Another Farfadel Novel!

Wow! I got into a writing groove today and FINISHED the Farfadel novel I was working on! As in, I finished the rough draft. Roughly. In the draft form, 😄.

What is this novel about? Well its hugely LGBT+, and a romance, and a happy silly novel. Also it has dinosaurs 🦕 🦖, so you know you need to read it!

But on a more serious note, im finding myself wondering how im going to go about getting the news of my novel out there. Im so bad at networking. Whenever someone does end up reading my novels, especially the Farfadel ones, I get rave reviews. But I just have to get them out there. And I dont want to do traditional publishing (you need the same amount of so ial networking anyways). I think it would be really hard to traditionally sell an lgbt+ childrens book, to be honest.

So, I’m thinking of doing a book tour, on the blogosphere and other places on the web. Do you want to help out? I can give out goodies like pdfs of my book, mail you bookmarks and pictures and stuff like that in exchange for a certain amount of help!

Anyways, please comment on this blog if you’re interested, have ideas for me, or just want to chat, or message me at mdaoust245@gmail.com! I’d really love to get some help and I’m sure you can’t wait to read more about Farfadel so… win win? Hahaha, I wish you all the best! Have a lovely day ❤

The future book cover, maybe!

Killing Characters and Grieving (spoilers?)

Maybe this is dumb. But I’ve had a rough day, struggling to keep my head above water, and then – BAM! a character up and dies. Whoosh!

What was a dramatic and happy scene took a morbid turn, and (I don’t want to spoil it for anyone) let’s just say I am now minus some very loved characters that I did not expect to go without.

As a lgbt+ person, I think I feel more when a character of lgbt+ stripes dies. I… just wish everyone could live happily forever after. And though I know death is a part of life, it hits me harder in stories than in real life.

I don’t know why. I don’t really understand it. I was told of the suicide of someone I knew, and it felt very – ah? Oh well. I knew it was sad, but I didn’t feel sad. I felt a sense of respect towards them, for their choice, and felt that they had crossed through the veil. That was all.

But when a character dies? Oh my. I mourn. As I have told y’all, the last time one of my characters died, I took three days to recover. Now, I’m seriously hoping it won’t be that long this time. I already feel like a train wreck, was already anxious, and now? I feel upset in an unwordable way. I feel distressed, disturbed, like something is wrong with my world. All this because a fictional character died – in a world of my own creation.

I really don’t understand why my character deaths bother me so much. Is it because something is over? Is it the end of some part of me? Or what? I truly don’t understand, and would appreciate some insight, if anyone has any. I know other authors get upset over their characters, but this feels like … a notch or three higher. Like, it’s worse than when someone I know dies. It’s so strange, and I can’t explain it and don’t understand it.

Anyways, everything is alright in my life. I’m almost done this novel, and am (as usual) debating what to do with it. I’ve been scolded recently by loved ones because I’m apparently ‘sitting on a gold mine’ by not getting myself traditionally published. They seem to think I really should, but – the fact is that I really struggle to get paperwork and stuff done. I’m in the throes of some right now and it’s not pretty. I’m barely getting it done. I really don’t feel like I could manage to stay on top of a publisher’s demands. The thing is, I know that self publishing can work, and make more money than traditional publishing. But… am I doing it right? Agh. I – just wish I could settle my mind and know that I’m doing the right thing.

As you can see, I’m a bit upset today. A bit off kilter. I just want to do what’s right for me and be successful so I can care for my loved ones but I feel like such a failure. At least I’ll be making a little bit of money – if I can get students to take my course, which I’m doubting anyone will sign up for.

Anyways, I’m going to go and rest. Maybe paint or draw. I wish you all well, and hope you all have a lovely day/evening. Much love ❤

Woolston, Writing Farfadel, and Life

So life has been peaceful as of late, but I’ve still been tired. Sleep has been difficult, and I’m not sure what to do about that. Yet good things have been happening!

I am FINALLY enrolled (just waiting on an email to go through -It’s all paid for!) in my first year at Woolston!

Woolston is (as far as I know) the only Wiccan seminary that’s official and government recognized (except for maybe Cherry hill?). I’m so far 100% impressed by their kindness, professional demeanor, and quality of their activities and events.

So, having finally gotten in and managed to set up my payments, I’m so excited! It’s happening! I am (hopefully) on my way to become a certified Wiccan priest!

