Sexual harassment, being a “working girl,” and loli rants…

Dear Diary,

The best decision I ever made (besides starting a Patreon) was to become a writer. It was also probably the worst. I write this because while I love writing, some of the people my writing (or at least my erotic writing) attracts are just creepy as fuck. They seem to assume because I write erotica, I always have sex on the brain, and that’s all I want to talk about – even though they are complete strangers. It’s like just because they can create a fake social media account, they think it’s OK to talk to women any way they want. This is why I’m not a big fan of internet anonymity – it makes it too easy to assault people. I mean, they wouldn’t do this in real life because they would be thrown in jail, but it’s OK online. Why? I seriously don’t understand why sexual harassment is OK on the internet, but against the law face to face. Just because a computer is used, it’s acceptable?

In a way, it reminds me of a funny story that happened a few years ago with a close friend of mine, Nicole. We were out late as fuck one night, basically clubbing/acting fools and called an Uber to get us home safely. We were dressed up, of course, but Nicole – who looked like a straight supermodel – looked way better than I did. Anyway, the driver got us to our destination and asked Nicole if she was a working girl. My eyes widened because I’m a little hoodrat and knew exactly what he meant, but Nicole had no clue – she smiled and said something to the extent of “Yep! I be getting’ people’s money all day!” (she was a banker at Wells Fargo) The guy shook his head in dismay and said that he wished he had some extra money because she was drop-dead gorgeous.

She grinned; he looked something like a lost, beaten puppy. 🙄

We got out of the car.

As we watched the guy drive away, Nicole blinked a few times, and her eyes widened. She turned to me and said, “Wait – was he asking me if I was a prostitute?!” I laughed so hard I almost fell to the ground. When I told her yes, that was precisely what he was asking, she turned more shades of red than I ever thought possible. I wouldn’t let her live that down for anything. Loved it.

<LoliRant>

It does kind of illustrate my point though. Our jobs do not define us. Neither do our hobbies. We define us, and we are so much more complex than the paltry scraps of information we decide to randomly throw on the internet. I’ve been to college. I’ve accumulated five different degrees. According to the Stanford-Binet IQ scale (and a few others), I’m in the top 5% of the population. I’ve been told by several MENSA members that I should join, but honestly, the benefits suck, and I don’t need the validation. I did, however, pass the online test just out of curiosity.

I’m not writing any of this to brag: those of you who have known me for years most likely didn’t know any of the above. And there’s no reason you should. I don’t need to impress anyone, and I definitely don’t want to come across as better-than or egotistical.

No, I’m not trying to brag, I’m trying to illustrate a point. Despite all the above, and my general sweet-natured attitude towards strangers (I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt), I continuously get swarmed with stupid messages and unsolicited (and frankly disgusting) messages and pictures. All because I write erotica. I have several non-erotic pen names that I write paranormal, romance, science fiction, fantasy, and a few other genres under, but that’s beside the point – instead of trying to get to know me for who I am, people automatically assume that since I’m a girl that writes kinky things I’m online to be their personal sex outlet.

Ew. 🤮

Please don’t get it twisted. I love to flirt, sometimes in lewd ways, but I have to know you first. Like, really know you – not just a few quick DMs…

</LoliRant>

Anyway.

On the writing front, I’m almost finished with the rough draft of the last book in the Exitium Mundi series, which should have been done long before now. Unfortunately, I keep thinking of things to add, change, and omit. So ridiculous. But it’s getting there, and all the changes I’m making are for the betterment of the story, so I really can’t complain too much. Of course, doing all that also means I have to go back through the rest of the other six books and change things, adding and taking out parts, etc. Luckily they are all short(ish), so it isn’t that big of a deal. Yet.

Oh! Before I go, please send my homiegirl @n0nlineargirl some love. And pictures of horse penises. She really loves horse penises. 😂 She recently broke her foot and may need surgery, so she needs all the attention she can get. I’m reasonably sure she doesn’t read my Diary entries, but just in case tell her I sent you. She’ll thank you, trust me.

#Alexa

Have You Ever Walked into a Room?

