The Christian, The Witch, & Me.

How is it that as a Christian you write so much about witchcraft? Well, 1^st thing I am not a Christian, I am God fearing. Two very different things … topic for a different day.

But back to the question at hand…

This is a question that I oftentimes struggle to answer, when people expressed how much they love the character of Inanna priestess in The Spectrum Trilogy I was genuinely surprised as she is the most wicked of all.  

A few years ago I found a posted review that read in part: “This is a book that holds high the power of the Mother – not just as a biological imperative, but as a title that must be earned.” Reading the rest of that review was difficult because I was in tears. It struck a chord with me but it really doesn’t answer the question. And if you had asked me just yesterday why it became so emotional I wouldn’t have been able to answer you.

But that was yesterday.

Today while scrolling thru Facebook I saw a meme that read: We⭐Intend⭐To⭐Create⭐Havoc What and who exactly is a WITCH? This question was asked by the owner of Thehoodwitch.com and as The Darkness and The End is Now continue to make the rounds and I am yet again receiving emails asking about my Christianity coexisting with my very limited knowledge of the occult I was immediately drawn in.   

She says, "Why have young women today taken an interest into witchcraft, paganism, or the occult?" The answer is complex and also quite simple: We are returning back to the ways that are true to us. Invoking the power as the life givers, the oracles, the healers, the wild women, the Goddesses. We are reclaiming what has already been living inside of us. People are attracted to witchcraft (I'm using this term loosely as an umbrella for pagan methods of healing.) often times for the wrong reasons. They've seen silly television shows or movies and think that magick will be just like that. Yet there are also others with reasonable basis for their attraction to witchcraft, the desire to return back to a path that honors nature, acknowledges the potent forces of sexuality in our lives, and the desire to question the failures of organized religions, examining the lies of patriarchy, and most importantly the desire to learn mastery of self. Learning ancient techniques of meditation and healing.”

Witchcraft and the power of the Mother. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Invoking the power as the life givers, the oracles, the healers, the wild women, the Goddesses. The women. And just like that, even though I didn’t know it, there’s the answer, my answer to the question of why I write so much about witchcraft.

I get it, because like she said often times people are attracted to witchcraft for the wrong reasons, and because I am first and foremost a horror writer the things Inanna is doing with her power is terrifying, made worse so because she is Adam’s mother.

Unfortunately my late ex-dad was not the prince she thought he was. It was too late when she realized that she had married the beast. I was very young we when escaped. Thankfully my younger siblings do not remember the things that I saw.

I don’t blame God for when bad things happen to good people. God gave us all free will and there’s no point in blaming Him when people wanna show their ass and not act right. When people wrong us we can either respond in kind or try and the high road on the narrow path of righteousness. Of course me, being so young, unreasonable, and unaware I wanted, wished that mother would respond in kind. As an elder, as a mother, as a healer my mom knew better.

But what I was acutely aware of, even at that young age is that when we finally broke free it was the women who snuck us out, gave us shelter, and paid for the train ticket. When we got to my grandmother’s house it was the women, my mom’s sister and her friends who took us in and built the first wall of protection around us. Things didn’t get easier for a long, long time but thru it all it was always the women who saw my mother and her children thru.   

The life givers, the oracles, the healers, the wild women, the Goddesses. The Mother.

I remember once being downstairs and seeing my mom surrounded by her friends and her big sister, my aunt Lady B who use to talk to the moon, they were all sitting on the floor around the fireplace. They were laughing, drinking, smoking, and talking about the things grown women talk about. I remember thinking that they were stronger than God. I remember that feeling like it was yesterday, and just like then it sends chills down my spine. Being God fearing, even as a kid thinking that, it felt blasphemous. It’s a reoccurring and a troubling thought, one I always comfort myself with Mathew 18:20 For where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them. Being within a coven of women feels sacred, safe, and powerful. So over the years I have reasoned with myself with the thought that maybe the reason I thought they were stronger than God is because only when engulfed within the coven of other women is when I truly feel His presence.   

E.Jong, author of "WITCHES" said "We claim that God is raceless and genderless, yet we visualize God as White and male to such a degree that the very notion of a Black, Female God is enough to raise guffaws in response to a hardy, perennial joke.”

It’s a tough place to be, believing in both God and The Goddess, having empathy and sympathy for both Lilith and Eve.

"5,000 years ago our ancestors worshipped the supreme Goddess, the queen of Heaven. It has taken several years of millennia of warfare, genocides, holocaust, idol-smashing, book burnings, and deliberate rewriting of myths and legends for the "Father-God" Jahweh and his son Jesus, to be finally enthroned in our minds and our imaginations."- Erica Jong

The GODDESS has never left, and she still reigns supreme. She cannot be eradicated! And as long as man (and woman, too) is BORN of woman she will never lose influence over our lives. These are the words of the hood witch that hammered it home.

The Goddess and the Oracle. The Priestess and the Healer. The life givers. The Mothers. My mother. After everything she did, after everything she didn’t, after everything she gave to ensure that my siblings and I would be here, the things she did to keep us safe … there is no way that there wasn’t any magic involved, a force which is blessed by a higher authority. No way in Hell.

The power of God is the force of the magic that is bestowed upon the Mother. And that is why as a God fearing woman I write so much about The Witch.

After everything my mother did, how dare I not?

It would almost be blasphemous not to.

Live Action Reviews! by Crystal Connor: Flowers

Live Action Reviews! By Crystal Connor

 

At 7:30 pm on April 3rd 2016, Crystal Connor, brought home a pizza flopped on the couch, wrapped herself and the dog in a blanket and picked up her remote.

This is the unedited journal chronicles the harrowing experience that her neighbors endured for hours as she screamed, cried, and shouted expletive obscenities at her television as she watched Phil Stevens indie horror film Flowers…

 

Reader discretion is Advised

Entry 1: At least she’s smart enough not to scream and stay where she is.