I am so pleased. So happy. Now I have to order the books then ah! It’s going to start! I’m so excited for in-depth material and discussions!

I am somewhat more relaxed about my teaching gig. I’m coming to terms with it, and really hoping it won’t fray my nerves too much. The thing is, I know that I technically have all the abilities and knowledge to do it properly, but will I? It’s stressful. I think I can manage it, however. It’s just a question of diving in, as I was told (via the song) in a recent meditation – Into the Unknown!

So, I just have to let go and do. Just stop stressing and do it.

Which I am trying to do. I’m trying not to worry about the logistics of my spirituality and just practice. Just do what feels right for me. Just write what I want to in the way I want to.

Hence, I haven’t been working on Lage’s Game. The story was stressing me out. Too dark for now. I’ve switched back to Farfadel, and I find it much easier to write in this state.

Which brings me to the part about dinosaurs. Yes, dinosaurs in Farfadel. That’s the entire premise for this story, and I think it’s, oh, maybe a year or so old? It’s incredibly fun to write, but everyone I tell the story to is… shocked? Dismayed? It’s like I’ve broken some unwritten rule in writer’s land by mixing fantasy and dinosaurs.

Well, fuck that, because I think my story has come out fabulously. It’s 48,000 words done, which means I have roughly 12 ish thousand more to go. I can’t wait to see how it’s going to end, honestly, and I’ve started trying to paint a cover picture for it. Hopefully it won’t be too dark of a cover, but we’ll see! I think I’m breaking another rule by putting my villain on the cover, haha.

But oh well! I’m very excited to be finishing this story. I’m doubly excited to hear what you all will think of it (I think I’m going to post excerpts here to celebrate).

Anyways, that’s the end of my long update. I wish you all the best, and truly hope you’re all doing well. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten around to reading as many blogs as I would have liked to, but as usual, tag me if you really want me to read something.

Have a lovely evening/day ❤

Life Update – Teaching!

Yes, that’s right! I have a job! Teaching!

I have been lucky enough to land a job teaching at a local pagan school – ‘Runes et Magie’. I’ll be teaching about Discernment! Yayyyy!

I am so excited for this (sorry if I’ve already told y’all, I can’t remember if I have yet or not)! I have been working SO much on the course, putting it all together and making a PowerPoint presentation to go with it and making an exam and all that good stuff. It’s exactly what I want to be doing – so it should be a good thing, right?

Well, yesterday, I spoke with the head of the school about my class. She was super nice. It went super well. After hanging up with her, I almost called a hotline, I was so wound up. So anxious. So, so, upset at myself for my minor fixes that I’d noticed needed to be done in the course. It was awful. I received another call from a relative, again a positive thing, and I could barely hold it together. I was a wreck. I sat down to watch TV for several hours, and the room began to spin. I had to lay down almost two hours early from my usual bedtime.

Today, I was no better. I woke up to care for the dogs, fed them and took my medication, then went back to bed until 4 pm. I literally spent the day in bed because I felt so fragile. Now, after taking a walk with the wifey, I feel alright. I can still sense the fragility there, but I’ve got a lid on it now.

All that to say that – I can barely do this teaching thing. I think I can, but only because the lady in charge is SUPER NICE, and that it’s something I LOVE doing. My anxiety about it is just ready to slip out of control and to sink me all over again. But, I think I can do this. I think if I’m careful, keep myself calm and rational, I can do this.

I may not be having as much time to write, though. I’m not sure I still want to post my writings here, even. I – I am not sure how I want to balance my author and teaching sides, actually. I am giving up on writing as my main source of income, and deciding to relocate it as a passionate hobby. I just don’t think I’ve got what it takes to be a full-time author, no matter how much I like it. I’m just not ‘breaking through’ to a yuge audience to make a zillion dollars. That being said, I still want to write. I still want to draw. I love getting feedback and talking about my story with people. But … How will I do that? How will I balance the writing and teaching? Blah. I’ll figure it out.

Anyways, I wanted to give y’all a little update. I’m anxious, but life is going very good! Hopefully you will still keep getting writing posts from me, or at the very least life rants. I hope you all are doing well ❤

Lage’s Game: Chapter Twelve, Part Two

Rebella took me through the castle and to a hall. It had an arched ceiling that lent it all an air of grandeur, except that was wasted, for the hall seemed to have lost anything worth mentioning. It was empty, really. There was a throne, guards, but the walls were bare. The throne was a stone seat, but it had pockets and chunks missing from it, as if gems had been pried off it. Rebella’s sister was pacing before the throne, and before here were ‘them’.

