Telling Yourself Stories

Let me begin by telling you a story.
So there was this man hunting in the woods, he came across a tiny baby poison snake whose mother had died of bullet to the head. The man was going to pass by but the snake pleaded with him to stop.
"Please help me", it said, "I'm all alone. I need you."
And the man shook his head resolutely and turned away, "If I help you, you'll bite me." he said.
The snake reached out to him, "No I won't! I swear. I'll treat you like my mother and father. I would never hurt you."
So the hunter sighed and said, "Okay then. Come home with me."

So the man took the little poison snake home. He fed it, nurtured it, gave it a place to sleep. They lived together happily for some time. Then one day, the man reached for a hot poker to stir the fire in the cold winter months and startled the snake. Quick as...well...a snake the snake lashed out and bit the man on the arm.

As he lay dying by his fire, the hunter looked at the snake all betrayed and said, "Why did you do that? You said you'd never bite me."

The snake looked at his dead keeper sadly, "You knew I was a snake when you brought me home" it said.

THE END.

Now boys and girls, who can tell us the moral of this story?

And why did I choose to share it with you today?

It's about choices y'all.

I was surfing through my +Instagram this morning when I came across a post on baller alert of +Robert Kardashian in his feelings because, he says, +Blacc Chyna left him and took all the baby furniture. His voice was all shaking and shit and I was inclined to believe she actually left. 

So I was like "Aww tooo bad. And with your 'baby special' airing soon and all, it must be hard." and then I moved on with my life.

Not two minutes later, a screenshot of a post by Blacc Chyna appears on my timeline saying that yes, she did in fact leave Rob's ass because he's a bipolar, emotionally abusive baby and she's sick of it. Especially since he 'promised not to be like Tyga' (I'm paraphrasing heavily). 

So she has two kids with struggle baby daddies and she's starting all over again. Once again.

Two things I want to say before I get with the harsh reality:

1. I have come to really respect Blacc Chyna. She's strong, intelligent and has a good heart. At least as far as I can see. She made the best of her life when she didn't start out with many aces in her deck. 

2. I can't remember what the second thing was.

Now to harsh reality.

She knew he was a snake when she brought him home.

Let me tell you a little something about weak ass men and single moms. Just as a warning in case you haven't figured it out.
When a man sees that a woman is a passably good mom, that she looks after her child, puts him first, shows up as a parent; he immediately extrapolates all that love and attention to himself and he wants it. He wants that woman to look after him too. Trust he'll be proposing within weeks of knowing you. And he will want to have a child with you, like right now!
Why?
Because the child is a guarantee that you'll never leave. At least that's what they think. And once they have you they start emotionally abusing you so you feel worthless and maybe not leave them for somebody better. Because they want you to believe you don't deserve better.
You're allowed to believe this bullshit once.
But twice?
How many times people? What is your count? I'm guessing it can be deduced by how many kids you have by different baby daddies.

I'm sorry.
But I'm not.
Somebody has to tell you and I guess I've designated myself den mother.
Stop it.
Stop choosing the same type of guy over and over.
Stop telling yourself that this time will be different.
Open your eyes and see who the guy is, or girl.
See them, and make a decision with your eyes wide open.
Not your eyes wide shut.
Please.
The only stories you should be telling yourself are the ones you're writing that will hopefully make you some money.
And I'm not saying you can't date a weak ass little boy if you want. Just go into it knowing what you're doing.
Remember in 2012 when +Rihanna gave +Chris Brown a second chance? (I hate to even bring it up but it's like the most perfect example) And everyone was trying to tell her what to do? What did she say?
"If it's a mistake, it's my mistake."

She didn't say "I love him and we're gonna be happy and you're just trying to break us up because you're jealous..."
Yes I'm looking at all a y'all who say such things with a straight face.
She saw who he was and she was giving him another chance because she accepted that this is who he is and she still wanted to take the chance on him. Of course when she discovered that no, she didn't really want to deal with all this bullshit, she was out.
So was Chyna.
So I commend her for knowing when to look after herself first.
But let's not make the same mistake a third time. Please.
So many new types of mistakes to make. Let's try one of those.

