Creativity Defined

I thought I'd consolidate everything in one video to make it easier for people to find me. What do you think? confusing? or informative?

The Battle Against Ignorance is Neverending

I got in a twitter argument the other day.
Oh, don't look at me like that. You get into social media spats too. Unless you're not on Social Media which yay for you. Stay away. It's a mess.
Anyways.
I got into the spat because of this post.

I love my horrible son who ruined my life pic.twitter.com/RWF4LxwEIf

— qanon gambino (@lib_crusher) March 11, 2019

Now the post was bad enough but some guy replies to it saying that 'most parents' feel this way, they just don't say so. Now I'm not saying what I did was right but sometimes the stupidity on Al Gore's Internet gets to me.
You have a child and then later realize that "oh my, I actually don't want a child." which okay, maybe you can't help that. But then you proceed to tell the child and the public all about it? What is that child supposed to do with that? The one person who is supposed to show you unconditional love, instead views you as their biggest regret.
I mean...come on people. Talk about fucking up your child for life.
I'm not saying you're not allowed to feel that way. Feel however you want - that's between you and God. But if you decided to be the vessel through which this life entered the world, then it is your responsibility to nurture that soul until it can stand on it's own two feet.
Regardless of your feelings.

Fuck your feelings.
Love is a doing action. Hate the kid all you want but you better make sure they ate. You better make sure to remember their birthday, change their nappies, listen to their problems and pay their school fees. There are no days off. You do not get a break and you don't get to be a self-indulgent little millennial and talk about how much you're missing out on traveling to an ashram in India. Nobody cares. Take care of your kid.
Anyway...so I told the guy to please speak for himself when he says 'most parents feel like this' because I just couldn't bear it anymore. I have limited tolerance for stupidity on a normal day and when social media takes too much of my time, that tolerance just drops and drops until I start replying to such posts instead of ignoring them.
Sigh...

For more nuggets on hard core parenting read the stepchild.
I wanted to have a word about fifty people dying in two mosques in New Zealand. We mentally abuse ourselves and cause trauma to our psyches when we read about these stories and their aftermath. The difference with this story is the aftermath though.
There is often a sense of hopelessness sometimes, when we hear about a mass shooting, the inevitable thoughts and prayers, nothing is done, new mass shooting news cycle CNN gives us. If the shooter is white, there is usually an attempt to brand them a mentally ill 'isolated incident' and interview his relatives, so they can tell us what a gentle little lamb he usually is.
But this time, we actually got action taken, empathy given and the focus rightly on the victims of this attack with no attempt made to demonise them or imply that they are actors hired by George Soros.
Dude.
You don't even know.
When I watched CNN - it was Max Foster though, in London - they were talking about ways in which we can change the narrative in order to change mindsets about Muslims in general. and one of the guests said something profound which will get lost in the shuffle. He talked about how in all these terrorist tv shows like Homeland and 24, the terrorist is always a Middle Eastern Muslim. and that permeates people's psyche especially after 9/11. So it would be good if these shows switched it around and showed some episodes featuring white supremacist terrorists. That way ignorant people like Jess Hilarious can stop profiling anyone with a head dress as a terrorist.
That would indeed be something.

I cannot speak to anyone else's experience, but in mine, when I encounter a Muslim gentleman in any capacity, I know I don't have to be on my guard. He won't sexually harass me, or try to harm me in any way. If they're a vendor, I know they're not gonna try to fleece me. Muslims are some of the most honest people I have ever met.
And okay, 9/11 was horrible, but people act like it was the most horrible thing that ever happened. Why? Because it happened to America? There was a reason why it happened to America. Years and years of oppressing others. They do this shit to other people and then act shocked and scandalized if anyone dares to fight back.
Don't get me wrong.
Killing people is just wrong. It's not the solution to any problem. But why is killing Americans a bigger sin than killing other people? Why is the fact that the only motivation White Supremacists have is hatred, while even ISIS are trying to get free from oppression, not highlighted? Let's call a spade a spade. White people have been terrorizing the rest of us for centuries. But when it happens to them, wow.
So so bad. Demonize everyone.
When they do it, it's an 'isolated incident.'
I'm tayad.

