Baby tries Fantasy. Ft Fancasting

Under the read more you’ll find the whole first page of my second try at fantasy. I tried it before with these characters and tried again. Actually I’ll show you the whole thing I have so far. In FACT I’ll include my fancast for it. Because that is a thing I do often. Also pardon if my train of thought wanders at times I haven’t really slept in two days.

My idea for this is this as follows:

  • Gender markers being fucked with. Our King is a woman named Nailah. Her wizard wears dresses because he likes them. King Nailah is a war king. She is a bad ass with a bad reputation and she likes to seduce everyone and hang out with her fellow warriors. Think Gina Torres would play her in a movie after beefing up a bit. Okay a lot of bit, like Linda Hamilton in T2. See here but picture her with locs and with some facial scars and tattoos.

king

 

  • Her Queen to be, is a literal cat person. So I spent some time studying feline social behaviors, etc. and came up with the assholest cat to be a cat person. Her name is Makatza and she’s somewhat of a mystical figure in this fantasy land. I thought a lot about how to incorporate some really specific cat behaviors into a human sized being. The tail swish, one turned ear, being a demanding but totally loveable little butthole. Imagine she’s furry, her middle body is beigy brown and as her fur goes around her body it turns black. But her fur isn’t like tiger fur, think more downy softy fur. Her ears are black, her tail is black and quite long. She isn’t a shape shifter, she is a cat person. Think a body type like Countess Vaughn here, but a bit less busty.
countess
Imagine her as a cat.
  • Our next important character is called Nazar and he is the King’s bestie, former lover and war wizard. He is also very shy and anxious. In this part of this story (there are longer versions and notes)he’s still a bit young and has a bit of puppy fat yet. But yes this face both the younger and the older are what I imagine when I think of Nazar. He’s very loyal, very good at his craft and is a bit confused as to what role he is to play with the King.
nazar
Nazar the Catalyst as a baby wizard.
  • So far we also get a peek at First Regent Bilale who is like the captain of the gaurd, confidant, tactical expert and potentially the man who will teach our King to be a husband. I haven’t decided yet. Picture this gorgeous gent a bit older and scarred up. Like he’s been swinging axes and shit.
bilale.jpg
I just..well. Yeah look at him.

So far those are most of the major players I imagine in my head. There are some others I can’t totally see yet.

But we see why this could be an issue don’t we?

I’m sure somebody will be asking themselves, but where are the White people Shannon?

Well………

Nope.

This magical land is full of black and brown folks (there is a char I picture as Margaret Cho with her shaved head, but that’ll happen later) but yeah. Naw.

What’s interesting is that one person I floated this idea to give me a little bit of the “but that’s not believable” I almost automatically spat out that Junot Diaz quote about motherfuckers reading shit in Elvish and inquired about how many places in medievil Europe were rocking dragons and shit?

I’m not sure how much of this world, I will create but so far I’m pretty into it. I’m working on word-building, like a whole world that is Earthy but not Earth. I’m working on creating some language, some cultural stuff and so far I haven’t gone off the deep nerd end.

Yet.

So here you go folks. It is my birthday and my present to you is a bit of Cat Rules Queen, a fantasy WIP by yours truly. OH also this is entirely unedited exactly as it came out of my brain. No rewrites/correction so don’t trip.

Enjoy.

 

Continue reading “Baby tries Fantasy. Ft Fancasting”

Yeah Write #253 Id, Raddow and Freud Was On To Something.

Id, Raddow and Freud Was On To Something.

The worst things in The World come from the dreams of children between the ages of two and four. The minds of children at that age are the ripest fruits of terrible creation.

For every elegant Sidus there is a rampant amorphous horror that slides and gibbers and squeals. Things that crawl and move in ways that the adult mind must reject, must believe cannot be real.

They say that all humans are born Generists. As we are born blank slates, ready to be imprinted with civility and humanity, we are born engines of fear. Like many things most humans grow out of it, as they age their wavelengths alter and their nightmares no longer build and create The World. There is a theory among the Professori and other academic or research minded individuals that revolves around the idea that between 2 and 4 our brains are at the perfect moment, we are conscious but not yet at the age of reason. We dream but cannot yet reconcile those as simply bad dreams.