Oh, I could recognize them alright. There were three of them. They weren’t the same ones as had been sent after me before, but they had an air of familiarity to them, what with their polarized fleece winter coats and thick snow boots. They wore reflective sunglasses, hats, and lots, lots, of guns.

“I found her,” announced Rebella, dragging me into the hall after her. With a haughty tip of the head, she presented me to ‘them’. “Here you go.”

“How do we know it’s really her?” asked the man who was standing in the front of the other two.

“That’s not our problem,” said Rebella sharply. “You should have known what you were looking for.”

The man tilted his head to the side, and I wondered if Rebella was about to earn herself a hole in the head. Did I want that to happen?

The closest ‘them’ took a grip on my shoulder and wrenched me to their side. He held up a device to my shoulder, and it beeped. He nodded to the others.

“We’re going,” said the head one to the Queen. She nodded, obviously relieved.

“Have a nice trip,” said Rebella with a smirk.

The goons looked at her. I was beginning to sweat. My stomach was doing flips in my chest. I was cold, hot, and wanted to be done with murder – if I could bring myself to do it.

Where was my anger? Where was that blood-infused strength? I didn’t have it now.

They dragged me after them, marching out of the hall. My heart was pounding in my throat. The world flickered on and off, and I was just registering glimpses of what was around me. It was all happening too fast. I wanted to stop, to pause, but it was all too much.

They loaded me onto a snowmobile where they should have been riding horses. Servants watched earnestly. I felt a cold knot in my stomach, and I was trembling.

The engines revved. Servants startled away, and we zoomed off.

The city flashed by, the cold wind slapping and biting me in the face. It brought me back to life.

I was going to die, I realized. Or worse. These people meant business – and I realized I had two options ahead of me.

Screw Rebella, I could go with these ‘them’ and settle things once and for all. I could go to their nest, their boss, and slay him.

Slay him? I was rattled from that thought by the foreign-ness of it. Who was that, thinking that in my head?

But now I was cool, calm, and unafraid. I felt composed, ready. Beneath it all was a boiling anger, a power that was just waiting to surface. I was there.

As I realized the presence of this… presence? Within myself, it slipped back over my mind.

Coldly, I thought again of my options. I could kill them in their nest. Slay their chieftain. Or I could slay these ones and flee. Flee again! I was tired and sick of running. But did I have a choice? Was I strong enough, at one, to defeat them in their nest? Would they let me close enough to utterly destroy them?

They first gates, those of the castle, whizzed past. Horses and people were now jostling out of the way. We had to slow, and that gave me precious time.

Two paths, so clear, lay before me. All involved death and bloodshed, but I was settled for that. It was nothing to me now, just another consequence of life. But was there a third path?

Lage, I thought. I swallowed his card.

Nagging, in the back of my mind, I knew that meant something enormous. Gigantic. Could I call upon him like these other spirits? Would I be able to summon him to my aid? I was not sure, and certainly did not know how.

Then there was Ekundayo’s necklace. But what good was that? I dismissed it almost as swiftly as it had come up.

No, two paths it was. Which one?

Guards rushed, people screamed, and we were at the final gates. The guards watched nervously, and we whizzed past them. The warm stench of the city was now gone, and we were out in the biting cold. Snow churned up around us.

Now, a voice called out within me. It called, if such a thing was possible, through my chest. From the stone, I realized coldly.

Rebella, you bitch, I thought. You’re watching me.

Distantly, I heard her laugh. Come back to me, she ordered.

I held my stillness. I was still not sure which path I was to take. In fact, I was beginning to drift towards the first. Not only because it was delayed action, but because I wanted things to end. Let me have closure. Let me close this chapter.

The forest, black trees on a white background, it all went by within the deafening roar of the machines. A familiar dolmen appeared, then grew in the distance. Beside it stood Lage, wrapped in his cloak with a spattering of snow atop his shoulders.

The snowmobiles drew to a jarring halt before the dolmens. “Here,” said the goon in charge. “We pay the toll.” He drew a pouch from his pocket and handed it to Lage. Lage, looking tired and drawn, accepted the pouch. He pried it open and looked within.

I heard a strange whispering, the cries of souls on the wind, and felt a sense of whimsical homesickness. How I missed having my own souls, being paid my own tributes.

