I’m sure you’ve played this game: If you had three wishes, what would they be?
Mine: (not in any particular order) ~
A calorie-less day.
Nothing I eat counts, and I don’t get filled up. In all honesty, I want to binge. I want to eat cookies and cake and burgers and pizza and top it all with a giant piece of reece’s peanut butter cup cheesecake.
I’d like everyone to be happy for what they have. In my version of this wish, people realize what they have and give to others so there is no more starvation or homelessness. In my version of this wish, people don’t war for more.
The third wish is mine, for me alone. And I think we should all have one of those too. Something we keep to ourselves and for ourselves.
Be happy. Much love and luck.
Imagine being haunted by all your exes at once!
A little less horrifying is being visited by all the women you’ve loved and lost.
After attempting an overdose by opium, that’s exactly what happens to Eddy. Based on the true event of an attempted suicide, the events that follow are a twisting, shadowy melee with spirit after spirit.
Eddy is the fictional account of Edgar Allan Poe’s 1848 brush with death. It’ll get you in the Halloween Spirit!
Other spooky reads: $1.00 Stories, The Gold Tooth, Psychic Surprise Party.
If you’re local, come on by and hear me read.
Four a.m. is my haunted time. The first rays of light creeping through the window, the cat sitting next to the bed, details of the next story weigh on my mind. And I wonder – do I get up and write?
No doubt, we’re fresher when we sleep. But, writers seem to sleep better when we write. Has anyone else noticed this?
If I haven’t written in a few days, I have trouble falling sleep and I wake in the middle of the night. I feel like I have too many stories on my mind, too many details that I must put on paper.
Most experts agree journaling helps people sleep, but that’s to lift worries. I’m not worried about anything except that I haven’t written.
I love autumn. I love October. I love Halloween. And this October 19th at 4pm, I’ll be signing How to Throw a Psychic a Surprise Party and Eddy at the $10.00 Books in Northridge, California.
This bookstore is one of my favorites. They mix classics, used, and publisher buyouts for a unique collection of books. AND they happen to be between TWO COFFEE SHOPS! Both of which serve bomb pastries.
This book signing will feature our own psychic! She’ll be reading your fortune using the Tarot.
Plus other surprises!
More Info to follow!
I heard from a woman who asked me to share a story with young people. The story was my own, The Healer’s Daughter, from How to Throw a Psychic a Surprise Party.
She said the story was valuable and every young person who has ever bullied or been bullied needs to read it.
Bullying is a part of the story, and for the little girl in the story, it’s a very big part – as it was for any and all of us who were on the wrong side of the mean kids.
She felt, I believe, it would also help bullies to gain some sort of understanding. Maybe, maybe not. But I appreciated her feedback on what some people feel is a minor part of the story.
I appreciate the feedback and that my story touched her so much she feels the need to share it.
Our stories have power. And they have unintended consequences. I’m happy that mine leaned toward positive.
My next story will have violence.
Unless, of course, I’m in jail.
Nothing angers or offends me more than men telling me to offer myself. “Flirt,” they say, “for a discount,” “to get out of a ticket,” “to get a good deal,” etc and so on!
Someone said this, again, recently. He was drunk (not an acceptable excuse) and offering unsolicited advice. I sincerely wanted to kick him in the knee caps.
None of my lady friends have EVER said suggested this, nor done it to the best of my knowledge.
NO, THANK YOU!
I’d rather PAY!
How many of you write about what angers you?
Would they tell their wives to flirt? Their sisters? Their mothers?
I AM NOT A COMMODITY!
I do not trade myself for anyone or anything.
I do, however, write books. They are a commodity that can be bought, sold, traded.
Prepare to die, asshole.
In my next story, that is.
I’ve been worked over by a story all summer. I feel like we’ve been beating each other up and down and neither of us is winning.
At this point, I hate this story. But, no, not true. I love it. I love the characters and want them to have a voice, a say in their life.
But, gosh darn it – speak!
Maybe I have not been giving the story it’s due, it’s time. The main character, Bella, came simply enough and her father did too. This is the primary relationship and the source of conflict in the story, but then there are a whole bunch of secrets. Aren’t there always?
I wrote the first draft and showed it to my writing partner who said the story had merit and I should keep at it. So, here I am, months later, keeping at it! Frustrated.
Writers understand this. Sometimes stories do this to us. The story wants/needs to be told, but it’s so hard in coming.
I need to do it. I need to force it. I need – I don’t know. Maybe it’s the story’s needs I should think about. It needs some time maybe, more thought; it needs to be brought to life for whatever reason it was given to me to write.