0 comments on "Attack of the Self-Entitled Woman"

My brother is pretty heated right now. Like to the point that if that woman shows up again he’s probably going to chuck a rock through her car window.

I know that sounds pretty bad, but here’s the story:

Yesterday I was sitting on the porch minding my own business with my dog at my side. A red car drives down the hill and stops next to the lilac bush next to our driveway. I thought the driver was just making a phone call or something, until I started hearing the click-click of clippers.

I yelled at her to “Hey, stop! That’s our bush!” But she just clipped faster. Then I got to her car and I start yelling at her, and she pulls out the “I didn’t know anyone lived here. I just thought it was a vacant lot. I was just picking some of these for my sick daughter and blah blah blah.”

I was so pissed off, but there wasn’t anything I could do short of pulling her out of her car and beating her up. Which if you know me, would never happen. Damn my passive-aggressive tendencies.

I’m more the kind of person that will avoid personal confrontration, then lay out a bunch of caltrops and metal spikes to mess up her car if she thinks she’s going to do that again. Already we’re planning to put some heavy rocks there so no one will have room to park. It was already annoying enough that people thought it was cool to use our driveway as their phone break stop.

Anyways, my brother got back today and went to look at the bush and he’s really mad. He says people have cut off all the flowers on the side facing the street, just big chunks cut off.

I know someone out there is like “Well, it’s just a bush. The flowers will grow back next year.” Unfortunately, there’s a good chance that because of the damage our bush won’t be rounded and nice to look at anymore, but all spiky and ugly.

So thanks lady. I’m sure you won’t be upset when I come to your house and just take whatever I want. I’ll use the lame excuse that my dog is sick and needs some flowers/garden hoses/hubcaps/planters and I’m sure you’ll be all cool with that.

And by the way, she was driving a brand new expensive car. Like expensive enough that she could have totally afforded buying some flowers. She just thought she could help herself.

And she brought her own clippers to do it.

So be on the lookout for a fake redhead woman, about 50-65, slender build, fake attitude, dresses like she thinks she’s going boating. And just to let you know, she is going to be dying a series of gruesome deaths for the next several years, and if I do a good enough job, she might even recognize herself.

Witch King at Amazon
0 comments on "NOVEL: The Panic Pure, by Harper Kingsley [mm suspense] – Chapter Fourteen"

Title: The Panic Pure
Author: Harper Kingsley
Genre: mm suspense thriller
Rating: mature

Summary: Daniel Worth, billionaire and CEO of Worth Enterprises is questioned by FBI agent Marshal Newman about the disappearance of one of his employees. They strike up a conversation and soon are regularly meeting and begin dating. However neither realizes just how close danger is lurking.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Some part of him had insisted that having Marshal move in would be a disaster. There would be fighting and despair and he would run away to join Arthur in the guesthouse. Everything would degenerate into something from a soap opera and he would get the crazy idea of wanting someone in his life out of his system once and for all. He would settle into the idea of being a lonely hermit and it would be fine.

Danny was happy to be proven wrong. He couldn’t help feeling a touch grateful that he’d met Marshal. He didn’t think there was anyone else that could have fit so perfectly into his world as Marshal had.

It almost made him start believing in predestination. He and Marshal had always been meant to meet and fall for each other. They slotted into each other’s lives so easily that Danny barely even noticed the changes that appeared in his routine. It was strangely natural.

The first week passed with admirable smoothness as everything clicked together. And he was happy.

“What’s with that smile?”

Danny twitched and sat up straight, trying to school his face into blankness. Arthur didn’t seem to buy it from his raised eyebrows in the rearview mirror.

Continue Reading NOVEL: The Panic Pure, by Harper Kingsley [mm suspense] – Chapter Fourteen
Panoply at Amazon
0 comments on "Forgot a basic truth until I remembered"

So while I was quietly freaking out, it took me until last night to remember these are self-imposed deadlines with only one of the three really, no contest having to happen.

That’s part of my problem. I put too much stress on myself instead of holding to the old adage of “Slow and steady wins the race.”

I’ve never liked the idea of being slow, but steady is the perfect pace. As long as something is happening each day, a story will build itself up, the words will add up, and suddenly a novel will appear.

It’s like magic beans. Something worthless becomes something invaluable. It just needs a chance to grow.

500 words a day x 5 days = 2500 words a week.
2500 words x 4 weeks = 10,000 words a month.
10,000 words x 12 months = 120,000 words.

Sometimes there’s this urge to do everything at once and force a story to submit, but that just doesn’t work. The words come at a slow trickle and refuse to be rushed. Work with that. Gather up what’s willing to be said and build up what you can. Don’t waste the productivity just because a story hasn’t possessed your fingers like Stephen King and decided to be written all in a day.

Seriously, I’ve had that happen before. A story took over and seemed to write itself, 20,000 words in less than five hours. It was like flying. But that kind of thing is rare.

Writing is work. Fun work a lot of the time, but still work.

It’s like building a house. You assemble the pieces, follow a plan, then get down to putting it all together. It’s just that with writing, you have to make the bricks first.

And I’ve been pressuring myself so much to have a finished product that I haven’t been able to focus on putting it together. So what does that mean?

I’m going back to basics. I’m working on this story until it’s done, not until a specified date. I’m finishing up my proofing. I’m editing my story. I’m letting my creativity have some freedom instead of stifling it.

And from the look of things, there should be three written novels in the next month, two edited novels, and that fanfic thing we don’t talk about (even though I’m quietly squeeing at the awesome.)

Stop stressing about writing as much or more than anyone else. Write like yourself at your own pace. All the agonizing is supposed to happen with the editing, not with your first draft.

The first draft is supposed to be fun times with characters you love, or love to hate.

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Read slashy plotty mm stories free at Kimichee

The Way of the Househusband 01 at Amazon
0 comments on "Social anxiety is hell"

Social anxiety is one of those things where people don’t believe you have an issue. There’s always this sense of “Get over it.”

If that were possible, I wouldn’t have it.

I posted on some forums and now I’m stressing out because no one’s responded. And I’m not really scared of what they’ll say, because most people don’t go out of their way to be jerks.

No, I’m afraid I’ve made a fool of myself on the internet again. Just the thought of thousands of people judging me and deciding I’m terrible makes me afraid. I start sweating and I get nervous and my stomach churns with acid. I can’t stand the idea of being hated even by people I don’t know.

And do you know what helps? Talking about what I’m afraid of. Then step-by-step I work my way through why my fears are ridiculous. And then I think of some things that I can do if the worst happens.

1. There’s billions of people in the world. Why am I bothered by a few that I will never meet? And besides, not that many people visit this forum and that doesn’t mean any of them will care about the topic.

2. Everyone makes mistakes. Delete it if it’s bad, otherwise don’t worry about it. If someone asks what I meant, I’ll just explain or not respond. Seriously, who I talk to is my choice, and that includes not answering if I’m not comfortable.

It’s people that try to come up with excuses that end up building a castle of lies and get into trouble. Just don’t say anything.

3. Don’t feed the trolls.

4. I sounded like an asshole, but even if it became big news on the internet for some reason, a surprising amount of people don’t care. Just be cool, keep my head down, most everything blows over
eventually.

Seriously, social anxiety disorder is hell. But it’s liveable, manageable hell.

* * *

Read slashy stories at Kimichee.

Pick up a copy of “From Diamond to Coal: Arc One,” by Sol Crafer. A mm superscience novel. Meet. Marriage. Murder.