The Spoils of War

Book Launch for Charity is winding down. We're on like the last seven days on what has been an epic journey of learning and getting the hang of an aspect of writing every writer hates: marketing. I want to thank you for sticking it out with me bombarding your inbox almost daily with my ramblings and musings.
Thank you for your time.
I've been thinking about writing a companion piece to In Search of Paradise. My ableiest of able beta reader asked me a number of questions while we were reading through the manuscript. She was curious about some things which I took for granted as obvious. Things which maybe only Kenyans might understand. Now I put in footnotes to explain those, but I feel like I might just take the time out and flesh things out. What do you think? Should I do that?

I'm also thinking about what next. In about seven days, In Search of Paradise will launch, the price will rise, we'll know how much was made on pre-order and give that to the National Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission. Hopefully, the book will have gained some momentum and I might turn to something else. I am dithering between finishing Cinderella By Any Other Name which is a forced marriage story, and Child of Destiny - Marcus Devereux in which we finally meet the Child of Destiny. Both of them are somewhere about midway or thereabouts. Which one to finish next? Shall I put a poll on my facebook page? What's the best way forward?

Meanwhile, +Rihanna did a shoot for Vogue Arabia where she channels queen Nefertiti. Which is only right since she has Nefertiti under her boobs (as a tattoo). Anyway, I was looking at one picture in particular and it was giving me SPOILER REDACTED vibes for In Search of Paradise. There is this one scene in which seriously if there was a visual representation, she in that outfit would be it...okay I'll give you a slight hint. It involves Zawadi, but it doesn't.

Either way, +Rihanna is the only true ruler I acknowledge. The - fake - ruler of my country just sent his thugs to beat up people and kill them in a slum neighborhood of Nairobi. I think he wants to provoke chaos and blame it on the other guy. Only, the other guy isn't playing those games. I can't believe I'm saying this but I think I've officially joined the resistance. Is this a worldwide thing now? Is it something in the atmosphere or is the apocalypse truly upon us? Anyways, maybe I should pack a small bag of necessities and keep that ready.
Just in case.
Question: What does one pack for the apocalypse? Apart from toilet paper that is...

This Isn't Bragging; It's Updating

I recently moved my books that are not priced free to a new publishing platform in addition to smashwords. It handles distribution to Amazon, Google Play, iTunes, Barnes and Noble and Kobo. I'm finding that people prefer to shop at Amazon than anywhere else because that was the fastest turnaround I've seen in publishing to first sale since I started self publishing. Well...at least for my paid books.

For the free ones, I'm happy to say that The Swamp is Full of Mystery was in the top ten highest downloaded books on free ebooks.net within a week of my posting it. Which is great. I love it. The more exposure the better. And the fact that people are choosing to download my book, among the however many thousands there are on the site?...Awesome.

There is another book of mine that is doing really exceptionally well on all sites it's on. It's a real puzzle to me because first of all, the story is like...eight pages. I wrote it in about half an hour for a competition (I haven't heard back from them and I can't remember the results date or even the site); and I decided to post it because why not? And now it's been on free ebooks like for five minutes and a hundred people have downloaded it. I am truly stymied. There is just no predicting this shit.

I'm thinking maybe I should expand it to a full fledged novel. Just go to pacemaker and make out a six month plan for writing and editing. I don't know. Do I have more story? Of course I have. It's like, a given at this point. The question is, do I want to write it? I'm in the middle of Child of Destiny - Marcus Deveraux which I've kind of put aside to concentrate on work and promoting the other books first; kind of get the momentum going....

But.
Yeah.
So hit me up if you've read it and let me know what you think I should do.
The story is called Cinderella By Any Other Name.

Saying No

As a freelance writer of good repute I get a lot of invitations to bid on jobs (not to brag or nothin) and one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn is how to say...'No'. I mean, being a hustler is all about finding those jobs isn't it? It's about rising and grinding and using up all our 24 hours like Rihanna taught us, right?

Well sometimes, even when you know the job is all wrong for you or you just don't have the time to do it; its still hard to turn it down. It's mo money in the kitty and there is always need for mo money right?

