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Yeah Write #219 entry- Waste Not


Waste Not


Shannon Barber

The scream cut off after too many seconds.

L stands naked in the middle of the tiled room, hands on her wide hips, her mouth pulled down at the corners.

“Shit, didn’t know he was gonna be a screamer.”

B the other naked woman is frowning too, her bloody arms crossed over her breasts.

“I swear to all our Gods you have got the worst taste in sacrifice. Did you even fuck him first?”

L’s shoulders hunch up around her ears and she prods the head of the sacrifice.

“Well, I sat on his face for an hour that counts right?”

B rolls her eyes mightily and goes to wash her hands and pick up her phone. She scrolls through documents until she finds the one she wants.

“Okay, all is not lost. How about we talk to  Nekhbet? She’s a vulture so carrion should be good. And it’s been a while since we raised an oracle to talk to. Start stacking the body parts and should we include some other meat in case she’s not in the mood for white dude?”

L smiles and starts to arrange the parts.

“Naw I think it’ll be good. You get the altar ready. Oh boo you got bloody parts in your butt crack.”

B shrugs.

“Eh, it could be worse.”

She pauses to admire the jiggling brown backside of her wife, unable to help herself, she stops what she’s doing and stares.


L looks over her shoulder.


“We fuckin’ later or nah?”

L slowly wiggles her butt, letting the jiggle travel from butt cheeks down her thighs.

“You nasty and yeah. Now get to work so we can finish up and head out.”

B turns back to her work carefully writing the start of the incantation in the dead man’s blood.

Father of Fathers, Mother of Mothers, who hath existed from the Beginning, and is Creatrix of this World.



Meet Nekhbet here.

Yeah, Write #216 Entry- My Twin Tried It

My Twin Tried It


“Come on, why  you bein’ stingy?”

I’m sitting on the counter in my bathroom putting my eyeliner on and my twin brother is sitting on the toilet complaining as usual.

“Look, I already told you, it is not that kinda party.  It’s not for you.”

“Tay, come on bitch why not?”

His voice is starting to annoy me and I don’t want to explain, but I know I’m going to have to or he’s going to whine until I leave then text me every ten minutes while I’m gone.

“Because Tee this party is like, hella gay. Super gay. Like, the party is called Bitches 4 Bitches. It’s for hood dykes. You are not a lesbian.”

I can see the face he’s pulling behind my back.

“Really? Really, Tay? Bitches 4 Bitches? Is you serious? That’s nasty.”

I turn and stare at him, eyes narrowed.

“The fuck did you just say to me Tee? My party is nasty? Really? You think I forgot you went to that stupid what was it? Do I have to remind you about that Anti Black bullshit flyer? No dark girls? Yo’ Mama is fuckin’ dark. You’re dark. I’m dark. And my party is gross? Really bitch? Really?”

Tee is cringing, he puts his hands up and tries to shrink.

“Not to mention I’m fucking gay and GOD forbid I want to go dance with other women of color without some Hotep ashy dick Negro like yourself have a problem. Don’t start with me, I still gotta do my eyebrows and get my lashes on. I’m tryna get with that pretty fat dark girl I me that the last party.”

“Fine, damn. Calm, down. This ain’t twitter.”

I can’t help but giggle, I already put my girls on him about his bullshit on Twitter.

He stands up and comes to watch me finish my make up.

“You know I don’t mean that shit right? I’m tryin’ sis.”

I turn my head and plant a big shimmery kiss on his cheek.

“I know, boo boo. We’ll get you woke yet. Here hold this mirror so I can get my lashes on.”

He holds my hand mirror still and I can see he’s got that look on his face.

“Don’t put them girls from Twitter on me again. Them girls ain’t no joke. I never been roasted like that in my life. “

I do a good job of not laughing and screwing up my lash placement.

“Well, I told you if you got on that Hotep bullshit I’d put them on you. You wouldn’t listen to me. Look, I keep trying to get you to understand that lack women, especially Queer Black women are not here for that. I’m not here for it. You stay on that bullshit and they’ll fuck you up again. How are my eyebrows?”

Tee tilts my head and nods.

“Looks good. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying. Some of that is true-“

If I wasn’t already running late, we’d be fighting. I roll my eyes and jump off of the counter.

“Don’t even. Now shut up and tell me I look cute and that girl is gonna be there.”

“You look cute and she’s gonna be there. Okay, but-“

“Tee. Don’t. Don’t go down that fuck boy path again. Every one of our gay ancestors and every hot ass queer Black girl I know will destroy you. Again. In public. Now stop it. I’m leaving. Do something about yourself Hotep. Be glad I got a girl to talk to.”

I get out of my robe and put my shoes on before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. I love my brother, but I can’t. I have girls to seduce and no time for his nonsense.


What’s Going On?

So homies.

