Tag: fiction

About Writing

On writing communities

Autumn

I joined an online community for writers.

I confess that on an emotional level, it takes me back to being a teenager on Elfwood, trying my best to chummy up to some clique, and wondering why they just didn’t like me no matter what. After all, I was WAY more talented than any of them.

Now I realize that it wasn’t about admiring talent. They copied each other, and I was stubbornly myself. Cliques don’t like individuals.

I like to imagine that those people who rejected me years ago are now trapped in lonely and pathetic lives. That’s what you get when you sell your soul! Bwahahahaha!

I can say this here, because we aren’t among them right now: I don’t like writers. I have never once gotten along with one. However, I like readers. I LOVE readers, really, because they love fictional worlds and stories as much as I do. I feel a kindred spirit with readers. Writers have fragile egos and are always on the defense — they feel threatened by talent and hard work. They don’t like me either.

I fully expect them to utilize the reviews and rating system to attempt to bully me into conformity. I will likely never be featured as a top writer. I will probably abandon my account with enough time. I suck at fitting in.

So why did I join a community for writers?

Because my oracle cards told me that I need to step outside of my comfort zone, and I can’t think of a more uncomfortable place for me.

That’s why I joined.

About Me

Living

Autumn

In high school I used to fantasize that I’d get Discovered. Everyone would be blown away by the enormity of my talent at such a tender age, and I would be heralded as a teenage prodigy as millions rushed to buy my books. I’d be set for life by the time I graduated.

I wanted it so badly, I wondered how I would ever survive without it.

Obviously, and thankfully, that didn’t happen.

I don’t know if there’s some sort of spiritual plan for everyone, guided by God, the Universe, or anything in particular, but I now know that my talent would have been wasted if I had achieved fame at such a young age. Oh sure, practice and maturity would have improved a few things here and there, but the ideas I played with would have, without a doubt, stagnated.

You just can’t replace the importance of experience.

And if I had been set for life right out of the gate, I wouldn’t have experienced what it means to be alive. My writing wouldn’t have gained any true depth. I would have become trapped rewriting the same fluff over and over with a different title every time. And that would have been that.

Instead I was forced to live outside of my comfortable worlds of fiction. I’ve learned that sometimes the best way to improve talent is not by reading or writing, but by living.

About Me

Secretly

Autumn

Secretly

I want to explode on the scene.

Blow everyone away with the enormity of my talent.

Declare to the world, “I was born to do this!”

But I’m shy, doubtful, and insecure.

Something like that, happening to someone like me?

Probably not.

But I like to fantasize.

About Me

Terror as an author

Autumn

I’ll be honest, as a writer, letting someone read my stories is embarrassing.

Asking someone to pay to read them is mortifying.

I can understand why publishing houses became a thing. Hello, I wrote a book. I am now too embarrassed and mortified to distribute it. Ha ha ha.

Seriously, I don’t want to let people know what sort of things go on in my head. That’s why I’m quiet and shy. Just move along; you don’t know me.

But don’t really. I actually do want people to read my books. I’m just scared. What if people don’t like me? What if people do like me? I’m not sure how I’d handle either.

That’s why I’m a writer, I suppose. Fictional worlds are easier to navigate.

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Light Eternal

Light Eternal

Autumn

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A young woman, fleeing a terrible secret, finds herself beset by a supernatural beast which threatens not her body, but her very soul–and the mysterious stranger who saves her claims that he is not what he appears to be… and neither is she.

Before she knows it, the two of them are traveling across the country, fleeing a mysterious threat that seems to lurk beneath every shadow, while her benefactor races to heal her of injuries to her mind and soul that threaten not only her, but himself, the world, and the very fabric of reality.

Now available on Kindle with 50% MORE editing! JOYOUS JUBILATION!

