The unending fog…

Here I sit, head full of ideas, yet not sure what to say and what to keep to myself. It’s been a long, strange journey in the cemetery these last few years. Sometimes I still feel like it’s 2020 and everything is still upside down. This year has been tough, I admit. Having lost myself a little over two years ago with no guarantee of a return, then thankfully finding my way back, these last several months basically felt like I had been put on cruise control. Maybe I lapsed back into survival mode; I could feel myself going through the motions, but certain parts seemed to be missing.

It was difficult to sit and enjoy reading a book. Yes, I did read several books this year, but I feel like it was a fight to get through them at times. Not because they weren’t intriguing; I just had zero focus. My mind would wander to all the daily stresses and anxieties that being an adult affords me. My writing has suffered. That creative spark seems far more elusive lately. I create, but not as often as I would like. We’re heavy into spooky season, but this year I barely feel the twinge of Halloween delight. Normally, I would be devouring scary movies and visiting cemeteries, or tracking down haunted locations to experience. I’ve pretty much done fuck all this season. No decorations, no costume plans, no visits to spooky places. It’s as if I am in some sort of holding pattern, just circling my life and waiting to move forward. It kinda sucks, if I’m honest.

The good news is, I am reading again. Quite a lot, actually. Maybe my brain is slowly coming back online? I still feel numb and hollow inside as far as creativity and spookiness go; I want to be immersed in the creepy vibes, but I’m just not. Maybe right now, all my brain can handle is getting lost in a good novel. I have a sliver of faith that the rest will return someday. My creative drive, my connection to all things macabre…that has to come back eventually, right? It’s who I am. I did recently write a new poem, and it took a lot for me not to post it right away. I decided to keep it for the upcoming book. However, writing that single poem took me days. Literal days. I used to be able to hammer out a great poem in one sitting. The creativity would just flow like water. Lately, it’s as though the words are trapped in the dark corners of my mind, and I have to coax them out. I feel less creative and more apathetic, which is unsettling, to say the least. Ever feel that way? Like you want to, but you can’t? Yeah, that’s me.

I’m not sure what this is, exactly. Yes, I suffer from depression and I am aware that this slump is most likely affected by that; however, this is something more. Like I’m just fucking stuck or something. Mentally, creatively, even physically. Life has seemingly hit the slow motion button on me. I feel myself slipping back into survival mode. I find that thought terrifying, but how do I stop it? How do I show my brain that it is safe to function normally? How do I feel again? I just want to feel anything, really. Love for the spooky, the urge to create, desire to visit creepy locations…why must I repeatedly fall numb to these things? Come on, brain, cut me some slack.

I’m aware that the actual writing of this blog post denotes at least some spark of creative energy. This is different, though, in that I am basically just writing down my thoughts. I’m not trying to establish a narrative or setting, or take you all on some type of literary journey. Writing a blog post takes a lot less creative effort than writing poems and short stories, if you ask me. We’re basically chatting over coffee, only I get to dominate the conversation because you are simply the reader. Still, perhaps I should take what I can get. Presumably, I get to spend Halloween trapped in some harrowing brain fog. I’m numb and apathetic when I wish to be anything but. It’s like I’m watching life from the fringes, unable to join in. If reading and blogging is all I have right now, so be it. I suppose I will limp along like always, and hopefully my full stride will find its way to me once more.

Sorry to complain. Thanks for listening (reading?). Here is my shameless plug for my books: Twisted Libra books at Barnes & Noble Twisted Libra books on Amazon

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Sweater Weather & Epic Failure…

I wore a light jacket this morning when I ventured outside the tomb to take Libra Dog on her morning constitutional. My beloved chilly autumn temperatures have finally returned! I am one joyful little misanthrope today! (Don’t question it; I am well versed in basking in duality.) However, my happiness is somewhat marred by one teensy little detail from yesterday. Go refresh your coffee, and I will explain.

So, if you have been around here a while, you know I have a love/hate relationship with Amazon. Yes, I use them to publish my books; however, I own my ISBNs and the full copyrights to all my work. I did attempt to use another service, but their interface was just too confusing. I gave up after 15 hours of file upload fails (not even joking) and hauled my repentant ass back to the big A. I have always felt a small sting of shame when I answer the question, “Where can I find your books?” Some people loathe Amazon as much as I do, so I hate that this is their only option. Except that, well, it isn’t.

You see, my books are apparently also available on Barnes and Noble’s website.

All this time. All this time, I have been sharing the link to Amazon, and my books were available through a more respected and well-known retailer. When I published, I chose the option for “expanded distribution.” While this gives me a smaller profit from any books sold (and trust me, I make fuck all as it is), I understood that it would allow larger retailers to order my book in bulk if they so wanted. I failed to understand that it made any paperback versions (which is the only format I currently have published) available through said retailers’ online stores. MY GODDAMN BOOKS HAVE BEEN AVAILABE THROUGH BARNES AND NOBLE THIS WHOLE TIME.

Silent rage doesn’t adequately describe my feelings over this, but let’s move on.