Holy shitballs.

Lots of things are happening right now. A couple are secret, but here’s some stuff I’m good to talk about.

I wrote over on Medium about the recent happenings in ConPo, Vanessa Place and AWP and what critics of the mainly POC people talking about this are doing and how they are using some new shit coded racist language. That was convoluted, the short version is people in the lit world are being extra racist as fuck lately.

I have more to say about that, but it’ll happen next week.

What else?

I’m ready for more Patrons. My household finances are about to get leveled out and I would like to start saving for AWP16 in LA soon.

What else?

It’s 7:30 inthe fucking morning. I’m coming off of a migraine and can’t sleep.

I keepthinking about the banality of the way the lit world gets a racism boner.

I  say, hey don’t be fucking racist. I get blocked on social media by white dude bro poets I’ve never heard of. I get shitty messages everywhere about how I’m ruining my career before it takes off. How if I’d just be quieter and nicer with allies, if I’d write “normal” stories.

Okay so recently I got published at Shotgun Honey. That was a big fucking deal for me. I’ve been a huge fan of that magazine for a long time and yeah, there was an agenda with that story.

The Junie in the story is a Black lesbian who under her mentor has put her art and anatomy to good use in the criminal world.

That is not a story I’ve heard before in most noir type stuff so I wrote it.

A few “friends”  suggested that it was weird and why did Junie have to be Black AND gay.

That’s what I deal with from “friends” .

That’s well meaning people upholding white supremacy.

Those people are honestly worse than straight up racists.

Instead of saying like, hey that story was a piece of shit or hey cool little story. I got but why was she Black and gay.

It is exhausting.

It is demoralizing.

And yet, I’m still doing it.

Mostly unpaid. Entirely too visible sometimes.

It’s why my comments are moderated.

Why I will block people or ban them. So far on my author page on facebook I’ve deleted a treasure trove of racist sexist comments. I’ve blocked I don’t know how many people.

And, look.

Here I am. Exhausted. Stressed out. Half terrified and giving way too few fucks.

I’m still here.

Okay I’m being told to finish my food and take some drugs so I’ll sleep.

Goodnight moons and hams.

Yeah Write entry #212-Siren by Night


Siren by Night


Shannon Barber

Inside the warm night she moves as though swimming. Hands in her pockets, headphones on, dark eyes on the moving shadows and what she knows lives there. She eases through scattered groups of night people virtually unseen.

Drawn towards the water and into the deeper part of the night she pauses to listen. In these times the night lives with sirens and the squawking of angry junkies.

She wants to stop and weep as her sisters weep.

She cannot.

She is part of this orange light washed strange world. Part of the dirty street and urban lost.

Her steps relentlessly eat the blocks until the water is only yards away. The susurrus of waves breaking against the rocky strip of “beach” calls her home.

In the dark, she sheds her clothes and boots before walking headlong into freezing water to sing illusions into the hearts of men who pass.

In the deep, she will feast.

She will feast and see her sisters for a blessed night.

And then she will return to her shadows and streets and urban land life.

On changes and the finances.

Okay so since I’ve decided to alter how I finance this shit show of a thing I want to talk about how it is going.

I’ve given up trying to freelance regularly. I will still occasionally when I am able to write for XoJane or other spots but, the constant hustle of trying to do it weekly was not working for me at all.

Now as far as what I’m paying for month to month it’s pretty simple. My cell phone, my renter’s insurance. Hopefully if things go well premium Spotify.

Currently I’m in the black and my cell phone and insurance are both covered for this month and next. I’ve also been able to set aside 10$ in my little savings account to go into my new laptop fund.

If Patreon keeps going well I will be able to reup my Duotrope subscription at the end of next month. And in July rejoin AWP.

So far none of my new methods are profitable. I’m not super worried about that just yet.

So what else am I doing?

I am writing things like my old school blog posts for my Patrons and Paypal donors. After a few weeks I will likely make these as quick n easy downloads in my etsy shop as well.

With help from Milcah I’m using Smartypig to help me save for my laptop. One of the things I love about this is that when I panic or have poverty brain meltdown I can’t touch this money. Many of my wise friends have suggested something like this and I’m into it. UH so wordpress won’t let me use the widget but if you click this long ass link you can see how I’m doing, you can join up and use it for your own goals or if you want throw some pennies in the piggy bank.

So far I feel okay and like things are going to where I need them to be in order to produce my best work.

This is already paying off in that I was able to settle down, finish up some fiction, submit some and get one acceptance.

Overall, while this is nerve wracking for me and I really don’t like that I can’t operate in a more profitable way and still write great things, this is slowly working out.

I’m still trying to settle in to a new methodology with my writing. I have some further plans that require the lighter travel worthy laptop and some sleep.

Now I gotta get some work done.

