Today is going to be a good day. It’s cool and rainy outside. I have delicious coffee and a snuggly dog in the bed with me. The 1818 version of Frankenstein awaits me in my Kindle. I couldn’t ask for a better start to my Saturday.
If you follow this blog (and if you don’t, consider this your engraved invitation), you know that rainy, breezy, cloudy days are my absolute favorite. So, awaking this morning to find the world painted grey accompanied by a melodic drizzle made my little black heart skip a beat! I fully intend to succumb to the urge to get cozy with a cup of coffee and a gothic novel. Throw in several (electric) candles, and you have a perfectly content Libra.
Speaking of candles, yours truly found herself inspired this morning, and thus another poem was born. Given that my last post was about my lack of confidence, I feel that I should try putting my work out there again and attempt to move one step closer to comfort. So, please enjoy my latest creation. Yes, this is going into the upcoming dark poetry book (which most likely will not be out by Halloween, but will definitely be worth the wait). Let me know what you think, my lovelies!
The flame dances as though it might leap from the candle.
I bask in the shadows it creates.
Beads of wax slowly trickle downward, like sweat on skin.
A soft breeze is dusted with smoke and mystery.
Charmed is the candle, to be steadily devoured by the flame.
Melting deliciously at its touch with such devotion.
I sit in silence, witnessing the steady destruction of the candle,
As it submits to the flame at all costs.
The dance of the flame will be the candle’s undoing.
Such an irresistible demise, being lost to the sweet seduction of the burn.
This post might get lengthy and a tad existential, so if that’s too heavy for you on a Wednesday morning, I won’t be offended if you stop reading now. Otherwise, refresh that coffee and prepare for me to babble on about shit for a few paragraphs.
I know goths have the reputation for being morose misanthropes who growl at anyone that dares approach them. Okay, so I can be like that at times. Still, I don’t romanticize being cradled in the depths of despair. Victor Hugo said, “Melancholy is the happiness of being sad.” While gloom and apathy feel comforting and familiar to me, I don’t strive to consistently maintain those emotions. I admit, I have spent the majority of my life feeling down (thanks, chronic depression); however, I don’t view it as some great achievement to be sad all the time.
Over the last few weeks, I have felt decidedly more in touch with my inner Eeyore; particularly when it comes to my writing. Combine the existential sadness with the imposter syndrome, and you have a girl who is ready to just delete her entire online presence and disappear into the ether.
No, this isn’t one of those “why do I even try” posts. It’s more like the act of publishing my work for the masses makes me want to shrink away in fear because I have to put my soul out there for the world to devour. I have a day job (because writing pays fuck all for folks like me) and out of everyone I work with, only one person even knows about my books. One. I admit, I keep professional me separate from author me. Not because I am ashamed of what I create; it’s just that I fear letting folks who know me get in that close and see the real me. It’s easier here in this blog, because with the exception of a handful of followers, none of y’all know me in real life. I can pour my heart out here without the fear of being judged. Do all writers go through this? Am I just fucking broken or something? I see authors promoting their work at every opportunity. I do have socials on which I post about my writing, but I don’t tell folks in the real world about this part of my life. People who have known me since childhood know, but being that they literally grew up with me, I fear no judgment. They know I’m weird. They love me regardless.
Some days, I just want to disappear. I want to delete my socials, shut down the website, and pretend I never created anything to begin with. I want to lock away all the stories and characters and keep them safe inside my mind. Other days, I can’t wait to post a new poem or book idea. Stop the emotional seesaw, I want to get off. Do I actually want recognition, or do I not? Are my stories even any good? Will people think they are amateur horse shit and deem me less intelligent or less capable as a person because my writing sucks? Maybe that is why I thrive in the anonymity. If author me fails, real life me can still succeed. The duality protects me. I’ve spent my entire life getting judged or laughed at for one reason or another. I guess I just don’t have the courage to handle that anymore.
Melancholy feels warm and inviting to me. Like an old friend. Perhaps I should just embrace it for a while. I do try to be happy and balanced, but that has never come naturally to me. It’s so bizarre to want people to notice your work, yet you fear sharing your work with anyone who knows you. Sometimes I feel trapped in this macabre waltz between who I want to be and what it takes to get there.