And Now...For My Next Trick

It's been about...twelve days since Erase and Rewind was released. I'd like to thank you all for all the copies of Child of Destiny you've bought as a result...Very confusing but gratifying nevertheless.
I did manage to get my first review for Erase and Rewind and it was FIVE STARS!
Wooohooo!
Whoever you are Kindle Customer, I'm so happy you enjoyed the book.
I was thinking about maybe doing a sequel but then you guys seem more interested in Child of Destiny so maybe I concentrate on that sequel. It's more than half written but life has been happening at a 2016 rate so...
Is anybody having an epic 2016?
I won't complain because I haven't missed a meal, my son is alive and healthy and I have work to do, and y'all enjoy my books.
At least a little bit.
Yeah?

Well so anyway, pretty soon I shall be unveiling the #eraseandrewind challenge to take advantage of the current social media craze and give you another reason to buy the book.
 It involves reading.
In accents.
Will you join me?

A Post About Becky; A Post About Life

It's been one of those weeks. You know them? The ones which tell you for sure that God is a woman and this is that week.

First of all...well actually I can't keep track of the order that things happened so I'll start with the one which is foremost in my mind; and that is the disappearance of my dog. I go out to brunch with the sis and her fam right? Well Becky's already outside when I'm leaving so there's no chance to lock her in the house. She follows me to the bus stop. Now usually when she does that, I get back home and she's back. There was that one memorable occasion where she arrived after me. Like at midnight. And dirty as hell. I don't know what happened to her but I do know that a lot of people covet my poor lil pretty Becky. So this time, I come home and she's not back...she hasn't returned since.

Now when there is uncertainties about my babies; the human one or the canine one, I torture myself with imaginings about the myriad of things that could have happened to them. And my stomach twists and the acidity rises. This time though, I mean...it's not like I don't want her back. I do. I really really do. I can't bear to think that she might be er...deceased. It took actual bravery for me to walk to the bus stop the next day just in case I found her body on the side of the road.
She's not there though which means I can realistically revive the kidnapping idea. She's locked up somewhere and can't get away. When she does, she'll come home. Don't think I'm not thinking about if she doesn't though. I have. And even that hasn't managed to break me. I have decided to look on it as a learning experience. And what not to do, or to do, if I have to adopt another dog. And if I do, I'm definitely choosing a huger breed because bitches be loco around here.

Then...
One of my clients tells me they're scaling back on work...actually that might have happened like on Friday or something. Considering they're my main source of income I should really be in diabetic shock right now. But no, I'm taking it as a clearing of space to allow other things to manifest.
What other things you ask?
Oh I don't know. More diverse stories perhaps? A kick in my butt to get me out of my comfort zone? I don't know. Of course I've put feelers out. The fact that nobody's biting yet is a source of disappointment. I can't believe all these guys aren't rushing to collaborate with me. It's enough to make a girl insecure.
This coupled with the fact that I actually had to rewrite a chapter for one of my clients...well really I should be in the fetal position by now.

But I'm not. It's like I have naturally occurring Xanax pumping through my veins. Whatever is happening, I hope it continues; I wish I could control it though. I've been beset by anxiety and tried to will myself into the calm I'm feeling now and it's just never worked. Is it possibly hormonal? Different sleep cycle? I wish I knew.
Anyway, so because I was feeling so in a rut I decided to do something that was completely out of my comfort zone. I joined okay cupid. Yep. The dating website. I had this love scene to write and I felt like I've become so distant from the whole romance aspect of life. What with being a hermit and shit. I feel like I'm getting stale in my writing because of it. So I signed up and then started to browse. Now the peculiar thing about me is I've never once been the aggressor in any relationship I've ever had. I'm pretty much eternally in prey mode. So stepping into the predator role was pretty scary. Add to that, it's been so long since I actually indulged in flirting except to write about other people doing it, that I had no idea if I could even pull it off.