Entry 2: So basically she was for dead

Entry 3: Guess Buffalo Bill wasn't the only one into thick chicks…

Entry 4: How are you gonna get thru there, and are you sure you even want to?

Entry 5: Just calm down, you’re not safe yet!

Entry 6: Why is there no pain?

Entry 7: Ok, now wait a second here.

Entry 8: What the fuck dude, go if you’re going! Goooooo!

Entry 9: No, don’t just stay right there, he’ll see you.

Entry 10: Fucking A! No one fucking listens

Entry 11: Ok, seriously what the fuck, is this purgatory

Entry 12: She’s not going to be able to eat all of that…

Entry 13: Well, I’ll be damned

Who would like it: This is pretty extreme but if you got through A Serbian Film you should be ok. But it’s not really fair to compare Flowers to Serbian because unlike the latter Flowers isn't just shocking for the sake of being shocking.   

Overall / High Points: I think watching horror movies should be an ‘interactive’ activity (which is why I watch them alone) and the more I yell at the people on the screen the more fun I’m having. I’m a tough customer and I can be pretty unforgiving when it comes to the myopic way in which I prefer to be entertained, so before you get the wrong idea by the small number of entries, let me just say right off the bat that I really liked this movie. The trick now becomes trying to figure out how to tell you why…

Watching Flowers was like watching The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, or maybe more like Alraune, but again Flowers really isn't a silent film. I mean it is but it’s a little bit more than that because there is absolutely no dialogue. Which is one of the things I really like, and is the main reason I am having trouble trying to explain this movie.

The narrator in this film is your imagination which means it will be different for every single person who sees it. Because no one is talking the heroines in this movie bring it, they have to, the lighting and the way Flowers is filmed is very Hitchockian which only serves to add to the distress, so your stuck right there with them, trying to figure out what the hell is going on right along with them.  

My favorite scene is with the last girl in the vanity/dressing room, it was as if you could actually hear her international dialogue. At 1^st I thought she realized her situation but then tried to change it and save herself. It left me thinking that she had become both the doctor and the monster, but then when the scene fades from present to a flash back I was pissed off at her because I thought it was all her fault. Throughout Flowers, the women are clinging to a photograph, all of those pictures are in her room. And during the flashback all of the women are together in the same room, she’s the last to enter. The other women disappear one by one after being shown what circumstances lead them to this chance encounter, but as the end credits began to roll I wasn't so sure of my assessment.   

Gore Factor: I am going to say 3, it’s not so much gore than it is muck.

Scariness Factor: Zero. Flowers isn’t scary, it’s fascinating.

Complaints: N/A

Stars: 5

The Suspense is Killing Me!

As an indie horror/scifi/dark fantasy film I accept direct messages for review request, and I get to cherry pick the ones I review for Horror Addicts but sometimes I am flat out told which movie I will be reviewing for Horror Addicts. Despite the fact that I quasi bitch and moan when this happens I actually like being assigned films, because every single one of them are movies that I wouldn’t have picked if left to my own devices.

The latest film assigned to me is Phil Stevens’ LUNG II (here’s the official Facebook page) I usually stream the movies I review but this time my mailing address was requested which can only mean I am getting a DVD and possibility some art work and/or a T shirt (just in case I’m a size XL) so much for being subtle …lol

Anyway, I LOVE DVDs, I even have an old school DVD Netflix accounts because one of the things I love the most are the DVD extras so I am keeping my fingers crossed for a bunch of behind the scenes goodies.

Another thing I am looking forward too is the movie itself. The LUNG II team was being very vague, almost secretive in regards to sharing the synopsis or reveling the plot. I love this tactic as a way to build suspense. When I am assigned a movie I don’t watch the trailer or read any reviews and the fact that they are doing this deliberately pipes more than just general interest. There are reviews out for both LUNG II and FLOWERS but I am avoiding them like the plague as clearly the director wants film viewers to experience these movies with an open mind and virgin senses.

I am more than happy to oblige! I will keep you all posted and will also do an unboxing with my review!

The Magazine Lifestyles of the Starving Artist

For those of you who are following me on Instagram must think I am just rolling in the funds, but trust me I’m not…it just looks like it. I’m always jokingly tell my sister and friends that I want the life I lead on social media lol.

Being a working author is awesome but trying to earn a living while still growing a fan base can be exceptionally challenging, especially when sales are lean. So the point of these series of blog posts will be to share my secrets, tips, and tricks on how to treat yourself to the finer things in life without being fiscally irresponsible.

Since most of the pix I post of are me dining out, why don’t we kick off this series with food!

This culinary deal of the day was found at the Dollar Store: Jamaican Chicken Patties.

Ok so 1^st off these are not patties, they are meat filled pastries, so I’m not sure why they’re calling them patties. This is bigger than a hot pocket, the directions say to microwave it but I decided to cook it in the oven instead.  

 

 

 

 

The crust is very flakey and flavorful. Try to imagine if CheezIts were made with real butter and that’s what it taste like. The filling is surprisingly spicy, if you think the Taco Bell fire sauce is hot, then this would be too spicy for you to enjoy.

 

 

The filling is meat and veggies but it’s really blended so that the contrasting textures of the chicken and vegetables are gone but for what it is, its not really a bad thing.

 

Wanting to stay in the island theme of the meal I paired it with a Bai5 Bubbles in Peru Pineapple. I snagged this from my sister who bought them from an online store called boxed. Each can ends up being $1.60 which is cheaper than buying them individually at a specialty store.

 

 

 

This infusion drink isn’t overly sweet and is the perfect paring for this spicy pastry.

 

At $2..60 this 430 calorie meal is one I will be having again but next time I think I’ll have it with a spinach and strawberry salad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remembering The Importance of the Fairy Tales

Today I was reading a thread on Facebook in which the originator is not in a safe place. The immediate and permanent solution to this problem is jumping on a plane. But the person says they are afraid to fly. Naturally this has cause some strong words, disbelief and a roar of push back. And I too was pissed off when I read that. But before I responded I wanted to 1^st try and figure out why that made me so mad.