You probably didn’t notice that I yanked down all but the first three chapters that I had posted here and on FictionPress, so I can have the book be provided for free with Kindle Unlimited. Go ahead and give it a shot; it’s short and you have nothing to lose. 😉

About Me

Stargirl

Autumn

In real life, I’m a 30-something stay-at-home mom with small children. I always laugh whenever the neighbors call me a hippie, because I’ve been to Earth Haven and I can’t say that I had an ounce in common with anyone there, but that’s the identity I’ve been given: the neighborhood hippie. I guess that the fact that I’ve been to a place called Earth Haven puts me closer to hippy-ism than anyone else around here.

While I get along great with the ex-bikers, sometimes I wish that I had a friend who was another 30-something mom with small children. There are a few of them around here too, but they are, you know, normal.

Sometimes I think that I ought to try being normal too, so they’ll like me and talk to me.

But that would mean leggings, memberships, and shoes.

You haven’t truly lived until you’ve stepped on a dead mouse barefoot. Now that’s a sensation that doesn’t wash away.

And I really like my bright yellow gaucho pants.

Stargirl was required reading in middle school. We all scoffed at it, dismissing it as another one of those human interest novels that our teachers always seemed to think would ease the trials of being a teenager. But now I think back on it and remind myself, being normal doesn’t make you happy. Stargirl tried it, and she was miserable. So there you have it, I had to grow up before I appreciated the message.

Gaucho pants and bare feet forever, even if that leaves me with only ex-bikers and fictional characters to chat with.

The sequel, Love, Stargirl came out after I graduated, so on a lark I decided to read it now as an adult. When the book mentioned someone giving out donuts to trick-or-treaters, it hit me why we didn’t like the original as teens, and it had nothing to do with individualism or peer-pressure: the author just didn’t know crap about Millennials. The Stargirl books are every bit as much of deluded fantasies as the tripe I write, minus the gratuitous Mary Sue-ing.

Because what’s the point in fantasizing if you don’t go all out?

Also, apparently peer-pressure fiction is a recognized genre. I feel bad for teens.

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About Me

Kindle

Autumn

I vaguely mentioned that I had a baby several months ago, which is the reason why I went from posting new chapters every week to sporadic and infrequent updates. During that time period, here’s what I’ve learned:

It’s easier for me to write a manuscript than it is to upkeep a posting schedule.

Even when everything is already finished and all I have to do is copy and paste once a week, for whatever reason I just can’t stick with it. My brain doesn’t want to brain that way.

On the other hand, my binder stuffed full of lined paper and colorful pens is always within arm’s reach. Ten minutes here, an hour there, sometimes a sentence, other times a few pages, and the next thing I know I’ve gotten a novel written.

After some very serious thought, I’ve decided that I will relocate myself over to Kindle. Publish the whole thing in one go and be over and done with it. Better than being sporadic and inconsistent, wondering when I’ll inevitably flake out.

I will post a few more chapters of Light Eternal here, then leave you on a cliff hanger.

About Me

Popularity?

Autumn

My six-year-old loves DanTDM, and after the birth of baby #4 I’ve been keeping the older three pacified with hours and hours of his videos while I’ve been postpartum. It dawned on me that he’s popular. Mind you, I knew that when we first found his channel over a year ago, but now he’s, like, popular.

I’ve started wondering what it would be like to have that many fans.

Of course, the thought of going on tours and talking to lots of strangers is a very off-putting idea for me. Invisible introvert here. That’s why I write. NTY for that one.

But what if someone drew fan art of my characters? What if someone read every novel I ever write? What if someone related to my story?

Just one person who isn’t somehow personally connected to me enjoying one of my novels would be really cool.

Light Eternal

Light Eternal chapter 3

Autumn

Chapter 3

“Where do souls go when they die?” Muriel asked out of the blue; her eyes were focused on her plate in front of her, as she used a fork to pick apart a waffle soaked in maple syrup. They were in the dining room of the hotel, with employees bustling around them to clean up the uneaten leftovers from the buffet table, as the other patrons slowly trickled out. Aion looked at her and carefully gauged the question in his mind, but, before he could answer, she commented instead, “Continental breakfasts always sound more exciting than they actually are.”

