Tag: author
Five words that every writer should avoid using (funny)
Literally – Literally everyone says it
Actually – It’s been copyrighted by the online debate crowd
Just – Just don’t
Very – It’s very very bad.
Milquetoast – It’s spelled weird.
And that’s it! Now you are ready to make your dreams come true and live your best life. Wishing you all a good writing journey!
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Overcoming Writer’s Process: Navigating Life’s Challenges
One of those big and glaringly obvious things about trying to make a living as an indie author is that you have to, you know, write books to make it happen.
Ha ha, yeah, I’ll get around to it.
Currently my actual progress with novel writing is quite small. Currently my mind is a little too preoccupied with the real world to think that much about my fictional ones. I wouldn’t say, “writer’s block”, but I’m definitely still deep in “writer’s process.” And while I’m kinda wishing that I was more of an escapist sort, I need to get a real-world foundation built under me before I can start dreaming.
There is a slightly pragmatic element to me.
So instead of thinking about Malachi and Lyra, running around and doing things in Runemaster, I’m thinking about boring adult things like my credit score. I’m figuring out how to structure my day so that I can have time for everything that needs to be done. I’m trying to remember to stay hydrated and get some fresh air and sunshine. I’m adjusting to a major life change. I’m stopping a four-year-old and a two-year-old from spitting at each other across the room, because despite how cute and little they are, it’s also kinda gross.
What I need is time. I wish that life came with a pause button that I could smack every time I needed a moment to think and process, but the sun continues to rise and fall the same way that it always has and always will. I don’t know if I’m counting down the days to a deadline, or if I’ll have all the time I need. And it’s easy to get caught up in the stress.
So I remind myself not to make any decisions based on fear. I can be logical. I can follow what my heart truly wants. But I won’t let myself succumb to fear; that’s not how I want to live the rest of my life. I know deep in my heart that writing is the only thing that I have any real ambition for, so that’s where I’m throwing all my energy.
However, I’m not going to lie: having a fire tickling my behind is also proving itself to be great motivation. I might not be deep into writing yet, but I’m thinking a lot about the marketing aspect and learning new skills.
Speaking of marketing, that whole “SEO optimization” makes me feel awkward. There’s nothing poetic about it, and it’s definitely not natural to my way of thinking.
“Calls to action” are also something that are currently uncomfortable. Should I really end my blog posts with, “Now that I’ve shared how my life is a train wreck, tell me about your own train wrecks in the comments below!” Is that appropriate?
But what the hey, let’s commiserate a little bit. What are you struggling with in your life right now?
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The Scion Suit Part One – Audio edition!
I needs to learn teh elocution. LOL
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Cover Design for Alice and the Warden by Autumn Rain
Alice had lost her sense of self. She had fallen in with a stereotypical bad boy named Damon, and as the mistakes heaped higher the more trapped she felt in the rebellious life she led. However, when Damon pushed circumstances to their breaking point, and Alice fell into legal troubles that there was no escape from. A chance encounter with the local Warden began a process of self-discovery for Alice, as she she asked herself the question, “What does it mean to have dignity?”
Base image created with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added in Canva.
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Cover Design for The Black Magus by Autumn Rain
What happens when the world’s most powerful magus falls in love?
Ainmire has long since lost his connection with his humanity, existing as more of a shadow that looms over the Order of the Magi, focused more on doing what was necessary rather than on what he wanted. However, after the Order gave the orders for the assassination of the Red Magus, Ainmire has a chance encounter with the Red Magus’s beautiful and vivacious daughter, Lily … and changes his mind. He refuses to follow through with the assassination, and instead pursues Lily with the intent of marriage, rediscovering the human side of himself along the way.
It doesn’t matter how many enemies he makes with his change of goals, because no one comes even close to matching his ability to wield magic. After all, who’s going to stop him?
Base image generated with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added using Canva.
Redesigning the covers for my novels.
Still feeling rather insecure about the process, particularly since I’m not as visually motivated as everyone else, so I don’t really know what it is about covers that scream, “Buy me now!” (Same way that I don’t really understand why arranging food in a fancy way makes people think it tastes better). But I’m perfectly aware that covers are what initially hook people into cracking open a book, so I’m doing my best to learn.
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Editing Chapter One of Runemaster Video
Here I am on camera! Yay for me!
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Runemaster: My Process of Writing and AI Art Creation
I made a video!
I know I know, I’m very amateur and should probably be embarrassed — and one day I will be! But for now, everyone has to start somewhere.
So yes, that’s my voice. You know how it is when you’re not used to the sound of your recorded voice, so you keep asking yourself over and over, “Is that really what I sound like?” I’m totally mortified! 😅
But you know, this was fun! Expect more videos in the future.