Can you tell that the stress is telling on me? We all have PTSD on here, that is if your soul is still intact. Everything is upsetting and ignoring it only makes the fall out worse. So I write about it and then escape into my stories to bring some sunshine into my life, and maybe into yours. I don't know.
Speaking of stories, my next promotion goes like this.
For the first four days of the next four months, you get one book in the child of destiny series free. Of course, the Swamp is Full of Mystery is always free.
We begin on April Fools' Day with In the Shadow of the Styx so mark your calenders. If you've ever wanted to read this story and not pay for it, here's your chance.

It's all in the lead up to the release of Marcus Devereux on October 9th; a book that shatters all the stereotypes on baby thoughts and teenage parenting.
Are you excited?

May I Read Your Palm?

Yes yes, where have I been, blah blah? I get it. I have been AWOL. Life is sometimes a bitch.
And then you die.

However, I didn't die so here I am, bringing you some new, exciting, scintillating, amusing, educational, inspirational content.
Or am I?
We'll see. How about we get started?
So, yesterday on Twitter, there was this post doing the rounds about how men describe women in literature. That led to another writer asking people to describe themselves as a character in their stories. The answers to that post made me write a mini post about it on Tumblr because wow.
I don't know if you guys know that the narratives that you tell yourselves about yourselves are projected outward for the world to see.
So if you tell me that for example: "She's thirty-five years old, is quite pretty with makeup and doesn't give a fuck' what I hear is, she's self-conscious about getting older and insecure about her looks. She also tries to protect herself from criticism by pretending she doesn't care.
You give a fuck honey.
People who have no fucks to give also have no time to tell you about the fucks they don't have to give. It's simply apparent by how unmoved they are by your attacks/trolling/opinions. See: Chrissy Teigen.
Besides the whole "IDGAF" thing is very 2012. Rihanna moved on and so should you.

Much worse than that, there were some women who COULD NOT describe themselves because of "societal mores". I don't know what that means. What I do know is that how you view YOURSELF should be a very personal thing coming from your own inner sense of self. Let other people think that you're TOO fat, or TOO dark or TOO skinny or TOO ugly. That's their business and their perspective. You should have yours. You should know who you are and what you like about yourself. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, drop everything you're doing and find out because this is the single most important thing you will ever do. If you don't know who you are, you basically don't know anything. You can't have an opinion if you don't know who you are, you can't get to know somebody because you rely on other people's perceptions to tell you what you should think. You've basically erased yourself.                                                                                                                                            I don't know how one grows up without any knowledge of who they are, so I don't know how you fix it. I suspect it comes down to paying attention to yourself, finding out what you like, and what you don't. Trusting your gut. And loving yourself. I think. I'm no expert on emotional intelligence. 

It saddens me that so many people don't know how to love themselves. Like if I had time I would probably sit here angsting about it for a bit. But I can't because I have a test page to write for a new client and a fanfic to begin for a Big Bang.                                                                                                        

   On the book front, it's been a pretty demoralizing March. Amazon continues to be the douche bag we all know and love, making it difficult for authors to price books, making it difficult for those books to be found, making it difficult to know if they even tell you about every sale. So my new thing is promoting my author page where there are other vendors that books can be bought from. It's also a place where you can compare prices and get my free books for free. You might have noticed, or maybe not, that my free books are not free on Amazon. That's their shit, not mine. Every other vendor has them priced for free. So that's one advantage. Another is that I'm gonna host a giveaway for my mailing list. Whoever buys a book from a vendor OTHER THAN Amazon can post me the link to their email and I will reward them with another book of their choosing. Isn't that A-MAZ-ING? Of course, it is and you're excited. I can tell.

  Other than that, I'd like to give you a bit of homework in the comments. Please describe yourself as you would your heroine in a novel. Give me 100 words. Nothing negative.

We're gonna have a good April. I can feel it.                                                                                            

Various and Sundry Author Life Snippets

The trouble with having a life is that sometimes,  you do not have time to do the things you want to. Take this January and February for example. I've had lots of stuff going on in my real life, as a result, I haven't been a very good blogger nor updater of social media. I'm usually a hermit but this year seems to want me to go out and interact with the world.
But you don't care about that right?