I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep putting my work out there. Whether or not I will ever reconcile the dual nature of Twisted Libra remains to be seen. For now, I suppose I will sit contently in the anonymity. Besides, sadness is a most delicious muse. I have created some of my most favorite poems and stories while under the weight of sorrow. If I must be chronically depressed, I may as well use it to my benefit, no?
At this point, I feel I have lost touch with whatever I initially set out to discuss. Oh, well. If you are still reading, I humbly thank you and I apologize if this post felt like one long whine. I swear it isn’t. I am just trying to cope, and writing helps. I don’t even care to mention my books today, but if this post didn’t turn you off from ever reading my blog again, here is the link to subscribe:
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I’m looking back over what I have written and I am starting to feel foolish for sharing so much. That’s my cue to quickly proofread and hit the publish button before I lose my nerve and delete everything. Thank you for reading. If you can relate to any of this, feel free to drop a comment (or an email if you’d rather it be kept private). Maybe the next blog post will be a little more upbeat.
My apologies for the absence of late, my lovelies. My cemetery was tainted with a bout of plague. Not to worry, all seems on the up and up now. Still not fully recovered, but slowly crawling from the grave, so to speak.
You may ask, am I still working on the new book of dark poetry? Yes, I am. While it was sidelined during the illness, I intend to get back on track soon. I can still potentially have it published by October, but don’t hold your breath. I will work as quickly as I can, but I also want to do it justice. Besides, nobody is buying my other books, so I won’t delude myself that anyone is clamoring for this next one.
Speaking of my other books, I will mention again that if you have read one of them, PLEASE leave me a review on Amazon. This is so important. And on the chance that you have read all three, leave an individual review for each one. It takes less than 2 minutes out of your day, and reviews are so powerful for independent authors. I know how many copies have sold. I only have three reviews so far. THREE. Come on, folks. Help a living dead girl out.
Yes, I blurred out the names on the reviews. You can see them on Amazon, but I felt like it would be wrong to stick someone’s name into my blog without their consent. I’m weird like that. I am so grateful for anyone who reads my work, and especially grateful to the three readers who left me a review. Feedback is important in my work as a writer and in my constant battle with imposter syndrome. (Google it, I can’t be bothered to explain.) In case you are interested, you can find the Tales from the Twisted Libra Cemetery trilogy here: Enter my cemetery!
That’s all I have for today, my lovelies. I am still in recovery from the dreaded modern plague, and I have very little energy. Tomorrow ushers in September, which is (in my opinion) the kick off point for spooky season. Magic is in the air (along with horrid germs, apparently), and Halloween is just around the corner. Pretty soon, we can break out those sweaters and fill the air with the crisp odor of burning leaves and the slow death of nature. I can’t wait. Read a book, even if it isn’t one of mine. Review a book, even if it isn’t mine. Help your authors, folks. Until next time…
When I say I am working on the new book, I mean it. Today, I offer proof! I wrote something new, and I am going to share this one with all of you now. I know, I know. I can’t share every poem, or there will be no reason to make the new book at all. Most of what I have been writing is being saved, but this one gave me a joy that I felt must be shared right away. It is for anyone who has ever felt like their true self had to be hidden away. I speak from experience, hiding who you are is torture and will eventually blow up in your face. Be yourself, whether society approves or not. With that being said, please enjoy my latest creation:
I find myself sitting here in bed, coffee in one hand, powdered donut in the other (because I’m a goddamn adult and I can do what I want), and although I feel so many things worth saying…I have nothing to write. It’s not writer’s block; I just feel like being a lazy shit today. So, I am going to repost one of my favorite poems I have written. This has been posted before, I think, so nothing new. Still, some of you may not have read it yet. Also, this one will definitely be in the upcoming book! Now, enjoy the poem, then go enjoy your Sunday. I am going to hunker down with a good book. Crumbs be damned!
Just a heads up, this post is going to be a rant. Either grab your coffee and strap in, or go find something more amusing over on twatter or the clock app or whatever. I need to vent. Thanks in advance.
So…first off, I only joined Snapchat a few days ago, and I have already had to fend off several pervs. I also blocked three spam accounts that were sending me unsolicited nudes. Isn’t social media just lovely? I’m no prude, but unless I actually ask to see your bits, don’t show them to me.
