It Writes Again!!!

I am so happy to have been able to bring you all some more Chaos & Kuryo, y’all! I was so worried last night that I wouldn’t be able to write this story anytime soon! And yet, today was an excellent writing day!

Not only did I write in Chaos & Kuryo, but I also wrote over a thousand words in Ranger’s story, and almost two thousand in … a new story! That Beauty and the Beast retelling? I finally was able to start it!

Ahhh, yessss. Today is a victory day. I’m just so happy!

What caused this burst in productivity? I think it’s because I relaxed a lot today. me and the wifey watched two episodes of the Witcher (so much TV for us!). It was raining and snowing here today, so it was a quiet and chill day.

Anyways, that’s my update! I hope you and yours are all safe and happy. I wish you all the best ❤

A New Story?! (SPOILERS)

Hey everyone! Today was a good day. I wrote a bit on Chaos’ story – after trying and failing to write a short story for y’all. Sorry? I’ve had this idea of writing a funny series of short stories based off of quarantine life, but I just can’t seem to do it.

After writing about Chaos, I got completely side-tracked by another project of mine that’s been stewing in the back of my head for about a month.

Now I spent about a good hour and some odd trying to write, but no! Nothing was written and kept.

I did, however, draw out one of the main characters.  Behold, Belle’at.

dark elf1

Why such a weird name? Well, a certain amount of time ago (a month? Longer? I don’t remember) I had this dream about a dark elf and an orc (and smooshie smooshie stuff ensues). But then (gasp!) I explained the dream to my wifey and she was all ‘oh, like a retelling of Beauty and the Beast’. Y’ALL. I just – OMG. I MUST. A Beauty and the Beast retelling? OMG.

Y’all have to know that Beauty and the Beast is me and my wife’s movie. It’s ‘our’ Disney movie. It wasn’t my favorite Disney movie as a child, but it was the one I held on to as my parents divorced. It just stuck with me after that. So to do a retelling of it? OMG!

So all that to tell you that the character got named Belle’at because it can be shortened to ‘belle’ (ba dum tiss).

Yeah, I’m that author that adds apostrophes and random sounds onto names to make them sound ‘fantasy’. You’re welcome, haha.

Anyways, as I listen to huge amounts of cheesy music, I’m brewing on this story. Hopefully, I’ll even get another dream on it soon. And then (drumroll) the retelling shall begin!

But for now I’m just going to listen to cheesy music and hope the words will flow. Y’all, I’m at over 5 pages of attempts at beginning this story. I just can’t seem to find the right beginning for it.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll break down and try ‘once upon a time’… And see how that goes haha. After that, I’m out of ideas!


UGH! So, i decided to be a good lil’ blogger today and connect out there with some lesser-known blogs. Because, you know, social networking and all that. Getting my story out there to people so that, maybe, eventually, I can make a small living out of my writing.

Well, do I regret that, or do I regret that?

So I searched for novel on wordpress, and found a fellow author also doing serial posts of their novels. Well, I thought I might as well give it a read. Find out what other peoples are doing out there in the world.

It was a good albeit a little long read. So I commented happily that, yeah, I liked the story and would like to read more. And then I thought, hey, why not see who this author is and read more about them? And oooh, they have thousands of followers! Maybe I can learn a trick or two. Barf.

One of their latest posts, however, caught my eye. In short, after reading it in utter disbelief, this author was ranting about how ‘obvious’ it was that this whole COVID- 19 thing was a scam by people who worked for China. Not just that (because, apparently that made sense?) they were raving about the ‘damage’ that social distancing and shutting down work places would do to the economy and people in general.

Like, wow. Okay, first thing first, people are literally dying from this stupid fucking virus. Have a heart. Second, the fact that your economy is about to blow up is not because social distancing is bad -> It’s because your leaders don’t give a shit about you like they’re supposed to. Here, in Canada, businesses and self-employed people have volleys of funding and resources being made just to help us through this. Why? Because our people give a rat’s ass about each other.

Maybe, just maybe, if your stupid-ass fucking leaders gave half a shit about you people, they’d be doing something to financially support the average citizen. Here, they are putting the homeless in shelters to keep them from getting sick. Because, yes, people are getting sick and dying. It’s not just media hype. I know nurses and no, our hospitals aren’t empty. They’re fucking overflowing and we’re running out of material.

Next! I decided to read this author’s about section. Well, the jewels that I found were not exactly in their ‘about’ section, but close enough, on a similar page I found.