So I reread what they wrote it again. Fear. Ok. Fear. I make a living ensuring people don’t sleep well at night so I thought about it for a sec.

Fear. If this person was a character of mine what would I do to them to make the reader turn on the lights? What would I have to do to make the reader think about them long after the story ended? What if it were me?

A few months ago there was this meme floating around that showed a bug infested bathroom and asked ‘Would you spend the night here for 10 million dollars?’ My answer was not only no, it was fuck you, kiss every inch of my ass, no! Now that I am thinking about it, would I be able to do this wearing a bee suit? No. What if I wore a self-contained Hazmat suit, with the lights turned off and wearing headphones and listening to music? That would only make it worse because I would where I was and what was with me, and anyone who has read any of my books knows the very last place one should be left in the dark with is with my imagination.  

Ok. Let’s ask me this way. If it meant not only saving my life but also the life of someone I loved would I be able to do it then? If we’re going to be brutally honest here, the answer is still most likely no. At this point if the person who was with me knew me, which they would because they love me, would be frantically trying to come up with an alternative route to survival. Because if that bathroom was the only option Sean would be right, we would both be fucked and that’s just the honest to God’s truth.

 

Click here for the Sean reference.

Sean was right

And it was at this point when I realized why I was so pissed off about this post. The people who know this person immediately took the bee line to the alternative route. Now just to back up a bit, this person is outside of the United States and what’s putting them in danger is not considered a crime where they are.

However…

This person is an American, and the person who is causing the unsafe living conditions has dual citizenship. What’s being done is a crime on American soil, and there is an American Embassy in the country that they are in. Though in a foreign country, on the other side of those gates is American soil.  It’s not a permanent solution but it is an immediate one. And it’s not like a “Not without my daughter” scenario either because the people who know where this person is have posted Google images and MapQuest directions … it’s on the bus line!

This person has a HUGE pool from which to pull resources, the last I checked there were more than 700 comments, and a few hundred sub conversations. A lot of people have offered to pay or chip in to pay for an international flight, one person booked a hotel room.

Does this person jump on the bus? No. You read that right. No. Did they check into the hotel? No.

Instead they are making excuse after excuse why these aren’t viable options while with the next breath stating how terrified they are.

And I am left to wonder if this is a cry for help or the cry of the wolf, and I am not the only one. According to what’s being said by the people who care about this person what’s being said, at least part of it is true. Which means things are only going to get worse. This person is a critical point here because people are starting to shake their heads and express their frustration.

This person needs to desperately remember ‘The boy who cried wolf” because when things get worse, the help that’s being offered now may not be extended.

No, we are not children anymore and we realize that leaving breadcrumbs is not the best navigation method when trekking through the back country. But still, it would be behoove of us to remember that Grandma did not have such big teeth...   

I can totally explain...

Oh my gosh, its been so long since I updated my blog I forgot my password … lol, but see what had had happened was.

 

I know, I totally fail at keeping my blog updated but hopefully most of you are following me on my Facebook fan page, Twitter, and or Instagram. For those of you who aren’t the two biggest reasons I haven’t been on top of my blog game are:

The 1^st is that I had to break my lease and have the VA help me with an emergency move. The guy next door started using and then selling meth from his apartment, and towards the end it got really bad like Breaking Bad with a side of Sons of Anarchy bad. I was beyond stressed out, wasn’t getting any sleep let alone getting any writing done and updating my social media was the furthest thing from my mind =(  But I moved into an amazing safe place that’s close to my mom’s. I am not totally settled in yet, but I am sleeping way, way better and I’ve started writing again and let me tell you its about damn time!

The 2^nd reason is actually kinda cool. I have been on the road promoting and marketing basically since March and it has been A-fucking-mazing! I have met so many kick ass people that its just unreal. Here are the links for the albums posted on my fan page =D
LA Book Signing 2015

World Horror Con & Coca Cola World ATL

Seattle Crypticon 2015

Rose City Comic Con

 

Let me tell you one thing about self-promoting. It is a beast! It is absolutely sink or swim, there’s no middle ground where you can just float or dog paddle, it is absolutely sink or swim. For me I always just jump in to things head 1^st in the deep end. These last few months has taught me a lot. Five years and 11 publications later all of my visual branding is uniform. My convention theme color is grey (because I’m from Seattle) because my brand is my name and not the logo I swapped the T from Crystal with an ax and the last O from Connor with a skull. w/the tag line A Trusted Name in Terror. From now on this is how I will display it on promotional material. Bad ass uh?

 

This year I offered two tour shirts (one was red, the other grey) that I sold at my booths and book signings, but as far as the sales went one did not out sell the other so I’m not sure which one was the favorite.

 

However, I updated my logo and this is the 1^st time that I’ve debuted it. Ta-Da!

I am so in love with this logo so moving forward this logo will be on a dark grey tee at every convention and book signing and since people liked both of the tees above I will continue to sell those but not both at the same event. That way not everyone is walking around in the same tee and it will help stretch out my inventory.

I’ve also have been working really hard on the branding for In the Foothills of Mt. Empyreal The End is Now, one of the books I wrote with Lori Titus. Even though I am the one who designed these images I really can’t dominate the visual message, so to keep all of my visual branding uniform I included a skull to anchor it to my brand. These books were published in 2014 but I have been working on these logos all this time to get them just right, and I am going to say that it seems like all of my hard work has paid off because they are just as gorgeous as the ones I did for the Crystal Connor logos

 

Tee #1

Tee #2

 

 

 

 

 

 



The Back of Both



Oh my Gosh! I forgot to tell you! On Oct 31^st 2015 which is only 38 days away I will be a vendor and a guest panelist at my very 1^st international convention!!! Dudes! Its in Canada and all the proceeds goes to charity! How awesome is that!
 IFcon Victoria

I am so super excited plus I thought that would be the last con of the year but its not because the weekend of the 13^th I am heading back to Portland for The Living Dead Con! Dudes, this has been one hell of a year.