Shoved off the snowmobile, I returned to my senses. I was just a kid, a teen. Fear seized me. Cold bit through me. In a flash I wondered at what was happening in my mind – what was this presence taking over me?

But then I was cool again. Controlled. I rose to my feet as the goons, the soldier I realized they must be, dismounted their snow machines.

My eyes met Lage’s. In a flash I knew he didn’t want this. He would help me – if he could.

Then help, you bastard, I thought. And he heard me. He lifted his head, holding up the bag. Cleared his throat.

The goons looked at him. It was a fleeting distraction, but it was enough.

In one fluid motion, I drew the gun from the holster of the guards’ hip. Bang, bang, bang. I heard the shots, but didn’t so much register what was happening. In a blink, I heard yells. Heard the almost silent thud of the gun hitting the ground. Felt the touch of the dagger in my hand.

I came to, wiping my dagger clean on their clothes. Lage stood there still, the bag now closed in his hands. Three heads lay at my feet, still bearing their sunglasses. Should I keep them? Did I want these souls as mine?

“Thank you,” I heard myself say to Lage. I turned to him.

“Who are you?” he asked softly.

I felt humor come over me. I laughed, and the voice was jarring. Again, I shifted. Panic swelled over me. Was I-? Who was this in me? What was this feeling of – otherness?

But then it slipped back over me. I was calm, controlled. I held out a hand. “Give me those souls,” I demanded. Not that I needed the food. But a girl likes an army, doesn’t she?

Author’s Rant (SPOILERS)

So how have I been doing lately? How is life, how is everything?

Life has been treating me very well. I have even had the opportunity to get into natural ink making. The results of which I’ll attach to this post. I feel so privileged to be able to live in a little patch of nature and have access to ink making materials! I really love sketching with ink too, it takes so much more thinking and precision.

But this post is called an author’s rant. So, what do I have to rant about, in an authorly way?

Well, I hate to sound like a broken record, but I only have half an idea where the story is going. As usual, the story is winding up, growing more and more complex, and I’m just sitting back baffled, like, wondering if this beast is going to bite me or not?

To my surprise, I am enjoying writing this story. It is dark, I can’t write it every day, but I feel like it is still fun, still something worth doing. The violence of it still surprises me though!

Now, if you’ve been reading along you’ve hopefully started to notice something happening in our (still unnamed!) main character’s mind. Namely, she is in the process of having a part of herself take over.

This will come out a LOT more in the next part (which I have just written today, but will publish the next time I write). Remember the whole ‘who is she? Maybe she’s an ancient?’. Well. The ancient is there, and the ancient is on a mission!

Now, and here is the Big Spoiler, the ancient in particular is Anat. Who? Sumerian goddess of war, anyone? Read up on her, she’s pretty bloody, passionate, but striving to establish peace. I just realized this today, while writing out the scene where she really ‘comes through’. And now I’m all… hmmm… where is this going? How will I make this a nice and cohesive story?

I don’t want this story to wind on as long as Kuryo and Chaos’ story did. That’s just a bit too long and winded for me. i want this one to maybe be, just, a trilogy maybe? Something nice and neat like that.

Anyways, I’m also trying to work on a new birdie book (on death!) as well. I’ve been told that I am breaching topics that are maybe too philosophical for kids, but I have others that say that those topics are necessary, even for very young kids. So… I feel conflicted. I’m far from an expert on children, but I love illustrating with the birdies!

So that’s my update of the day, lovelies. I wish you all a great day, and much love your way. Take care ❤

Lage’s Game: Chapter Twelve, Part One

I caught Rebella by surprise. There was a smear of blood on the Grandmother’s lips, but it was tiny. Rebella spun with a yell, but I had the dagger.

I stabbed blindly – but she caught my arm.

And we were stuck. Me bearing down on her with all my strength, her sitting, half falling backwards, bracing up against me and the dagger. The dagger which was so, so, close to her eye that it was maddening.

Fury pumped through me. I willed this with all my might. To murder her.

“Guards!” Rebella yelled as her hands slipped ever so slightly. The tip of the dagger grazed her cheek, cutting a slim line.

It was not enough! I wanted her dead!

The door behind us burst open. Hands seized me and I was flung back, the dagger wrenched from my hand.

“What on earth are you doing?” yelled a voice. As my mind spun, I came to on the floor at the foot of a guard. Before me was the tall figure of the other princess, who was holding Rebella by a blood-spattered wrist. “What are you doing?” she screamed.

