June 13, 2025
The Demo Tapes, a four-book series (not including the Better than a Box Set Complete compendium) was always meant to be part of the adventure of the Trevolution. Somehow, though, the short work took over and overshadowed the novels. Which, in a way is fine.
Remember that the Trevolution ebooks are 99c at all retailers… except my store, where they’re 79c each, and cheaper in bundles! Want to try before you buy? Demo Tapes 1 and Trevor’s Song are now available on Hoopla.
Yesterday was the first West of Mars appearance at the Block Northway Farmer’s Market and it was… an experience. Definitely part of the adventure of bookselling. I got there to set up and was told there was a power outage on the main road that the mall fronts. The wifi was down, I was told. Okay, no problem.
We were setting up in the atrium, which was bright and sunny — and HOT (definitely not good for the bourbon at the table beside me!) — and at some point, I looked up and realized… all the shops had closed and the overhead LEDs were off.
Yup, the power was out in the entire mall.
And there we vendors sat…
Doug and I sold books, though, to new friends, and a lot of people asked if we’d be back at the market again (I will be; Doug’s not scheduled to be, so I was glad to have people choose to buy his books over mine). So in that way, it was a win.
But it was HOT, and it was… well, an experience.
You know something like this is going to show up in a book! A part of the adventure of something else, something bigger… I don’t know what yet. Time will tell.
I’m starting the second in a series from an established author today. This client writes both fantasy and contemporary and I’m HERE for it all. Super talented author, this one is. What a privilege to work with them.
Not a lot of words written last night because of the farmer’s market, but it’s always fun to get out and meet readers and look at the world. That, too, is part of the adventure of being a writer.
The first two boxes of the books I ordered for the Westmoreland Arts and Heritage Festival arrived yesterday — check my IG if you want to see the picture of the haul — and I immediately grabbed two copies of Permission to Enter and one copy of Legacy to round out the collection I bring to shows.
I had my cover designer make an official wraparound for Permission to Enter and can I tell you how AMAZING it looks? You want one of these pretty babies on your shelf. You really do.
Can’t Help Faking in Love, by Swati Hegde
As always, that’s an affiliate link, so have at it.
Since I’m not paywalling this content at all, I’d love it if you’d hire me as your editor, buy my books, or just fill my ko-fi. Reminder that if you do the latter, you can stop into my shop and pick up the Beta Reader’s Guide and/or the Writer’s Guide to Library Events. Both are Name Your Price, and free is a fine price! (of course, if you do that, you’re not stuffing my ko-fi, though, are you?)
The idea, of course, is to make tools that will benefit the larger community. It’s one small way I give back… like the Book of the Day!
Have a great weekend. I’ll bring you more books and another part of the adventure on Monday.
May 20, 2025
I’m thinking of the short piece called “Trevor in Tree,” which is in Demo Tapes: Year 2! (You can also pick up a copy or a bundle at my direct store!)
Yeah… the landscaper was supposed to be here yesterday. Or today. He wasn’t sure which. I’m fine with that, by and large, because the bulk of the house work is done. And yet I’d also like to, you know, be all the way done. This is the last piece, and I am waiting on a tree.
Are we ever all the way done with our homes? Isn’t there always something to tweak?
It’s election day here, so the kids are off school and my neighbors just packed up their four kids and all their bikes and are headed out for an adventure. Wish I could tag along!
I’m going to finish the actual edit today, and then start on the cleanup work. Yay!
The next edit has also arrived, and I’m waiting on the imminent arrival of one, maybe two more. One’s from a potential new client who said they were on vacation, so I’m not sure if I even have the job, let alone if I should be saving space for them.
It all works out in the end.
Somehow, I got my words in, in between everything, including baking my kid’s favorite banana chocolate chip muffins. I felt an obligation to, since the kid brought a banana the whole way home with her. Almost 700 miles, that banana traveled from her home to mine. What else was I supposed to do with it?
Our Missing Hearts, by Celeste Ng
(Affiliate link)
As always, I’m not paywalling my daily fun, so as I wait for my new tree to arrive, go and fill my ko-fi with some goodness. If you are so inclined, help yourself to either the Beta Reader’s Guide and/or the Writer’s Guide to Library Events, too. Name your price; fill my ko-fi or just pay it forward by being that much more excellent in all you do.
May 8, 2006
Mitchell wasn’t having much luck reading his guitar magazine. He knew it was stupid to sit at the kitchen table and try to read in the first place, but Kerri wasn’t helping matters any.