Living Dead Con

 

I am currently working on two new books and securing dates for my 2016 convention and film festival and I have something big simmering on the back burner but I don’t want to mention it yet because I don’t want to jinx it

Well I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, just wanted to touch base and let you all know what I’ve been up to <3 o:p="" ttyl="">

 

 

 

Things to big to see

You know how sometimes things are so big it takes a few weeks, sometimes months to see or understand the enormity of it. Take for example Hurricane Katrina. We all knew it was going to be bad because it was being called a super-storm but most of us didn't ‘get it’ until we saw pix of the Superdome and heard reports about people being shot and killed over water. Yet still, we didn't get it, get it until we watched Spike Lee’s When the Levees Broke.

Running in the science fiction and horror circles that I run in, I cannot count the number of times I've heard black women talk about how seeing Uhura (played by Nichelle Nichols) on Star Trek changed their lives. That didn't happen with me. For one I didn't see myself in Uhura because in my young logic, you had to be smart to work on a spaceship and I always struggled in school. And two I was a Battleship Galactica & Buck Rogers kid.

But I did have an ‘Uhura moment.’

I was 20 and watching Tales from the Darkside: The Movie … the segment was Lover’s Vow. When Carola (played by Rea Dawn Chong) appear in the alley I literary sat up. I saw me in her, she was black, well-spoken … and beautiful. I know that sounds vain but you know what I mean. A black woman in a horror movie who looked like me. And she was the star, it was her story and I was so mad at how it ended I turned the movie off. But then I turned it back on after my popcorn was done … lol

When Lucy Cruell first contacted me about being a part of this project back in April I immediately said yes. I knew it was going to be a big deal, I mean 7 black female horror author’s having their stories adapted for film and those short movies being directed by 7 black female directors …come on, that’s a no-brainer. But I didn't ‘get it’ I want to say it was because I was focused on gearing up for World Horror Con in Atlanta followed by Crypticon here in Seattle. But the truth of the matter is, I just didn’t get it.

But like my elders say, You gon learn today!

Rea Dawn Chong, the woman I saw on the big screen in a horror movie who gave me my Uhura moment is one of the directors for 7 Magpies. My name is mentioned in the same sentence as Rea Dawn Chong. 

Rea. Dawn. Chong.

And not only that, last night, though it was announced on May 16^th, I found out that the Executive Producer is Stacy Pippi Hammon. And as amazing as this is, this is just my seeing the Superdome moment.

Now that I've had some time to let this settle itself around me, I realize that if not for bestselling author Sumiko Saulson, Lucy Cruell wouldn’t have even heard of me.

Sumiko and I spent the most hectic, stressful, amazing weekend together in Los Angeles on a book signing tour and the next thing you know I am being contacted by Lucy Cruell.

I have illusions of grandeur and an ego you can see from space. (yes I meant to use the word illusions) Sumiko has both of her feet firmly planted in the soils of reality, yet after spending an entire weekend with me she doesn't think of me as some garden-variety self-centered, overconfidant megalomaniac who wants to control the world. Bear in mind I want to dethrone Stephen King so that I can reign supreme in the horror genre … and I said that out loud. More than once.

And like my mom and those in my closest, tightest circle she believes in me. She didn't tell me that. She didn't tell me how brave I was for quitting my job to write full time. She passed my name along. That’s all she did. And it feels exactly the same as when my sister secretly paid my light bill, the exactly the way it felt when my BFF bought me $200.00 worth of groceries and then hung out with me at the laundry matt, supplying the quarters that would ensure clean, dry clothes.

Exactly the same.   

Rae Dawn Chong Headlines ‘7 Magpies’ - All-Black Female Director Horror Anthology Film    

Sumiko Saulson

No, exposure doesn't pay the rent, but...

This is a hot button topic, and often a point of contention among writers, but I have seen some authors lose their shit on various social media sites over the audacity of some publications and small press publications who have calls for submissions but do not pay for the stories accepted, the argument being that being a writer is a job and those of us who work in this industry deserved to get paid for our work. After all you wouldn't ask a plumber, a doctor, or an IT Tech to work for free…

Now before we get started, I am NOT telling you what to do but simply sharing where I stand on this issue and why.

As someone who walked away from a > $50K a year job, I get it. Trust me I do, I need all the money coming in that I can get. As someone who has to budget to the dime I can no longer afford to buy a brand new book several times a month and when I do buy books I buy them from the 2^nd hand bookstore but last year things got so tight that I started contacting other author’s to request bartering and book trades. Luckily almost everyone I asked agreed (even the authors who have careers I dream of having one day and probably never even heard of me before reading my unsolicited email.)

From the very beginning I've always said I wanted legions of fan, but I also understood that having an enormous fanbase wouldn't necessarily equal mountains of sales. Now this might come as a surprise to you but I am a huge Stephen King fan…lol The 1^st Stephen King book I read was IT, I was in the 7^th grade and I borrowed it from my BFF. The 1st Stephen King book I bought was nine years later when I was in the Navy.  

I really do want people to read my work even if I don’t get paid, which is why all of my eBooks can be shared and everything in print can be checked out at the library. I am featured in four other anthologies that are not my own and submitted to those for the sole purpose of getting exposure. The reason I made that decision was based on my own budget buying, when I cannot afford to buy a book from an author I’m a fan of I buy anthologies, it’s a lot of bang for your buck and I've ‘met’ some incredible authors from reading anthologies.

I also have a forever free audiobook version of my own collection …And They All Lived Happily Ever After!  

One of the questions I am often asked in interviews is what advice would I give other emerging authors. My answer, if you stay true to your, art your art will stay true to you.