The runes at the bottom of the thumbnail are: Solwilo, Othala, Isa, and Berkana — sun, inheritance, ice, and birch tree.
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Runemaster 3.1
Malachi was all that anyone ever talked about. Lyra spent the next couple of days listening as women buzzed about him, excitedly conversing about how the Runemaster was helping to heal the sick, cure bad habits, and comfort the broken hearted. Lyra still hadn’t seen him since he had asked her to repair the hem of his cloak, and the smallest part of her was starting to feel left out.
She was among the broken hearted, wasn’t she? Why didn’t he care enough to provide his services to her?
Lyra knew that he had tried, and she had chased him away. Otherwise, perhaps she would be contributing her two cents about Malachi, instead of silently listening to everyone else talk about him. Why had she done that?
He must have taken it personally, she thought to herself. She had been rude and dismissive with him every time they had crossed paths, and after she had gone out of her way to drop off the cloak at the boarding house rather than wait for him to pick it up himself, he had good reason to think that she was avoiding him. Rather, because she had been avoiding him.
Lyra was beginning to regret it.
What was it about Malachi that everyone liked? It hurt to be left out – at least, that was what she told herself. She imagined that he was constantly surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans, all laughing and hugging him as they thanked him for his latest spell, and her chest grew tighter. What would have happened if she had let him stay when he had asked? What if she had listened to his reassuring voice and let him cast his runes for her sake instead of acting so defensive … then she could have found out what it was that everyone was so enamored with, instead of being left to guess.
But despite her growing curiosity, she was also extremely anxious about running into him again, certain that she had given him good reason to dislike her.
Another evening came around, and Lyra found herself working late in the dressmaker shop, sewing lace onto a pretty blue dress by the light of a lamp. She hated walking home in the dark, but with the garment due to be picked up early the next day, she didn’t have the luxury of waiting until the morrow. The stars were out by the time she stepped outside and locked the door behind her. She walked down the empty street and looked up at the pale moon, then despite feeling silly over it, she couldn’t help but wonder if Malachi was looking up at that moment as well.
Lyra halted when she thought that she had seen a flicker of movement beyond the line of trees, but after staring for a moment, she decided that it was simply a trick of her eyes. But her nerves were now shot. Her mind had begun to race with fears, and she was helpless to make it stop. She picked up the pace, determined to make it home as quickly as possible, wishing that her house wasn’t so close to the forest. There was no one around to judge her for hurrying.
Unexpectedly, there was a small cough, and her head snapped around to find Malachi crouched a few feet away just off the side of the road, almost completely hidden in the darkness. He made no move to approach her, but merely sat quietly and calmly, as if in a deep reverie.
“The stars are rather lovely tonight,” he said softly.
She swallowed hard. “W-What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying to hide her fear. The last thing she wanted was for Malachi to know how much she was trembling, so she took a step back, hoping that the darkness would shield her from his gaze.
He tilted his head, but Lyra couldn’t see his expression as he replied, “Perhaps I am here to show you a star that you haven’t yet seen.”
She took another step back, wishing to get home and lock herself inside.
Why was she always fleeing from him?
“I’ve seen all the stars,” Lyra replied, her voice quivering. “I’m sorry Master, but I’m on my way home. I just … was surprised by you, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” Malachi’s tone was almost teasing, and Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise. Had he been playing with her? Her hands were sweating and she had to remind herself to breathe.
“Yes …” she hesitated, then asked timidly, “Do you like the trim on your cloak?” She felt about ready to faint now, wondering why she had spoken the question out loud when she was so terrified of a negative response – when she was already so close to the edge of what she could handle. She felt compelled to cover up her nervousness, and began babbling, “I put in a lot of extra care when I sewed it on. I hope that my stitching is adequate … and that you feel that you got your money’s worth.”
She watched as the stranger tilted his head again, the pale moonlight illuminating his features in an otherworldly light. He said nothing as he looked at her, then finally asked, “May I read your fortune, Miss Lyra?”
Lyra wanted to say “no” and be done with him, but instead she found herself stepping forward and nodding. She had spent a couple of days listening to everyone else gush about how wonderful Master Malachi was, and she thought that if she rejected him once again, she would be permanently left out. She wanted to see the Runemaster’s work for herself.