She was pacing around the cooking area, stopping to open the pantry, the refrigerator, the cabinets. She’d move things around, dig a bit in the freezer for something near the back, close everything up again, and move on to the next spot.
Over and over.
She was on her twelfth circuit when he’d had enough.
“Woman, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I need chocolate. I can’t believe we don’t have any chocolate. Why is there no chocolate in this house?” she asked as she took every single thing off one of the pantry shelves.
Mitchell got up to take a look at the things she was putting on the floor. Pancake mix, syrup, cans of tuna, corn starch — that was the sort of stuff he was expecting to see. And he supposed he remembered picking up that bottle of Big Buck’s Bodacious Sauce the last time he’d been at a Big Buck’s for some ribs.
But when it came to things like a dry scone mix, a paper cup of corn chowder that needed to have water added before it was anything but powder, and six varieties of balsamic vinegar, all he could do was scratch his head. Some of it he could blame on Val, who loved to force her gourmet finds on them. Some of it might have come from Nancy, and some of it… who knew? Maybe one of Amy’s jokes again?
“Ker,” he asked softly as she growled and started putting things back, “where’d some of this come from?”
She looked at the can of baby bay shrimp in her hand. “You know,” she said slowly, “I have no clue. And you know what else?” she asked, fixing him with a stare that was so bright, it made him wince. “I don’t care. It’s not chocolate and that is what this is about. Where the fuck is the chocolate?”
He thought fast. The boys were still with Nancy; he had time before she’d want to leave for the day. He could pull this off — if he moved now.
Mitchell grabbed Kerri by the shoulders and turned her toward the door leading to the garage. “Come with me,” he said.
“Where?”
She tried to resist, so he bent and slung her over his shoulder.
“I’m taking you out and we’re buying out every single peanut butter cup the store’s got. What doesn’t make you puke in an hour’s going into the freezer.”
“Stop!”
When she struggled, he set her down as gently as he could, worried that the way she was moving, she’d hurt herself. Or, worse, he’d hurt her.
“I don’t want peanut butter cups. I want…” She licked her lips, her eyes roaming the ceiling. “I want brownies.”
“I think I saw a box on the floor.”
Kerri looked at him, her hazel eyes twinkling. “Race ya to ’em.”
“Nah, you go. Call me when they’re done.” He started to stroll off, but she tackled him. Thankfully, not hard enough to bring him down, but hard enough to knock some of his wind out. He gave her a scornful look over his shoulder.
“You’re eating?” she asked. “Then you’re helping bake.”
“Only if I get to smear batter on you and lick it off.”
“Nope,” she said calmly, picking the box of mix up off the floor.
“You do it to me?” he asked hopefully. “Would that be chocolate enough for ya?”
She pressed up against him and gave him one of those infuriating closed-lipped kisses. “Try it and see. But… after we bake these puppies and I’ve had a few.”
Mitchell frowned as she tore into the box. She peered inside, looking so cute he wanted to melt, then with a sheepish smile read the back for the cooking directions.
“You know,” he drawled, ready to break and run before she could throw something at him, “in two days, you’ll be telling me to take what’s left over to the studio because you don’t want to gain three pounds just by breathing in their scent.”
“You know,” she answered, cocking her head slightly, “you could forget about that smearing batter thing, get out of my sight, and let me enjoy my brownies in peace, motherfucker.”
Mitchell decided that even Trevor wasn’t enough of a fool to hang around after that charming invite. He grabbed his guitar magazine and headed out onto the back porch. Anything to avoid the evil brownie fumes; Kerri would find a way to curse him so he gained three pounds, he was sure of it.
Be sure to pick up a copy of The Demo Tapes: Year 1 at your favorite retailer:
Amazon
Smashwords
B&N
iTunes
April 8, 2006
This is a mini-scene that popped into my head two nights ago. I have no clue where it belongs or anything about it other than it provides great color.
Mitchell nudged Kerri awake. When she tilted her face, pressed against his shoulder, up toward him, he whispered, “Rain.”
She listened. Sure enough, she could hear the rain beating on the bus and the sound of water being pushed aside by large wheels.
“Rain,” she whispered back and pressed more firmly against him and promptly fell back asleep.
Some would call this the mindless ramblings of an insomniac, but I think I come up with pretty cool stuff in the middle of the night.
