September Update – Writerly things

I can’t believe another month is almost gone, and that fall finally arrived (I’m writing this with rain and wind hammering against my windows. The sky is dark grey, and I’m very much tempted to light some candles – despite it being 9 in the morning.)

As most of you might already know, I’ve finally gotten down and dirty with the next book in the Tamora Andrews Series – Dragonthrone. My hope is that I’ll finish the manuscript mid December. Then it can “rest” over Christmas and I can get back to it with fresh eyes in January.

Publishing date isn’t set yet, but it will be in 2023.

If you’re curious about it, you can read about the book HERE and the first snippet HERE

Now, being who I am, I like to keep track of my progress. It motivates me to see my progress, and it helps keep everything running smoothly. So, to help myself I went looking for some kind of word tracker that could be used for that exact purpose.

Now, I didn’t find a perfect match, but I did find a template in google docs, made for NaNoWriMo. And with a bit of changing around, and updating to my needs, I made the “Write a book in 100 days” template.

The premiss is easy. You have 100 days to write 100.000 words.

That means writing 1000 words a day, which at the beginning might seem like a lot, but ass soon as you develop the habit it’ll flow much easier. At least, that’s the case for me.

If you want to try the template, and maybe use it for your own writing, feel free to check it out and copy it to your own google docs -> Write a book in 100 days

To round off this monthly update about writerly things, I want to mention Author Interviews… Because I’ve started them on my blog (happy dance) It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time but I haven’t been sure how to actually do it, but I finally just jumped into the deep end, and contacted a fellow Indie Author and asked if they would be interested in doing an interview for my blog.

So, Dylan Altoft became the first author to be featured on the blog, and you can read the interview here – Author Interview With Dylan

If you’re an author and would like to be featured in an author interview, you can read more about it here – Author Interviews

Dragonthrone – Snippet

Today, I’m sharing the very first snippet from Dragonthrone – the second book in the Tamora Andrews series.


We were halfway to the door when a group of men got up from the table they were sitting at. They had been eyeing us and whispering among each other while I had been talking to Nassim, so I wasn’t really surprised when the biggest of them blocked out path. The man was big all over, with muscles threatening to rip out of his t-shirt. His face was made from harsh lines that gave him a brutish look, but his eyes were the most startling, pretty blue. His head was shaven, and a long ragged scar covered half of his scalp. A long knife sat at his hip, the grip worn and chipped. A tool, not a showpiece, then.
“We don’t like your kind around,” he said, crossing his massive arms over his chest. A stupid move. It looked threatening but would slow him down if he had to draw his blade.
“Women?” I asked. He wasn’t the first person to resist letting dragons into society. Most people carried old fears, and some even bore grudges. When the dragons had been trapped as animals, they hadn’t cared who or what they killed or destroyed. Seeing the dragons walk around freely grated on some people’s sense of justice. I couldn’t really blame them for it, but I really didn’t have the patience for bullshit. Especially not today.
He blinked and stared at me as if I was stupid. “Dragons. Filthy animals.” He spat on the floor, and I wanted to roll my eyes.
“Of course. Filthy animals. Probably spitting on floors and spilling beer all over the place.” I stared at the spit glob on the floor and then at the nasty table he and his friends had been occupying.
The man turned red in the face and uncrossed his arms. Ruair and Sibeal both stood a bit straighter, but I shook my head a little. If they got involved, the whole bar would descend into a brawl. We didn’t have time for that.
“Hey, don’t talk to him like that, you bitch,” a thinner man shouted from the group.
“Yeah, teach her some respect, Bull,” another man shouted.
The rest of the patrons of the bar had stopped pretending not to care and were openly staring at us. Those closest to us had moved out of the splatter zone in case it got physical. Nassim was still behind the bar. He probably wouldn’t interfere unless we started breaking his bar.
Bull eyes me, then Ruair and Sibeal, who had both taken a step back when I shook my head, signalling that they wouldn’t join the fight. They were watching my back and each other. The atmosphere in the room was getting heavy, and it wasn’t unlikely that someone else would use the distraction to try and settle an old grudge against the dragons.
“Just walk away,” I told Bull. I knew it was useless, but I felt a warning was only fair. “You might not know me, but look around. No one else is helping you. They know who I am and what I can do.”
Bull looked around him quickly, and I saw the doubt on his face. Then his gaze hit his comrades, still edging him on, and I knew it would end in a fight. If he backed down, he would lose face.
His hands flexed at his side, inching towards the blade. I had to do this fast and brutal enough to dissuade his friends from joining the fight.
His draw was practised and sure, but the problem with big muscles was they restricted your movements and slowed you down. I turned, his blade barely slicing into my upper arm, grabbed one of the small triangular daggers from my belt, and pushed it into his elbow joint. Bull bellowed as blood splattered onto the floor. I ducked under his arm, went to my knee, and jammed another dagger into the back of his knee joint. Before Bull finished falling, I was on my feet, facing his friends. He writhed on the ground sending blood dripping all around him.
“I’m not gonna tell you again. Move out of my way.” The men parted, and I looked at Ruair and Sibeal. The two dragons stepped around the blood and walked out the door. I gave Bull one last glance before I followed. What a fucking waste. Just before I walked out the door, I turned around. The bar was completely silent except for Bull’s cursing. I dug a few coins out of my pocket and threw them on a table.
“For the cleanup,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear, gave Nassim a last nod, and left the prancing goat behind.