Let's get right to it then.
It's a new year, a new paradigm. Old habits still die hard and new ones are difficult to maintain...yet it's possible to do so. For example, my new year's resolution to exercise more and eat less bad things? Still holding. I mean it's slow. I've been trying to swim twice a week but only managed once so far, like I said, life is hectic.
Also, a lot of stuff has been happening in the world that's got me concerned or annoyed or simply amused. I keep meaning to come here and write about it but...time, it's such a problem. I wish it could be stretched to as long as you need, so I could sleep for twelve hours and still have twenty-four hours to finish everything I need to. A day should be thirty-six hours seriously. But then again, thirty-six hour days means the months last longer and ain't nobody got time.

Are you excited for Black Panther? I already put my coins aside for the uber that's taking me to the theatre, the exercise I'll do before so I can hot dog and coke, my outfit...the only thing is y'all uncivilized heffers are going to be shouting and commenting in the cinema hall, jostling me in my seat (coz I know the theatre will be at capacity), chewing loudly...ugh, I hate humans. I know you will ruin my experience. But never mind, I'll still enjoy it because Africans. Speaking of, are you seeing how Lupita and Michael B. Jordan be looking at each other in these press photos? Giiirrrllll....new couple alert. You heard it here first.

I recently got an Amazon Fire and it brought home to me in a very real way as opposed to the abstract theoretical way from before, just how many books there are on Amazon. And how difficult it might be for random people to find your book unless it's well positioned. When I open my Kindle Fire there's always a book there on offer because someone is doing a full-time job advertising and of course, KDP customers are a priority for Amazon. It was at once rather demoralizing and also invigorating to realize. Yes, it's difficult to fight your way to the front of the line. But it's also good to know what the problem is so you can tackle it.
My way of tackling it has been to be on the lookout for posts on twitter or facebook that talk about someone looking for a book featuring a storyline/character/emotion/genre that one or more of my books cover and then I reply with a link or a promo pic.

I've also continued the tradition of having a theme for every month. And February's is 'Short Stories for a Short month.' I think I enjoy designing the posts just as much as I enjoy writing the books.
Kylie Jenner did her own creating, of a baby, continuing the Kardashian streak of turning their next generation black. I'm curious for what the future of the brand will look like but I guess they're just adhering to the trend that by 2050 most Americans will look like North West. The new 'All-American' look. I guess that's why white supremacists are panicked.
Speaking of supremacists, our so-called president is going from bad to worse. I went from thinking, 'well at least he isn't as bad as Trump' to wishing he was Trump. Who'da thunk someone would overtake Trump in the total asshole race? Certainly not me.
Anyway, let me stop before I get arrested.
This post has been all over the place.
I think it accurately represents my mental state.
Pray for me.
And get one of my short stories!

How BDSM isn't as Bad as You Think

This is very likely my last post of 2017.
Very likely but not definitely.
I'm trying to be a better planner but the truth is that I live and write by the seat of my pants and God's will so I can't say for sure. That said, I want to talk about something I recently learned about because I like to share my knowledge and opinions.
But y'all know that right?

Recently, I was tricked into writing a 12,000-word book on being a submissive in BDSM.
Tricked how you ask?
Well, it's simple really. I am registered on this site as a writer, filed under 'fiction'. Which means that on my work page, I can only see work available in the fiction category. But then one of the managers emailed me and said, "I have this piece of work that nobody has chosen and you're not doing anything - on the site - as far as I can see. Can I give it to you?"
Now, this site has filed me under fiction meaning that I can only access the work posted under stories on there. However, most of the work they get is non-fiction, and so they essentially lock me out of the larger portion of work available...until no one else is willing to do a certain job. Then suddenly they all up in my DMs like, "Hey Bighead."
It's cool.
It's alright.
People will use you if you let them.
I learned that lesson long ago.
So I only let them use me if it's to my benefit. And I figured I could do the 12k assignment and I'd get paid right about the middle of my holiday which means...

Yep.
I'd be rolling in it.
So I said yes.
And THAT'S when they told me the topic.
Now I'm not your typical judgemental whatever. But I don't hold with pain. And the fanfic I've read featuring BDSM is equal parts painful and just no. So I was not exactly happy.
However, I took it as an opportunity to learn something new, hopefully, and who knows? I'll probably be asked to write a BDSM romance sooner or later.
Right?
So, learning opportunity...
And boy did I learn!

First of all boys and girls, BDSM is not just about whips and chains. It's an entire lifestyle and personality type. As soon as I began learning more and more about what it takes and what it looks like to be in a dom/sub relationship I started looking at everyone around me differently. I noticed who had a tendency toward dominance, others towards submissiveness...Believe it or not, that was new information to me.