As of 8:30 this morning on April 17^th 2015 for this quarter I have earned $71.68 from my free audiobook. $5.83 more than from the sales from the premium version available on Audible, Amazon & iTunes.

There’s no way for me to track how much exposure I've received by allowing anthologies and websites to publish my stories without being financially compensated and the books available on Podiobooks are free but there is a ‘tip jar.’ The default tip amount is $4.99 but you can tip as little or as much as you want. And leaving a tip is not required.

As an author only you can decide how much your work is worth, and whether or not you’ll work for free. Lord knows I know that ‘exposure’ doesn't pay the rent...but it did, however, just pay the light bill. 

Mid-week Mini Movie: Chatter

A rare non horror movie review

I usually do not review films outside of the horror or its subgenres but Emeriah Rich of Horror Addicts dot net supports writer/director Omar Haro and asked me to review this film.

Hearts&Kisses is a really good example of how a director can use the setting make the most out of a small budget and a limited time frame. Clocking in at just 14 minutes and 45 seconds the setting does all the heavy lifting, just sixty seconds in and you already know that this is a Christian household and this sets the tone for the strange little story that follows perfectly.

Hearts&Kisses tells the love story of Richie and Liz. They are a fairly young couple and their feelings for each other and the way interact with each other is genuine, tender, goofy, and awkward.

Surrounded by the icons of their faith, with her parents, and brothers, away Liz decides that tonight should be their big night, despite that they are still probably a year or two away from their wedding night. Of course Richie is delighted! But God is watching and Richie has a secret.

The pacing and storytelling of this micro-mini-movie is really good. The ending, if it could be called that, will leave you questioning what the hell it was you just watched but I am not going to fault it for that. I am going to give this one 3 out of 5 stars. Enjoy!

This is what I wanted...

One of the things I quickly got used to when I made the transition from being a ‘signed’ author to a self-published author was, is, that I have complete control over everything I do. Everything. I would be lying if I told you that it wasn't downright terrifying AND stressful but for me it’s worth it because when it works, it really works, and when something I do doesn't it’s a hard learned lesson.

One of the things that I did that hasn't been done before is the way I layout the interior of my anthology. The table of contents is hand written, it’s laden with graphic elements but it’s not a graphic novel. I knocked that shit out of the park! I’m really happy with the way it turned out because having an anthology of my own short stories is basically the gateway drug to the nightmares I create. I know I am not going to be your only horror dealer but I have every intention of becoming a reliable one.

The problem with the layout though is that the format does not translate well into a eBook, which left me reeling because not everyone is willing to spend $14.99 on an up-and-coming-author and at that time most of my royalties’ were coming from digital sales. So even though I had a kick ass print version I felt like I fucked myself because in order to convert it into a digital format the graphics would have to be removed and that wasn't an option because that would completely change the tone of the stories.

So just as I was coming to terms with the fact that I had cut myself off from all the ‘gadget guys’ I met a woman named Kay Richards. And over the next two years this amazing woman that God had sent my way produced two audiobooks for me. A forever free version that is available on Podiobooks and a premium version that can be purchased on Audible/Amazon/iTunes

The free version went live in Dec ’14 and as of this posting has been downloaded more than 33K x, dudes, really? So mind-blowing I’m still kind of pinching myself, and top of that two people have donated despite the fact that it’s absolutely free. I was so moved by that I actually cried…both times.

So fast forward to right now and my control issues. Ok so Createspace is the self-publishing platform for Amazon, and the only thing you can not do is set the price of your paperback below the price it cost to print it. Fair enough. The platform for self-publishing audio books for Amazon is ACX (Audiobook creation exchange) I have no control, none whatsoever, no say at all, over how Audible sets the prices for the audiobooks. So when the premium went live on Feb. 19^th with a sale price of $19.95 Audible members I panicked.

Quitting your job in order to make your dreams come true is insane, hard, and oftentimes ill-advised. There a months were I have to budget to the dime and I mean to the dime. I know how important book sales are but even still I buy my books from a 2^nd hand store and at the end of last year I started bartering books with other authors, some who are far well off than I am. Buying a brand new book is something I have to save up for. As of right now I cannot afford to spend $19.95 on a paperback, let alone on an audiobook.

So, just as I was coming to terms that at least I have a free version of the audiobook, I check my sales report. I sold 12 premium audiobooks in 9 days. I’m paid 40% royalties’ and even after taxes I earned $103.57. Me, more than 100 dollars in just nine days. Selling stories.

Me.

I am an emotional wreck right now. This is what I wanted, but now that it’s happening I can’t believe it. I’m afraid that at any moment now I’m going to wake up. I've cried, did my happy dance, checked the sales report more than a dozen times to make sure I’m looking at it right…this is the most amazing thing ever! Like I am drowning in a sea of love and support, not really drowning more like bobbing gently in the warm tide.

I just can’t thank everyone enough, I just can’t. I’m going to take a nap now because I really can’t think but the only thing I want to do is to continue to be worthy of your time and support, this is really the most amazing day and it’s all because of you.

Thank you, you guys. I really mean it, thank you…

Here is the link for the forever free version of
Free Version of And They All Lived Happily Ever After!

And here is the link to the premium version with bonus material not heard on Podibooks

Premium Version of And They All Lived Happily Ever After!

I've been fan fictioned!

This morning I got an email note from another blogger who asked me to check out his blog because the latest post was inspired by events that took place in Artificial Light.

I’ve been writing for a while now and some of the most contentious on-line wars I’ve ever seen have been over fan-fiction. I never entered any of those flame war conversations because both sides make really good points which left me wandering someplace in the middle.