Author Interview – Dylan Altoft

Today’s Author Interview is with Author Dylan Altoft. Dylan is the author of the Werewolf Saga, with book 1 – Beast Born – being up in Amazon right now.


Dylan writes YA with both the supernatural and action-adventure. He’s currently working on the second book in the Werewolf Saga series – Blood Brothers.

Follow him on twitter for updates about his books – @authoraltoft

Barely escaping the clutches of the legendary Vampire assassin known as Hunter, Arthur Thorn is finally brought to the home of the Werewolves to begin his training, if he even survives it.

Blurb for Blood Brothers – The Werewolf Saga Book 2
Questions about the writing process:

Do you prefer stand-alone novels or series as an author?

Weirdly, having just completed my second book, I think it is easier to write a series. As an author, when writing a stand-alone or the first book of a series, you have to create everything from scratch, keep each character as original and fresh as you can, and especially in fantasy, you have to create the world-building elements constantly without taking away from the plot, or you’ll kill the pacing. With a series, I don’t have to worry about what certain characters are going to say, in dialog with new situations, I find the characters are nearly writing themselves through me, it can be more thoroughly focused on developing a character as opposed to introducing and revealing a character as you would in a solo or first book. So I definitely prefer to write as a series because, after the first book, so much of the groundwork had been laid that I can focus on the characters and their journeys more going forward in the series.

How much do you write each day?

When writing my book, I have a rule with myself which is to write at least 1 page a day. I can go beyond that as much as I want if I have the time (I work full time outside of my writing), but no matter how tired I am, I write one page, even if it’s forced and terrible. A favorite phrase of mine is, ‘A bad page can be edited, a blank page cannot.

How do you select names for your characters?

Honestly, there is no system. I say a bunch of first names out loud in different ways until I settle on one I like, and then I do the same with surnames until I decide the two fit together. There isn’t a system of it reflecting their personality or a trait in any way. I tend to avoid more traditional so that the reader has a name that sticks in their mind more than something generic.

What’s the hardest scene to write?

My comfort zones as a writer are fight scenes and dialog between my characters. However, the hardest scenes for me to write would be new location introduction scenes. Mostly at the start of a new chapter, my biggest flaw is keeping the pacing going, so where I have a character enter a grand, spectacular room, I add as much detail and vivid imagery as I can, to the detriment of what I imagine is probably the readers’ interest. I struggle to write a scene if I think the character is standing in a blank room, but I also don’t want to waste five pages setting up every wall sconce surrounding them within five feet. That is the hardest for me to write, but I struggle to know the right balance of description and then starting the moment.

How long does it take you to write a book?

My recent book I have finished, as of writing this answer, took me over a year. It is around 400+ pages, and despite my best efforts, editing has not reduced that by much. My writing process longevity is entirely dependent on my work schedule, which is why on my days off, few of which I ever have, I try and cram in as many pages as I can, but I aim to try and get one book out a year given I am currently writing a series, and I don’t want my series to be like the dark tower where it takes me 20 years to finish, ha- ha.

What did it mean for your writing process when you published that first book?