As toddlers we are all the Id unleashed and unchained. Our language is not yet sophisticated enough to do the dreamwork necessary to banish these dreams or shed light on them enough to render the inert. Freud knew:

We assume that mental life is the function of an apparatus to which we ascribe the characteristics of being extended in space and of being made up of several portions [Id, ego, super-ego]. —Freud, An Outline of Psychoanalysis 

***

A Father sits bolt upright in bed and leaps from the comfort of his blankets into the chill night air. His partner sleeps and their child wails in his room. The sound is high, sharp and full of primitive panic. Without care that he is barefoot and shirtless the Father runs into the small bedroom, he expects blood or an intruder but there is only the child. The child sits up, clutching blankets and screaming the way only small children can.

“Shh, shh Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here, it’s okay, come on, it’s okay don’t cry.”

Wrapped in big strong Daddy arms the child stops screaming and whimpers.

“Daddy? Daddy, don’t want the raddow, raddow Daddy don’t want it.”

The Father frowns, rocking with the child tucked against his chest.

“Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a bad dream, Daddy’s here.”

The sweating child mutters about raddow and something that says, “thlissss my kid” or something. He doesn’t know. He does what his Father did for him when he had bad dreams. He climbs into the narrow little bed and tucks a stuffed bear against the child and then the child against his chest.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word-“

The Father closes his eyes, he is so tired. The nightmares have been every night this week. The child watches the darkness with glassy eyes. Daddy falls asleep still singing and the child watches the thing slink out from the shadow of branch on the wall. The child knows, the child hears the chitinous whisper,

“thlisss, my kid. See my kiddie, kiddie.”

The child sees the one luminous eye bright with malice and intent.

There is no more screaming, Daddy is here and the child can’t stay awake any longer. Sleep settles and the thing, the raddow is made and slips out of the world with a whisper and a promise. The child will forget, the father will forget and someday a Warrior or Beholder will happen upon the Raddow and as it whispers to them, all they will think what we all think when we know the thing we fight has come from the mind of a child.

“Fuck I hate kids.”

###

Further on Racial Uplift and Space.

As promised on facebooks I want to follow up this post .

I want to talk first about the feelings of conflict I still have. On one hand, I am still thirsty and desperate for solidarity with other Black people. A large part of that is trauma based in the fact that I had zero Black folks community growing up. Yes, I had family but most of my Black family I didn’t see often.

I spent time in my early 20s venturing into the POC neighborhoods and looking for that solidarity. I went to some community meetings, I went to see some speakers. Unfortunately, I did not really get to talk to folks. I showed up, gothy self in full effect. Loudly out Queer, concerned with the undesirables talking about drug addicts, sex workers, etc. And that did not fit the prescribed narrative of who deserved help and solidarity.

One time sticks out in my brain. I showed up to a talk about various peer to peer community help type thing. I spoke to one of the head dudes about the sex ed curriculum I was developing for young people with a focus on high school age kids, street kids and sex workers. I was so hype for the chance to get some help producing printed materials or getting space.

Now, even though the meeting was in a church I did not realize it was essentially a church approved. I talked passionately about the diaspora and all the dude said was, “you pronounced diaspora wrong” and walked away.

That describes in spirit a lot of my early interactions with the larger Black community. I was pretty bitter about it for a long time and for a minute decided well fuck Black folks.

I stopped that thought, but it was really terrible for me.

Those experiences are what seeded my thoughts about racial uplift.

I had to untangle the why of it and the how of it. The reality is that in a culture that absolutely devalues everything Black until White culture absorbs it until they are tired of it, racial uplift is important.

Everybody wants to be a nigga..etc see Paul Mooney talk about that here.

America loves Blackness until it is attached to an actual Black person.

When I realized that, I realized that while it hurt(s) my heart it is a direct result of White supremacy, racism and the very human need for hope.

For many Black folks, there is so little representation that we scramble and grab at whatever we get. Inside of that action, we start to find the gold. The Uplift. The Maya Angelou’s (but we can’t talk about her history as a sex worker). We buy into the idea that if we can just be better Negroes, if we only hold up our icons who have their pants pulled up and don’t use AAVE, who don’t look thuggish- that is the path to our salvation.

And there we see the failure of respectability politics and where a narrow idea of Racial Uplift falls apart.

This model by showing the shiny White Approved- no, not approved let’s be real tolerated (until they aren’t) icons fails because we’re human and humans are flawed and multifaceted.

Now we come to how I’ve healed myself in regard to that feeling of rejection from my own community.

My hope is wider.

