Of all the endeavors she’d undertaken in her heretofore fruitless search for her wayward twin sister, this was far and away the most reckless scheme she’d ever hatched.
In the shadows of the abandoned market stall that stood across from the gatehouse where newly indentured servants bound for the Silent Empire were processed, Yvenna watched with bated breath. Soon, she would count herself among them, another desperate soul bound for the unknown.
How she was to escape Nythelion, a feat no indentured had ever achieved before, after she found Ysala… Well, she would have to figure out that part later.
Hello friends and welcome to another working week of writing.
Well, I am now in the back half of my final vacation of the year, and when I set out on these day-job free days I had intended to do a lot of writing so I could wrap up my current freelance contract ahead of schedule for a change instead of leaving it to the last minute.
Uh, yeah, that hasn’t happened thus far. Instead, I just… relaxed. And, you know, I actually think that was probably a smart thing. I think I really needed to detach for a little bit. I slept a lot, I played video games, I watched TV and just generally hung out. I’m confident that in doing so, I staved off some encroaching burnout.
However, now I really need to get back to business. My manuscript is due in ten days and I’ve got to do some serious drafting during this week to make sure I’m not crunching (as bad anyway) as I was last time.
But as I settle into my recliner (where I do most of my writing while at home) with a soda and some not-distracting TV on for background noise, I feel completely at ease. This is far and away the easiest routine I have ever settled into, because I genuinely do feel like this is what I’m meant to be doing. Tackling steep word counts, blogging, maintaining both public and private projects. Writing as work. Working as a writer.
And one day, I will be doing it full time. Of that I am determined.
Friendly reminder that my Patreon for my romance novellas is now live, and the first release, a Regency Era story titled The Dutiful and the Disfavored is available now! Please consider becoming a Patron, or sharing my page with anyone you know who might be interested in short but sweet romance stories from an indie creator. It would mean all the world to me.
The beast cannot possibly be of this world, she knows at once. It might be called a canine, as it pursues her on four long limbs bent at unnatural angles and is possessed of a slavering snout full of massive, serrated teeth. It has no fur, however, only a bloated black body that is sloughing off putrid, dark colored slime as it moves through the brush.
When it sees the woman looking, it laughs at her.
This is the end her life, she knows then. Whatever might have come before she awoke in
Friends, it has been a long, insightful and at times grueling eighteen months since I first started writing for Scribd. I went from not believing my work would even be good enough for publication, to worrying that I was going to burn myself out in a few short months, to actively pitching new ideas before my current contracts have been fulfilled.
To say I never imagined I would end up here, proudly presenting my novellas to the world at large is a huge understatement. When I started this endeavor, my anxiety was so severe I didn’t even tell my partner what I was up to until I was already neck deep in the first manuscript. The rest of my family? Months.
Which is not to say I’m not nervous now. Of course I am. While I am hardly depending on the success of this Patreon for financial or creative support, I, of course, would love to see it thrive.
On the other hand, there’s a reason I never seriously looked into self-pubbing. I know I don’t have the knowledge, energy, or funds to pull it off. So, if I screw this up, well, at least I didn’t lose anything in the process.
Anyway, that’s a very long winded way of saying the first of my romance novellas is now available on my Patreon. While my heart lies with fantasy, these stories are very near and dear to my heart. If romance is your bag and you’re a fan of my work (as a blogger oras a writer), it would mean a lot to me if you would consider becoming a Patron. If you’re not interested yourself, a share of my page to someone who might like my work would also go a long way. If Patronage is not in your budget, but you still would like to take a look at my novellas, send me a private message and I’ll be happy to forward you the epub, free of charge.
This month’s release is out now!
TITLE: The Dutiful and the Disfavored
SUBGENRE: Historical (Regency)
LENGTH: 126 pages
HEAT LEVEL: Sweet
Pearl is young, single, and completely uninterested in the trappings of marriage. Not that her father cares about her personal preferences. When Pearl is married off in what is meant to be none other than a good business deal between families, she decides she will have nothing to do with her intended husband. Or so she thinks.
Kind-hearted Thomas is more welcoming to the thought of a marriage partner than his betrothed, but such a gentle soul would never dare to overstep Pearl’s boundaries. With a partner so intent on keeping him at arm’s length, how can he convince his new wife that he truly loves her?
Pearl and Thomas are forced to get to know each other in the most unfortunate of situations: an arranged marriage unwanted by both of them. Will their families’ meddling come between the blossoming of what looks like an actual romance?
“Marvelous,” said Lord Conteville and he swept forward to greet Marceline, planting sloppy, wine-soaked kisses on each cheek. “Simply captivating, my dear. I daresay you have caught the eye of every eligible man here. And some ineligible, I might add.” He chortled at his own little joke, while Marceline watched, smiling politely, though, privately, she could not say she was as pleased as her great uncle was. She was there, after all, enjoying the attentions of the great and the good of Nar as a result of her mother’s careful social maneuvering, not through any real desire of her own.