“Eating them usually helps make them more exciting,” Aion replied, the empty dishes from his own meal still sitting in front of him – he hadn’t wasted any time in satiating his hunger, then had settled back into waiting for Muriel to finish playing with her food. He was the most patient man that she had ever met, because he didn’t look or sound the slightest bit annoyed; just amused.

“Why don’t you have a home?” Muriel asked, in one last effort to avoid eating, but the way Aion’s face never changed felt unbearably persuasive; it made her feel that they would be there until the end of time, waiting for her to consume something. A patient man, she decided, was not necessarily a good thing. Because Muriel wasn’t too keen on sitting there all day, she finally took her first bite.

“Because I’m not human, and didn’t possess this form until last night,” Aion spoke after Muriel had swallowed and taken another bite. She had waited too long; now, the waffle was soggy and cold. Next time, she would eat right away, since she was sure that her will wasn’t stronger than Aion’s – his face never changed, no matter what she did.

His words make her choke slightly, but, after she recovered, she rolled her eyes at him and sighed in exasperation, then said, in her brattiest know-it-all voice, “Then how do you have money?” For some reason she felt loopy, and wasn’t sure why she was acting that way, but Aion was at ease. Besides, she had the feeling that he couldn’t abandon her, and he was unlikely to react poorly, anyway.

“Law of Attraction.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense,” Muriel scoffed.

Reaching into his pocket, Aion pulled out his wallet and opened it, flashing her with a large number of bills that all sported big numbers. “Makes perfect sense to me.”

Gasping slightly, Muriel’s eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding me! I thought that the Law of Attraction was silly New Age gobbledygook. It really works? Just like that?”

Shaking his head with a slight smile, Aion pocketed his wallet. “I tell you that I’m a non-human creature of Light, and the part that you don’t believe is the wad of cash that I’m carrying around.”

Scowling, Muriel huffed, “If you put it that way …” before stuffing a large bite of waffle into her mouth. Secretly she was glad that he was showing off, because it made him seem slightly more approachable. It was hard to know how to talk to someone who seemed to have mastered stoicism so completely.

“What’s my name?” he asked suddenly.

She looked at him blankly, then laughed softly to cover up the anxiety that had formed a lump in her throat. “I don’t remember.” She tried to sound casual, to make it seem normal that she didn’t know his name, even though that frightened her even more.

“What’s your name?” he asked instead.

“Muriel Gardner.” She leaned back and folded her arms, losing her appetite entirely. Her voice had an edge to it that she hadn’t fully intended, but she didn’t want him to keep asking her questions.

The man, however, was satisfied. “As long as you can remember who you are, then we’re okay.” That caught her even more off guard than the original question had. Even though she was trying to pretend that it was normal to not remember his name, she didn’t want him to go along with her. She wanted him to give her a reason to be defensive, to lose her self-control and sob over how broken her mind seemed to be. She wanted to cry. But instead, he was calmly watching her with unwavering eyes. Something in her face must have tipped him off on her thoughts though, because he slowly and carefully continued, “Do you know what happened last night?”

“It was cold.” Muriel shivered reflexively, remembering the moonlight on the frost and the darkness that enveloped her, so she rushed to finish, “Then I met you and we got a hotel room together.”

Somehow she knew that she had said the wrong thing. Even though his expression remind blank, the man stood up and said, “Come. We’re going to buy a notebook, and you’re going to write in it every day.”

“What for?” Muriel slowly followed him, trembling slightly. She was sure that she had done something wrong, and this was somehow going to be her punishment. Maybe he didn’t actually like her, and maybe he was only there because he had unsavory intentions for her. But he smiled, and Muriel found her heart calming down. She was being unreasonable, she decided, and she shouldn’t entertain such dark thoughts.

“For starters, you can put my name in it to help you remember,” Aion teased as he opened the door and waited for Muriel to walk through. His tone sounded friendly and a bit flirtatious, so Muriel stuck her tongue out at him as they walked down the hallway.

“And what else would I write?” she asked.

“Just journal. We need to know if you experience further soul loss … or worse.”

“What could be worse?”

“You’re susceptible now, and I swore that I would protect you.” Now he was being evasive, so Muriel stopped with a slight stomp of her foot.