My hope is that as we steam into the future, racial uplift can be expanded to those of us who aren’t “positive”, who aren’t putting on a good face for Whiteness, who are Queer, who are not religious, who are hood as fuck, who are poor, who are trans, who produce art that is disturbing and strange.

Blackness is so hugely beautifully diverse in how we express it, live it, make art in it and about it.

Blackness is so precious because even though not all skinfolk are kinfolk, we don’t have to be kinfolk.

Blackness built an American culture in ways that a lot of people might heavily mourn if it weren’t for us.

Blackness has taught America how to protest.

Blackness is my life. And there is space in the diaspora, in the creative diaspora for me and for you.

At this age and point in my creative life I’m at peace with this. It doesn’t burn my heart when a Black folks thing doesn’t necessarily need my flavor of art but they appreciate it.

I do think that we have a lot of work to do in terms of how we as a people start dismantling racial uplift in the context of putting on that Good Negro dance for Whiteness.  That said, I also believe that we can change that part of our culture and get beyond it.

So there you have it.

 

 

Promote ALL THE THINGS!

Oh y’all. Go get yourself some coffee and then come back because I have MANY things to show you. Per usual any Amazon links will be affiliate links.

Some of this stuff I bookmarked for this other stuff I asked for. All of it is awesome. Hand curated stuff to look at, read, buy and otherwise enjoy.

SO.

First up, my fave Milcah has announced they are relaunching their blog with a WHOLE NEW THING. I’m very excited about it and you can go read about it here.

Next, my friend s. j. bagley turned me onto a new project he got involved with called Thinking Horror. The blurb from Amazon:

THINKING HORROR: a Journal of Horror Philosophy is a nonfiction journal devoted to modern and contemporary horror literature consisting of essays, editorials, and in-depth interviews. The journal will be focused on the contexts and concepts of horror fiction.

I am SO FUCKING INTO IT HOLY SHIT. I just yeah. No for real go check it out at Amazon. I’ve been waiting since he announced it forever ago.

Next a new thing by someone I admire greatly. My friend Aaminah Shakur writing about art and watching you watch art. Y’all, their writing about art even when I don’t understand it just floors me. GO LOOK.

Now how about some poetry? My friend Noemi Martinez has a new piece up that I just love. Check that out here. Also check out Hermana Resist here. Fucking awesome.

My friend Lily has launched something really amazing. I can’t even…I mean. Okay, just go here to facebook (and like her page while you’re there) and look at her message pills. Buy some for someone because it’s a fantastic, loving idea. Lily is fucking magical.

This essay by Sarah Boyle at Gorgon Poetics, YASSSSSS. BURN IT DOWN! Um..that is how I express my love of this sort of thing. BURN IT BURN IT BURN IT!

How about more poetry? Hear my homie Kenzie Allen read her poetry and read the rest of this mag there is a lot of loveliness to be had. AND audio…I swooned.

A writer I adore is doing tiny letter. HOLY CRAP. GO GO GO and get letters from Mo Daviau. It will be great I promise.

WOW. Just going back and LOOKING at all these things is just making me do a little happy wriggle in my chair. I legit know the most talented amazing people in the whole world.

Ready okay let’s continue.

Next up I read this book by Ki Russell a while back and it just stayed with me. How to Become Baba Yaga by Ki Russell..it is just. It’s so beautiful and mystic. I love it so fucking much. Read it.

I came across this piece via my FB feed and it is really great. I am a black woman in the American south. And I’m not leaving by
Latria Graham. It just, yeah it gave me a lot of feels.

MORE POEMS. This time by the delectable Sonya Vatomsky. Their poetry is just…just buy the book.  Their book Salt is for Curing is just..yeah. Go. 

LOOK at how lovely Sarah Khan’s official website is.  Check the photos tab. The b/w shot of the stem and leaf is just..totally my aesthetic and I would put that on my wall.

You want to see some more stuff to check out? My homie Sara Habien does Notes from Elsewhere over at WordRiot and real talk I totally stole the format from there. Go check out more things.

Lynn B. Johnson has the Oldest Blog Alive. And I am so delighted by that. HOW can you not love that?

We have a shy poet in the house too. Bronwyn Petry  has a website and writes and edits and has one of my favorite names. I know that’s a weird thing to say but I think Bronwyn is just a really lovely name okay. Go show some love.

Let’s take a reading break and how about some art? I stumbled across Hal Rotting Graphics on Tumblr forever ago and I just..unf. I want ALL of the things and am probably going to snag a sticker pack for my laptop here soon.