I found my writing process to be much less chaotic. I can admit when I published my first book, I was almost insultingly naive, and it had not been properly edited to a reasonable standard at the time; corrected since then, to my best efforts, therefore my writing process has incorporated as many mini-edits as I can muster as I write, correcting punctuation and grammatical errors as I go so that less is missed when I get to the editing stage. It has lengthened the amount of time It takes me to finish a page, but it also then shortens my editing process, which I prefer immensely.

How many unpublished / unfinished books do you have lying around?

Honestly? 7. I started writing books when I was twelve, and they are as bad as you can imagine from seeing that age number. I wrote 3 fantasy books named the ‘Chronicles of Schempra’ which will never see the light of the world without having to basically completely re-write all of them. I wrote two superhero books about a crime fighter, a book that is two-thirds finished about a war between gods and mankind. Along with a few other short book ideas that I finished but will never release. I do sometimes re-read small passages from these books out of nostalgia, but they are honestly terribly written, so I do not want to publish them unless it is for free or to raise money for charity.

How long have you been writing?

As of writing, 12 years, on and off, given work and personal commitments. I am also a stand-up comedian, so I count writing my comedy material as writing as well.

What’s your goal with writing? Hobby/full-time?

I would honestly love for my writing to be able to pay my bills, but I wouldn’t say writing full-time is my ‘goal’ as much as it is a sincere wish. My overall goal as a writer is simply to write as many books that people enjoy as I can before I expire.

Plotter or pantser or somewhere in between?

Hard to answer. I don’t plan anything out when I am writing, so if you are ever surprised by an event or a twist in my books, know that I was just as surprised as you when I wrote it myself. I know certain events that I want to happen to characters of mine, as well as knowing how I want their journey to end, positively or negatively. I just don’t plan the where or when exactly. I guess I would describe myself closer to being a pantser, but I am definitely a chaotic writer overall.

How much has your book changed from the first draft to published/now?

My first book publication has changed from being a well-meaning garbled mess of a story to now being a reasonably formatted fun book that hopefully never needs to be changed again, but that’s for my reviewers to tell me.

Do you use a writing software?

Yes, Microsoft word, if that counts. I also use Grammarly as part of my editing process.

Thoughts about writerly things:

Pseudonym yes or no?

Not for me, but I completely understand if some writers wish to use them, especially with erotic writers given for unforgiving google searches can be.

What do you think about writing communities?

On Facebook? Barely existing and very toxic in some parts. Twitter? Extremely helpful and supportive. Honestly, given how my debut as an Author started, if it hadn’t been for the extremely understanding and kind nature of the Twitter writing community, my book would have nothing but 0* reviews on my amazon page. They have taught me SO MUCH as a writing professional, and what expectations and standards the reading communities out there expect. I would highly recommend the Twitter writing community to any and all new writers out there looking to put their work forward.

Book reviews, do you read them?

Yes, over and over again, obsessively, positive and negative.

And how do you handle the positive and the negative ones?

For the positive ones, I tend to nearly get myself teary-eyed. If I am able to, I thank the person who gave it and sometimes ask what particular parts of my work they enjoyed, if they are willing to speak to me, that is. The positive reviews honestly keep me going as a writer. If my book had 20 zero-star reviews, my second book would probably not have come out as quick as it did. As for the negative reviews, I study them profusely. I see what was disliked, and personally speaking, most of my detractors’ complaints were entirely valid. I haven’t experienced a single troll review in my career as a writer so far, and every problem I was told, I have given my absolute all to try and fix. Praise makes us happy but not stronger; we learn more from solving problems we can fix than anything else. But if I just received a mean-spirited hate review that had nothing constructive or critical to say, I would probably be irritated that it has permanently tainted my star rating on Amazon, but I would get over it after a few days and never visit it again.

What’s the most important thing in a hero?

Being relatable. A hero needs flaws. A hero can be inspiring and something for a reader to look up to and want to be like, but if a hero is perfect, there is no humanity in them, and a reader, in my opinion, will quickly disconnect themselves emotionally from a character that is seemingly perfect. A hero needs to struggle, internally and externally, and the internal struggle of questioning themselves morally or emotionally creates a narrative that a reader can connect to on a personal level. If a Hero cannot relate to anyone, then anything they do heroically is not appreciated, just expected.