Rebella wrenched free. “What needs to be done!” and she turned to her grandmother.

The moment seemed to stand still. Rebella gasped. Her dagger clattered to the floor, splattering my blood across the planks.

“No!” gasped Rebella, shaking the elderly woman, who now bore a slight smile on her face. But the woman was limp. “No!” Rebella screamed, shaking her some more. Desperately, she smeared blood on the grandmother’s lips – only to be wrenched back by the sister.

“Don’t do that! You can’t!”

“I can and I will!” screamed Rebella, wrestling free from her sister. “I don’t care! She can’t die! We need her!”

“Stop being so selfish!” screamed the sister, grabbing at Rebella again. “It’s not about you! Let her rest!”

“No!” Rebella screamed, stamping a foot. “We need her! I don’t care if it curses us all! We need her!”

I staggered to my feet, determined to try again. The sister turned, our eyes meeting. Her eyes swept me up and down – and she nodded to herself. “Guards! Take this one to the healing ward! And this one-” she gestured to Rebella. “To her room! And keep her in there!”

“No!” Rebella yelled, but the sister yanked her forward and away from the Grandmother. A squabble began, but the guards quickly seized Rebella. With a slam Rebella bodily shoved one aside, punched the other in the visor, and stamped past me out of the room.

“See to it that she stays in her room!” called out the sister at the guards who rushed after Rebella.

I was left in the custody of one guard. They picked me up in their arms, limp and head spinning. The last thing I remembered was watching the ceiling twirl above me – and then nothing.

Time passed in lurches. I saw darkness, then I was beside Lage, watching him fish in the ice.

“You’re here?” he asked. “So soon?”

Then, the world lurched. Ekundayo was beside me, humming as he drummed happily with a stick on a rock. “Child, child,” he said, shaking his head with that strange grin.

Then, I spun downwards.

With a gasp, I sat up. My chest was seizing with pain. Two pairs of arms belonging to robed people were stretched above me. They were chanting incoherently. A sense of panic was crashing over me. I had to get out of here. They were going to pullt he card out of me!

I lurched to the side, falling clean off the bed and before a pair of feet. I grabbed onto a hand and helped myself up – and was faced with a sneering Rebella.

“Well,” she said.

Hatred swelled in me- but I was pushed backwards onto the bed.

“You should sit,” said Rebella nastily.

I breathed, heart hammering in my chest. Rebella. How I hated her. The monks, healers, whatever they were, lowered their arms. A sense of static electricity left the air, and my panic left me. Cool calm came over me. I focused on Rebella, wonderign how I could kill her.

But Rebella wasn’t herself. She was fidgeting, looking from me to the door beyond the curtains that framed the bed. “They won’t think of coming here,” she murmured. Then, to the healers, she snapped “Get out!”

The healers bowed, scraped their feet back, and shuffled away without another word. Rebella followed them. Once the door was shut, she latched it shut. Then she pressed her back to the door nad glared at me.

It dawned on me then that this wasn’t an infirmary. The room was small from what I could see, but – it was a personal room.

Rebella marched towards me. “Who are you? Why do they want you? Hmh?”

She was now at my side, drawing out a dagger from her belt with a hiss of metal. She held it between us, eyes flashing.

“They?” I asked. “They’re here?” Could there be more than one ‘they’?

“They want you,” said Rebella angrily. “They are saying they will kill the new Queen if we do not hand you over.”

Her hand was trembling. Her eyes flicked over me like a spider darting all over.

“Who are they?” I asked, feeling a sense of control. A sense I could finally get some answers.

“They?” she hissed. “You know them! They are the Associates. They rule your world, or so they say.”

I made a face. “They do not,” or so I hoped.

“Why do they want you?” she hissed, prodding the dagger at me. But I knew she wouldn’t hurt me this time. She was too uneasy. Or maybe that was the danger.

“Where am I?” I asked, drawing back the curtains from the other side of the bed. My fingers barely grazed the fabric before my shoulder was seized by Rebella. She shook me, making sharp daggers of pain burst in my chest.

“What do they want?” she hissed rabidly. “You- who are you?”

She had dropped the dagger in my lap. In a flash I knew I could take it and slash her throat- but somehow I chose not to. I grabbed her wrists and pried them off me.