“Give me a straight answer,” she demanded.

“Not until you’re capable of remembering it,” he replied.

“I do remember. My soul was taken,” Muriel whispered and looked down, her bottom lip quivering. “After …”

Aion was quick to press a finger against her trembling lips, stopping her from speaking. “That’s good enough. You’re returning to lucidity.”

“What is a Grim, and why did one attack me?” Muriel asked. She suddenly felt small and vulnerable, so she grabbed onto Aion’s arm for fear that a gust of wind would blow her away. She wasn’t sure if she existed anymore or if she lived in Aion’s imagination, and the only way to reassure herself was to feel his solid muscles in her hands. Remembering was too much for her to endure, and she wanted to forget again. She wanted to forget everything, even her own name, but at that moment it was too well established in her mind.

“They are hell-hounds – omens of death. They come from the underworld. I can’t tell you why one attacked you.”

“It wasn’t because …” A tear spilled from her eye and onto her cheek.

“No.” Aion put his hand over Muriel’s. “That made the damage worse, but the Grim being there had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you know everything about me?” Muriel rested her head against Aion’s arm. He felt good to touch, and she wanted to snuggle against him even more.

“Probably,” he replied.

“Are you my guardian angel?”

“I am now.” He wrapped both arms around her and patted her hair, and electric tingles shot through Muriel’s body. As long as he was there, she knew that she was safe.

“I know nothing about you,” she whispered into his chest.

“Do you remember my name?”

Muriel paused. “Aion.” She felt pleased with herself for remembering, and started to grin.

“That’s something that you know about me.” He smiled with her, then took her hand as they began walking back to their room again.

“What sort of name is it?” she asked.

“A big one,” he replied.

“It’s two syllables.”

“I know.”

“What does it mean?”

“We could look it up online.”

“You’re frustrating me!” Muriel hit him lightly on the shoulder and giggled slightly.

Aion winked as he said, “That was the idea.”

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Also available on FictionPress

Light Eternal

Light Eternal Chapter 2

Autumn

Chapter 2

The motel room that Muriel walked into wasn’t noteworthy in any way – it was neither expensive, nor cheap, but still reminiscent of vacationing on a budget – with a slight musty smell and worn carpet – but it was clean and well-maintained. Muriel slowly pulled off her coat, revealing a pink sweater worn over a baggy white blouse, and hung it up on the coat stand near the door. She shivered slightly, hugged herself, and rubbed her arms, then turned up the thermostat on the heater underneath the front window before sitting down on one of the two queen-sized beds, where she opened her backpack. She sifted through it and pulled out a photograph of her parents and stared at it.

She had almost forgotten.

How could she forget?

Burning tears stung her eyes as she crumpled up the picture and threw it away in the small garbage can by the bed; she didn’t know why she had packed it in the first place. Trying very hard to hide any signs of crying, she hurriedly grabbed the bag and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Aion stood straight and tall in the doorway as a frozen breeze blew past him and into the room, taking a moment to look at the garbage can, his face hard and unreadable. In his mind he was weighing something, considering it carefully, until another thought came to him and broke him out of his brooding. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the key-cards for their room, and put one down on the nearby table, before quietly leaving.

The hot steamy shower reminded Muriel of how cold she had been, and the contrast hurt almost too much to bear. She had to acclimate herself slowly, starting at lukewarm and gradually adjusting the temperature up, wondering when the prickling goosebumps that covered her skin would subside. There was something inside that was untouched by the water and heat, a sort of emptiness that kept her feeling chilled in the center of her bones. She couldn’t remember if it had always been there, but her skin was turning bright red from the heat, so she slowly turned the water off and stepped out of the tub.