What about the villain?

I would say a Villain has the same requirements as a hero, hence why heroes and villains that are often quite similar are the most compelling, narrative-wise. The smaller the disconnect between the personality of a hero and villain is, the more intrigue and interest a reader would have, as it allows them to put themselves in both sets of shoes and ask themselves which person they would be in the right circumstance. Villains can question themselves and their motives, similar to a hero, but I would say a larger drawing point for a villain would be their follow-through. A willingness to do ANYTHING to complete their goals, even if it means sacrificing a vital part of themselves to do so, spiritually, mentally, or physically. But just like with a hero, if there is no humanity in their actions and words, they come off as one-dimensional, predictable, and uninteresting. If a villain is one hundred percent evil, the reader can guess everything they are going to do and say in nearly every situation, which is just not compelling for a narrative.

What’s the best writing snack out there?

Biscuits. My preference is chocolate bourbons, but the slightly sweet crunch of a biscuit allows a writer to nibble while they write without completely distracting themselves and having to stop writing to eat it.

Tea or coffee? Maybe soda?

Coffee.

If you could choose any side character from your book to write a spin-off story about – who would it be?

Definitely Cratos Mane, the mentor of the main character in my current series. His past is larger hinted at but never explained in detail. I have a head-cannon about why he is how he is and all the secrets that the book hints at, which will be revealed in small increments; if fans of my book would ever like such an idea, I know I could absolutely write a spin-off book about Cratos. The only struggle then would be just keeping it as one book.

How do you celebrate big achievements?

I am not trying to sound sad here or anything, but I honestly don’t. When I graduated from university or had my 18th birthday, etc., I don’t usually do massive events for myself. I live an extremely active lifestyle with my work, exercising, writing, and personal commitments, so if I ever have the opportunity to celebrate something. I tell people I would prefer to have a relaxing laugh with some friends and a few drinks. I personally appreciate my large achievements in a way that someone appreciates a filled bookshelf with old hardbacks. They are something a treasure deeply but quietly.

What about the small ones?

Probably with a large cheat meal for myself, junk food.

Personal stuff:

Do you prefer stand-alone novels or series as a reader?

Series. Most of the books on my shelves are series or trilogies. One book for me, as a reader, never seems to be enough adventure and story to contain in just one book. I am an extremely greedy reader, and ‘The end’ doesn’t cut it for me as a reader.

Do you ever google yourself?

Yes. Because I am also a comedian as well as an Author, I try and make sure my services as an entertainer are displayed when my name is googled for marketing reasons, as well as checking to see if my work as a writer also appears. Though I would not recommend googling me yourself unless you wish to see me in pink leggings.

Do your family and friends support your writing?

Yes, even if they don’t read it, they still buy my books which I appreciate immensely.

What do you do when not writing?

I work full time to pay bills. I am also a practising martial artist and a fitness freak, exercising every day. I also work as a freelance comedian and have been doing my work as that for around five years now.

Has a book ever made you cry?

Yes, the book that did it was from the Dark Tower series written by Stephen King. Readers of that series probably know what I am referring to.

What book format do you prefer your books to come in?

Hardback makes holding and turning the pages so much easier to read.

What’s your spirit animal?

Can I choose Dragon? If no fantasy animals, then a wolf.
(You can always choose dragon – Tea)

What three words would you use to describe yourself?

Stubborn, ambitious, funny.

Favorite music right now?

Metal and Rock.

Do you have any pets?

No, but in the future, I would love to have multiple Husky dogs as pets.


A big thank you to Dylan Altoft for patiently answering all my questions. And remember to pick up his book – Beast Born – on Amazon.

The Song of the Female Main Character

When you write the FMC

Make sure that she’s everything that she can be.

You have to make her fierce

But not to fierce

You have to make her strong

But not too strong

But most importantly of aaaalllllllll

She must be nice.

When you write the FMC

Make sure that she’s attractive to the MMC

You have to make her sexy

But don’t make her a slut

She has to be a dream in bed

But more than two partners is to much

But most importantly of aaaalllllllll

She must be nice.

When you write the FMC

Make sure she has a sword, a knife or magic abilities.

You have to make her dangerous

But the MMC needs to save her

She has to be a free woman

But dependent on the man

But most importantly of aaaalllllllll

She must be nice.

