About Me

Contemporary Fade to White

If I were to write Fade to White today, it would be a very different story. For starters, it was written before I started listening to bands like Within Temptation and Kamelot.

I’m not posting the novella because I think it’s good — it’s a snapshot of how I used to be.  When I look at the story, I can see the battle between who I was and who I thought I should be during a pivotal moment in my life. Fade to White was written by the girl who went to college, because everyone told her she should.

I am now the woman who said “Fuck you, it’s my life,” and made my own choices against enormous amounts of criticism. Who knew that random strangers would be so invested in whether or not I had a college degree? And that was only the beginning.

Quite a few plot events happened because I thought they were the sorts of things that should have happened. Characters are rigidly righteous because I thought that was how protagonists should be. The romance is slow paced, because I was told that was how all relationships had to happen.

Nowadays my definition of ‘good’ is more fluid. Would a contemporary Tryne become upset at Jerek for being Nosaj’s heir? Probably not. She would likely conspire to use him as the perfect inside man.

The characters would be far more interested in flat-out revenge.

Insidious, convoluted, and dark.

The ending would be completely different, but we haven’t posted that far yet.

About Me

Children’s books

I have a confession to make.

I don’t read books to my kids.

Which is kind of funny, because I have always loved books. I wrote and illustrated my first when I was just in kindergarten, and kept the practice up for my entire life.

We started out normal enough when my oldest was a baby. We got a few children’s stories, and I read them enough that I could recite them from beginning to end without any prompts; my daughter’s absolute favorite book was simply titled Water Animals and consisted of pictures and names of things like dolphins, fish, and a polar bear for good measure.

That all changed when baby #2 came along.

My oldest started tearing apart books. Water Animals was shredded to pieces, so I taped it together as best I could then tucked it away somewhere safe (it will probably be years before we find it again). After giving her some time to adjust to having a younger sibling, we bought more books and to my dismay those were also torn up. Several months later, I mentioned to a neighbor that we didn’t have any children’s books, and she gave us a few that also met the same fate.

I was tired of cleaning up the mess, so I gave up. No more.

These days the children and I snuggle up with our Nintendo 3DS and read video game dialogue together.

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Fade to White

Fade to White chapter 4

The first couple of chapters for Fade to White were a collaboration between me and my best friend in high school for our creative writing class. I quickly took over and completed writing the novella on my own, since I was the one who enjoyed spending hours and hours alone lost in my head.

We had a falling out after starting college, and I went back and completely rewrote the first two chapters so that the events would be entirely in my own words. Truthfully, it was more about preserving artistic integrity than petty revenge, because I thought that the differences in writing styles stuck out like a forum role play.

For the life of me, I can’t remember if my former friend ever saw the completed novella.

 

 

Fade to White

Chapter Four

Early morning sunlight spilled from the sky and danced around in patterns on Jerek’s white shirt as he sat on the ground with his back against a tree. Two horses stood tied to a branch nearby, one of them stomping his hooves impatiently. Turning her head curiously toward them, Tryne smiled and set her bucket of water down, wiping her hands on her apron before hurrying over to where Jerek lay. His eyes were closed.

“Hello,” Tryne whispered, kneeling down next to him, but Jerek didn’t stir. Gently, she touched his shoulder and he still didn’t respond. Quivering slightly, Tryne reached to brush the bright white hair away from Jerek’s face, watching the strands shimmer in the sun, then slid her hand down the side of his cheek, marveling at how soft and smooth his hair was. Glancing over at Jerek’s face, Tryne jumped back when she saw that his rainbow eyes were open and watching her. “I’m sorry,” Tryne stammered, “I thought you were . . .”

Jerek stood up and looked down at Tryne for a second before holding out his hand to help her to her feet. “I brought your horse back,” he said, turning to his own stallion to pull down the reigns, but he found himself feeling very reluctant to leave.

“You know, when I first saw you lying there I thought you had run into a tree again.” Jerek grunted and scowled, causing Tryne to smile. “Thank you,” she added, walking around the tree to reach her own horse’s reigns, her smile fading.

“Uh,” Jerek began, feeling very uncertain, “Do you have anything . . . that needs to be done?”

“No, not really.” Tryne sighed, patting her horse’s nose. “I’ll be going into town today.”

Sensing something in her voice, Jerek felt slightly alarmed. “Is there anything wrong?”

Tryne hesitated. “My mother never came home last night.”

“Hm.” Jerek shifted from leaning on one foot to the other, fiddling with his hands.

“I’m really surprised you asked to help,” Tryne said quickly, her voice sounding unnaturally lighter. “Yesterday you seemed so mad when I sent you out to chop wood. Perhaps you want to show off your manly muscles some more, and that’s why you came back?”

“You pry too much. Shut up.”

Looking at Jerek for a moment, Tryne spun around and marched away. “The only reason I’m bringing you along,” she said loudly, retrieving her bucket of water, “Is because it’s not safe for a beautiful young girl to travel on her own, and the only reason I’m inviting you to breakfast is to make sure you don’t go running away.” Tryne turned around and motioned to Jerek. “Come inside now.”

Watching her, Jerek felt unsure of how he should be reacting. Any sort of food sounded extremely appealing, considering how he had skipped a couple meals the day before, but . . . “Why should I eat with you?”

“Then you can watch me, but you’re going inside no matter what.” Putting the bucket of water down, Tryne looped her horse’s reigns around the rail post by her front door, then with her hands on her hips she started back toward Jerek. He remained where he was standing, allowing Tryne to completely close the distance between them. Then to his surprise and excitement, Tryne seized Jerek’s forearm with both of her hands and pulled him.