“I am no one!” I answered coolly, shoving her back so I could stand. “I-”

“They wouldn’t threaten my sister for just anyone!” and the dagger was back between us. Then, with a flick, she slid it back into her belt. “Tell me – or I will bring you to them!”

That stilled my heart. That meant … “If I tell you?” I asked cautiously.

“I will keep you safe from them,” she said too swiftly. Nodding to herself,she held out her palm. “Word of honor.”

There was a catch. Obviously. But I didn’t want to be turned over to ‘them’, did I?

I looked around the room, hoping for some escape. I gripped at my robe, a strange flimsy white thing. I was barefoot, too. I wouldn’t get far.

“Five,” declared Rebella. “Four,”

I scowled at her. What a stinker she was.

“Three,” she said, challenging me.

“I ate Lage’s card,” I snapped.

Her jaw fell. A choking sound came out of her throat – then she turned to disbelief and started laughing. “You did what now?” But then she tipped her head back and laughed.

Humiliation burned over me, but she seemed relieved when she was done with her laughter.

“You idiot,” she said happily. Then she clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You are stupid, you know that?”

I fueled all my anger at her through my eyes, choking up on words. How I wanted to tell her that I hated her right then. Maybe I should try and kill her again.

“Don’t worry,” she clapped my shoulder. “I will keep you safe. Now,” she pressed a finger to her lips and looked me up and down. A smirk drew itself on her lips. She looked smug. “We need to find you some clothes. Come.” She snapped her fingers at me and motioned me to follow her.

We drew to a large chest, from which she drew out some old clothes. They were worn through in their colors, but still solid looking. Several shirts were held up to me until she found one that she found suitable. From there she gave me a tunic to put over, a sort of bra to wear under, and pants. Boots – she gave me some soft slipper-like things in leather.

“They will have to do,” she muttered, cluckign her teeth. Then, she gave me a belt. It was set with a snake biting its tail worked into the metal ring. She set a dagger on it and set it about my waist. “Here,” she said. Then, stepping back, she looked me over. “Good,” she declared.

I had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. Something about the satisfied gleam in her eyes. I felt like a pig being dressed for slaughter.

She took a gray cloak trimmed in white fur from the chest. It was old as well, but fitted me a little largely. It occurred to me that I must look like a younger version of her – was I to be some decoy?

“Now,” she took a white globe from down her shirt, fishing it out with some difficulty. “Hide this in your shirt. Don’t eat it,” she added with a chuckle.

It was cold like ice, so much so that I almost dropped it. It was marble perhaps, smooth white with shoots of glimmering gray woven through it.

“When you are ready to escape, call out the name-”

“Escape?”

“Of course, I’m going to hand you over to them. Then you will escape.”

There it was. The betrayal. “But you had promised-”

She held up a finger between us. “I can’t hide you. If I do, they will sack the city. No, I will hand you over. You have my dagger, and my spirit-weapon.” she closed my fingers over the white ball. “Call their name when you are ready to kill them, and they will appear and fight with you.”

“Kill them?” I gawked. I’d never killed before!

“You must strike the killing blow,” she said softly, “and don’t leave it to the spirit to do.” Then, sensing my dismay, she added “You must kill them. If you don’t, they will follow you back to the city. Killing them will buy us time. Take it,” she pushed my hand to my chest. “Kill them. Then come back to me.”

On remote, I put the ball down my shirt. Then, numb, I felt myself turning to ice. This couldn’t be. It was too awful to be true.

But it was. Rebella whispered a name to me, then nodded. “Come back to me, and I will take care of you,” she announced.

Like hell I would.

Fighting Depression with Birdies…

I got really depressed lately. The best way I found to cope with it was to draw cute lil’ birdies. So I doodled around on my computer, frustrated as ever with the whole ‘analog to digital’ mess wherein I can never get my pictures to show up quite right on digital, and digital is never quite how I want it to be. But then! Hark! I did a drawing that I super-duper liked on the computer!

It was that picture that I drew first, and I love it. I drew several more, all equally fuzzy and happy-hearted. The trick was to use fuzzy brushes and aim for fuzz instead of clean (I usually try and make my drawings and pictures as neat as possible), as well as go absolutely minimalist. I’m wondering what to do with them, as I love them so very much. I think they’d make great holiday/event cards, personally!