Have you ever walked into a room and found a vampire? No, not the sexy kind, but a foul creature with bony limbs and ashen skin? The kind that snarls as you enter, like a beast about to pounce? The kind that roots you to the spot with its sunken, hypnotic eyes, rendering you unable to flee as you watch the hideous thing uncoil from the shadows? Has your heart started racing though your legs refuse to? Have you felt time slow as the creature crosses the room in the darkness of a blink? Have you shuddered with fear when it places one clawed hand atop your head and another under your chin so it can tilt you, exposing your neck?

 Have you squirmed as its rough, dry tongue slides down your cheek, over your jaw, to your throat, in a slithering search that’s seeking your artery? Have you felt its hot breath release in a hiss against your skin when it probes your pulse — the flow that leads to your brain? Has its tongue rested there, throbbing slightly as if savoring the moment? Have you then experienced a sinking, sucking blackness as you discover that not all vampires feed on blood — some feed on memories? Well, have you? Maybe not. But let me rephrase the question: Have you ever walked into a room and suddenly forgotten why you came in?

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Getting bitten and being pregnant…

Dear Diary,

I’ve been officially bitten by the Halloween bug. I tried to resist it, ignore it, and replace it with other habits (meth, crack, Skyrim), but nothing worked. I finally snapped the other day, and now everything in my house and Anne’s has been Halloweenified. Our phones, computers, accounts on our video game systems, etc. I even started outlining a spooky, intense, erotic little tale called Paramnesia that should be finished by the end of the week. It’s scheduled to be released on December 1, 2021. Unfortunately, you won’t get to read it any earlier unless you’re

1. A member of my Beta Reader Hit Squad, or
2. A member of my Patreon.

I’m not doing that to be a bitch, it’s just that my releases until then are already slated and, in most cases, finished. Since I release a new eBook/paperback/audiobook every month, I can’t just push everything aside, ya know?

So far, it’s coming out amazingly. I’ve already finished writing, revising, and polishing the outline (which I preach to my students in my Writing 101 class), and tomorrow, I’m going to start writing the rough draft. I am so excited. Of course, I’m doing this because I’m taking a brief break from the final Exitium Mundi book, Everyone 2, which itself is in its rough draft stage. I know, sometimes I have writers ADD, but it’s nice to switch projects occasionally, especially when your creativity starts feeling stale.

After this, I’ll jump back on Exitium Mundi for a bit, then finish up Erotic Urban Legends: Taboo, a short story requested by one of my Patreon supporters (you motherfuckers did know you can do that, right? You just have to be on the VIP Tier). Taboo is in the outline stage, but the characters and story are entirely flushed out. So many projects, so little time…

Fuck, I love being a writer! 🥰

I would love it even more if I didn’t feel 13 months pregnant from all this damn Halloween candy I’ve been eating from Universal Yums. During my Halloween frenzy, I ordered their special Halloween box, which they got to me quick fast and in a hurry, and Anne and I immediately tore into it this past weekend and now… I never want to see another piece of candy again. They were so damn good though! Except for that weird sour candy that gave me bitter beer face for like an hour. That was horrible. Even Anne tasted it and looked at me all alarmed and betrayed. 😅 She came to love it though – after the initial taste shock wore off.

Ah! Before I go, I wanted to post the current status of my latest Twitter poll, which had some interesting conversations attached to it. There’s still a little time left to vote, so make your voice heard! 😝

Enjoy the following Halloween story, ripped from the interwebs.

And sweet dreams, beloveds… 🎃

#Alexa

Charlie

I hate it when my brother Charlie has to go away. My parents constantly try to explain to me how sick he is; that I am lucky for having a brain where all the chemicals flow properly to their destinations like undammed rivers. When I complain about how bored I am without a little brother to play with, they try to make me feel bad by pointing out that his boredom likely far surpasses mine, considering he’s confined to a dark room in an institution. I always beg for them to give him one last chance. Of course, they did at first. Charlie has been back home several times, each shorter in duration than the last. Every time without fail, it all starts again. The neighborhood cats with gouged out eyes showing up in his toy chest, my dad’s razors found dropped on the baby slide in the park across the street, mom’s vitamins replaced by bits of dishwasher tablets.