Take these two ladies in the lovely gif above for example. One hundred percent uncut, pure doms. Rob and Chyna's relationship might have worked out if Rob didn't bring a third dom into their relationship; his mama, Kris Jenner.
You notice that Rob and Chyna were fine and happy until he kind of reconciled with his family and was calling his mother every two minutes to ask for permission for this and that...Two cocks cannot exist in the same roost. One dom had to go and in this case, it was Chyna who stepped and got herself another sub.
Nicki also is such a dom, leading her men publicly around by the nose...remember how Safaree used to walk behind her? Dragged on stage at every award show to basically be her entourage? And Meek, so happy to have snagged those boobs and that butt. Just counting his blessings to be in the same room with her. Until they disobeyed. And then it was bye bye miss American pie...
You always know who wore the pants in her relationships. Probably why she and Drake have never quite gotten it together. He doesn't strike me as the submissive type...in spite of his softness.

Another obvious dom/sub couple is Rob's sister Kim and her husband Kanye. He literally tells her what to wear, goes so far as to dress her, basically, he runs her life. From what I've read of the dom/sub life, the first thing you need for success is a lot of trust in each other, because the sub completely hands her life over into the dom's hands.
Without trust, the dynamic can't work. With that in mind, I'd say that the Kimye relationship has the tools to last a lifetime what with her throwing away her sleuthing abilities because 'she doesn't need them with him', and he only having her number in his phone...they clearly need no one else.
Writing this book was not just beneficial in allowing me to see y'all in a new light. It also showed me things that I didn't know, I didn't know about myself.
I love when that happens.
When you discover something about yourself you didn't even think to imagine might be something to wonder about. It's the best. It's increasing self-awareness without angst and effort.
Shall I tell you what I discovered about me?

...
...
Bye Felicia, we not that close.
I will marvel with you at the marvelous possibilities of accessing knowledge and wisdom about absolutely any topic from the pages of a book. You might be reading it for entirely different purposes but then you come across something that makes you go like, "Hmmm...I did not know, I needed to know that."

I'm sure some of you would like to read the finished product on BDSM. Unfortunately, I have no idea where it will be published.
Hello, Annemarie, ghostwriter, pleased to meet you.
I will tell you where you can find a whole bunch of books I wrote...
Here.
Y'all come back and visit in the New Year y'hear?

The Story That Won First Prize

This is the story which won me that Amazon gift card. The one I'm using to buy anyone who wants one, a copy of any book you want (of mine - see google form at the bottom.) What I like about winning a prize with this story is that it's one of my crazy wacko concepts and frankly I was expecting it to be thrown out without ceremony. If you know me at all you know I like to avoid the beaten path when it comes to storytelling. I'd rather beat on the poison ivy with a machete than take the pig path. Only in my head of course. Real nature has chameleons and snakes...I'm gonna take the road. 

So here it is. 

Comments are love.

Copyright © 2017 by Annemarie Musawale All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Clyde and His Bonnie

Iman wiped his shoes on the rug outside of the bar. Sure, this was some Podunk town in Texas and the way the wind was blowing dust everywhere…his gesture was probably pointless. But that wasn’t the point of wiping his shoes anyway. He wanted these small town hicks to know he was a civilized gentleman with manners. With his dusky skin and curly hair, it was necessary.

The bartender looked up as he walked in, an assessing look in his eye. He looked down again and continued dusting the counter so Iman guessed he’d passed the test. He ambled slowly up to the counter, taking in every aspect of the room.

This was a dying town, a relic of happier days before the assembly plant was outsourced overseas. Iman was probably the first stranger they’d seen in a while.

“Hey. I’ll have whatever’s on tap,” he told the bartender. The man nodded, picking up a relatively clean glass and filling it up. He placed it on the counter and then picked up his rag. He didn’t move away so Iman took it as his cue.

“I hear there’s a poker game here every Wednesday night. Any chance I can get a buy-in?”

The man raised his blue eyes narrowing them at Iman, “whose askin’?”

Iman stuck out his hand, “Name’s Cole Sprouse, looking to make some money to buy me some fuel. Got me a job in Dallas waitin’...”

The bartender looked down at his hand with suspicion before reaching out slowly to shake it. Iman had found on his travels that if a man shook your hand, he was less likely to stab you in the back.