Next up, nerds pay attention. Go like the page for American Witch comics. I AM SO HYPE ABOUT THIS!

Are you Canadian? In or around Toronto and into film? My homie Trista DeVries has somethin for you! Pretty cool magazine on the film scene.

Are you writing things? I have some stuff for my writing friends.

First up read and then submit to Dead Housekeeping. It’s just, heartbreaking and so good. I cherish it while I read it. AND if you’ve been here a while you’ve heard me say it time and again, COME JOIN US AT YEAH, WRITE.  No for real do it do it do it do it.

Need translation? Some bad ass poems? Non fiction? You need to meet Shabnam Nadiya. All the yes.

And we all need more amazing non binary trans-masculine types in our lives right? NO seriously, you do. Meet AJ Ripley and well, you’re welcome.

Listen to Gyda Arber talk about her new really cool project.  It is a podcast AND one you can download and listen to on the go. Fuck to the yes.

Now meet Stephanie Georgopulos. Freelance writer and she runs Human Parts. Awww, yiss.

Speaking of Human Parts, my friend Laurence Dumortier did this really great piece over there. Go read it. 

More stuff to listen to! Katie Klabusich hosts a podcast I really enjoy called The Katie Speak Show. I’m SO here for it. Bookmark, listen love.

More stuff? How about some real good nerd stuff? Via my homie  Alisha Karabinus and her academic team, ALL THE THINGS GAMING! Podcasts, videos awesomeness. If you are trying to get your nerd on in the context of amazing stuff like race and gaming, get it.

I also want you to meet Jen Selk writer and editor of awesome. Reviews, journalism, checkout her statement at the bottom of the page. TROLL BE GONE!

NOW okay this is pretty cool. Via Hanna Brooks Olson and Sarah Anne Lloyd, SEATTLISH. I didn’t realize I KNEW THEM. And that’s pretty fucking cool.

WOW this was a beast. Are you still here? Thanks for hanging out. I’ve been squirreling links away for weeks and I just get so excited about sharing my community with y’all. AND I don’t want you starved for great stuff to read and look at.

What about yours truly?

Well, actually naw. Check out the sidebar for my stuff. We’ll do me another day.

Except to say that I’ve been crocheting again after not doing it for a while and it feels great. I’m working really hard to work up the courage to sell some of my wares. Until then look at this beauty I’m working on now. I will be adding some gorgeous deep, vibrant teal and he’ll be done.

Thanks for reading and as always, if you have stuff you want to share with everybody, LEAVE THEM LINKS BOO!

shawl

Be That Shit.

First behold my fave meme.

dreams

First panel says: Follow your mothafuckin’ dream.

Second panel says: I don’t give a damn if you wanna be a professional Ninja Turtle.

Last panel says: Be That Shit.

I am all about that Be That Shit Life.

So here’s what’s going on in my pursuit of the above.

First thing, I did a great interview for Litcrawl Seattle. Get it here at Tumblr and please feel free to pass it along. My event is this one:

VIDA Presents: Women of Color Prose Reading
Fred Wildlife Refuge, 128 Belmont Ave. E.
With Shannon Barber (Self Care Like a Boss), Jennine Capo Crucet (Make Your Home Among Strangers, How to Leave Hialeah), and Wendy C. Ortiz (Excavation: A Memoir, Hollywood Notebook).

Um holy shit right? HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.

I am terribly nervous but I got my outfit sorted and what I’m reading and will just…do that shit. If you are there please know I will probably want to hug you but I will be really sweaty.

Next thing, I am launching my own TinyLetter newsletter. Find that here. Look forward to general writing life stuff, appearances, announcements, maybe the odd wee essay. It’s free and I won’t spam you at all. I am very nervous about doing this and it took a lot of me goading myself into it.

It looks like we have a very few 50% off copies of Self Care Like A Boss. Last I heard there were only six left. So if you want it now, grab it. Look out for the next iteration around New Years.

What else is happening?

I am relearning to make zines and will have some to sell over in my etsy shop by Christmas.

Also to celebrate October I’m gettin Spoopy over there and am re-releasing some spooky fiction and for Halloween (also my anniversary with my partner, Old Goths are Old) some brand new Lovecrafty type stuff. Check out what’s available here.

I almost forgot.

I had a reading a couple of weeks ago and I put up one of the pieces I read on Ink Node. I also have a tiny lil video of me reading from Self Care Like a Boss. After I get some sound tests done, I will be posting more videos of me reading and blogging about stuff. It’s gonna be a thing.