Well I browsed a few pics, couldn't find anyone matching my Leo Devereux level standards of poise, height and beauty so I decided to read profiles instead.
The first guy I chose had a dog in his pic that looked like Becky.
:(
So I messaged him to tell him he had a nice dog. Turned out the dog wasn't his. He was very interested in seeing my pic first thing (my avatar was the RBF Black Mona Lisa that's been circulating on twitter.Which was really boringly predictable and not what I was after. The next guy wanted to argue about what con artists women can be. I'm not averse to arguing. I thrive on it. But I've yet to meet a man who can match up to me. And they get so mad if you win the argument. But I long ago gave up on 'dumbing it down' for the fools in the back so...yeah. Next guy was just after my jokes; and after knowing me for exactly zero minutes he had made enough assumptions about me to be 'surprised' that I knew what the word 'heifer' means. Like...huh? Also, three guys in, no flirting done yet. Predictability levels still at def con five. Number of jokes cracked (not by me) zero. It's a jungle out there.
So anyway, the next guy didn't know who Getafix the druid was; did not read comic books...You notice I didn't say books? I have a son; I know guys don't read books. But comics people? You don't read comics? I cannot.
The last guy was twenty, was telling me what to do in the first sentence, and in the next sentence he was proposing.
I blame your faddas.

So that's  been my week. Make my day and buy, read, and review a book of mine?
Thanks.
All the links are on top of the page.

NC-17

How do you find books? Personally once +Stephen King's Dark Tower Series let me down and +Anne Rice dashed my hopes that she'd write a good book again where Louis and Lestat resolve their issues finally and live happily ever after...well; I just usually read the first three lines and see if the book will snag me and make me want to read more. Three lines. It's not much to go on but it works for me. It's how I found +Maria Doria Russell's Children of God, and then The Sparrow. I read them backwards because the Sparrow is the first book but hey...excellent pieces of work. Made me want to become a jesuit.

And now, in this time of grief when I'm grappling with how God works, it's also a source of great comfort. If Emilio Sandoz could finally find some answers, well maybe so will I. And if I don't, well, there's always someone to blame.
It's the first anniversary of my father's death in two months. I don't know where the time went.I haven't even really started grieving yet. Still very much dealing with anger. The advantage of being angry I find, is that one cannot hold anger and sadness in one's breast. It's one or the other. And it's so much easier to sleep at night with anger as your bed mate. Sadness blows.
This wasn't meant to be a maudlin post.

Promise.
I was actually going to tell you about this girl I met online. She's English, lives in England; and we got to talking because of our mutual +Supernatural obsession. She was very intelligent, articulate and mature and I figured she was some late twenties chick with minimal responsibilities judging by the fact that I could find her online any time my day or night. Well anyway, quite by accident I discovered she was actually sixteen....
Lucky for her I'm not some fat, sleazy paedo looking for sex online.
I'm sure she'd have stopped talking to me if I was.
I hope.

So I tell my (then) fifteen year old son that I'm friends with this sixteen year old and would he like an introduction. He turned me down. Quite unequivocally. I don't know why. Maybe coz she was my friend. Or her blog was a bit too intelligent for him. I don't know.
So anyway, she writes fanfic.
And I'm reading this fanfic and it's tagged NC-17..
So by rights, the writer of the fanfic is not old enough to even read the fanfic.
And it was explicit.
And hot.
And explored aspects of BDSM that seventeen year olds really shouldn't know about.
At least, that's what I tell myself.
Of course this chick is a year older than my son.
So probably he has intricate knowledge of sex acts I haven't even heard about too.
It's very stressful for a mother to think such things about her child.
I'd rather stick this in the 'ain't broke' column and 'don't go looking for trouble' philosophy.
Of course it made me think about all the other fanfic out there.
And the average age of writers.
Yeah I remember making up "love stories" in my head when I was young. They were also loosely based on television shows; but most TV shows I saw at the time tended to show kissing which gently faded to black as the couple slid down away from the camera. It didn't give too much away in terms of What Really Happens.  but now teenagers are writing gay sex and BDSM and alpha/omega/beta dynamics and hooker!fic...and the more explicit and the more humiliating, the better.

I don't know what to think about all this.
When I was writing Child of Destiny, my editor was aghast at the amount of sex I was writing about. But it's soo tame compared to what I've seen on live journal. I feel I should be worried but I don't know about what. Do "young people" have too much knowledge or do I have too little?
Most importantly what the fuck happened to sex being about connection? communion? love?