To write a lovable FMC

Is super easy as you can clearly see

You just have to do as told

But never make her like the others

Make her agreeable to all

But never write a Mary Sue

But most importantly of aaaalllllllll

She must be nice.

Dragonthrone

Summer has been super busy, with loads of travels, visits, and not much time at home to just relax, but the holidays are over, kids are back at school and so am I.

It also means that I have time to go back to really work on my writing projects. The main focus right now is working on the second Tamora Andrews Novel, that finally got a name.

Dragonthrone is set to be published in 2023, and I can’t wait to share it all with you.

There’s still quite a way to go (I’m a bit more than 1/3 of the way through it), but I got a plan, I’m working hard on it, and I’ll get there soon enough.

It feels so good to be back to write about Tamora, and all the crazy things happening in her life. And don’t worry, all your favourite characters will (maybe) be back in book two.

Until the book is out, you can follow the process, read snippets and get updates on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

And remember, if you haven’t read book one, you can pick it up right HERE

Crypt keeper

The gate to the graveyard squeaked as Jonah pushed it open. We both froze, staring into the dark, straining to hear if anyone was coming for us. “Sorry,” he whispered and grabbed the gate more firmly. He heaved the heavy iron up, trying to prevent the rusted metal hinges from rubbing against each other. A shriek filled the night, and the gate toppled over, slamming into the ground with more commotion than a group of ghouls around a freshly buried corpse. I looked at the gate, the twisted hinges, and Jonah.

“Sorry.” He shrugged his massive shoulders, not looking the least sorry.

“You are a blithering idiot.” My ears lay flat against my head, and my tail was twice the size. Going into graveyards at night was risky business. Unfortunately, risky business was kind of our brand of business. I would just prefer it not to be suicidal.

Something flicked near a group of bushes. We both turned to face it.

“Did you ring the meat?” I asked Jonah.

“Of course I did. I’m not completely useless.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a bag. He ripped the plastic, and the stench of rotting meat spread into the night. We both gagged as he threw it toward the bushes. It landed with a wet thud, and the content spilled unto the grass.

We waited, not moving an inch. A dark paw materialized on the grass. The rotting meat moved, pushed around before a chunk of it disappeared. An ear appeared, then a red eye. Some chest and a shoulder. As more meat was eaten, the more corporal the black dog became. When the last piece was consumed, the black dog looked up at us, wagging his tail.

“There’s a good boy,” I said and held out my hand. The black dog walked closer and licked my hand, leaving behind a trail of foul-smelling freezing drool. The guardian dogs of the graveyards were vicious beasts, but thankfully they could be won over.

A bone-chilling cry pierced the night, and the dog looked over his shoulder. He growled, twisted around, and disappeared.

“Okay, time for us to get to work,” I said. We moved deeper into the graveyard.

Before magic crashed into our lives seven years ago, graveyards had been a logical place to bury the dead. The problem with graveyards, though, was that it was a place where a lot of dead people were buried. And magic liked to infect the dead. Graveyards, which had been a place of peace, were transformed into a breeding ground for all kinds of monsters that wanted to kill us. Luckily, graveyards had a natural boundary. They had been considered hallowed ground, and people’s belief in this had shaped the magic when it appeared, creating a ward of sorts that kept most monsters inside.

Most people kept out of graveyards, day or night, and the dead was burned, not buried. But, something was disturbing this specific graveyard. Monsters had left, scarred off. Ghouls had been roaming around, going through peoples’ trashcans. No less than two zombies had been seen walking down main street. Zombies didn’t want your brains, but they carried all sorts of deceases and had a nasty tendency to bite.

“So, where do you think we should look?” I asked.

“The crypt seems like the best bet. It’s the perfect place to hide, and the crypt keeper was found haunting a rose garden yesterday. Apparently, some little old lady had walked out into her rose garden and found a half-rotten skeleton trambling her roses. Instead of running off, she grabbed a shovel and looped the crypt keeper’s head off. When the police arrived, the headless corpse was running around in circles, and the lady was chopping the hissing head into pieces.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. Magic had changed the world a lot, and people had had to learn to deal with the new reality. Some adapted better than others.