* deep breath *

In other news, I feel like I should get around to telling you all the title for my upcoming dark poetry book. I mean, you’ve been with me through so much, so why should I keep you in suspense? (And why do I pretend that there is any suspense involved? The reality is, you probably forgot about it until I mentioned it just now. Hell, are you even still reading this post? I’m most likely talking to myself, aren’t I?) You know what? Fuck it. I’ll pretend there is a gathering of my lovelies not only reading this post, but clamoring for the title to my newest creation. I’m still working on the cover design, and I can’t say for sure yet how long a book it will be, and don’t even think about asking when it will be out because all I will say at this point is, “It will be out when it is out.” Without any further ado, the title to the upcoming dark poetry book is:

Lollipop Daggers.

It’s fine; you all are applauding in my head. Anyway…there you have it. Blog post exclusive. My new work will be called Lollipop Daggers. It’s a phrase from one of my favorite poems that I wrote, and yes it is going to be in the book. As for the book after that…well, it is true that I am going to attempt a single story novel. I already have the title and the general idea. I’m excited and nervous, but for now let’s just focus on the poetry stuff, okay? As much as I would love an October release, it just isn’t feasible. September really kicked my ass and put me behind in my work. November is a more realistic expectation. Stay tuned to this blog for details. Other than that, I have nothing entertaining to say. The weather is lovely, the coffee is tasty, the dog is snuggly, and I have a good book to read. Can’t complain. Before you go, let me post the obligatory links for subscription to the blog and to buy my books. Today, I post both Amazon and B&N.

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(Okay, so apparently because of some Amazon glitch, the 2nd book is not currently available through B&N. Only the 1st and 3rd. I am working on this. Be patient.)

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That is all I have today. I’m going to go crawl back under the covers and read.

Until next time…

Origin story…

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain pelted the windows. The wind howled. Suddenly, an evil laugh pierced the silence, and the wicked one emerged from the shadows. And that’s the story of my birth.

Okay, so it wasn’t stormy. And there was no wicked laughter. There was a full Blood Moon, though. That’s pretty cool. It was a Friday, about 12:51am, and contrary to what you might think, I came out of a vagina rather than the shadows. Sorry my origin story isn’t spookier, but other than that moon there really wasn’t anything decidedly ominous about my birth. However, Libra Mom does admit to seeing a horror movie while she was preggo with me. Maybe that is why I am so drawn to the macabre?

Anyway, today is my birthday. I don’t ask for much, I suppose. Books (which I got), coffee (which I got), blasting my traditional birthday song (Like It’s Her Birthday by Good Charlotte and goddammit don’t you judge me) on repeat (which I did), and time to sit by myself to reflect and read (which I plan to do as soon as I publish this).

If you want to celebrate with me, you can follow my blog. That would make me smile. You can also follow me on the ol’ socials. I only post humor and books stuff, so you won’t have to worry about seeing my bits or anything. If you feel froggy, you can purchase my books off Amazon.

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Before I go, I want to update you on my upcoming books. Yes, I said books. I am hoping to have the dark poetry book out some time in November. I have also gotten inspired and plan to try my hand at a full length novel as my 5th book! I mean, the Twisted Libra Cemetery series is comprised of full books, but they are built with collections of short stories. I want to attempt one full story from start to finish. I will talk more about it next time, but I am excited to get this going as soon as the poetry book is complete.

Well, that’s all I have for now. I am going to go celebrate what’s left of my birthday. (Who are we kidding? Libras celebrate all month!) Subscribe to this blog, or find me on social media, or read my books if you really want me to do a happy dance. I promise more details on the new book in the next post.

Until next time…

Burning bright…

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.

©2023 by Twisted Libra

Until next time…

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Basking in the melancholia…

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.

Until next time…

Crawling from the grave…

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…

Doing the damn thing…

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:

My reflection is a stranger,

Born of the expectations of others.

Who is this girl before me?

I shudder as outside voices chastise,

Shaping my existence with their assumptions.

Sudden awareness washes over me,

Drowning me in a tidal wave of shame.

How could I have forsaken her so easily?

Her furious cries assault my ears.

Are they far away, or deep within?

The lies taste like ashes on my tongue.

My body is bruised beneath the weight of regret.

I breathe in my loss, and exhale her rage.

I feel the broken shards of my soul reconnecting,

Like a mirror shattering in reverse.

Staring into my own eyes,

I let the darkness within me rise again.

A devilish grin betrays my lips,

While the world’s expectations fall away,

And the wicked queen emerges at last.

I’m back, baby.

©2023 by Twisted Libra

Until next time…

Ready to meet Madam Mortis? Find my Tales from the Twisted Libra Cemetery trilogy here: My Books

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An oldie, but a goodie…

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!

Steal me away from this place,

And take me to the land of darkened dreams,

Where we can frolic among the graves,

Waking the dead from their slumber.

The cool night breeze,

Carries the faintest odor,

Of frankincense and rotting flesh,

Such a sweet and intoxicating mix.

Dark clouds above us,

Begin to sprinkle us with rain,

Let’s dance naked in the rising mist,

As the creatures of the night take flight.

Your eyes meet mine,

And I can see such a seductive evil,

And a mysterious grin,

That alludes to an exciting horror.

A chaotic place full of broken toys,

Lollipop daggers and belladonna potions,

And carnival rides,

That only go in reverse.

You lead me towards the deranged souls,

Playing the wicked games,

In which madness is the grand prize,

And everyone wins.

©2020 by Twisted Libra

Like what you have read so far? Find my Tales from the Twisted Libra Cemetery series here: Enter my cemetery!

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Until next time…

Putting the “self” in self-published…

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.

Until next time…

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From the hottest level of Hell…

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!

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Until next time…