And oh myyyy, as George Takei would say. This person has an evil boner against SJW (social justice warriors who most often are just trying to make the world a better and safer and more inclusive space), and stories that ‘beat people over the head with message’.

Y’all, okay, but, WTF are you writing about if there’s no message or meaning? This author was part of a group of authors who wrote without ‘message’. Like, what, are you mad that we now have representation of minorities? Or the gender diversity? Get a reality check, dumbass, we’ve always been here, and always will be. We go all the way back to ANCIENT FUCKING EGYPT. Get over it yourself!

I just – I am so fucking mad. This dumbass not only believes that the virus is a ‘scam’, but that socialism is dumb, and that stories shouldn’t express values or have agendas. Y’all, stories have ALWAYS had agendas. The hunchback of Notre Dame? Written to save the fucking cathedral. People write for reasons, for meaning, and it is the meaning and message that gives the story value.

But this author probably has no idea about any of this because they’ve got their head up their ass. And they’ve got over a thousand little ‘yes-men’ bobbing along with them, agreeing with them. Keep your stupid-ass followers. Keep them far away from me. I’ll sit over here and hoard mine, who aren’t ass-hats.

I’m just so disappointed in this person, as an author and fellow human. I just – no. So mad. So so mad. Ugh.

Peace y’all, and don’t catch the stupid.

Chaos is Back!

Y’all, I am SO EXCITED right now! After writing in the ‘Attack of the White Clouds’, I spent an hour or so trying my very bestest to work on another story I’ve had ideas for. Then BOOM! I realized that this story was a continuation of Kuryo’s story. Ergo -> Chaos’s story too!

BOOM! I pulled out an open office document (because I’m indie like that, I don’t like using word) and began typing. And typing. And now, ladies and gentlemen and folks in-between… Chaos is back! And so is Kuryo! And the whole polycule! And really, I’m just so excited! It seems as if, so far, if it all goes as planned, the whole ‘cule will be there for this novel! YAY!

Anyways, just to drum up some suspense, I’ve scheduled the first snippet to be posted tomorrow. So grab a friend! Tag a friend! Share this post! And get ready for MORE CHAOS!


“Just More Chaos”: Chapter Six, Part One

I stood to one side of the hallway, waiting. Not because I wanted to, but because I had been asked to. Charr had stomped into my tiny room and said “He wants to see you,” and had marched out, with her hand attached to my collar. In other words, she hauled my sorry ass all the way into the medic ward, and left me here to wait. Now my neck hurt, and I felt clutzy. It wasn’t FoxFace (she wasn’t a he), but rather Conan who supposedly wanted to see me.

So I crossed my arms and waited. If I hadn’t almost killed the guy I wouldn’t still be here. But – I guess I owed it to him?

Anyways, I was there when Charr walked him out, half supporting him and half trying to murder me with her eyes.

“Hey,” I said, holding up a hand.

He managed to lift a hand, the other arm wrapped around his stomach, which was bandaged. He was wearing jeans, but no shirt. How did he still look good despite looking so sickish? I hated him more.

Charr planted him on the wall beside me, where he leaned on it with a grimace. Then she walked away with a scowl at me.

The minute the door to the stairs closed, Conan turned his attention to me. “So,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. He continued “We’re doing this. Right here, right now. Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” I mumbled unconvincingly.

He shook his head. “There was five other vampires but you attacked me. Why? What have I done to you?”

I looked away, down the hall. Then I shook my head. “I don’t have to explain to you. First of all, there was three vampires, not five. Second, you were in the way. Happy? I’m done.” and I picked myself off the wall and began walkign away.

A hand on my shoulder – but I shrugged it off and kept going without looking back.

“Hey!” he called after me.

But that was it. I didn’t owe him anything else. Nope, no, his so-good-looking ass could manage fine without me.

I had a hand on the stairwell’s door when he grabbed me with his powers. It was like a giant vice over my entire body. Slowly, I began sliding backwards.

“You asshole!” I shouted, whirling around. He had one hand lifted and a smug look on his face. I stomped over to him, lifting a fist to his face. “Want me to try again?” I yelled.

He was nonplussed. As always. Where did he get that nerve from? Especially for someone who couldn’t fight! “You don’t like me,” he said. “But why?”

I shook my hands over his shoulders, resisting rattling him but that might hurt his stitches. “I don’t like you!” I said stupidly, but that was all I could manage that would make sense.