The crypt door stood open, and light shone onto the ground. We looked at each other, and I drew my knives. Jonah loosened the great battleaxe he carried on his back and hefted it with one hand, swinging it easily in front of him. It was good to be a half-giant.

We snuck a careful look inside, blinking against the light. I watched the scene unfold, my mouth hanging open. Jonah looked at me, and I saw the same disbelief written on his scarred face that I felt.

“What the fuck?” I mouthed and looked back inside. Seven people, dressed in midnight blue robes, were standing in a circle. A stack of half-rotten bodies lay in the middle. A low hum came from them, and then one of them started to chant.

Oh, dreadful Kalma, you of death
Come to us in our hour of need
Oh, fearless Kalma, you of death
To support and strengthen our claim
Oh, terrible Kalma, you of death…

Right, the idiots were trying to call upon the god of graves because nothing ever went wrong when trying to force gods into existence. Jonah gave a bellow, and we both jumped into the room. The chanting stopped, and seven pairs of frightful eyes looked at us. We both froze Jonah with his axe raised and me with my knives ready. The six ghosts blinked out of existence, leaving the old woman standing alone.

“Mrs. Johnson?” Jonah asked, lowering his axe.

“Hello, my dear.” The old woman said. She pushed the hood back, revealing a mass of silver-grey hair styled into perfect curls.

“What are you doing here?” Jonah asked. I wanted to know too. Old Mrs. Johnson was a sweet, slightly crazy woman who lived near our shop. She had too many cats and often forgot to close her curtains when she walked around naked, but she was sweet as could be.

“Nothing dear, nothing.” She tried to fall into her old lady act, but I saw the gleam in her eyes.

“Jonah,” I said in warning. He nodded. He had seen it too.

The creature that looked like old Mrs. Johnson smiled, revealing rows of sharp teeth. She hissed and struck out unnaturally fast. I hissed at her and grabbed her hand. She might be fast, but I was half cat. Jonah’s axe swung over my head, so close I felt it touch the hairs on the top of my ears. The body tumbled over, and the head fell to the ground in front of me, rolling against my feet and splattered blood all over my shoes.

“Great, thanks, Jonah.” I poked the head with my shoe.

“A skinwalker,” Jonah grumbled. Skinwalkers were nasty creatures, and it meant that old Mrs. Johnson was dead.

“Yeah.” I bent down and grabbed the head by the hair. “Did you bring a bag? We need to deliver this to the station before we can get the money.”

“Did I bring the bag? First, it’s the meat, now the bag. When did I turn into your errand boy?” Jonah held out the bag, and I dumped the head into it.

“Since you bit Hades’ dog, and I had to bail you out, which ruined my date.”

Jonah pushed the stack of rotting corpses with his axe. “They still seem quite dead.”

“Come on, smart ass, I’ll buy you a beer. If I have to stay in here any longer, I might just throw up the dinner you cocked earlier.”

“Hey, no throwing up. That lasagna took me two hours to make.”

I laughed, and Jonah followed me out of the crypt. Bloody shoes and a head in a bag. Just another day’s work.

Cerberus

Writing prompt from Greg Strong on twitter

“Man bites dog”


I stopped in front of the prison bars and looked at my business partner and room mate, Jonah.

“I go on one date, and you end locked up. What the hell where you thinking?”

Jonah sat on the ground, doing his best to look innocent. It almost made me choke on my coffee. Jonah was half Norwegian giant, topped two and a half meters, and a scar pulled his face into a permanent snarl. The eyepatch and roadmap of scar tissue just completed the look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, and crossed his massive arms. My ears twitched and my tail flicked back and forth, a reaction to the anger starting to spike. I took a deep breath. Being mad at Jonah would help nothing. He was my best friend, even if he sometimes had the mind of a five year old.

“You bit Zag’s dog.” I pointed out.

“It snarled at me.” Jonah defended himself.

I wanted to reach in a strangle him. “Let me get this straight. You saw a three headed dog, bound outside a bakery, and you thought you would just walk over and pet it?”

“It looked cute.”

“It’s a three headed dog, the size of a big draft horse, and it has glowing red eyes.”

“It also has a sign around it’s neck that says ‘please, do not pet’.” Zag said. I looked at the half-god who stood leaning against the wall, looking at us with humor in his eyes. I always thought Zag should be ‘more’ but he just looked like any other twenty year old. If I didn’t know his father, I’d never have thought he was the son of the god of the underworld.