It's Complicated

I had this whole post written out in my head but then I got into conversations with my seez and my son about more or less the same thing ironically, independent of each other; and now I forgot...sigh.
First, an update on my 'betrayed a confidence' situation. I realised that it wasn't about me at all; I was just the convenient scapegoat to vent on. I don't mind. better me than someone who would be hurt by all the accusations flying left and right. I was just sitting there like I was Forrest Gump in the midst of a hurricane. Just watching.

It was crazy because on one hand I'm texting with 'you're the worst human in existence' on the other, I get these other texts from a fan/friend and she's screaming because she just figured out the connection between The Swamp is Full of Mystery (which you can download free if you click on the blue sign up tab over there in the corner), Between Death and Heaven and Child of Destiny. Now when you're writing shit, you kinda think that connections between books are glaringly obvious because clearly in your head, they are. But I'm finding that no, it's not so obvious to the reader and they actually need to be paying attention to get it. I'm trying to decide if this is a good thing or bad thing, but so far I'm leaning toward good thing. The stories are good enough on their own to be enjoyed for the casual reader; but if you're avid and you make the connections that is GREAT. I can't even tell you what a thrill it gives me.

Relationships are funny complicated things and both Mya and Leo and Phil and Lillian embody that. They can't beat some real life shit I've been seeing lately. A few days ago, I read this post on a buy/sell group on facebook where this woman was looking for a man. See even if slavery is abolished, we do still buy and sell ourselves daily. Sometimes we even pay for the privilege. And I'm not talking about human trafficking - which is of course bad, very bad - I'm talking about old fashioned treating people like property because we paid for their time and/or work. So this girl, she was searching for a man to be her boy toy/boyfriend. she had listed her assets, ass, boobs, blow job giving abilities...it was the saddest thing I'd read in a while. What she wanted was a man to spend time with in exchange for all this assets AND setting the guy up in business and sugar mummying him. She'd even put a picture. Nice looking girl, her assets looked real...she was rich, divorced and felt like her self worth equaled this. the same day I think, some little girl is liking my pics on instagram of my son and writing comments like 'cute'...I'm not +Rihanna. I don't get three thousand comments under my pics. I am going to notice. So I ask my son who the little girl is stalking my instagram. And he says she's some chick he broke up with in December.

Something has happened to women recently. We don't seem to understand that it's not us to do the begging and the stalking and the paying. In the words of the great poet +Megan Fox , women have the vagina. Therefore, we win. When did we stop understanding that?

Not, of course, that I am one to talk when it comes to relationships. I tend to run the other way if a guy tries to come too close. It's not that I'm severely virginal or anything; I'm just wary. Very wary. It's funny that I was just thinking about this, this phenomenon this morning and then my sister calls me this afternoon with what SOUNDS like a classic case of the same. I could be wrong. 

What I'm talking about is the Madonna/Whore complex. A few years ago, when I was on again with my on again, off again; I asked him why he 'said' he wanted to marry me. And he said it was because I could take good care of him. 

I'm that person. I'll admit it. I take care of people. If someone needs me, I'm there. It's a hair trigger reaction; I can't help it. So I'm not really looking for someone else to take care of in the husband department. I want someone who wants to take care of me. Not that I even know what that looks like. I mean I have sisters, and I think we take care of each other. But just to be in a situation where I can sit back and give up all responsibility and know that the other person has got this? Nope. Never had that. Doesn't mean I don't want it. It's one of the reasons why I love +Outlander  so much (the books not the series). Claire is this strong woman who is always 'on'. But when she's with Jamie, she can switch that off and just...relax. Jamie's honesty is refreshing too. +Diana Gabaldon and a few other participants on Books and Writers on Compuserv told me that such men do exist and that they were married to such unicorns themselves. +Jensen Ackles also gives the IMPRESSION that he might have that type of relationship. But I haven't really come across such a specimen irl.

 Everyone seems to see me as the perfect Madonna/Whore. I've had friends for twenty years who have told me that 'Now that your son is grown, you and I can...you know.' And my internal eyebrows have practically fallen off my hypothetical face in shock because here was I thinking we were doing the friendship thing and here he was waiting for the right time to 'pounce'. 