What else?

AH yes in the more angsty region of the Be That Shit Life, I decided I’m going to go ahead and try doing a fundraiser to help get me to AWP. I made a huge long list of pros and cons, discussed it with my partner and yeah, it is important to me to go. I’ll do a whole big post about it later after I get things set up.

Later this week more in my Yeah, Write grand experiment. Should I explain about that some this week?

I dunno.

So yeah, go read the things! Check out the Etsy and you my friend, Be That Shit. Whatever you wanna be.

 

 

Some Erotica and a raw look at what inspires me.

If you’ve been here for a while, you know that one of my dear friends, muses and a writer I admire deeply is Remittance Girl. Her story Heat Sink is hands down my pants one of the hottest things I’ve ever read.

We know I’m not really hetero but there is something in the tone of this piece that just gets me.

That being what it is and the fact that I was feeling uninspired to finish writing something else I decided to write a piece inspired by her piece. So first go read or listen to her piece. I highly suggest listening to it because she has a fantastic reading voice and having smut, read to you is super fucking hot.

No, seriously it’s pretty short read it. Or mine won’t make sense.

Okay, here’s what her piece sparked in my brainmeat.

OH wait before I do that. This is directly from my brain and completely unedited. If you’ve been curious as to where stories start with me, this is a good example.

I might polish it up I might not.  I will come back tomorrow and talk about some erotic things that are on my mind. This is about 20 minutes of work or so after listening to the story and reading it to pick up a few key things.

Enjoy.

AND thank you my dear friend for being my muse so often. I adore you.

Untitled-raw.

My girlfriend already told me to stop staring once tonight. I can’t help it, they are so beautiful together. I know she thinks no one else knows, that at least a few of us can’t tell.

“Stop staring.”

My girlfriend’s voice is hot against my ear and I shrug her off.

“Look at them. Look at his jaw.”

A muscle jumps near his jaw, I know that calm. I wonder if his wife felt it when they first met or if she had to learn. I am pretty sure she had to learn. She has that look, the same look I know I have. It’s something in the eyes, that glitter of fear tingling in her spine while she flirts and smiles.

My girlfriend is amused, she pats my ass before leaving me to my fantasizing while I watch them. I watch her lean toward the lawyer, her cleavage jiggling, her fingers worrying a necklace.

I want to watch them.

I watch his long fingers roll the wine glass in his hand slowly, his eyes are hooded until someone else speaks to him and he smiles. He’s not pretty and I like that. I can’t stand a pretty man when I can stand men at all.

Does he spank her?

Tie her up?

I have heard his voice tight with tension. At another of these stupid adult boring parties. I watched some drunk asshole paw at his lusty friendly wife, I sidled near to listen to the susurrus of his anger, low and even. The tightness of his grip on the other man’s arm, the way his eyes went cold.

My cunt throbbed. I was certain if I tried to sit anywhere I’d leave a wet spot a mile wide.

I’m brought out of my reverie by her voice, his wife speaking low in my ear.

“Hi, he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

Lily, yes, that’s her name it is Lily- has a voice like wine and cigarettes and sex.

I tip my head a little to look at her, the red lipstick has worn off of her lips and she is just a little drunk. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her while he watches and judges.

I lick my lips, my girlfriend and I do not have an understanding about this sort of thing so I swallow my come on.

“You’re both gorgeous, but you know that, don’t you?”

Her chuckle is warm and redolent of wine. I look back up and her husband is watching us, that little muscle in his jaw tightening into a marble under his skin. I feel her smile, she’s showing off. Her face is next to mine and she murmurs too low for anyone else to hear.

“When we get home, he’s going to spank me and then fuck me. He likes his women whorish. He’d love you. He’d make you cry.”

My cunt feels like it is going to turn inside out.

I swallow and can’t hide the catch in my voice. I can’t hide my desire.

“Lily, you are such a cunt.”

I smile at her husband and he nods, she kisses my cheek and then she’s gone. Back to flirting with the lawyer while I stand there frozen.

My girlfriend appears at my side and puts her arm around my waist.

“Come help me with my face.”

In the bathroom. she leans me against the counter and pulls up my skirt. I am so wet she slides three fingers inside me without preamble or sweetness. Her other hand creeps around my throat and she stares at my face in the mirror.

She knows me so well, she knows my secrets and when she starts fucking me hard enough to make me squeal, she covers my mouth.