“Keep going,” he said too calmly. I wanted to punch him. Just to get a rise out of him.

“You’re so friggin’ irritating!” I snapped, shaking my hands in the air beside my shoulders, feeling ready to snap. “Just stay out of my face!”

That smug look turned smugger. “You like me,” he said nastily. I realized in a flash that he already knew it, and was just choosing now to wave it around.

So I punched him. So he fell. Big deal.

Uhm, well, I kind of felt guilty as he groaned on the floor. I stepped to his side and crouched down.

“You’re annoying,” I said half-heartedly.

He looked up at me, propped up on an elbow with the side of his face all red. “You’re such a jerk,” he said.

I snorted. “You’re the one who pulled me on, saying all ‘oh you like me’.” I quoted him in the most annoying pitch I could manage.

“You do,” he said sharply. “I can read it in you.”

I blanked. Oh, shit. “You can read minds?” It was my feeble attempt at changing topic.

“I control energy,” he said with a grimace as he sat up. “So I can read a few general signs. Like,” He brushed his hair from his face. “You like me. A lot.”

I looked away with a huff. “Alright. Now you’re just begging to be punched,” I said but there was no (hah!) punch to it.

His hand gripped my shoulder. “Help me up.”

I scowled at him. He looked back, unflinching. Rolling my eyes and cursing under my breath, I did actually help him up. He hissed, held his stomach, but got up.

“You know, you almost cut me in half,” he said.

“Still not sorry,” I said snarkily. “You talk too much.”

He laughed. His hand stayed on my shoulder. I looked at him. “You’ve got a girlfriend,” I said, not exactly un-jealous but certainly not, well, I was upset.

“We’re open,” he said in the way people do when they’re trying not to laugh at you. I gawked at him. He chuckled and patted me on the shoulder. Then he began making his way down the hallway, a hand on the wall.

I was rooted to the spot, brain trying to digest that. If he and her- did that mean -? I whirled around. “Hey!” I shouted at his retreating back. “What do want? I mean – what’s your point? Why did you?”

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t I talk too much?”

I cursed and stalked over to him. He smirked at me. I reached to rattle him, but stopped myself at the last moment. I pocketed my hands. “Why are you messing with me?” I snapped, putting on my best glare.

“I’m not,” he said. “But you’re the one throwing a tantrum.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Get over yourself,” I muttered.

“Or you could do that,” he said cheekily.

I flushed, angry and embarrassed all at the same time. “Okay, you – what do you want? You want to get me mad? Fine! I’m mad!”

“I actually didn’t want you mad; but that’s like, your default setting?”

I snorted and looked aside. Yeah, I was always upset these days. So what? Life wasn’t a cakewalk.

He patted me on the shoulder. I scowled at him. “Be less of a jerk,” he said sweetly. “And then maybe we can date. Okay?”

My jaw fell. He looked ready to laugh at me again. I fled, turning and darting away as fast as I could walk without running.

Ranger’s Story ~ Chapter Three, Part One

The next morning is misty, grey, and cool. None of the ‘Bats know this though, and it matters little to not at all. But it sets the scene. For Mars, standing before the office window that carries a view of the sky, is watching the sun rise. It unleashes ribbons of colour that part the mists over the city. But most importantly, it means that the nature of the gods has defeated true evil once more during the night and that, as ever, the days will go on.

Mars sips his cold tea, for he has finished praying. He is merely waiting for the day to start now, waiting for other mortals to crawl out of bed and- he tenses slightly. He can sense a certain someone on their way into the building. Someone who would hope to speak with him, this early in the morning? That makes it someone who thinks they know him.

Mars smirks. How amusing. He wonders what the occasion is – but is interrupted. His private phone is ringing.

Frowning, he strides to his desk and picks the phone up, switching the cheap thing on. Tea still in hand, he hums in guise of a hello.

“Sir?” it was Stephen, of course. The poor man had probably stayed up all night running the name through various databases. Well, it was his fault. He shouldn’t have started a gambling addiction in the first place.

“I – I think I’ve found your person,” he says, voice wavering.

“Oh?” Mars says coldly, harshly. He doesn’t appreciate people thinking they know what he wants.

There was a gulp. Stephen fidgeted audibly. Papers were shuffled. “Well I, I ran it through all the databases, and you know it’s not really a name? No one’s called that.”