Fresh meat. 

I can suck her boobies and she'll give me a blow job and then she'll make me a sandwich and rock me to sleep. 

And here I thought we were friends.

It's okay. I have reached a 'jacob zuma' on that one. Thanks +Slim Therapy for that one. It means reaching a stage where you don't care about anything.

Should I label this post NSFW?

This is the second image I'm considering in changing my book cover. Thoughts?

Meanwhile, buy my book. 

It's A Rat Race

This is part 4 of my four part East African Friday Feature on the Supernatural. Its based on the slave who appears in every installment of the Child of Destiny Series. I named him Bulitia after my late father; he also had a 'sixth sense' about things so I thought that was appropriate. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Asha stood outside the cabin door, debating with herself. Should she come clean to Bulitia? Tell him she was pregnant and that the jitu had threatened the baby? But he was just as much a slave as she was; there wasn’t much he could do…if anything. But if he wasn’t some kind of special then why was the jitu interested in him? He must have some special powers or something. Which meant he could help her if he knew…Knew what though? What could she tell him really? The jitu had come to her, and asked her to seduce Bulitia; didn’t tell her why or how long or anything. Didn’t tell her anything really about Bulitia. She knew he was from East Africa and he and his shipmates were still hopeful; still green. They continued to think there was a way for them to get home when there really wasn’t. They were fucked the moment they got on the boat. No, probably before. The minute they were captured. Not like their families would be willing to take them back if they returned. They’d probably think the runaway slaves were ghosts and kill them on sight. These Africans were very superstitious. Asha had been born a slave; it was the only life she knew. She watched the new recruits come in, still thinking they were people; still thinking their opinion counted for something – that they had rights…it made her sad for them. At the same time she was contemptuous. Why couldn’t they see? It made things very tiresome for the rest of them; having to train them, teach them; whip them, break them…Asha had watched it happen so many times; she was tired of it. Tired of it all. Sometimes she wanted to walk into the creek and let the alligators take her. But she was scared; scared that it would hurt worse than the whips and chains.  What if the afterlife was no escape, but just more of the same? She had to know for sure before she tried anything.

She pushed open the door and entered. Bulitia was lying on his side, nearest the door. His head was pillowed in his hands and she could see the glow of his eyes as he looked at her. He wasn’t asleep then. Good. She crept to him and lay down next to him matching him shoulder to hip to ankles. She was a tall girl too; almost as tall as him; she looked up into his eyes and smiled.

“Bulitia”, she whispered, “Will you save me?”

“Save you from what?” he asked not bothering to keep his voice down.

“From her. From the woman who holds our souls in her hand.”

“No one but Mulungu holds our souls woman. You are mistaken.”

Asha sighed, “You do not get it; the woman who owns us; she is no ordinary human”, she tried again.

“Oh, I know that. But she doesn’t own our souls”, he said.

There was silence in the cabin broken only by the loud snoring of Jefta on the other side and Abednego’s restless rustling. There was a rhythmic  slap of flesh on flesh. He was stimulating himself as he was wont to do every night Asha came. She wondered why he didn’t just get himself a woman.

“What is she?”, Bulitia suddenly asked, startling her.

“She is a monster who eats souls”, Asha told him.

“You know that for a fact?” Bulitia persisted.

“Yes”, Asha cried softly, desperate to convince him.

“How do we kill it?” he asked.

Mama Ruth sat before her fire, scrying for the gatekeeper she knew was nearby. She had settled here because it was a beacon for magic; it drew things to it; including the future Child and the forces trying to thwart its existence. She had followed the trail of soulless bodies; and they had led her here. Met Kafu was up to something; something bad. With the help of Asmodeus the demon he was creating chaos where order should be. Using the lust of man against him. His plans must not be allowed to succeed. Not if there was to be any hope for the future of mankind. Mama Ruth sat back, pondering her own stake in that future. She didn’t know how it would be; would the child destroy her? But she could not let that deter her. There was too much at stake to worry about herself.