My parents are hesitant now, using “last chances” sparingly. They say his disorder makes him charming, makes it easy for him to fake normalcy, and to trick the doctors who care for him into thinking he is ready for rehabilitation. That I will just have to put up with my boredom if it means staying safe from him. I hate it when Charlie has to go away. It makes me have to pretend to be good until he is back.

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Helping Anne poop, having fun with Lolis, and making you wet yourself…

Dear Diary,

I am utterly unappreciated as a friend. I’m serious. See, Anne told me she had to poop, right? She had just eaten a ton of ice cream that morning (which she knows better than considering she’s lactose intolerant), so she had (predictably) been pooping all day. Anyway, she slithered her way to the bathroom and closed the door, and I – in my deep and profound dedication as her best friend – decided to try and help. So, I placed my Bluetooth soundbar in front of the door and put on some helpful, soothing, and uplifting songs:

• The poop song https://youtu.be/lZTnNn-i9uk
• “Let me Poop” by Emily Mandelbaum https://youtu.be/0Tf4Qxw2jnc
• Old Town Poop https://youtu.be/oIVN32r76b0

For some unfathomable reason, she was not amused. She even told me I had a constipated cry-smile because of the way I was grinning when she finally got out. Such an evil, spiteful little thing! 😅

Writing-wise I’ve been on a roll: I finished Exitium Mundi: Jamie and even finished the outline for Exitium Mundi: Everyone 2, the very last book in the Exitium Mundi series. Not that I seem to be able to actually write the damn story or anything – Real Life keeps throwing things my way that I have to deal with. It’s frustrating. Today, for example, I had to take Anne to the doctors again, so I planned on getting up a bit early to get some much-needed writing done.

We overslept and barely managed to get ready in time to leave. 🙄

So since I haven’t been able to full-fledge write, I decided to outline the sequel to Killer Lolis, Killer Lolis: Hunt for the Lolistone in my spare time. I love my Lolis, and outlining the story is proving to be an immense amount of fun. It’s going to be a lot longer (and kinkier, and definitely more entertaining) than the original, so look forward to it. 😊

Now, on to Halloween.

Until my favorite holiday gets here, I figured it would be fun to scour the internet for super short scary stories and share them with you all at the end of my Diary entries. To get into the spirit, you know? I didn’t write any of these stories, and they are all freely available on the internet (mostly Reddit), so I figured no harm, no foul.

Here’s the first.

Try not to wet yourself. 🎃

Check Under the Bed

I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”

Thank you for reading, beloveds.

#Alexa

“I worked as a prosecutor watching Catholic priests charged with sex abuse and saw firsthand how the ‘circle the wagons’ mentality revictimized the innocent, coddled the guilty, and made matters worse for everyone.”

– Christine Pelosi

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Let’s talk about murder…

Dear Diary,

I’ve been working feverishly on finishing my seven-book Exitium Mundi series, which segues into my Nephilim pentalogy, and reality has mostly melted around me as a result. It’s an enormous amount of fun, but fuck am I ready for this series to be over with! I have so many other books I want (needs!) to write! 😅 Currently, I’m finishing up revisions on book six, and while I was butchering things one of the characters asked another a very pointed, profound question, which shook me so much I decided to post it on social media. The question was:

If one person – one person you knew, but didn’t care too much about – had to die so the people you love could live, would you consider murder?

The end results of this vote caused me to raise my eyebrows: 68% voted Yes, and 32% voted No (Anne voted no, which really surprised me). 68% Of people would actually kill someone.

This really made me think.

I’m used to putting my mind into my characters when I write, and it’s gotten to the point where doing so is kind of natural and effortless, but this question made me mentally stumble. It’s not a casual question. I value life. Death is a serious thing, and as Christopher Wallace (The Notorious B.I.G.) said on the end of Tupac Shakur’s song Runnin’ (Dying to Live) “I mean, even though we was going through our drama, I would never wish death on nobody, you know what I’m sayin’? Because there ain’t no coming back from that.” I wholeheartedly agree with him. Death is a serious thing, and too often we talk about it almost casually, like it’s the common cold or something.

Putting on my psychologist’s hat for a second: I completely understand why. Unless something affects us personally, it’s almost impossible to truly and fully empathize. It’s only natural – if we took everything to heart that we saw on the news, or read about, or heard about, we would go absolutely insane. Disassociation to a certain degree is basically just a matter of cognitive self-preservation. I get it.