At least, not right away.

“Game’s in the back,” he said.

“Thank you, kind sir. And you are…?” Iman held on to the bartender’s hand, widening his whiskey eyes at him.

“Dan Shumpert,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Dan,” Iman said with one last vigorous shake. He had some money to make and no time to lose. Deadlines were looming.

∞

Iman was winning steadily and his opponents were getting steadily more upset. He figured it was time to bail and pushed his chair back to stand up.

“Uh, well fellas it’s been-” he began to say.

“One more game,” interrupted the sweaty guy on his right with five o’clock shadow and a dirty wifebeater. Iman had been keeping an eye on him because he seemed like the kind to keep a gun under his chair.

“Uh, you don’t have any collat-” he began to say.

 Wifebeater guy looked up at the beefcake looming in the doorway and said, “Bring her.” he cut in.

Iman sat up straighter. What was going on?

Before he could catch his breath, a young woman was pushed into the room. She had zip ties on her wrists, tying her hands together. Her long silky black hair hung halfway down her back in a greasy curtain and her white dress could have done with a wash. Her black eyes were wide with fear as she stared at Wifebeater guy.

“What’s-” Iman began to ask.

“Your entire stake for the girl,” Wifebeater guy said.

Iman stared at him in shock, “You want to wager…a person?”

Wifebeater guy shrugged, “She’s mine to do with whatever I please. Bet or no bet?”

There was no way he could stand up and walk away. Not when these people were…wagering humans.

“Bet,” he said.

Wifebeater nodded at the dealer who immediately began to shuffle cards. Iman could not stop staring at the girl as she stood shivering behind Wifebeater’s chair. She was tall, maybe five eight, voluptuous with her heavy breasts and ample hips, tiny waist in between. But it was the look in her eyes that drew him again and again. She looked like a trapped tiger, looking for an opening to escape. Iman resolved there and then, that he was going to help her. He looked down at his cards, knowing with even more certainty than before, that losing was not an option.

∞

Iman grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her out of the Saloon at a run. Wifebeater guy had not been expecting to lose and it had been tricky getting out of there without a fight. He skidded to a halt in front of his Camaro, pushing her in before getting in after her before gunning the engine. He raised a lot of dust himself as put the pedal to the metal. They careened out of town, one eye on the rearview watching for a tail. Iman didn’t stop until he’d put two hundred miles between him and the Podunk town. Too tired to drive anymore, he stopped at a no-tell motel on the side of the road. Parking in the driveway, he turned to the girl.

“So…what’s your name?” he asked.

She looked at him as if she was thinking about pretending not to understand what he said. But at last she sighed and turned to face him.

“Will you untie me if I tell you?” she asked.

Iman jumped. He’d completely forgotten about the zip ties, “Of course I will damn.” He said fishing for the knife he kept in his stocking. He pulled it out holding it toward her. She held out her hands, too trustingly he thought, and let him cut through her restraints.

“So, you going to tell me your name?” he asked.

“It’s Honey,” she said.

Iman smiled at her, looking into her eyes, “It suits you,” he said looking down at her arm, “that’s the exact color of your skin.”

Honey smiled, “And what is your name? Prince Charming?”

Iman smiled, holding out his hand to be shaken, “My name is Iman Bridges. And I am here to rescue you.”

Honey shook his hand with a laugh, “Yeah right. Are you getting us a room or what?”

“Your wish is my command,” Iman said suddenly feeling like he had indeed won the lottery.

Fill in the form with a book of your choice and Merry Christmas. First come, first served.

Erase and Rewind: Book Launch Day!

It's Launch Day! for Erase and Rewind...your surprise November book.

I like to let the book speak for itself, so click on the preview and...preview it. I'll just...wait here.

Did you like it? Was it good? Alright so what's next?
Click on buy of course. And while you're there you might as well click on Share as well. Best to be thorough.
Now here's where it gets good.
For one thing, there's a prize to be won for just buying the book. And here's how you win it:
1. Have you liked my face book page? If not, do that. Just scroll to the top of this page and find the icon for 'Facebook Page'.
2. Join the launch party event by clicking on 'going' on Facebook or registering on eventbrite below.
3. Shop. You can click on the buy now link above, shop now on Facebook or go to bit.ly/EraseandRewindbookpage
4. Read the book.
5. Leave a review/fill in the sign up form.
6. Get in the draw to win a prize

In addition to ALL of this awesomeness, all my other books are half price this week. huh? HUH?