“Straight couples now? Really bitch? Really?”

Under her hands, I’m grinning and coming, my thighs give out and I lay across the cold marble counter barely able to breath.

My girlfriend pulls out before I’m done and starts to wash her hands.

“Get your shit together before you come out.”

Her clipped tone is hot around the edges with need. I sit on the toilet when she leaves, laughing and making a note on my phone to send Lily and her husband a gift basket.

###

Building a World Next to The World

I’m having a really awful day so I’m going to talk more about this project I’m doing.

I’ve embarked on a serious effort to write this Urban Fantasy novella (?) I’ve had on my mind since 2004.

Over on Patreon as I’ve mentioned, I was giving those folks first peeks and then I will be releasing things a month behind. So in July everyone gets a crack at the part I sent out to Patrons in June.

Yesterday I put up a free post, get it here where I wrote a letter about how this started, what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. Here’s a taste:

I debated about doing this and in the end, I want to stay true to my ideals about providing some transparency in my experiences. One of the things that is important to me in my work is that I can provide some bit of lasting information that a young or otherwise hesitant or shy writer might want to see.

So many authors talk about how ashamed, they are of previous works, first novels, the mythical terrible first draft. I have never felt that way. It is deeply meaningful to me to be able to show not only my long time readers but new readers how I have progressed. I am proud of how much I’ve changed and learned. I’m proud of finding my voice and looking back at things I wrote ten or fifteen years ago and saying, look where I was.

I believe there is deep value in not standing in the tradition of the uh, solitary writer who occasionally reveals that they hand wrote a shitty draft of their novel but won’t share what it was like in the trenches.

Naturally, there is the chance someone will steal it. I am willing to risk it.

Get your paws on the whole letter here.

This is not a thing I have seen other folks do so I am winging it.

Here I want to talk about something I just realized while I was talking to my bestie.

This character and story has been brewing for a decade.

First, I want to talk about my motivations for giving people access to what is basically the roughest of drafts of this thing that might or might not become a book.

When I was a kidlet writer, one of the things I could never wrap my head around was the real talk process of writing a novel or longer work. Yeah, there is ass in chair and take notes/outlines, write it long form etc type advice, but what my brain needs a lot of the time is a visual.

I need to see the thing so I can study it.

Another aspect to this is a vulnerability. It’s a very serious feeling of being naked and showing my soft little creator heart to people. More so because this is my first try at something like this and my little baby nerd heart is so all in.

Doing things this way is showing my tender underbelly, showing you (my voyeurs if you wanna be fancy) the magic behind the stories. I want to share how I arrived at decisions, what I am not doing. I want to take folks on the ride with me because riding roller coasters alone sucks.

Writing is such a solitary thing. And at the same time it is a team effort.

By team effort I mean I ask my friends questions. Sometimes not to get an answer, but just to say it out loud and answer it myself.

The other thing that guided me to this particular place is that I am terrified of this kind of vulnerability. It is really difficult for me to be completely open when something is so incredibly important to me. This story and the creation of it is my real, actual bleeding heart and I am not hiding it under a bell jar I’m showing it to people. I’m letting folks touch it and look at it and that scares the actual fuck out of me.

Things that make me feel like this, mean I am doing the right thing for me.

If it gives me bubble guts, I’m on to something.

One of the other parts of this is that I am learning to pull my world together.

This world is part of Seattle and part of many other worlds. I’m learning that I don’t have to put in ALL the shit I love. It’s not my one shot at doing something like this.

This feeling that when I write things that are so close to my heart is is my only chance to get them out has been something I’ve dealt with for years. A lot of that is poverty related. For so many years I was so busy just trying to survive, I had no time or safety to sit and write my heart out. I wrote what I thought would get published and sometimes it did.

That was gratifying. It kept me going for a long time.

Through working with MilcahMilcah, and Motherblazing Books, I’m getting there.

Through Patreon and finding that I do actually have an audience outside of my immediate loved ones and chosen family, I’m getting there.

Through reading other authors of color I love I’m getting there.

And I want to share it.

It might be a terrible idea.

This story might turn out to be trash.

I’m good.

So here is a chunk from one of the nanowrimo things that I’m using as source material. This is a whole other story from what I’m doing now and this bit will probably not be in my Daiyu thing.

I’m also considering doing a raffle to name it.

Read more under the cut.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

###

Continue reading “Building a World Next to The World”