But, all that to say that I’m doing better. I’ve had dreams about my stories, friends come visit, and I’m back up on my feet. I have an inundation of medical appointments, but I am coping well now. I have a friend who is supposed to teach me how to make natural inks from my garden, too! Above all, I feel my head is back over the water. I feel mentally okay.

But then, sometimes, I wonder what to do with myself. I feel like I am not a ‘good enough’ author. Recently, I feel like I should get myself published. But to do that, I’d have to make the birdies more ‘generic’, as no pagan publisher will take on a children’s book (Yes, I’ve asked). But I don’t want to make them generic. I want them to be pagan, that’s what all their stories are about – they’re pagan stories. But is it worth leaving them as pagan birdies? Parents and children who have the book love it, but I’m not sure that anyone actually wants it. Is it my marketing, or am I just not in the right field?

Same goes for Farfadel and Lage’s Game. I feel like I ‘should’ get a publisher, but do I have the energy to cope with one? Does anyone want lgbt fantasy novels for children? I feel like no. I got turned down by indie publishers, and seeing that they are more children’s books than adult books, I’m not sure what publisher would want them.

Maybe I’m still just a depressed author, but I love my stories and love interacting with people about them. I want people to read them and them to be a ‘success’. But… I don’t know what I should do. In my heart, I’ve always wanted to have the freedom to do whatever I want, but wanted the ‘stamp of approval’ from being published by a publisher.

Sorry for dumping, but that’s what’s been going through my mind. Lots of questions about my writing, though I’m still plentifully enjoying the writing process. I just – I question myself.

Anyways, I wish you all lots of love. Have a great day ❤

Struggling Today…

It’s terrifying, really, how quickly we can go downhill. How one seemingly tolerable incident can *boom* send you spiraling down. And it’s so hard to stop the spiral.

I wish I had some wisdom to impart today, but I’m not sure I do.

I managed to take a shower, which almost set me in tears. I am more functional than I was earlier on. Napping helped. But really, what do you do when you feel like you’re just slipping downwards?

Well, what I’ve learned with my social worker, is to focus on what you can grab on to stop the sliding, even if just a little.

Don’t focus on how shitty you feel. Focus on what might make you feel a little better, even just a little.

For me, it’s music and colors. So I forced myself to listen to music and color and draw in a cute birdie. Yay!

Altogether, I am sorry to be pitching so much moodiness out here into the void, so to speak. And yet, I really enjoy being able to be honest with people like this. It’s freeing to just expose the wound to others and say ‘here, I’m hurt’.

Maybe that’s something we need to do more of within paganism, speak our truths and pains. We do seem to be a vocal bunch, but I don’t know. Do we really talk about our nitty and gritty? I don’t know. To be fair, I’m not entirely in the loop as to who’s talking about what.

Oh, and one last thing. Where are the discussions on the fallibility of deity? I’m researching it for a course I’ll be teaching… and all I found was Christian crap. Anyone out there talking about the limits of the deities and spirits? I’d love some links if anyone has any.

In the meantime, I’m really reconsidering what to do with my birdies. Not that I want to stop doing them, but I’m wondering if making them a pagan project was too narrow for them. Maybe I should just leave them a non-pagan thing, and leave them as a cute little project.

What’s spawning this consideration is that I have a link that may be able to get my children’s activity book into a schoolboard, but the books would have to be a little less religious. A thing I’m not sure would be bad. Maybe just nature-centric would be enough for them. I don’t know. Thoughts?

Here is the picture I drew this afternoon. I hope it makes you smile and brings you some joy. Thank you to all of you for your support ❤

More Updates!

Hi everyone! I’m sorry if I worry you, but I’m still not well. I think it’s because yesterday I had to call a victim’s advocacy group in order to try and get myself psychotherapy… Long story short it was stressful. Anything to do with the past is stressful for me.

The worst part is that I know that it’s ok. It’s just a phone call. I can see the connection between it and the past – and yet I still get all worked up and anxious and can’t stop myself from experiencing it. Ugh.

Writing helped. Talking helped. Painting digitally helped. But I’m still fragile. It frustrates me so much to see that the past still affects me so much, nose-diving me straight into an anxious mess.

Oh well. Thank you to everyone for your well wishes and kind thoughts, I appreciate them. I sincerely hope that you all are doing well and that you and yours are safe ❤ lots of love.

I’m dropping here a picture that I worked on today. It’s not perfect but what the hell, I like it. It’s of Rebella, who I’m sure is going to be super important in the story and an utter pain for our MC (who still needs a name).