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Runemaster 2.1
Lyra sorted through the dressmaker’s orders to place the day’s highest priorities on top as she listened to the rhythmic snipping of Mrs. Elwood’s shears, and the thought crossed her mind that she liked those quiet busy moments best of all. She supposed that one day – assuming she didn’t get married first – the responsibility of sales and customer support would fall on her once she opened her own shop, and she hoped that she would feel more equipped to handle the responsibility in the future. For the moment, she liked being the assistant, without having to think too hard about anything.
“Hello! How may I help you?” Mrs. Elwood called out cheerily, and Lyra carefully tucked the orders into a slot on the top of their “business desk,” as they liked to call it.
“I seem to have snagged the hem of my cloak,” a deep yet all too familiar voice answered, and Lyra’s head snapped around, her heart leaping up into her throat.
“Allow me to take a look, Master,” Mrs. Elwood replied in a voice that was far more saccharine than Lyra thought becoming of a widowed woman. She avoided looking at Malachi, instead quietly making her way towards the backroom in what she hoped was a subtle get-away, knowing all the while that he had already seen her. “Oh yes, the stitching has been pulled out, and there’s a hole torn in the fabric as well. Lyra! Come here, please.”
Lyra’s heart sank, but she turned around and forced a smile. “Good morning, Master Malachi,” she echoed Mrs. Elwood’s tone, though she couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm at bay.
“Would you find trimming to match Master Malachi’s cloak? We could easily patch the hole for you, but I think that the best solution would be to put a new hem on entirely. The repair would be entirely invisible.”
“I trust your expert judgment, madame.” Malachi smiled back at Mrs. Elwood, and Lyra swallowed down the embarrassment at having to silently watch a Runemaster flirt with her employer.
“Mrs. Elwood,” Lyra ventured timidly, “You have a fitting in two hours, and the dress has yet to be basted.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, Master, but I must get back to my work. Lyra here will assist you, and I assure you that she is very bright and talented. Your cloak will be better than new.” Mrs. Elwood smiled broadly, then retreated back to her cutting table to continue working.
Lyra examined the damaged hem, then murmured, “The tailor is just down the street, Master, if you would feel more comfortable in an establishment that is more suited to male clientele.”
“Hmm … but you don’t work over there, do you.” He grinned, and Lyra couldn’t stop the flush that colored her cheeks.
“I don’t know what I did to gain your attention, Master,” she replied with false politeness, “but I have no intention of responding to your advances. It would be in your better interests to move on.”
“You misunderstand!” Malachi chuckled as he removed his cloak and handed it to Lyra. “I am not pursuing you romantically at all.”
“And yet here you are,” Lyra replied tersely. She took the cloak and retreated to the back room, to search through their supplies to make the repair. She couldn’t quite place the fabric, but it was some sort of warm velveteen and Lyra compulsively touched it to her cheek before she stopped herself. Her training as a dressmaker took over then, and she knew exactly which trim she wanted to line the bottom with. She retrieved it and hurried out to seek Malachi’s approval for the project that was blossoming in her mind.
“We would need to order in matching fabric,” she said as soon as she was back in the Runemaster’s presence, “but I think that this would be a beautiful accent that would far surpass an invisible repair.” She presented the roll of trim to him, which consisted of thick metallic threads expertly tied in an swirl of knots and cords. It had taken Lyra’s breath away when she had first unboxed it, and she had been waiting for the project that would give her the opportunity to work with it. Somehow she doubted that the cost would be a problem for Master Malachi.
He took it from her hands and studied it closely, rubbing the end between his fingers and holding it up to the light. “You’re correct, Lyra. This would be an elegant addition to my cloak … assuming it holds up well in my travels.”
“I assure you that the metal threads are quite strong, and they would hold up well against the dirt and mud of the road,” she almost purred, subconsciously slipping into the same mannerisms that Mrs. Elwood used to drive a big sale. The idea of spending the next hour stitching that trim onto the soft fabric of Malachi’s cloak was too tantalizing to let slip away.
“It might also inspire bandits,” Malachi replied, then gave Lyra a sly wink. “But I would be a fool to turn away the magic that you are offering me. Yes, Lyra, I will order this trim for the repair.”
“Allow me to measure out the length of your hem, and I will write up your receipt for you. The work will be done this afternoon.” Lyra couldn’t suppress the smile that bubbled out from the center of her chest. She had taken the job at the dressmaker’s purely to make ends meet after her father had died, but the process and materials had grown on her in the weeks since, and for the first time she felt deeply excited about this project.
It didn’t matter that it was for Master Malachi, she told herself. It didn’t matter that he had visited their shop specifically for her, either. She repeated that to herself after he had left, and she worked intently on his cloak, carefully applying the trim with her neatest stitches, savoring the soft fabric that rested in her hands.
It didn’t matter at all.
By Autumn Rain 