I'm learning to take a breath though; learning to leverage things. I'm no expert, don't be fooled. I have faults. I procrastinate waaayyy too much and I have so many 'side projects' including this- blogging. designing stuff; posts and covers and shit. marketing books. responding to emails. Sometimes I think I could really use an assistant. Except I'm a control freak and nobody ever does it the way I need it to be done except me. I got problems. But I'm trying to learn. I discovered pacemaker that helps me keep track of my writing. I say no to invitations which are too much for my plate. I make sure I write something every day even if its just two words (luckily its never just two words). I'm evolving.

Sometimes you just have to really choose your battles and stick with those choices. Its difficult as fuck sometimes but ultimately you're better for it. Speaking of which, allow me to kill two birds with one stone and blog and market simultaneously.

Preorder Child of Destiny. You know you want to. Read the excerpt and see if you don't.

Outtake...Child of Destiny

This is an outtake from Child of Destiny, the third book in the series a preview of which can be read here.
Enjoy!

"Psst!", Mya called from inside the janitor's closet. Leo turned around to see who was calling. I mean, of course he knew that voice even when it was hissing but still. His eyes fell on her, head peeking from the closet like a character in The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe or maybe more like a fugitive from high school justice. He couldn't help smiling to see her there but tried to hide his amusement.

 Mya was unpredictable these days; she just might jump down his throat if she thought he was making fun of her.
"Hey. What are you doing?" he asked moving closer to her and trying to keep the laughter out of his voice.
"Its lunch time. We have a whole hour", she hissed back as if that explained everything.
"A whole hour for...?" Leo asked though he suspected he knew. Pregnancy hormones apparently made one very horny. Mya's hand darted out of the closet and pulled him closer; Leo almost tripped, he was so surprised. Almost. Because his lightning reflexes were working just fine thank you very much. Mya pulled him into the closet and slammed the door, plunging them into relative darkness. The closet was not meant for human habitation hence no need for windows, or even a light bulb. Leo had no time to point these facts out to Mya because with the unerring accuracy of familiarity her lips were on his and he forgot all about everything.

Mya's tongue explored his mouth, mapping it lovingly as her hands trailed down his torso and began to pull his shirt up. As her own nipples had become super sensitive to touch, she'd seemed to develop a liking for touching his. It was a little disconcerting but Leo was not in the habit of refusing Mya anything she wanted; not these days anyway. Who knew what Ms. Mood Swings might do if he did? Plus if he was being completely honest, she made him too happy to refuse her anything. Especially a bitty thing like his nipples; besides, whatever she did to them went straight to his dick, and just like that, his jeans were too tight at his crotch. Mya seemed to divine this probably by some witchy sixth sense because her hand was cradling his dick in loving caress before he could so much as gasp. He pushed against it, wanting her to unzip him so he could feel her on his naked skin. Instead the hand reached up and circled his wrist where his hand was inching up to touch her breast, and pulled it down to her own crotch. He wasted no time in unzipping her and plunging his hand into her wet warmth. She was readier than the roadrunner for him and he pulled his hand away so he could unzip his own damn fly.

"Lean back", he ordered, grasping her legs and widening them. She hastened to obey, smiling happily. There was some sort of hoovering device behind her that she could lean on and he took advantage of that to lift her legs and put them around his waist.

"Hold on", he said plunging her depths without further ado. She spread her arms out so she that one was on the wall the other on the door to steady herself. He took hold of her ass, rutting against her and groaning; not really remembering to keep his  voice down.
"Shh, you're going to get us expelled", she breathed even as she threw her head back and arched against him, encouraging him to go harder, faster. He listened to her actions not her words; he was enveloped in her heated softness and there was absolutely no blood in his head for rational thinking  or consideration of consequences. There was only her. and him. In his bubble of lust and love and need and want. Nothing else mattered and no-one else existed. Someone banged on the door as if in warning; probably Miles...and Leo tried, he really did to keep it down. But then she stiffened, and convulsed; internal muscles gripping him so tight he almost screamed.
Then he was pouring himself into her and she was milking him for everything; taking his heart, his soul and his spirit into her along with his sperm.

"God", he whispered afterwards as he slumped against her.
"Tell me about it", she replied.