∞

Bulitia was standing guard where he had been bade to. Keeping watch on the wall of sugar cane that separated one homestead from the next. He could see the child, the one he had been ordered to kill. He was climbing a tree, following a cat. His nanny was standing below the tree, bellowing up at him to get down. He simply grinned happily at her and kept going. There was no way he would be able to come back down. Perhaps he would fall and break his neck and save Bulitia the trouble of having to make a choice. Do it…or don’t do it? The girl had said that the woman who owned them was a demon. Demons could not be killed; not by humans.  But there were others, others with power. Bulitia could feel them close by. It was his gift; the one that his owner must have known about somehow. He could smell it out like a hound on a scent. He could follow it. But this child that his owner wanted dead; he had no such power. Bulitia didn’t understand it at all. He closed his eyes, sought for the power he could feel. It was close. She was close. He summoned her.

‘In the name of Mulungu and all the spirits of the ancestors; I bid you…help me’

In the name of your ancestors and the god that you call on; what would you have me do?

The reply was instantaneous; it startled Bulitia. He had known she was there but he had expected to have to do more begging before she answered.

‘Kill the demon’ he begged.

“Bulitia Bulitia Bulitia…you disappoint me. Conspiring with unknowns to kill me? How very impolite of you”, The Woman said from behind him and Bulitia froze.  So she could read minds for sure. He kept quiet knowing that he was fucked whether he spoke or he didn’t. And so he opted to go out with his dignity intact.

“You realise that this will result in severe punishment don’t you?” she  whispered in his ear as her nails scratched at his throat. Bulitia kept completely still.

“I’ll have to kill you”, The Woman actually sounded regretful, “But I will also kill all your friends”, she continued. Bulitia felt his knees go weak.

“Please mama”, he tried to whisper but his voice had disappeared.

“Yeess”, she said with relish in her tone, “I will kill you all; and bind you here…so you can be my slaves forever. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Keeping It Real

A close friend told me about a mutual acquaintance's new husband who is apparently having a hard time with the fact that he has a new family which he has to provide for. He keeps saying stuff about how he can't believe this is his life and he never dreamed that his life would turn out this way. He says it aloud as well, in the hearing of his wife...what. an. asshole.

Anyway so when I heard about that, I wondered what would be the best remedy to get him to slap out of it. I mean what kind of jerk says such a thing. But then when you really think about it, the average guy does tend to be a rather selfish bastard unless there is something in it for them. And I guess having a baby and a wife doesn't count in this guy's case.

Which brings me to the stories we as womenz tell ourselves in order to reconcile our perfect 'Mills and Boon Man' with the actual reality out there. I mean, the movie 'He's Just Not That Into You' was made to disabuse womenz of that very premise. That we should stop telling ourselves these stories that we make up to account for the fact that your man is a grade A bastard with no redeeming qualities.

It's a dichotomy I struggled with when writing. On the one hand, the whole point of reading books is to escape from reality. That's why Harry Potter, The Man in Black, Jamie Fraser, Father Emilio Sandoz, Sam and Dean Winchester and alla dem, are all larger than life.They're what we wish and hope and dream of to find in real life. However, they don't really exist in real life; do they?

This is Leo to the life

So when I was writing Leo into existence I wanted him to be so real that he could maybe actually exist in real life. I wanted him to have typical male imperfections; I wanted him to be as selfish and self-absorbed as the average teen, as unhappy and all about himself as any lonely neglected teenager would be...and yet, something special about him that would allow us all to fall in love with him, not in spite of his faults but because of them. Its a delicate line to maneuver. I don't know if I nailed it. You'll have to tell me when the book goes live.

Escaping Real Life Through Stories

The day before yesterday, I was sitting in my living room, trying to gain traction on the story I was writing and watching CNN. The whole 'Kenya is so excited about Obama coming to Kenya' thing was being nicely contrasted with the inconveniences people were going to go through. On my whatsapp timeline and facebook page, people were either talking about their disappointment that it wasn't a public holiday, excitement at half work days or how they won't be able to go somewhere because roads were closed. You know; just basically life being lived.

Then at six am in the morning just as I'm thinking that I should go to bed, I get a text from my sister saying that my cousin is dead...just like that. Over. Done. The fat lady sang. Its not a mistake; this has really happened. Road Traffic Accident and words like 'body' and 'mortuary' being thrown about. And suddenly the world went left and the little every day and not so every day things people were worried about faded into insignificance.