“Why are you so adamant on getting me into your house? Perhaps you want to show off your womanly manners?” Jerek couldn’t help but congratulate himself for his wit.

Laughing slightly, Tryne muttered, “That’s a good one,” then repeated it to herself faintly. “Pick that up, please.” She pointed to the bucket then opened the front door and waited patiently as Jerek tied his horse up, lifted the bucket, and went inside the cottage.

Tryne prepared the meal in silence while Jerek watched her, and after awhile she set down two bowls filled with hot porridge. “There’s some honey if you’d like,” Tryne said as she pushed one of the bowls to Jerek with a spoon, then she sat down and slowly began eating. Jerek stirred the mush around a bit, then cautiously lifted the spoon to his mouth. Hunger got the better of him at that first taste and he began to quickly shovel more into his mouth. “If you don’t mind,” Tryne said, smiling as she watched Jerek, “I’d like to leave after we finish eating.”

Jerek nodded, putting down his empty bowl. “When you’re ready.”

Several minutes later they were both back outside. Jerek easily mounted his horse, then watched in amusement as Tryne clambered ungracefully onto hers, and he felt tempted to ride around her in mocking circles. Moving in a slow trot, the two of them set off for the nearest village, Jerek riding easily and Tryne holding tightly to the reigns.

 

Fade to White, Muse

Fade to White origins

My best friend in high school had a boyfriend named Jason.

Jason cheated on her then bragged about it online.

On my own profile, I wrote something vague about how people disappoint me.

All hell broke loose.

Jason and his friends began an online assault against me, attacking me at every turn. Before long, it spilled over into the real world and Jason started following me to work and my hang out places. He even threatened to rape me.

Luckily, telling him that I was getting the police involved was enough to make him back off, and it died shortly afterwards.

When I told my Creative Writing teacher about what had happened, her advice was “Write it out.”

So I wrote Fade to White.

About Me

My Genre

It has dawned on me that thus far, I’ve been painting myself as a ‘generic author.’ Part of that is my compulsive need to stay secretive, especially since I have a book in progress and I don’t want to reveal much about it until its ready. But that doesn’t mean I have to be generic!

My favorite genres are:

Gothic romance
Dark fantasy
Horror

My stories are usually combinations of all three.

I am an eclectic pagan; I read oracle cards, burn incense, and talk to trees. I include a number of elements of spirituality in what I write.

I’m also a huge fan of corsets.

About Me

The Past

When I was a kid, I used to pin my bright yellow blanket around my shoulders (the perfect universal costume, in my humble opinion) and play act having conversations with the characters from my favorite novels. I loved those hours I spent in my room, exploring worlds and “interacting” with Martin the Warrior and Prince Caspian.

One day when I turned ten, I got hold of some lined paper, picked up my favorite maroon marker, and started writing those conversations down. Truthfully I didn’t understand paragraphs back then, or quotation marks for that matter, but that solid block of text was the beginning of my dream.

As I grew, I joined Elfwood and Fictionpress, swapped stories with other teenagers online, took creative writing classes all through high school, and majored in creative writing in college. For me, there were no other career options — I was a writer.

Then life happened.

Somehow, the agonizing moments seamlessly blended into becoming a wife and mother of three, and before I knew it the better part of a decade had passed.

But you know what? Writing is the only thing that gives my life a deeper sense of meaning outside of the ordinary. What would be the point of all the pain and joy if those emotions stayed secretly locked up inside my own head? Sometimes it seems like it’s the only way I can peacefully live with the past.

I have my days of dark depression, when demons loom over me and whisper bleak things in my ear, leaving me too paralyzed to think. Then the sun shines again, I find a quiet moment nestled between games and chores, and I write.

I will always be a writer.

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About Me

Goals in Life

One of my goals in life is to have an angel statue standing over my grave.

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About Me

About me

I started writing my first novel when I was ten, inspired by my love of the Redwall series by Brian Jacques, about mice and rats with the wonderful element of magic mixed in, because I’ve always been hopelessly in love with fantasy. It became my dream to be a writer, and every free moment was spent curled up with a notebook and my favorite pen. By the time I turned 20, I had finished four novellas.

Then life happened. College wasn’t working for me, so I dropped out, found a full-time job, and moved out on my own. Then, just a couple of months before my 22nd birthday, I met a man and fell madly in love. A week later, we vowed to spend our lives together. I quit my job, devoted myself to the role of wife, and once again turned my sights towards writing.

That’s when the bad luck started. After a few months my husband lost his job and couldn’t find a new one. By the time I turned 23, we were homeless. We spent the next two years living off savings as we traveled the country in our car, looking for work and meeting countless numbers of people.

After our first daughter was born, our situation finally turned around for the better. My husband found a good job and we settled down. Our second daughter came along a couple years later, and shortly afterwards we were able to buy a house. Now we have a son as well, making us a family of five (and four cats, one bird, and fish).

Becoming a mother is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me, and it’s a dream come true to spend every day playing and caring for my children. But I never forgot my wish to be an author, and a number of experiences that I went through during our period of homelessness became stagnant inside of me and impossible to express. For a time I felt as if I would lose myself against them. On a lark I decided to pick up writing again, and found catharsis. After more than seven years hiatus, I’m creating worlds and characters again.

I don’t write about my experiences, and none of my stories are autobiographical in any way. I write my emotions, in fantastical circumstances that tickle my fancy and indulge my creativity. I write what I love.

I write because I was born to.