I just don’t know if I have it in me to kill another person, though. Tase them (really appreciate those tasers, John! ❤), sure, find a way to incapacitate them, definitely, but kill? Murder? I don’t think I could. Maybe… I don’t know. There just has to be another way, you know? If it came down to it, perhaps I could. If it was the only way to save say, my brother, maybe I could. In the end the character I was writing about agreed to it, because it fit her personality and worldview, but damn. That was a hard decision to make.

Writing of hard decisions…

I’m a member of a group called Writers Café, and since I joined people had been requesting I read/critique their works. Which I was cool with, of course, but eventually it got to the point where I was falling so far behind that my queue was up in the triple digits, so I had to disable read requests. This has me feeling absolutely crumby.

I’ve also had to trim down how much time I spend writing in my Diary, which I feel even worse about. I love writing in this thing, but by the time the days over my creativity is just drained. I feel mentally dead after seven-plus hours of writing plus another two to three hours of author tasks every day. When you toss in the time I spend responding to emails, messages on social media, and making content for my Patreon… the last thing I want to do is write about everything I did. This is why my entries have been so sporadic lately – I’m just tuckered out. I’m not about to quit writing entries though, because I love this damn thing way too much, but to write in it means I’m going to have to sacrifice time I would otherwise be spending on some other creative project – in this case, revising Exitium Mundi.

It’s worth it, though, because I always feel so much better after writing one of these damn things.

Why can’t there be more hours in the day?! 😭

Anyway, thanks for lending me your eyes.

I love all of you.

#Alexa

“Kids are all computer-savvy. Sit down and write to your parents on the computer. And just say, I have some questions and I’m scared. There’s some stuff I don’t know and I really need to talk to you about sex. Tear it off and put it on their pillow. They’ll read it.”

– Sue Johanson (@realsuejohanson)

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

My brother getting white girl wasted and swan-diving off the wagon

Dear Diary,

My big brother’s personality type could probably best be described as stoic. Dude has like zero sense of humor, and he rarely shows any emotion. He hardly makes expressions, seldom shows affection, and generally just tends to glower when he looks at you. Considering he’s big, muscled, and bald, this tends to intimidate people as soon as he steps in a room.

Which is why I literally choked on my Crackuccino® when he walked into the living room where Anne and I were lounging and proclaimed that he wanted to get white girl wasted. After I was able to breathe again, I asked him to repeat himself. He did. Anne and I practically flew off the couch to get alcohol. 😅

We had so much fun. And then afterward we went to a buffet (if you have never been to Golden Corral, you are seriously missing out) and ate like we were stoned. It was epic. When we finally made our way home we all just collapsed on the couch and stared at the TV, which was still off. Having an extreme hatred for silence, I decided to ask my brother what prompted his proclamation and subsequent buffet (we hadn’t been to a buffet in a long time, since I almost got into a fight with the manager at one). He looked at me and said, “Sometimes you just have to do something without reason.”

That made no sense to me, but I was happy with the end results, so I just cuddled into him and let it go.

Fast forward to the next day.

I had a ridiculous hangover. I was hating life, and all my life choices that led to me drinking like I didn’t believe in my liver. I decided then and there that my drinking days were over, that there is so much I could do with my life (and money!) if I weren’t drinking.

This vow lasted all of about three days. 😳

I usually have a will of steel when it comes to important things, but once the hangover completely cleared from my system and I was feeling like my usual, bouncy self, I began questioning why I wanted to quit drinking to begin with. Just because I felt terrible afterward? I felt disgusting after the buffet, but I never thought to swear off food. I enjoyed eating the food immensely while I was doing it, just like I enjoyed drinking. Why is alcohol something I should give up? I only drink on the weekends (and not even every weekend), and even then usually something around four or five beers. Or a 40 ounce. And that’s it.

Does that make me an alcoholic?

I don’t think it does.

So, I swan-dived off the wagon and decided to keep drinking, but in moderation like I already am. I feel much happier. I needs alcohol in my life. 😅

Shortly after my brother made his white girl wasted proclamation, I decided to take a vacation from the authoring world. I only recently came back from it. I think I can best sum up my mindset by ripping text from my newsletter (which went out late as fuck this month) instead of trying to find a way to creatively reword what was already written:

About midway through the month I kind of sat back in my writing chair and just watched as the smoke emanating from my brain slowly oozed out of my ears, occasionally blowing at it and smiling goofily as my bursts of air caused them to dance like ethereal snakes on opioids.