Next week I’m going to talk about Lovecraft some more because I’m almost done rereading the Necronomicon, I have a bit to say about the Hugo situation and Sad Puppies. I might even get excited and talk about fandom stuff and how way back when I was pretty much turned off to it forever.

Also listen to this Rihanna song, it is kinda my theme music for the week.

The Stuff I like: Mick Betancourt

Welcome to the first of a new thing where I share about stuff/people/things I like.

Up first I want to introduce y’all to Mick Betancourt and his Podcast.

I first came upon Mick Betancourt on a podcast with Jerry Stahl and Laura House hosting the David Feldman show.

Sooooo uh, first of all, he is really fucking funny. Now I haven’t talked about comedy a lot, but I’m pretty not into a lot of comics for various reasons, so hearing one I thought was funny was pretty great.

So that was my first exposure which of course led me to his podcast and holy shitballs.

This is my people. I love his podcast because even when it is a first conversation there is something about the way he talks to people that cuts through a lot of interviewy bullshit.

A thing I really enjoy is when I find people who know the struggle. I’m sure some of you have figured this out. It doesn’t matter what the struggle is, in particular, what’s important to me is how people talk about it. How people talk about their fucked up lives and backgrounds. How people talk about their triumphs and fails.

I like how Mick B. Talks about his life. I find it really intellectually and emotionally attractive when people can laugh about those deeply fucked up moments in life and laugh more when things are fucked up but great.

Now the podcast.

One of the things I love about the podcast is that he’s not afraid to share some love about stuff/things/whatever he likes. I dig that. From the big upping local businesses to the projects and things guests are doing. I appreciate that.

My favorite episodes are most of them. Some of the people I wasn’t familiar with before and finding them this way feels pretty fancy.

I also love how he talks about The Hustle. The Hustle is whatever you’re doing, y’all know that I talk about my own Hustles a lot here and it just delights me to see how other people talk about theirs.

I quite honestly just find his show delightful whether it is so funny, I’m cackling on the bus like a loon or when it is serious.

Check out the show on facebookshere.

Go listen to some episodes. I can suggest the Joey Diaz episodes (they are really fucking great, listening to those two talk was like having lunch with your bad ass uncles), The Anonymous Smuggler episode from last year was fantastic. Super funny, especially if you know any of the history of the time. And the most recent three episodes.


I just realized I should have added links to the above paragraph but I’m still operating on way too little sleep and my fuckin’ brain is just no.

Next week, another try at historical flash fiction from me. I answer some questions I got from another writer about the whole Patreon thing.

AND I will probably talk some about the Lovecraft inspired fiction I’ve been writing and revisiting his work and how it is making me feel.

Short answer is conflicted as fuck.

Yeah, Write #208 entry- Bumble Bee Goddamn Arizona


Bumble Bee, Goddamn Arizona


Shannon Barber

“Bumble Bee goddamn Arizona. Bumble. Bee. God. Damn. Arizona.”

M stood in the dingy little room, yanking the laces of her corset, her movements so violent her curls bounced as vigorously as the tops of her pale brown breasts.

Her companion, her faux husband cowered in the corner out of reach. He knew better than to intrude on one of her frequent tirades. From Missouri to their current predicament he had enough bumps on the head from thrown lamps and bottles to know when not to speak.

“Bumble Bee- come on we’ll make money. There’s gold. Eric, there is no fucking gold here. There is no fucking brothel here. There is not even a goddamn bar here.  There is a post office and this room.  Help me why are you just standing there?”

Eric smiled behind her back and gently untangled her laces. He knew once she was unrigged and lounging in bed with something to drink.

“I know. If that sin buster son of a bitch had kept his cock holster shut we would be fine. But you know how they are. Now, I saw that Miss Nancy in the post office eyeing me. I promise I will get us taken care of and out of Bumble Bee Goddamn Arizona.”

When she was free of her corset and other underpinnings he let her hair down and dug his hands into her thick black hair. She let her head loll and the brimstone was out of her tone.

“Why, my dear Eric, are you not really my husband?”

He smiled and kissed her long neck. He patted her bottom and turned her toward the rickety bed in the corner. Eric tucked her in and kissed her cheeks.

“Because darling, if I weren’t a homosexual I would just be a Sunday Man and that would be boring. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a randy Miss Nancy to seduce. Go to sleep. If you’re good girl I’ll bring you back something to eat.”

M smiled and subsided. She was tired and as he preened and fussed with his hair, her eyelids fluttered down. Before he stepped out she opened her eyes and smiled dreamily at him.

“Someday we’ll have our own place. Our own.”

Eric kissed her forehead and headed out to meet the man who would finance this next leg of their trip. It felt good to give her a break for a few nights.

“I know love. It’ll be ace high and all our own.”



For info on my slang check out this Western Slang dictionary I found.


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