Secondly, although I staunchly refuse to hire someone to advertise for me or to review my work, I can understand why some folks choose that route. Fucking hell, it takes a lot of effort to get the word out these days, and with very little return. Away from the day job, I spend more time than I care to admit creating reels and posts to advertise my books. If I am lucky, several hours of effort might result in one sale. One. This isn’t a money thing; I make practically fuck all from selling a book. It is an exposure thing. No sales means no one is reading my shit. Likes and comments are great, but authors (particularly self-published ones) need reviews. We need 5 star ratings. We need feedback. Sales are a part of that. Trust me, none of us self-pubbers are making bank. We all have regular jobs and we try to chase our dreams on the side. Who knew that writing the goddamn book was the easy part? Getting anyone to pay attention, that is the real torture.
I guess my point is, if you know a self-pubber and you care about them, take time to actually help them out. You don’t have to buy anything; just share a link, post about their books, or share their ads. If you do buy a book, take a second and leave a review. Yes, likes on social media can help. It gives the author a better chance against the never-ending algorithm battles. So like their posts/stories/reels. Share their content. Tell people about them. It’s easy and it’s free. In this economy, free is a wonderful thing, no? Love your authors. Help us. Support us. Trust me, we are constantly struggling to chase these dreams. Not for fame or riches, but for the love of creating and entertaining. In a world prone to chaos, writers are striving to give you a delicious escape. So show us some love.
Unless you’re new here, you know I absolutely despise the summer season. The humidity, the bugs, the unrelenting heat. Holy shit, the HEAT. Yes, global warming is a thing, but my cemetery is located in the southeastern US and summer has always been miserable here. Okay, so it is the combination of heat and atrocious humidity that actually does us in. You can’t step outdoors for even a second without feeling sticky and suffocated. This is fucking torture. Honestly. I mean, even Dante gave Satan a fun little ice belt around his waist. Even in the deepest reaches of the inferno, the devil kept cool. Yet, I am forced to suffer from May until September. Antarctica is looking pretty good right now.
This is another reason why shopping for spooky stuff in July feels so weird. I’m supposed to get into the Halloween spirit when the air feels like soup and I have an unstoppable case of humidititties (boob sweat)? Yeah, right. I just want the outside world to feel like my cemetery: cloudy, drizzly, with a slight chill upon the breeze. Instead, it feels like Hell’s sauna.
Want to write a terrifying horror story? Just copy the weather report for the south-eastern US from May to September. It’ll scare the hell out of everyone. But enough about miserable things. I am pleased to announce that I am making progress on the new book, and it might be available by spooky season! Don’t hold me to that, but the potential is definitely there. Also (and this will come as a shock given my previous rants about social media), I have joined the ranks of Snapchat. Yes, yours truly now has a Snapchat. You can find the info over on the contact page in my cemetery. It is merely a platform for me to post about my books. You won’t see me dancing or showing off my food or anything like that. But, if you want another way to access my book content, and view some Snapchat exclusive material, then head on over and send me an Add request! (Just please don’t try to flirt with me via DM. I already had to fend off a few of those. Yikes.)
My ass is on Snapchat…
If you want to check out some new book promos, go to my Instagram or my Facebook page. I have posted quite a few lately, and I am quite proud of how they turned out. I won’t put them all in this post, but perhaps soon I will share them here. I just prefer to keep this mostly typewritten, save for a few well-placed gifs. My thoughts go here, my visual media goes elsewhere. All links can be found in my cemetery: Enter Here!
As always, please take a second and share my links. You can share this post, the entire blog, my socials…it is just a few clicks. If you have read any of my books, I would love to see a review on Amazon! It is important for me to know what you think! And be sure to subscribe to this blog if you haven’t already! I love having you here!
You know what I have always hated? Every year, the stores would begin their onslaught of Christmas paraphernalia earlier than the year before. Eventually, the US seemed to skip right over Thanksgiving, and as soon as the last door closed on an enthusiastically earned “Trick or Treat!” bounty, people were yanking down their pumpkins and stringing up Christmas lights. Then I began to notice that we were seeing 4th of July décor in May, and we could celebrate the New Year with Valentine candy. And now, it seems, my beloved Halloween has followed suit. I am now able to shop for spooky décor IN JULY.
Yes, yes, it is true in the past I felt Halloween should be a year-round event. After all, it’s not just a holiday, but a lifestyle for me. However, I realize part of the mystique of the spooky season is the chilly weather, the gloomy skies, and the sun giving way to darkness well before 6pm. This year, I find myself gearing up for spooky season in 100 degree heat, with daylight lasting until after 9pm (seriously?), fucking bugs EVERYWHERE, and annoying masses of people crowding every public place so they can “enjoy the summer weather.” Goddammit, I want solitude, and gloom, and sweaters, and darkness.