“I didn’t see the sign until after.” Jonah got on his feet. “Look, I’m sorry I bit your dog.” Jonah huffed and flexed his fingers. None of us had had an easy life. We never fit into the old world. Too violent and too aggressive. Then magic changed everything. Jonah turned into his true self, and so did I. He was the half giant, and I was the cat hybrid. But we were still very much colored by our pasts, and saying sorry wasn’t easy for Jonah.

“Okay, big guy. Just don’t bite him again.” Zag unlocked the celldoor.

Jonah walked out and I grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s get home. Oh, and you owe me ice cream. I had to leave before dessert.”


If you want to read more about Jonah and Freya? Then read my other writing prompt – Princess Fluffybutt

Wicked Witch Snippet

Wicked with is a dark fantasy about love, loss and the consequences of the choices we make. For the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and promises that should never have been made.

My power traveled the long distance in seconds, and I felt the pulse of something living. Female, happy, laughing. The information burst in my head as I concentrated on that pulse of life. I held out my hand, the flames warming my fingers, and felt the beat of a heart in my palm. I flexed my fingers, felt the rhythm falter, missing a step or two. When I clenched my hand, the heart stumbled, then stopped. Sticky, warm blood ran down my fingers, and the smell of blood
became so intense I could almost taste it. I felt the woman collapsing on the ground, her head hitting the pavement.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened, and then it came. Power rushed through me like a wildfire spreading with the wind. I had paid for the magic with the rabbit’s life, and the woman’s death fed me, and only me. My lungs struggled to draw in air, and it felt like my skin was too tight, and still, the power roared through me, eager to be free, feed, and live. I buried my hands in the ground, pushing the power out until it crashed into the circle’s edge and the natural barrier. The power turned and hit me like a wave, but the force had lessened. There was a good reason witches liked to work in these places.

A growl vibrated through the clearing. I jumped to my feet, knocking over the metal plate and spilling its content on the ground. The fire died, and the connection I had formed died with it. I wrestled with my power, trying to force it back into its cage, but it didn’t go willingly. When it was finally locked away, I felt giddy and drunk, and a laugh broke from my lips as I gathered my things.

The air was crisp, energy surged through my body, making my muscles ache with the need to run. The world looked like the most beautiful place, and that was the danger of using my magic, my power.

There was a reason why I lived out in the middle of nowhere. Magic was addictive, its own sort of high, but it always had its price. If I weren’t careful, the power could drain me and leave me as an empty husk, but not before it killed everything around me.

I had only been a baby when my power took my mother’s life, but she was only the first. The memories of those who had found the same fate as her, tried to push their way into my mind. I shuddered as a chill that had nothing to do with the snow on the ground went through me. I couldn’t go down memory lane. Not now, not ever.

Wicked Witch

So, it happened again. I published another book. I know, it’s absolutely crazy. Third book this year. To be fair I’ve been working on these books in what feels forever, so it was time to let them all go out into the wilderness of published stories.

Wicked Witch is dark fantasy about love, loss and the consequences of the choices we make. For the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and promises that should never have been made.

And it’s been such a roller coaster writing it. It actually started life as a very short novella. Then I decided to add a part two, and then came part three. So now I had three short novellas (this was years ago) and I decided to use them as a “test” to see how self publishing worked. So off they went under a pen name.

They weren’t published long though, because I realised two things.

1 – I needed to work some more on the story and make it into book.

2 – I had a lot to learn about formatting and making a product worth selling.

But, it was finally time to let my baby go, and I’m so happy how it turned out. It’s still a story in three parts, but it’s connected into and sold as one book.

Pick up your copy on Amazon or read it with Amazon unlimited for free.

The Reaper Comes Knocking

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Being part of the Sons of War is everything a man could wish for. Plenty of beer, easy women, and freedom to live on their own terms. But everything is turned upside down when a small, blond woman walks into their life, blowing everything they believe into little bits and pieces.

It started life as a serial novella here on the website, and now it’s available on Amazon and Amazon unlimited.

Thank you for all the support and to all of you who read it from start to finish here on the website.

The Reaper comes Knocking is a MMF Action Romance, with bikers, hitmen, and a healthy dose of violence.