Mars waits patiently. Idiots talked so much.

“But I, I found her. If it’s a her. I’m sending you the file right now,”

Mars hung up. Good job, Stephen.

Flicking through the applications on this terribly sub-bar phone, Mars checks the email he isn’t supposed to have. And there it is. A file with the name ‘Ranger’ on it-

“Knock knock,” a male voice says from behind him. Mars jumps, courtesy of the war. He hates people sneaking up on him.

But when he turns he is composed, not frivolous and angry.

“Ken,” he says smoothly. And he might as well be speaking with a pre-packaged plastic doll. For Ken, dear Ken, had smoothly chiseled features and a body that was once special ops. For now he was wearing a suit and a tie that was undone around the neck.

“Hey,” says Ken. And there is something else on the tip of his tongue. Ah.

Mars has seen this play out a hundred times. Ken will find Mars alone, outside of their normal meeting hours. Ken will have something special to say.

Well Mars hates emotions. He dislikes the way they get in the way, the way they turn people all mushy. So he smiles coldly to Ken. “What is it?” he asks, his words carrying magic.

Because suddenly, it strikes Ken that this is a terrible moment for this sort of thing. Not that he doubts himself and his feelings, but he fears the ensuing ‘no’ from Mars.

So Ken puts his hands in his pockets. Instead of gushing, he simply tells his boss news. How the party decisions are going. What’s their new strategy to outdo Mars in the new election?

“I think they’re going to elect me,” Ken says, and again those emotions surge, hope flutters in his stomach. Would Mars be proud of him?

Despite himself, yes, Mars is. Proud and amused, like when a puppy does their best begging trick. He smirks, seeing how this will play out. For Ken, his favorite pawn, is part of the opposition party. If Ken is the appointed leader during the next election, then, well, Mars will control even more.

How amusing. And illegal. But there was no paper trail and Ken was a most faithful lapdog. There wasn’t possibly anything that could come to light. So Mars is satisfied. Ken has done his job well.

“I am very proud of you,” Mars says, echoing the sentiments he reads fluttering about in Ken’s stomach.

Ken catches his breath. A wry smile breaks out over his features and, just for a minute, the question almost slips out.

But Mars stomps it down. “Make sure you do get elected though,” he adds in, coldly. And this was how Ken was going to do it: and he listed the things Ken had to do. How to persuade. How to show he was best.

Ken nodded, emotions all doused now. Hands in pockets, he listened attentively. In the back of his mind, he was thinking that maybe some other time would be better.

“Now go,” Mars says icily. “Before someone sees you here.”

Ken licks his lips one last time. He lifts up a hand, trying one last time.

How strange. Usually Ken doesn’t try more than twice. This displeases Mars. His eyes narrow dangerously. “Go,” he repeats.

Ken pockets his hand and nods. He knows he’s outstayed his welcome. Maybe next time…

Mars waits until Ken is gone to roll his eyes. Sentimental dolts. As if Mars would ever date his own underling. No, Ken was a hobby. A puppy. Something amusing and totally not on Mars’ intellectual level.

Which, speaking of intellect, Mars turns back to his desk where he had put down his private phone. He opens it, and once more there is Ranger’s name.

Mars sits down in his office chair, poring over the file. It’s a medical file for a psychiatric hospital known as Beelz. Beelz? Mars pauses. Beelz? He’d sent some enemies there. It was for the criminally insane.

What in Kosara’s name would Ranger be doing there?

Frowning, Mars reads through the file. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe Stephen needed to be threatened into doing his job better.

But the symptoms? Auditory hallucinations, delusions, catatonia. Multiple voices. Tv sending signals.

Mars scowls. This sounded like Ranger. Those damned voices. They never would talk with Mars and what was that one in particular? George? Damned annoying.

Treatment was injections due to the patient’s refusal of treatment.

Mars scrolls more. Past the long list of medicated history. Past the therapy session summaries.

What stops his impatient flicking is a picture. It makes his heart stop.

It was Ranger. Sleepy blue eyes, red hair tumbling around her oval face. Almost ten years older, but it was her.

Mars blanches. Now, really, it was hitting him. All this time, she’d been alive. He’d called off the search too soon.

Cursing, he rises from his seat. Then he pauses, gulping. He can’t just run to the hospital and release her. He needs a paper trail, maybe to decide he’s her relative or something. A way to quietly release her without anyone knowing.

So he sits back down, and begins to think.

