Happy Season

Bluh. What the hell’s the point of a blog if I’m not going to use it?

General Complaints

I work in marketing. People like to start meetings with “housekeeping”. I’m going to start this one with “bitching”.

Comic books are $6 US a pop at my local shop. Six. Apparently, dipshit tariffs have affected the prices of inks and printing services. What a joke.

My football team are still frauds. The Vikings will never be anything other than middling. My hockey team, too. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Wild. I’ve always been a sucker for the home teams in Minnesota. But holy shit do the men’s teams in this state do nothing but let me down. Go Whitecaps! Frost!

I’m letting my beard grow because I want to look like I’m an extra in a John Carpenter movie about homeless veterans in the 80s. It’s in that awkward two to three inch stage, so my neck itches like it’s crawling with bugs. No amount of oil helps.

It’s not lice. Shut up.

Boring Stuff

Complaining aside, it’s officially Autumn now. This makes me a happy camper. I love autumn. Not because I’m really a 90s goth girl at heart, mind you. I love the weather, the colors, the gray clouds (now), and the big purple puffy clouds interspersed with orange sunset at 6PM (October). When I was little, fall on the farm was my escape. I could be out all day and not get overheated or freeze while watching all the animals dashing through the basswoods and pines. Those days were prime folk horror. I was happy then. Happy in the weather, happy to be alone with my headphones and mixtapes, happy in my general ignorance of the wider world. Being a suburbanite adult with a 9 to 5 pales in comparison.

Fun Stuff

For those few of you who read my stuff, you’ve probably noticed that I published something like seven books in the span of two years. Side note: September has been really good for me. I’ve sold four books and have had two complete reads with five-star reviews on KU. Whoever you are, I kiss you on the lips (with consent).

Anywho, I haven’t published anything in over a year and probably will not for another two years. This isn’t because I have nothing to write, it’s because I’m writing a dark(ish) contemporary fantasy trilogy called The End of Forever that I’d like to have completely done by the time I’m ready to publish the first book. It’s currently with beta reader (slash) editor (slash) manuscript goblin who is hissing at me until it's readable. And, honestly, there are some parts of the overall trilogy that have gotten a little complicated. I need to work backward as well as forward to make sure the foreshadowing and the parallel structures and character arcs and every other damn thing actually match up across all three books. It's a pain in the ass, but I’m excited about it. It’s also going to kick off a more ambitious project of six to nine books that will most likely take me the rest of my natural life to write, tentatively titled What the Hell am I Doing? I Don’t Know.

I’ll tell you more about The End of Forever next month. I want to get some artwork done for it first, so you have something to look at. I wish it was cover art, but I think my cover artist isn’t interested in the long wait anymore. Sorry Camille.

On the horror side of things, I've got some tentative ideas for follow-ups to Hot Demon Bitches Near You and Offerings to the Flower Moon and Gingerbread. Maybe they'll blossom into something. I miss the catharsis of writing superfluous and horrifyingly graphic violence against fictional characters.

Men will do anything but go back to therapy, right?

Happy Autumn!