In addition to all of this, I have a proposition for you...unfortunately it isn't dirty...
If you're a writer you know how hard it is to get people to review you right?
Well, I have a new system; probably it's an old system but I just thought of it...
You buy the book if you feel it's your cup of tea, you read it, review it and send me the link to your review. When you do that, I send you your money back. Win win.
If it's within this launch week, you also qualify to enter for the prize.
Win win win!
Who's in?

Into the Bar

Harpreet's story part deus. Part one can be found here.

Jon stepped out of his bar to find a hot Indian chick dithering outside, lookin like she might be lost or searching for something she couldn't name. He took a step toward her, figuring he could help with that. His eyes traveled up and down her body, taking in her petite little bod; flat ass, long legs, perky small breasts...he could work with that.
"Hey babe, what's poppin?" he said to himself before stepping toward her.

They talked, he offered her a blunt and she took it readily. So maybe the naive look was just that - a look. When he invited her into his bar, she came readily taking a seat on the bar stool he indicated. He lit the homemade cigarette, taking a puff before passing it on to her. She reached out for the spliff, examining it like it was some curious new species she hadn't yet heard about.
"Go on, take a hit", Jon encouraged. His eyes dropped to her bosom again. She would make an excellent honey pot. I mean having that Devereux boy in here now and then had proved pretty profitable. Imagine if he could add this little exotic flower to the repertoire. Jon had dollar signs in his eyes just thinkin' about it. And on top of that, he could maybe hit that. I mean not that he was averse to doing it with the Devereux kid - Fuck knew he was prettier than most girls in this town - but he just didn't swing that way. And as far as he knew, neither did Leo. Harpreet's soft delicate voice cut into his reverie.
"I don't know vhat you mean", she said.
"You don't know what....?" Jon asked totally distracted.
"Vhat do you mean by take a hit. And this is a cigarette? I do not smoke", she had that delicate Indian accent going on and Jon could feel his pants getting tight as she handed the spliff back. So maybe she was as innocent as she looked.

Bummer.
"Oh...well, can I offer you a soda then?" he asked.
"Do you have Fanta?"
"Er...Yeah I think I have a crate somewhere. Gimme a minute to find it." Jon was wondering if he should just roofie her drink and see what happened or let it go. His eyes dropped to her soft brown bosom again.
Damn.
He reached down, searching for soda. Ain't nobody came to Jon's bar to have a soft drink but sometimes the underage kids wanted to dilute their alcohol...
The door of the bar burst open, "There you are!", a male teenage voice said, "We been lookin' all over for you."
"I am sorry." Harpreet said and Jon could hear her get to her feet. He straightened up to see who had ruined his potential good time and saw the Devereux boy with his friend. The one who was a clear closet case. Mike or something.

Leo was staring at him, eyes narrowed, "Did he give you anything?" he asked Harpreet. Which kind of surprised Jon. It wasn't like he'd ever tried anything with the boy. Jon was kind of hurt at the suspicion he saw in the kid's eyes. That boy was too old for his age. He needed to calm down.
"No. He is just getting me a Fanta", Harpreet replied.

"Never mind that. We'll get you a Fanta from the corner store if you really want one", Leo said hand curled protectively around Harpreet's arm eyes still on Jon.
"Yeah", his friend said, "Let's get outta here."
"Okay", Harpreet replied agreeably, following the two boys out of the bar with a wave and a smile at Jon. Jon waved back, watching her go with regret.
'She coulda been a contendah' he thought with a sigh, 'Oh well.'

This is an outtake of Between Death and Heaven from the Child of Destiny Series.

Voodoo

So if you've read Between Death and Heaven, or The Swamp is Full of Mystery or Child of Destiny or even Requiscant in Pace then you know that I weave a bit of voodoo in there. If you haven't well you can just cop TSIFOM right here on the site for free and get a taste. Now you might not know too much about the loa or Papa Legba and you might wonder if maybe I'm some godless pagan who believes in evil spirits.

I wouldn't call that an accurate description of me but I do firmly believe there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy people. The world is huge and so much exists; there is so much to learn and I like to learn it ALL! 