Perhaps this is a good lesson in being careful what you wish for. I honestly thought Halloween all year would be excellent. I now know that all I really wanted was to be able to shop for spooky stuff in person all year. Halloween has its place, and that place is in October with the chilly air and the lack of sunshine. Don’t come at me for this, my fellow Halloween enthusiasts. Y’all know that deep down, you agree with me at least a little. There is an ambiance that is missing if we start spooky season too soon. Trust me, weather matters. Why do you think Australia does Christmas in July? In their neck of the woods, December is smack in the middle of their summer season. They want to deck the halls amid ambient snow and cold that only winter can bring, so they celebrate their Christmas holiday in July.
Weather matters. So don’t go starting my spooky season while people are still walking around in flip flops and hanging out at beaches and barbeques. Wait until the air is cooled, the days are shorter, and the outside world quiets down. I mean, how are we to hear the whispers from the grave over the music and chatter of the summertime crowd? Yes, do give me access to spooky décor all year long; don’t start my beloved spooky season too soon, though. There is a time and place for everything, and Halloween just doesn’t fit into July. Or August, or even September. Give me year-round spooky and October Halloween. Please and thanks.
Good news, my lovelies! I finally got my undead ass in gear and got back to work on my next book! Yes, for several weeks I have slacked a bit on writing; first, there was the dreaded writer’s block, then a lovely bout of the ol’ depression, and after that I sort of got mired down in the day-to-day stuff that happens. However, I am now actively working on the manuscript once again! Woohoo!
To answer the burning question, “Will it be out by spooky season?”: Um…probably not. I mean, it could be, but I am doubtful. I have the title and I have plenty already written; it’s just that this is a poetry book and therefore it requires ample poetry. I can’t just slap together a handful of poems and charge money for it. Well, I could do that, but then I would just be an asshole. And not the good kind of asshole. I’m an asshole, no doubt, but I am the kind you appreciate. I make you laugh, and I point out the absurd shit we all notice but tend to ignore.
I thought about doing a title reveal, but I want to wait until I have the cover designed. This will be a book of both dark and spicy poems, some rhyming and some not, about all things macabre. I really look forward to sharing it with you all. My three previous books were short stories, but you have seen some of my poetic work from time to time. Now it will take center stage. I just hope it doesn’t suck.
Okay, I don’t want to pad this post with rambling, so I will wrap things up. I just wanted to stop by and say hello, and fill you in on what is going on around the cemetery. Stay tuned for more, okay? It has been my dark pleasure having you here. Until next time…
I hate summer. Seriously. As far as yours truly is concerned, the entire summer season can just fuck off and die. Here in the south-eastern United States, summer weather means extreme heat, ridiculous humidity, and every bug that has ever existed. Don’t misunderstand; I am not afraid of bugs. I just hate bugs. Absolutely hate them. They fly into your face, they sting you, they buzz past your ears and give you the heebie jeebies. Not to mention the mosquitoes here are so large and fierce, they may as well be voted in as the state bird.
This is why, among a few other reasons, the weather in my own cemetery is always gloomy. Cloudy, drizzly, never hotter than about 60 degrees. And not a single bug to be found. Okay, I relent. Maybe little lightning bugs. They are ok, and honestly I don’t even consider them to be bugs. But beyond those, no bugs in my cemetery. No sunny days. No heat or humidity. It is perfect here, always. Just cool breezes that carry the whispers of the dead, and gray skies that create the best lighting for photography. Weeping Willow trees that softly sway, caressing the ground with their branches as a murder of crows watches over everything from atop the tall tombstones and cemetery walls.
Yes, this is my happy place. Feel free to come by anytime and visit. Grab a seat on an old tombstone and enjoy my work. There’s something here for every dark soul. Let’s hide in here and wait out this dreadful summer weather together!
As always, it has been my dark pleasure having you here today. Enter the cemetery any time via this link: Enter the Twisted Libra Cemetery! There, you can find all my wicked creations, buried for you to dig up and devour! If you haven’t already, you can subscribe to this blog so you don’t miss a single post!
Dancing Among the Remains 