I always wondered how I would feel if I had ever been ‘fan-fictioned’ and now that it’s happened I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m pretty stoked! It was written by blogger Craig Whibley and you can read it here:

Quake by Craig Whibley

Now don’t get me wrong, if I had found out about this via a multimillion dollar budget movie trailer I might not be skipping around on cloud 9 but with so much of my writing being inspired by others how would I look if lost my mind and started acting like a dick, claiming ownership of an idea, and threatening legal action over something as cool as this?

Hell the foundation for my short The Lazarus Antidote is built entirely on someone else’s work (used with permission of course, but still):

The Federal Vampire & Zombie Agency's (FVZA) legendary Dr. Hugo Pecos

And The End is Now would be completely different than it is now if not for the inspiration and collaboration I got from for Lori Titus.

I’m still stuck in the middle over the whole fan-fiction idea but I wish this guy tons of success, because the 1^st thing I wanted to do after I stopped screaming in glee was write. I inspired him, and then he inspired me! And so the cycle of creativity continues. And this is why I’m stuck in the middle of this hot button issue because I do believe that the creation of art should have some ownership but to suggest that anything created now is 100% original and wasn’t inspired by anything that came before it is a bit asinine.

The only we as writers are going to be successful and achieve acclaim is if we help each other, encourage each other and be inspired by one another. And we have to allow others, to a certain extent, to be inspired by the work we create.

This industry isn’t every man, woman, and child for themselves. It just doesn’t work that way. In  Monopoly the game is over once ONE person has EVERYTHING. We as artists and creators can’t let that happen because the end game would be the end of books, the end of art, the end of music. Do we really want that?

Well because no post would be complete w/out shameless self-promotion here are two chapters from Artificial Light that inspired the short story Quake. Have a good one guys!

***

Book II Chptr 8

     “Who’s guarding the gates of Hell while you’re walking Lucifer’s dog?” Dr. Farley questioned when he was within speaking distance. Ken and I both smiled at that.

He looked over his shoulder, then up at the watchtower before addressing me again. “And you are?”

     “Dr. Farley. I’m Artemisia, this is Dr. Kenneth Astor, and this,” I said while nodding toward my dog, “is not Cerberus, but Sentinel.”

    “We belong to the Skyward Group. We’re the ones responsible for your release, because we feel you’re too brilliant of a scientist to rot away behind bars. ” 

     Dr. Farley crossed his arms and looked up again at the watchtower, which, like before, he found empty. In the seven years he resided here, he had daydreamed of escaping and had never once seen the tower unmanned. The mistrust that was written all over his face now migrated to the rest of his body as he took on a more combative and hostile posture.

The large Rottweiler equalized the tension by matching Dr. Farley’s posture of bellicosity. The doctor realized that he was no match for the 107-pound guardian, whose ancient was breed was prized for their fearlessness, strength, and power, and he instinctively took a step back.

         I shrugged my shoulders. “You can go back if you want.”

        “And what will my brilliance cost me this time?” he snapped. “I have been stripped of my license, labeled a crook, a fraud and unreservedly ruined. I have lost the appetite for flattery in the form of half-truths and whole lies.”

         “You’ve already secured a piece of real estate in Malebolge. Why don’t you just wait until you get there to move in? I’m sure you’ll be more than comfortable with the housing arrangements our group can provide while you’re still living, which thanks to you, could be a very, very long time.”

        “What is it that you want from me?” the doctor demanded.

       “Nothing,” I answered while admiring the way my gold bracelets played in the light, wondering if my earring danced in the sun the same way. Dr. Farley noted my distracted vanity with an expression akin to that of one trying to swallow hot sand.

        “I know you have reservations, Dr. Farley,” Ken noted. “However, we are nothing like your former associate, Mr. Sheldon. One hundred percent of the funding for the studies we conduct is legal, and so is twenty percent of our research.”

         “Only twenty percent?” Dr Farley questioned.

           “Twenty percent,” I repeated. “Publicly, I sit at the head of the Artemisia Luxury Group, the core of which is jewelry. I am the owner of Periodic Element AU and Atomic Weight 196, and my jewelry boutiques are scattered over every continent on the planet.

        “You and your associate raised 93 million dollars over the course of six years, which is admirable. However, the revenue generated through the Seattle, New York, and London Periodic stores alone is twice that in just six months.

        “After taxes, payroll, and insurance, the Artemisia Luxury Group earns nearly half a trillion dollars a year.”

Dr. Farley’s mouth fell ajar. “Ken,” I continued, “is the head of the Astor Corporation. You might have heard of them; with over 300 firms worldwide conducting military weapons research, you’d be right to say that the Astor Corporation is the world’s most powerful and influential defense contractor.”

           “It pains me to admit that the Astor Corporation earns more money than The Artemisia Luxury Group.”

          “There are twenty-one founding members of the Skyward Group,” Dr. Astor explained. “All of us own independent organizations that gross more than one hundred million dollars a year, and we’ve all partnered with global organizations who are researching and developing things such as wind and solar technology, weapons, deep-sea exploration, crops that will grow in barren lands, cancer research and the like. Our alliances with these firms and the multitudes of fundraisers we host throughout the year make up the twenty percent of the research that is conducted at the Skyward Group and provides our firm with the first tier of funding.”

“Our second tier of funding comes from covert U.S. military research,” I explained. “But we also conduct experiments for militaries of other nations as well. Two percent of the private earnings of our founding members are pooled together and added to the funds we receive for these projects, which leaves more than enough money to fund an organization such as ours.”

           Dr. Farley remained silent as he once again looked at the unmanned tower.

           “The biggest weapons project we’re working on is the Tesla Project. We’re studying the effects of geophysical manipulation, but you will not be a part of that.”

            “Geo …” Dr. Farley stammered nervously, looking again at the empty watchtower. “You people are trying to control the weather?”

            “Dr. Farley.” I did the best that I could to keep the irritation out of my voice. “There are more neural connections in the human brain than there are stars in the sky that can be seen with the naked eye, yet you have found a way to clone the human mind, so let me be the first to welcome you to the ranks of ‘you people.’”