Hello friends and welcome to another wacky week of writing.
Friends, I come to you this morning with quite a few balls in the air. In addition to my World Con-turned-staycation starting this week, I also am preparing for the official launch of my very own Patreon page. I’m also still hard at work on my current romance novella, due in a week and a half, and have two new pitches to prepare. Also drabbles and fantasy writing. And blogging. And sleeping somewhere in there too.
Overwhelming as that all sounds (and feels), there is something sort of gratifying about having such a full plate. I am moving into the next stage of my growth (and/or career) as a writer and that is something to be proud of. Even celebrate.
Later though, I don’t have time to celebrate now.
In addition to all those tangible goals and tasks I have this week, I’m going to add one more mental one: stay focused, don’t procrastinate, and work hard. This is what I signed up for and I’m not going to waste this moment in time.
all she knows, she could be headed right for the creature’s lair.
The realization strains her already flagging stamina. Her legs aching from the effort, her lungs burning for want of air, her mind lost and confused in more ways than one, the woman starts to slow.
As if sensing her weakness, the monster pursuing her lets out a roar of triumph. The woman does not need to look over her shoulder to know it has put on a burst of speed for this last leg of the pursuit… but she does anyway. What she sees is more horrifying than
Hello friends and welcome to another fanciful edition of Just Another Struggling Writer. I’m just another struggling writer.
Friends, I am in full bounce-back mode after a difficult freelance period that saw a depressive episode, a serious crunch to meet a deadline, and the start of school for my three young kids. I am full of vim, vigor and a veritable wellspring of energy and ideas.
If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you probably know that more often than not my worst enemy when it comes to realizing my ambitions is, well, me. Or, more specifically, what I like to call my anxiety brain.
Whenever I stumble upon a new idea or decide spur of the moment to launch a new project, the moments thereafter are often rife with anxiety-brain. You don’t have enough energy, time, or stamina for something like this is one of the least offensive things it tells me. You’re going to get 10% of the way into it and give up. And, historically, that’s been true.
But, last night, after writing a page in my cozy fantasy draft, adding another 100 words to The Ballad of Mercy May, and getting to work on my latest romance novella for Scribd, it occurred to me like a bolt from the blue that the real reason I struggle to write consistently, complete projects, and grow myself as a writer with the intention of being a full time author is actually fear.
What for the longest time I thought was burn out or sheer laziness when it came to my creative endeavors was a pervasive fear that they would never amount to anything. The anxiety that I was spending so much time and energy on something that would not sustain me, not just financially but spiritually as well, has poisoned my creative well for so long I no longer recognized it as artificial.
More succinctly, I think I’ve been struggling to meaningfully commit myself to writing as a career I aspire to because I’m afraid I will fail.
Slowly, but surely, over the last 18 months I have subconsciously been at war with that misguided instinct, and, to be sure, I’ve made strides. I dove headlong into romance writing despite telling myself at every step of the process that I’m not good enough and I’ll be turned away. I launched two drabble projects last month just for the hell of it.
But I’ve also started and shelved two fantasy projects. I’ve taken weeks off at a time from my personal writing. I’ve made up excuses as to why I’m not writing today, or why now is the right time for that idea. I’ve even very, very seriously considered giving up on writing entirely. More than once.
Last night, I did something kind of crazy and possibly doomed for failure. Its pretty personal, so I won’t get into it here, but it was emblematic of my writing life as well and it was predicated on one simple question posed to myself: why not?
Why not research what it would take to open an indie book store? Why not launch a podcast to review fantasy novels? Why not take on more projects than there are time for in a day or even week???
In all seriousness, though, why not? What do I have to lose? Why not just… try?
After all, I may just surprise myself. In fact I’m counting on it.
In that spirit, just one last thing…
That’s right, folks, the exclusivity period for my romance novellas under Scribd is starting to lapse for my first few releases, which means I am entitled to share them with non-subscribers. If you are a romance fan or want to support my work, please consider becoming a patron when I launch next week.
Until then, my friends, may your writing be plenty and your struggles be few.
immodesty of her attire: a thin, white chemise. How she came to be in this forest in such a state of undress is beyond her comprehension, and she has not the concentration to spare to give the matter much thought. The monstrosity behind her is closing the already narrow gap between them as it crashes through the brush as easily as if the jungle was little more than mist.
It occurs to her with a jolt that she has no idea where she is going. The forest is so dense, she cannot tell in which direction safety might lie. For
Adrial twists Mhazara’s arm sharply behind her back and forces her behind a magnificent column of carved marble. “Your primary purpose in Kenzia,” he hisses, his face so near to hers she can feel his breath on her cheek, “is to find the traitor who would bring our nation to ruin. I did not bring you into the palace, into my confidence to make eyes at the Prince!”
Mhazara wrenches her arm from his grasp, rubbing at her wrist where his fingernails dug into her skin. “Piss off,” she growls in return, “your precious Prince was making eyes at me.”