After she wrapped herself up a towel, Muriel stared at herself in the mirror, water dripping from her sopping hair. Her face looked strange and unfamiliar, and she felt sure that it belonged to someone else. She didn’t like her hair, which seemed too dark and too short, even though it hung slightly past her shoulders. Somehow, that didn’t seem like her; it didn’t seem like how she would keep her hair. Her eyes were a pretty shade of hazel, but they had a haunted look that frightened her. She couldn’t think of why her eyes would look like that. She quickly turned from the mirror and rummaged through her backpack looking for clothes, but, again, it felt like she was intruding on someone else’s life. The jeans were too big around the waist, and she had to belt them to make them stay up. The blouses were all baggy, bland, and unappealing. She pulled on something pink, because it seemed like the most vibrant thing she could find, and she didn’t want to feel faded.

Exiting the bathroom, Muriel was surprised to see a burger bag sitting on the table next to the mini fridge. She didn’t realize that she had been in the bathroom long enough for the man to leave and come back, but she appreciated that he had thought to bring her food – he must have gone to one of those all-right places, because the clock next to the bed read midnight. Muriel reached into the bag and was shocked to realize that the food was cold; she slowly sank down into a chair, baffled at how that was possible. It had felt like she had been in the bathroom for only a few minutes.

How long had it been? She hadn’t checked the time when they arrived; now, she wished she had. She felt fuzzy and awful; a strange buzzing began in her head, carrying her focus away for a moment.

The door opened and Aion stepped in, pausing to take off his coat, but Muriel stared blankly ahead of her, not responding to his appearance. She looked listless, but he wasn’t surprised. He walked over to her and very carefully took one of her hands, watching to make sure that she didn’t flinch or look frightened.

“Do you remember me?” he whispered.

Her eyes focused on his face and she frowned, trying hard to grasp something that wouldn’t come to her. She knew that she knew him, but the answer of who he was wouldn’t come to her. “I don’t … know,” she murmured.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She paused, alarmed that she didn’t immediately know. Then, with some relief, she found herself replying, “Muriel,” and didn’t give any indication that it felt like someone else had answered for her.

“Where are we?” the man asked.

That one seemed easy. “In a hotel room.”

“Where?”

It wasn’t an easy question after all, and she lowered her head, biting her lip for a moment to repress the urge to cry before muttering, “… I don’t remember.”

Aion gently stroked the top of her head, his fingers sending tingles through Muriel’s scalp and down her neck, seemingly satisfied, despite her inability to remember such simple things. “Go ahead and eat, and don’t worry,” he said gently. “You’re experiencing a fugue state, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about. You’ll grow used to them in time.”

She wanted to cry again, because his gentleness hurt in a way that didn’t make sense. To cover it up, she quickly asked, “How long have we been here?”

“About two hours.”

Muriel nodded and pulled out the burger, peeling off the wrapper before she slowly took a bite and swallowed. Cold hamburgers were not as good as fresh ones; she clung to that thought because it was inane and meaningless – anything to keep herself away from the frozen pain that was trapped inside her chest, hiding just under her ribcage. “What was your name again?” she asked after a moment.

“Aion.”

“Aion,” she repeated softly. “Am I going to be okay?”

“I promise that you will be.”

Muriel leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Aion’s chest, resting her head against him. The warmth from his body felt good, and reminded Muriel that she was still alive. She could hear his heart beating, and it eased tension out of her muscles that she hadn’t realized was there. Her cheeks were wet with the tears that she could no longer hold back, but it seemed safe to cry while hidden in Aion’s shirt. In turn, Aion wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “I’m going to make my failure right.”

Time stopped, and the bond between them was reawakened. Muriel remember that she had known Aion from somewhere, but the truth still eluded her. Her mind felt blocked from her by a black wall that couldn’t be penetrated, keeping her locked in the moment without a past or a future. But her heart still remembered, and she wanted to stay with him forever. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

After laying her down in bed, and tucking the blanket around her, Aion stood looking out the window, thinking.

His failure.

He had allowed himself to be too trusting, and weak, and that had ultimately prevented him from protecting Muriel like he had promised he would – and she had paid the price. He wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

But he wasn’t the only one who failed on that night. He retrieved the picture from the waste bin, brought it over to the light, and studied it for a moment, before it burst into flames and floated away as ash. They had broken their contract, and they would not escape the consequences.