            “Like you, Dr. Farley,” Ken explained, “Nikola Tesla was a pioneer, and we are simply continuing the research he started in the 1940s.”

“Everyone tries to control the weather,” I said, answering Dr. Farley’s question. “From the sacred ceremonial dances of ancient peoples to children signing ‘Rain, Rain, Go Away,’ everyone tries to control the weather. But we’re not trying to control the weather, Dr. Farley, we’ve weaponized it … and our experiment surpassed all of our expectations.”

“The Indian Ocean earthquake that caused the deadliest tsunami in recorded history was man made. The quake was the second largest ever recorded, lasting almost ten minutes. The entire earth shook as a result, because the initial earthquake triggered other quakes as far away as Alaska.”

            “Wha …?” Dr. Farley was beyond astonishment. “But over 200,000 people were killed.” Dr. Farley’s eyes quickly darted between mine and Ken’s as he took another step back. Beads of sweat began to appear across his forehead as he glanced again at the unmanned tower and the large iron gates of the prison, which had locked behind him.

            “Yes. That was quite unfortunate.” I explained, “The Skyward Group donated two point eight million dollars as a result of the humanitarian plight that resulted. But of course, that wasn’t good enough, because it took them less than a year to retaliate.”

          “Them?” William had been scared beyond description at the prospect of being thrown into and then spending the rest of his life in prison. Now, as a free man, Dr. Farley found himself paralyzed with terror with the company he now kept. 

        “Yes,” Ken explained. “Ten months later, they counterattacked by creating Hurricane Katrina. The scientists behind the assault, the ones who controlled and directed the super storm, were caught and assassinated. In the three years following Katrina, the United States has not been attacked by a hurricane, and that is no accident.”

        “But there was Rita,” Dr. Farley recalled.

          “Hurricane Rita wasn’t a weapon. She was just your good old-fashioned natural disaster. There’s nothing we can do about acts of God,” I explained. “But we’re working on it.”

He appeared stunned, and I was becoming exasperated by the contentious way Dr. Farley was looking at us. 

          “You’re working on it, with weatherized warfare? What is it that you want from me? I don’t want to be involved with manipulating weather; there are limits to what man can …”

         “No there aren’t, Dr. Farley,” I interrupted. “And like I said, you will not be a part of that project. We’re here because of Project Six Thirty One.”

        “What the hell is …” I cut him off again.

         “Dr. Farley, I’m pleased to tell you that efficacy has been established with the pre-clinical trails you were conducting before your imprisonment.”

        The expression on the doctor’s face was indescribable as he looked beyond me to focus on something that wasn’t there. I handed Dr. Farley a thick confidential folder labeled The Children of Project 631, which contained smaller folders with information on six young subjects.

Subject one, female, 11 years old

Professor Mary Stemple PhD, 64, transitioned to Amy Rebecca Winsten.

Subject two, female, 10 years old

April Tanner, 42, transitioned to Stephanie Johnsten.

Subject three, female, 10 years old

Elizabeth Whitley, 64, transitioned to Elisabeth Tiffany Gunnell

Subject four, male, 9 years old

Samuel Whitley, 63, transitioned to Jeffery Samuel Winthrow.

Subject five, male, 9 years old

Army First Sergeant James Earl Lake III, 68, transitioned to Allen Kenneth Morgan.

Subject six, female, 7 years old

Annette Smith, 72, transitioned to Olympia Dawn Michaels.

             “We have taken the liberty of securing all the data that were compiled while you were under the umbrella of the Lotus Foundation. Dr. Farley, we are here to invite you to continue your research under the protection and with the unlimited funding that a group such as ours can provide. However, sir, if you wish to return to prison, that can be arranged, as we can continue this research without you.”

Dr. Farley was no longer uncomfortable in our company or distracted by the unmanned tower. The accomplished geneticist pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket and quickly scanned the patient files that were handed to him. He was back in his element for less than a minute before all the files were quickly flipped through and scanned.

 “Invite me, what an interesting choice of words. Where are the others?”

            “The others?” Ken and I asked in unison.

            “Yes,” he answered irritably. “There are only six patient files here. Eight transitioned, so I ask you again: Where are the others?”

            We said nothing, as we looked at each other in stunned silence.

            “Arrogance breeds incompetence.” Dr. Farley actually turned his head and spat before he glared down at me from over the top of his glasses, clearly no longer bothered by our research or by Sentinel, who issued a growl of warning. 

           “Complete this research without me … maybe. If you paid as much attention to the data as you do to the idol god that you’re wearing around your wrist.”  

         I was furious. “Let me remind you that I’m not the one who spent the last seven years in prison, Dr. Farley.”

         “And I need not remind you that I’m not the only one who’s placed a deposit to dwell in the fourth Bolgia! Let me ask you something, Artemisia, what is it that you need me for?”

        “I do not need you for anything.”

         Dr. Farley barked out a harsh laugh. “Of course you don’t. I assume I have a workspace in all of this.”

         “State of the art,” I snapped.

          Dr. Farley brushed past me and got in the car. “Then take me to it.”

Ken offered to drive.

Book II Chptr 23

              The density of the woods started to recede, and slivers of shimmering skyline began to expose themselves between the branches like a flirtatious burlesque performer, but we were still an hour away from our destination. Dr. Farley had his window down, and cold air was gushing in. I turned on the heater, and Ken slowed down and then stopped.

        “Do you feel that?”

       After a few moments, I did. “An earthquake.” It was strong enough to bounce loose rocks and pebbles on the asphalt.

        “Is this one of yours?” Dr. Farley sarcastically asked from the back seat.

        “No,” we both answered at once. When the rumbling stopped, Ken and I both reached for our phones and placed calls to different departments within the Facility. I brought Dr. Farley up to speed once I got off the phone.