Minutes later I turned to Anne and announced that I was taking the rest of the month off.

I was quickly burning out, and I needed a vacation.

I rarely ever take time off (from writing, work, or anything else really), so a proclamation like that caused her to nearly drop her phone in disbelief. After she got over her initial shock, she shook her head and grinned in condescension. She didn’t believe me. She told me I was incapable of truly taking breaks, and that my past speaks volumes about my obsession with the written word.

Bitch was wrong: I shoved everything aside and turned into a metaphorical vegetable, catching up on all the gaming, reading, and binge-watching I’m normally deprived of because of my insane work ethic.

It was so worth it.

I’m back, fresh-minded, focused, and raring to go!

Damn it feels good to write again… Oh! Before I go, I just remembered: the eBook version of Erotic Urban Legends: Volume 1 is now available for December 1, 2019 preorder! Buy it now, and it will be automagically delivered to your reading device. The paperback will be finished soon (like in the next few days) so if that’s your jam, watch my social media posts in the coming days. I’ll announce it. 😊

#Alexa

“I always hated high-school shows and high-school movies, because they were always about the cool kids. It was always about dating and sex, and all the popular kids, and the good-looking kids. And the nerds were super-nerdy cartoons, with tape on their glasses. I never saw ‘my people’ portrayed accurately.”

– Paul Feig

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

Shootings, PTSD, and remembering why…

Dear Diary,

Most of the time, when I post on social media or Patreon, or in my Diary, I try and keep things entertaining, upbeat, and generally just optimistic in nature. Because that’s the kind of person I tend to be, you know? Today, however, keeping things light and positive is damn near an impossibility. I just can’t take my mind off the shootings that happened these past few days. Thoughts of them are bleeding into every facet of my life – time I spend with my big brother, my writing, and even hanging out with friends. I don’t know why these recent shootings have shaken me so badly; tons of them have happened these past few years (do you know how fucked up it is that I can write something like that?!), some very close to home, and I’ve always been able to separate myself from them. Somehow.

Not this time.

Like I posted earlier today on social media:

“I rarely comment on things like this, but these shootings lately have really hit me emotionally. My heart goes out to the family’s affected… I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through.

I hope I never can.”

And yes, I know I used the incorrect form of family (family’s instead of families), but I didn’t snap to that until after I sent the post, and by then I didn’t care. People understood what I was trying to say.

I think the reason these recent shootings have shaken me so much is that I have let so many more people into my life than I’m used to having, so many people into my heart. This is a good thing, of course, but when you see people’s lives get snatched so quickly and senselessly… it makes you realize that this can also happen to the people you love.

At any given moment.

For any reason.

No matter where they are or what they may be doing.

My big brother went into a coma a while back. I thought I lost him. I was a mess. Like, a complete nuclear meltdown mess. I cried so much and so hard that I swear I lost ten pounds just in water weight. Luckily, he woke up, but the experience shook me deeply – and permanently. I honestly think I have PTSD from that experience, to the point where I sometimes (more often than he’s probably aware) check in on him while he’s sleeping just to see if he’s still cognizant. A quick nudge. A text. Or call. Just to see if he budges. Sometimes I just crawl into bed with him and cuddle, listening to him breathe, and almost instantly go to sleep.

If he were to be shot and killed… I don’t know. I couldn’t go on. I just couldn’t…

I’ve physically clung to him so much this weekend that he’s probably sick of my face by now, but I know he understands why. He hasn’t said or done anything negative; it’s kind of like a kitten clinging to a pit bull. He’s tolerating me, even trying to comfort me, but I don’t think I can be comforted. Not when reality is the way it is.

I don’t let people into my heart easily, but when I love, I love hard. And I’m protective of the people I love, overly (and inappropriately) so most of the time. Like, I’m that girl that will jump up and get in someone’s face if they disrespect or hurt you, without thinking or caring about the size of the other person. Or the location.

