billy Reese, and Sheldon MacArthur.

Here’s a perspective from the other side of the workshop, with bonus! pictures of the classroom. No people are in it, though, and my table is boring so why would I point it out?

I thought I had more to say about this, but apparently not. See, e.g., my brain being full. Besides, I need to do some website design and cover rebranding…after my writing is done for the day, that is!

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“Pow, Bash! Yes! Yes!” podcast

I have been remiss in announcing that Teresa and I, as Sophie Mouette, have a story up as a podcast at Nobilis Eroticabig_Zaiatz-ETSupervillains! “Pow, Bash! Yes! Yes!” is superhero/supervillain lesbian erotica, and appears in the Circlet Press anthology Like a Mask Removed.

If you listen to the podcast, at the end you’ll get discount codes for the ebook and print editions of the anthology.

We hope you enjoy it!

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Some thoughts on giving up

A writer friend of mine recently posed the following question on Facebook (which I’m paraphrasing here): What helps see you through the dark moments, when you’re thinking it’s too hard and you should just abandon your writing (or whatever art form)?

I started to answer but realized I had way more to say than would fit in a Facebook comment. So, here’s my response:

  1. I think about what I would do instead. Gotta make money somehow…. The easiest answer is to continue what I’m already doing, which is copyediting, designing, and publishing for other authors, which I do enjoy well enough. But I quickly realize that I’d just get depressed working on other people’s books, knowing I gave up my own dream. So, what else? I don’t believe it’s ever too late to start a new career…but I have no idea what I’d even want to do. Nothing else fires up my passion.
  2. I realize that if I give up, I’ll disappoint people—like my writing mentors, Kris & Dean, who’ve been pounding their knowledge into me for the past thirteen years. Or Ken, who’s supported me for longer than that and been my biggest cheerleader. I’ll disappoint the writers who look up to me, who tell me they admire my work ethic or my prose or whatever. Hell, I’ll disappoint the twelve-year-old me who write a hundred handwritten pages on a novel, and the seventeen-year-old me who completed and submitted her first novel, which got positive rejections.
  3. I look at the list I keep of positive reviews and the Kudos folder in my email (where I save any email where someone has said something nice about my writing). I remember that I’ve had two call-outs in Publisher’s Weekly. Clearly I occasionally do something right when it comes to writing. Just because it’s a struggle right now doesn’t mean good writing doesn’t come out of it, and stories and novels people want to read.
  4. I re-watch the videos from an online Productivity Workshop (http://www.deanwesleysmith.com/online-workshops/). I remind myself to Go Play, that this is supposed to be fun.
  5. If all else fails, I just wait it out. After a few days, I’ll be so cranky because I’m not writing that I’ll just cave and start again.

What’s your answer?

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