       “The calls were placed in accordance with the Skyward Group’s emergency management procedures, which mandate that all of the founding members and our most senior staff call in to report locations and receive assessment reports on any outside environmental threats, ground or structural damages, and quarantine conditions and, if necessary, obtain any rerouting instructions for the safest and quickest way to the Facility.”

I reached into the center console and handed Dr. Farley a company cell phone, gave him the number, and brought him up to speed with regard to his status reports.

       “When speaking to anyone within the Skyward Group, clients of the Skyward Group, or anyone working for our supporting organizations, you need to do so on the phone I’ve just assigned to you.”

      “Because cell phones and base stations use low-power transmitters, we’ve purchased our own cell phone company to ensure that information traveling through our channels and frequencies does not collide with any other providers and, of course, to prevent any verbal communication from being intercepted and/or recorded.”

        “We also own our own networking and Internet infrastructures, tons of domain names and IP addresses. Anything you can dream of that will allow us to control and monitor the traffic of communication and information, we’ve thought of it first, and we’ve already implemented it.”

        Dr. Farley placed the phone on the seat next to him and commented sarcastically, “Big brother is always watching.”

     “Of course, you can acquire your own personal cell phone,” Ken offered, “but we will tap into and monitor all communications through that phone as well.”

Dr. Farley took a deep, slow breath, checked out mentally for a moment while he thought something over, then turned his head toward the window to allow the cool air to wash over his face.

            Two low-flying Army gunships screamed past us, racing toward the city ahead. I turned to regard Ken with a questioning look.

            “This is intriguing.” Ken placed another call. “Put a squint team together, find out what just happened, and get General Addison on the phone.” Ken ended the call before whoever he was just talking to had a chance to respond.

         “All of your staff has been accounted for, and they are at the Facility,” I continued. “Your personal assistant reported that all of the glass in your apartment building has been shattered, so you won’t be able to sleep there tonight.         It will be too cold; it’s on the eighteenth floor. We have housing at the Facility, but if you wish to stay in a hotel or at a nearby resort, your assistant can arrange that.”
          "My apartment?” He asked the question slowly and in a slight state of confusion, as if he were just coming to after being knocked unconscious.

         “Well yes.” Ken glanced into the rearview as he spoke, throwing quick glances at the road. “The apartment is spacious. The view from the library overlooks the park while the living room and bedroom offer views of the city’s skyline.”

        “It’s a little over a thousand square feet – not too big, but much bigger than where you slept last night, and graciously furnished. The property belongs to the Skyward Group, so we’ll have all the glass replaced in a few days, but if you wish to live somewhere else or buy your own property, by all means do so.”

        “I am a convicted felon with no money, and you’re talking to me about purchasing real estate? And another thing: I am no longer a doctor, so please just call me William.”

         I turned to look at Dr. Farley, ignoring the antagonism in his voice and the lines of irritation across his forehead.

         “You’re right. Dr. William Arthur Farley was a convicted felon, but tragically, he died this morning in prison. You’re still a doctor, and you’re still William Farley, but now you’re Dr. William Ryan Farley.” I removed an envelope from my bag and handed it to him.  

          “Here are your new driver’s license, Visa and MasterCard, passport, social security card, information on your banking accounts, and your company identity card.”

          “Be sure not to lose your badge,” Ken cautioned. “You’ll need it to activate the biometrics security system that will allow you to move about the Facility according to your security level. That badge will allow access to any of our research facilities worldwide that you have clearance for. You’ll have your thumb and eyes scanned when you go through orientation with the security team.”

         William was surprised to see that the picture on his passport was the same one he had taken when he renewed it eleven years ago. His chest tightened. He no longer remembered the man in that photograph. He sifted through the various photo identifications, reached for the cell phone, and put everything into his pocket.

      “So I guess this is a good time to negotiate my wages and benefit packages.” Ken was shaking his head, not at the ruins of the city through which he was trying to navigate, but at William’s question.

       “No. As a senior staff member, you have a base salary of twelve million a year, and it is non-negotiable.”

        The sound that William made was startling. I had been receiving and responding to emails on my handheld, but hearing that sound made me quickly turn to look at Dr. Farley to ensure that he was OK.

          Sentinel, who had been lying in the back seat and keeping a relaxed watch over Dr. Farley, immediately snapped into full, taut attention. Ken was looking at him through the rearview mirror and had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting an emergency responder who was directing traffic.

        With the car at a full stop, and as we ignored the scathing curses from the man we’d almost run down, all eyes were on Dr. Farley. He held up his hands and shook his head as if trying to clear it.

       “Gimme a minute. You cannot imagine the day I’m having. The most frightening, amazing day. Being broken out of prison, told my experiments are successful – that my patients actually transitioned, that they’ve made it.” He took his phone and ID out of his pocket and shook his head again.

      “To be given a new hold on life and to learn you have twelve million in your bank account, to find out you even have a bank account.”

     “Actually,” I interrupted, “you only have just over six. It’s the standard signing bonus, but you go on payroll as soon as you start working.”

     William quickly did the math. “So that’s roughly eighty-three thousand dollars a month?” We both nodded in agreement.

       “Plus benefits and bonuses,” Ken reminded him. William was again shaking his head as if to clear it.

Ken was waved on, and once again we weaved our way around roadblocks and passed herds of people huddled together in wide-eyed fear and relief.

      Falling bricks crushed cars parked below, and the number of killed and injured changed every few minutes.

One sky rise had shifted on its foundation and was now leaning on another for support. When the occasional concrete slab, broken rebar or other building material fell to the earth, the crowd watching from a distance would scream.

       The concentrated area of destruction along with the earlier sightings of the helicopters led Ken and me to suspect that the devastation was caused by a bombing and not the forces of nature. 

       It took nearly an hour to snake our way to the Facility. When we finally arrived, Dr. William Ryan Farley was asleep, and neither one of us wanted to wake him up. He was right; we could not imagine the day he must be having.