And so begins Mars’ morning. Quietly, soothingly, with time to think things over and make wise decisions.

Mental Illness and Writing – Again?!

One thing that I think is peculiar to me and my kind of weirdness (please feel free to prove me wrong! I’d like to not be the only one, haha) is my relationship with music and writing.

Now, I’ve already mentioned that I get inspiration/messages from my dreams. Well, a similar thing happens with music. I will get a song stuck in my head as a sort of ‘message’. No, it’s not the same thing as just having a song stuck in your head. This kind of ‘stuck in your head’ is obsessive. It carries meaning and weight to it.

Inevitably, or at least quite often, this gets mixed in with my writing process. For example, yesterday I had inspiration for a new story (Yeah!). Today, for the third time, I went to try and begin writing that story. And for the third time, it’s flopping. I want it so bad but no words are coming. One could say it’s not ‘manifesting’.

new story couple.jpeg
Here is the picture I drew today of the future characters!

And yet – I was able to draw the characters, with a certain song playing (and only this song) – The Bells of Notre Dame. As I listened to this song on repeat, I felt like the song was talking to me. I felt like it had a message for me, if only I could grasp it.

But did I grasp it? Not quite, not yet. I feel like I’ve gotten hints but not the whole picture. Maybe more will come when I sit down to write yet again. Definitely, I will be drawing inspiration for it and trying to use it to set the tone/theme of the story. But further than that, it’s hard to put into words what the music ‘teaches’ us in these moments. Certainly I can say some things like ‘focus on this character more than that one’ and ‘there’s probably lots of doom and gloom’ – but how do you explain getting that out of a song? I can’t. I like to just stick the song in a playlist that I’ve made for my writing, and just let the magic happen. I tell myself it’s maybe a sign from the gods. On the worst of days I tell myself it’s nothing.

But it is something. And I wish I knew what. I wish I knew whether this was a symptom of paranoia or a hallucination, or whether it was a sign from the gods.

Because, the thing that’s miserable in all this, is that music used to really be a source of hallucination for me. It used to speak to me, drive me into ecstatic states, and always felt like it was on the verge of being a language in my head. So is this just a leftover from those experiences? I hope not.

If anyone has similar experiences, I’d love to hear them, really.


I Wrote a Thing!!

I did, I did, and I did it despite being horribly depressed! And damn, if this is the story that makes me feel better then so be it! Because I’m not doing so good these days, and writing it actually helped a little.

So what did I write out of the usual? Well, a LOTR inspired fanfiction. I know, who cares? There’s a zillion (gay) ones already out there. Well, I saw an idea whip by on instagram, and I thought, hey, I’mma write that.

So, BEHOLD ya fuckers,

What if the Elves were Evil and the Orcs good?!

Yes, I know, such an ingenious title. It totally summarizes the story and ‘vibe’ so well. But chill with me here a minute. The concept is not only that the orcs are good beings with a heart and soul, but that they are being led by a badass woman who just came to power. Oh yeah, she rocks. Me likey.

But the story centers around an uruk-hai who gets captured by humans, saved by an obligatorily beautiful elf prince, and you can probably guess how it goes from there. Or can you?

I just wrote the first chapter, and would love some feedback. But, you know, it’s fanfiction so don’t take it too seriously.

I’ve been Unleashed!

Well not literally, lol. But I had been suffering from the quasi-mythical ‘writer’s block’ for, oh say, a few years now. What?! Years? Well more specifically, I suffered writer’s block in a certain story for years. It’s a story that means a lot to me and I was damned if I was going to just abandon it, because it’s those characters that kept me from suicidal thoughts all those years ago. THey were the ones that made me hold on.

And now, be-fuckin’-hold! AFter a dream motivating me to try again at writing it, I realized the other day that my problem with the novel was that I didn’t know how to write it, not that I didn’t know the story enough. Ah hah! After a few  hours of musing and blaring music on headphones, I figured it out. A narrator. What I needed was a narrator who would make this choppy story seamless.

Behold! Meet the narrator!

sword spirit color.jpeg


This character, ladies and gentlemen, is a sword spirit whose master has gone missing. And so, well, they pop around and tell the story. They’re totally quirky, bizarre, and weird. They’re entirely unreliable, leading the reader down false paths and to erronous conclusions. But that’s the fun of it, right?