Some things are too heavy to process all at once and sometimes you just need to take a moment and find something happy to think about or do. For some people, they use drugs or alcohol for this escape. For me and many others, its a good story. You find some stories where the hero or heroes go through a lot of shit, sometimes they emerge from it unscathed other times they're bruised and battered; but not broken. Harry Potter, Jamie and Claire, Father Emilio Sandoz, Sam and Dean Winchester, Scott and Stiles...they're beaten down, they get up, they keep fighting.They lose some, hopefully they win more.

So you emerge from that alternate universe with the renewed sense that being beaten down is not the end; its the middle of the story. And even if you don't know how you'll get up again, doesn't mean that you won't. I used to think that escapism was an unhealthy concept in general; maybe because some methods of escaping can be downright dangerous.

 But now, I consider it in the same light as the effects of sleep to the body. Inadequate sleep means that the body fails to repair itself. Fixing those little tears and shoring up whatever needs to be replenished. I consider that escapism does the same for the emotions.

When you've been hit hard by something that has happened to you, and you turn your back on it and dive into some alternate universe consisting of Diagon Alley or Lallybroch, The Men of Letters bunker or Beacon Hills...or all of the above; it gives your emotions a chance to fix those tears, and shore up strength for the battles ahead.

That's why I read. And that's why I write. Hopefully my stories can do for others, what these stories have done for me.

Child of Destiny - The Summary

The story is set in a small fictional town near New Orleans named Le Marais, which is predominantly populated by descendants of French immigrants who settled in the area in the seventeenth century. The African American residents are a serious minority and even though racism is not blatant, there are definitely different classes of citizens. It is set in 1990.

Leo: He is a seventeen year old high school basketball superstar with unusual athletic prowess and of Caucasian persuasion. He lives with his mother who is a drunk, mourning her abandonment by Leo’s father nine years ago. Because of his depressing home life, he wishes to escape Le Marais and go to live a more secure and successful life in New York City using his rich girlfriend, Charlotte. 

He comes off as a selfish asshole who cares for no-one but himself but really he’s just a victim of circumstances who has received very little love in his life, and is doing the best he can with the tools he has. He comes together with Mya, in desperate circumstances in which Charlotte is close to dying as a result of having fallen in a mysterious magic pool. Nobody knows how or why the pool appears, but Mya is the only witch about that anyone knows, and so they turn to her to help. 

Mya, who lives with her grandmother, is descended from two separate lines of witches, whose origins are in Africa. She can save Charlotte, but only if she has passion from a lover’s embrace. An ingredient which Leo reluctantly provides. Much to their horror, the kiss turns into something else altogether.

Release Date: August 8th 2015

Excerpt -Between Death and Heaven; Out Now.

Gerrit, read it, love it, review it, reap the free sequel, share...

It's Heeerrreee! At Last.

Hi! Finally Between Death and Heaven is available for sale today at a new and improved price. Because I'm generous as hell, if you buy it in July, there's a 50% discount if you clink on the book link above. 
Furthermore, send me your purchase receipt and get The Swamp for FREE!

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.

Getting Book Reviews

People are opinionated right? You'd think it'd be easy to get them to just fucking write down their opinion of your book once they finish reading it but it isn't. At least not in my experience. Even when you offer them the book for free...especially when you offer them the book for free. They're all like, yeah I'll read it. Or they text you or call you to tell you what a great read it was, but actually going to the site and writing down their opinion?

I won't say its impossible, but it just seems to be very very difficult. Its exhausting trying to get reviews. More exhausting than writing, editing, proofreading and marketing put together. Even when you get websites exclusively dedicated to book reviews; its still hard to get them to notice you.

So what is a girl to do? I've never been the wallflower type; I'm not schooled in the art of trying to get people to notice me...I hate forcing on guys. I like things to happen organically, naturally, on their own. But you can't really do that when you're independently publishing your own works. You have to find a way to shout, scream, wave your hands, stand out from the crowd. You can't wait for people to notice you; you have to put yourself all up in they faces...That's modern day publishing for you.

So if you're at all interested in reading great stories then do give me a hollaback.