As with many of my favourite things, I first came across voodoo when I was young and impressionable, watching movies about slaves, and horror movies about people using voodoo dolls that I was probably too young to watch. Thankfully Parental Advisory wasn't such a thing then.

So my first brush with voodoo was a scary ass looking witch using a voodoo doll to kill some guy because he did...something to her. Can't remember what. I do remember that the concept of voodoo dolls being used to kill people kept me up at night. Why anyone could just, like, make a voodoo doll of me and kill me, dead!

Then of course there was +Anne Rice with her fixation on New Orleans which she infected me with. When I read Merrick and she introduced me to Papa Legba I had to go out and learn anything and everything I could about him. Turns out he's quite the character; the gatekeeper of the afterlife; some people equate him to St. Peter which was just fascinating to me. The way people intermingle religions. The belief originated in West Africa and I guess when the missionaries came, the practitioners just integrated this new knowledge into their own original beliefs.
So exciting.
My interest was exacerbated when the loa appeared in the most unexpected place; #SpoilerAlert Diana Gabaldon's Voyager which is like book three in the Outlander Series.And the loa enabled Claire and Jamie to communicate with their daughter Brianna who was in another time. It fascinated me because did it mean the loa not only communicate with the dead; but also with the not yet born?
So fun.
Yeah you caught me; I'm a geek.

Of course Papa Legba isn't the only loa out there. I just read a fan fiction where +Jared Padalecki was a voodoo priest and it introduced me to some new ones; Chango, Ezili as well as others I've encountered before; Ghede and Ogun both featured in Voyager I think.
I don't still really know what loas really are. Are they evil spirits or even spirits at all? The Ancestors, the Saints? It's on that long list I have of 'things to learn more about'.
When the concept of Mya came to me, she already came full with a voodoo history. I wonder sometimes which came first, was this character already fully fledged, waiting to be born? Or was there a girl in a small town who I dressed up as a voodoo priestess/witch because of my fascination with the subject? Will I even really ever know?

Mya

I know that putting the setting in the early nineties was a product of my nostalgia. Why is it that the nineties seem like this idyllic time? I don't really know.

However I've been thinking about doing more outtakes; backstories of random characters in the stories. Expanding the character while flexing my writing muscle before I go back full time to finishing Marcus Devereux. Hey if you have any requests feel free to contact me however is convenient for you and let me know.

Introducing Between Death and Heaven

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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?

And It All Came Pouring Out

Listening to 'oldies' music and reading my old posts. I notice that I have a tendency to not finish my thoughts on a subject. this could be because;
a. my brain runs faster than my hands ever could.
b. I have ADD
c. I don't read through my work when I'm done.
d. All of the above.
e. None of the above.

Also it's raining.

I ran across this absolute gem about Prince that I absolutely have to share with you.

as seen on instagram

It's not why I admire Prince...that he did things for others. It's inspiring, don't get me wrong; but we didn't know about these things until after he was dead. But it explains his music, his lyrics; the low down preaching that he did...he had a good heart and that leaked into the things that he did. I'm glad we were alive at the same time.
I was thinking that it was ironic that for a lot of the music I listen to now, I didn't know the artist when they were alive. Bob Marley in particular comes to mind. I don't remember him. He died when I was maybe six? The people who listen to his music now were mostly not born when he died. His music endures. Prince's music will endure. Good things do that; true things.

But now that brings me to William Shakespeare. Like seriously people, why does he endure? Is it because you don't get what he's trying to say half the time? We still trying to figure him out? Because Romeo and Juliet? Is it their age? The fact that the whole double suicide thing was completely pointless? The failures of communication breakdown? You just can't predict what will stick. What if Harry Potter fades out of the collective consciousness after the demise of this generation? What if the books don't endure but the movies do!!! You just can't tell with these things. There is no rhyme or reason.
I was talking about Prince...
There was this episode of +Supernatural this season which was legit Romeo and Juliet the wincest edition. It was so epic. I feel like every episode this season has been that. I'm calling it. Best overall season of Supernatural ever. Every episode has brought it. But...I have a separate blog for that so let's get back to organised rambling.

random pic of a lovely room

I read this article the other day where the American Red Cross raised half a billion dollars to rebuild homes in Haiti and then only built six houses.
Six.
I mean...
The Kenyan Red Cross does some really good work so I guess I'm very biased toward the name. So when I hear things like this I just shake my head. Was it because it wasn't the local red cross? Would the Haitian Red Cross have done better? I mean I don't know much about Haiti except that it used to be called Hispaniola and it was the first country to gain independence from colonialism. So I don't know if they even have a local red cross but from the lesson of years, I can say that it's always a mistake to trust an outsider to solve your problems. They always have their own agenda and it rarely aligns with yours or is purely about helping.
Buyer beware.