And while we’re at it, let’s introduce you to two other characters: Allegra and Ryo, couple extraordinaire. allegra ryo happy.jpeg

Who are they, beside being general badasses (which is slightly more Allegra’s occupation)? Well they’re the leaders of this magical militia that the story is half about. They are in the middle of reviving their goddess, staging a coup, and managing the drama of getting married. Now I don’t want to give too much away though, because I do want to lure you all in and make you inspired to read whenever I start posting this story. But here’s a thing, if anyone gets a spin-off novel, it’s going to be them. These two have enough backstory to make their own mini series.

And yes, I know they’re a straight couple and this post is tagged lgbt? Well there are actually lgbt couples in the story as well, but they’re not drawn yet!

Yup, yup, so that’s about it for now. I’m going back to writing and will keep you all posted as to how this story goes! Hopefully there will be more pictures to come too!

Serena Bishop Author Interview

Hi everyone and welcome to an interview with Serena Bishop, author of ‘Beards’.

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Elevator summary of me: I’m a scientist by day and author by night. I’m married to a wonderful woman and we have a fur baby. Aside from writing, I like nerdy things, good beer/wine, and movies…even the bad ones because then I can make fun of them.

I’m an only child, so when I was growing up in Western Maryland and Pennsylvania, I was in charge of making my own fun. This philosophy (and practicality) has followed me in life. I’m rarely bored because I know how to use my imagination to my life exciting.

As an adult, I was most affected by two events: coming out and teaching. Both have shown me that everyone has a past or struggles or thoughts they keep buried from others. I never assume I know anyone because so many keep these secrets.

2.        How have these major events affected your writing?

Being in schools, both as a student and as a teacher, has exposed me to thousands of people who had different socio-economics, cultures, beliefs, etcetera than me. More importantly, I observed these people (as I do everyone) noting their backstories, changes in speech patterns, strengths, nerve tics, or anything unique I feel this helps me write very different types of characters believably.

3.        What inspired you to start writing and when did you start writing?

I loved writing stories when it was required in school, but as I became older, that didn’t seem practical to me as a career. This is what caused me to pursue careers in education and science. I didn’t start writing fiction again until my wife made a bet with me—whoever wrote a novel that became a movie the fastest won. That moment was the fire I needed to motivate me to start writing again.

4.        What’s been your personal biggest stumbling block when it comes to writing?

This is the easiest question for me to answer: it’s focused time to write. There aren’t enough hours in the day, and less sleep doesn’t help because then the quality of all my work suffers.

5.        What is more important to you, character development or plot?

It’s funny, as a writer I think the plot is more important because I need it to structure the story I want to tell; however, as a reader I prefer characters. If I don’t enjoy the characters (love them or love to hate them), then I really don’t care what happens to them.

6.        What makes your work and this one in particular special?

Other than Beards being my first published novel, I think this work is special because it takes a social issue (gay marriage) and explains its evolution in a narrative that is relatable and entertaining. This was something I wanted to read but never found. Knowing history is crucial but is often presented in a manner that is dry; I wanted to change that.

7.        What happened ‘behind’ this book? Any funny stories that occurred to you?

I had a great time painting the picture that is used for the cover. I remember asking my wife, “Does it look like a five-year-old painted this?” Also, in the first draft my wife despised the character of Roni so when I revised my draft I added traits or comments that would make her more likable and Gina less likable. It was very important to me that they have equal weaknesses in character.

8.        What was the most difficult thing about writing this book?

Writing the bigotry was challenging. I think it was because I needed to get into the headspace of someone who simply hates another race/orientation or who is utterly ignorant of other people’s feelings. I could have gone further with it, as many authors do, but I felt so uncomfortable using those words I didn’t feel it was worth making myself feel like that. I made my point and decided to move on.

9.        What personal elements did you draw upon to write this?

This story takes place in an area and time where I grew up. I vividly remember conversations I heard about homosexuals or seeing the news coverage of Matthew Shepard or even the impact pop culture had on creating new discussions. Essentially, this first-hand knowledge is what gave me the confidence to write a story about something so emotional and complex.

10.     What objective material did you draw on for this novel?

I researched items in this book to the point of insanity, including what day did L.A. Law air, did Ryan Howard ever hit two home runs in May against the Atlanta Braves, and, of course, all of the laws and significant dates surrounding gay marriage.

11.     Any final takeaway lessons from this book?

I’ll never have a human baby, so this is my firstborn. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it, and/or discovers a new perspective. Also, please review J