And I don’t want to be any other way. When you love hard and sincerely, people tend to return the affection, which is why I have a lot of people I know I can go to if things go south. So that’s good. It’s a very good feeling.

Unfortunately, however, that kind of intense love and protectiveness comes at a cost. I’m paying it now.

Admittedly though, I feel a bit better getting all this out. It reminds me of why I started doing this to begin with – to give myself an emotional outlet. Maybe I need to start writing in this damn thing more often, because I’m always a complete fucking mental train wreck. 😅

Thank you for reading.

I mean that.

And please, whatever you do, be safe.

Seriously.

#Alexa

“We’re warriors, this culture, and we’re very puritanical about sex and very embracing about violence and I don’t know why that is.”

– Mark Ruffalo

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.

How I had my heart broken by a tiny pussy. 😭

Dear Diary,

So, I was over at Anne’s place (as I usually am) and went to go take out some trash (cause apparently slave). The second I stepped out the door this tiny black kitten bounded up to me out of nowhere and started rubbing against my legs. It was so tiny, y’all! I mean, like, tiny tiny. It was only a little bigger than my smartphone! It was even tinier than me! 😅 I wanted so badly to make it mine, or to at least feed it and take care of it for a while, but I knew if I did, I would end up taking it home and keeping it forever and my big brother unit would then calmly proceed to kill me.

It broke my heart to close the door on such a small, defenseless little thing. I hated it. It was all I could think about for the rest of the day. Life is so unfair sometimes!

I’ve had this problem with animals my entire life. I’ve brought so many animals home from the streets that it drove my big brother insane when we were growing up. Cats, dogs, pigeons (seriously), bugs of all types, small children (again, seriously), and so many others. I guess I just have a soft spot for animals. And midgets. I love me some midgets…

Writing all that kind of reminds me of a conversation I was having with a friend of mine the other day, which I ended up sharing because it was interesting. It was about animal intelligence and language.

Think about it: animals are not that different than we are. They have their own language, societal rituals, and relationship hierarchies. A lot of people say animals don’t have languages, that they just make sounds, but language is, in its purest and most base form, simply sound recognition/interpretation – just as the written word is merely shape recognition/interpretation. All us earth-based creatures share the same propensities, so we really aren’t that different from one another.

Humans have a strange habit of disliking/hating something depending on how different it is than them. The more similar a creature/species is, the more it is trusted and liked. Which is why creatures like spiders and roaches are an anathema to most people: they are drastically different than us.

People fear what they don’t understand, and hate what they can’t conquer, ya know? A companion quote to that would be that both fear and hatred are birthed from ignorance; it is impossible to hate something you truly understand…

Anyway. Onto writing.

I’m excited! I finally finished the rough draft and red revision for the fifth book (Mike) in the Exitium Mundi series! I would have finished several weeks ago, but I kept coming up with tidbits to add that really fleshed out the story. I’m glad I did. The story is much better now than it was when I first outlined it.

Now all that’s left is the revision process. For those of you that don’t know my writing style (which means you’re probably not a member of my Patreon – what is wrong with you?! 😭), I always start by outlining a story, revising the outline, and then writing out the rough draft. After the rough draft, I put it through three stages of revisions, which I label red, yellow, and green.

After the green revision, I slam it through some grammar checks and punctuation corrections and then lob it at my Alpha Reader.

When my Alpha Reader is done giving me her two cents, I sling it over to my Better Reader Hit Squad.

When they’re done, I send it over to my editor and wait in absolute terror for her to get it back to me.

When she’s done, I go over everything, make sure I’m happy with how everything turned out, and start going about finalizing the book. As far as Mike goes, Friday I’ll be starting the yellow revision process. My revisions go fairly fast unless I have a slew of things to add – which I really don’t anymore.

I can’t wait for Friday…

Anyway, I think it’s time to start campaigning for another pet.

Wish me luck. 🐕

#Alexa

“To me, it’s not the end of the world if I end up not being with someone. I love romance. I love sex. I love men’s company, but I don’t feel I have to be married. Men are a wonderful part of life, like chocolate. But my life goes on whether they’re there or not.”

– Jerry Hall

Disclosure: This post may contain affiliate links that earn me a small commission, at no additional cost to you. This is because I’m a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com.