And finally, I used to have this beta reader; my cousin Akati. But she's a doctor and she went off to do Doctor Things so now I'm left all by my lonesome with noone to bounce my manuscript off of. I'm taking volunteers if you have experience as a beta reader and editor...

Between Death and Heaven: The Phil and Lillian Story

NaNoWriMo

It might say NATIONAL novel writing month but the truth is its should actually say Worldwide because trust me there's people from everywhere participating. I thought maybe about fleshing out the Bulitia story for this one but on further reflection, I didn't think I could get 50,000 words out of him, much as he's a great character. So I decided to do my CINDERELLA BY ANY OTHER NAME story about a girl called Shadya who is a refugee from Somalia living in Kenya. Its not as sad and oppressed as it sounds...yet, it is. Its really about family and how far one would or should go to give of oneself to one's family. Wow, I managed to summarise. Awesome.

I'm going to leave a small excerpt here, and what I need from you is to ask me and remind me and push me to finish this story within the month of November. Nanowrimo books are generally free and mine will be the same I think. Follow my progress here, on smashwords and on the wrimo site. 

Life is A Bitch and then...

The beat of the music was like a hammer to her brain, pounding and pounding until her nerves felt like ash. She wanted to get out of this place but Amina was still busy flirting with the dude in the pretentious green fedora and yep - Shadya peeked downward - he had white shoes. I mean…everyone knew that any guy worth their salt never wore white shoes. Amina was giggling at what ever the guy was saying.  Shadya caught sight of his friend sidling toward her out of the corner of her eye.

Nope. She was not going to play this game. She wasn’t the spare, or the co-pilot, flight attendant; whatever people called the friend one went with when they were going to hit on people. She was here strictly to make sure Amina behaved herself. It was the only way to make sure they weren’t both married off to the nearest willing chump forthwith. Shadya had every intention of completing her degree before she agreed to be anyone’s wife. And sure her father was willing to entertain her fancies for now; but if he ever caught wind of any misbehaviour, both of their lives were over.

She hadn’t even wanted to come to this club. Amina had just really been wailing to her about how it was her friend’s birthday and they never got to go anywhere and yada yada yada. Until Shadya’s choices had narrowed down to strangling her right there and then; or give in to her begging and pleading. Shadya had really had to think about her options before she concluded that she really couldn’t kill Amina at this time. She hadn’t violated any sharia laws after all…not yet. Nothing requiring murder at least. Her mother might frown on her committing fratricide for any reason less than that.

The guy’s friend was sitting right next to her now. Shadya studiously ignored him.

“Hi”, the guy said. Shadya stared into the middle distance, willing the music to explode her head right now.

“I like your hijab. Very stylish”, the guy said leaning in to talk directly into her ear. Shadya turned her eyes only to give him a glare. Clearly non-verbal communication was not his strong suit. What did he even want?

“Leave me be”, she growled tossing her head the other way as she picked up her soda and sipped determinedly as she watched the dancers on the dance floor.

“Do you want to dance?” the guy persisted. Shadya contemplated pouring her drink  over his head. Amina was throwing glances her way that Shadya knew were reproachful. Her sister was always throwing herself at men; and she fully expected Shadya to do the same when they were together. It drove her mad. She didn’t deign to answer the guy.

“Look, Shadya”, the guy said making her stiffen and turn toward him. How had he known her name? “I don’t want us to start off on the wrong foot but I have to say that you’re being really rude right now”. Shadya could only stare at him in shock.

“Nobody asked you to talk to me”, she said in her surprise.

The guy frowned and glanced back at Amina, “Your sister asked me to”, he said, looking sincerely puzzled that Shadya wasn’t up to date with the news. Shadya laughed out loud.

“Well you can just go tell Amina thanks but no thanks”, She told him. He stuck his hand out.

“My name is Gregory Kariuki, ahsalaam aleikum”, he said.

Shadya looked at his hand like it possibly might be a hunk of bacon accidentally put on her plate.

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