Why Valentine’s Day is Nothing to Me.

It was the late 1990’s. I was young, wild, and in love. His hair was longer than mine and he was my polar opposite. I liked darkness and sarcasm. He was a hippie metal head. We had a long term back and forth relationship so what else could we do to express our commitment to one another? It was time to get married. So said the brains of a seventeen and eighteen year old.

We had a semi-long engagement, mainly we knew I could not get married for another year, anyway. It seemed like “doing it the right way.” The only issue was not thinking about the extended future. Sure, I was going to go to college, and then he would, we would just be those mature married college kids. The dark one and the hippie.

In the year of engagement and brushing over the story of how very not pleased my parents were with this idea, signs burst out in neon around us, but we didn’t see them- or didn’t want to see. His family hated my planned Renaissance styled dress and called it so many degrading names, I switched from the style of dress I’d known I would have since I was a young girl watching Labyrinth. It hurt, but it was just a dress and as immature as I was, I knew marriage was about more than the wedding.

Then, I was informed we must get married in the church. I was against this. I also always had my own ideas of a wedding. Small, simple, elegant, self-written vows and no sermon. It was a huge deal for them. I agreed, and then found out we had to meet with the pastor to see if he would even marry us since we were young sinners. Well, wow. What is the percentage of non-sinner weddings? But I agreed. Sarcastically, but agreed.

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Shortly after the big bombshell, in my opinion hit. We were to follow his family tradition of being married on Valentine’s Day. Remember the mention of my darkness and all? Where does the most lovey-dovey commercialized holiday fit into that? Not to mention, I’d never had a good Valentine’s Day. Even the year before, he and I were broken up for a short spurt running through Valentine’s and well, things happened and Valentine’s was not a shining good memory for either of us. But, it was this long ran family tradition, and who was I to ruin a tradition just as I was entering the family? That would be rude, right?

Well, my parents were bothered as their opinionated, my-way-or-the-highway daughter relayed information of what was obviously not plans from my mind or heart. But, like parents tend to do, they stood by me, and fit the bill for most everything I never wanted.

The pastor liked us and due to my bluntness, agreed to even mum the sermon part to a minimum. We had this glorious Valentine wedding. I managed some black roses into my my flower pattern and our wedding party looked like the November Rain video. I was informed the night before the wedding that we couldn’t even dance, which was great, since my mom secured one of the best pianist around for the wedding and reception. He was on my side enough to play as we entered the reception hall, including playing, “The Stripper” as my mom walked in- I guess he liked her. LOL.

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After the reception and cleaning beside my family, we finally were able to leave the church well past unrelated guests that were not cleaning with us. I discovered our honeymoon money was conjured off my new husband by his parents because, well… it was their anniversary. We didn’t even have money for dinner. We went straight home and I locked myself in the bedroom and cried myself to sleep in my wedding dress.

Welcome to the real world. Welcome to Valentine’s Day and how it always worked for me.

Fast forward to family time. Getting married on Valentine’s sounds good and sweet until you need a baby sitter because not only is it Valentine’s but it is also your wedding anniversary. Forget the pressure of trying to double the fun and gifts. Babysitters do not exist. Asking someone to babysit on this day is the most insulting thing you can do. First, even though I later found out some people (like his sister) were not obligated to the Valentine wedding tradition and I swallowed that bitter pill, any of the one’s I would ask to babysit were indeed also celebrating anniversaries on this date, and I guess if they weren’t conning the date night money out of my husband’s pocket, I should be thankful.

If you ask single friends to babysit, you assume they are not worthy of plans that night. If you ask married friends, you are assuming the spark is gone in their relationship. Thank goodness businesses exist for professional sitters now because NEVER ASK SOMEONE YOU LIKE AND CARE ABOUT TO BABYSIT ON VALENTINE’S. Those new to an anniversary on this date or are contemplating the date to marry, note this. Note it well.

As years passed, it was easier to make it about the kids and less about us..and by less, I really mean not at all about us. So with this day, we really lost a commercialized holiday to compete with which of our friends got the best gift or romanced the sweetest, to also losing the day of our vows. I won’t say it was the ax in us, but along with many other things, it sprinkled bitterness on everything like Paula Dean spicing a ham.

Once in a blue moon, we had a night out the day before, day after, week after- whatever we could do, but in time, it just ho-hummed. In reality, we were fighting to celebrate one of the worst days of us. I recall one Valentine anniversary crying on the floor with my wedding dress I so very much hated and I do not even recall getting the scissors, but needless to say, I felt some enjoyment that year.

A horrible wedding day, a wedding nothing as I wanted, and a date that is impossible to consider “your special day,” is great for something. I learned what mattered and what did not. Valentine’s did not matter to me. Anniversaries did not matter to me. Weddings did not matter to me.

Things that do not matter

The individual date of marriage

The dress

The event

The invitations

The food

The music

The general money spent on entertaining other people to celebrate the love between two people

The holiday everyone celebrates the love they normally take for granted

The money spent on this day

The place you eat on this day

Jewelry or precious stones

Things that do matter

Everyday, even the bad ones

Not letting other people control any situation not about them

Respect

Foundation of friendship

Vows

Smiles

Tears

Laughter

Sickness

Small things on days that mean nothing that turns that nothing day into an important memory

Knowing when to keep holding on

Knowing when to let go.

If you know me at all, you likely know my marriage ended over three years ago. Through this time, on February 14th especially, I have not pondered so much the dress, the sitters, the date or the music. I don’t care about the cake, the lack of dancing, diamonds or gold. I have also not rushed into making sure I am not alone, in fact some may say I enjoy being single too much. Those morons likely still think the color schemes and expensive cake make a wedding and marriage. After a three year separation, we finalized our divorce this week, a few days before what would have been our 16th Valentine anniversary.

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So when I say I hate Valentines, it has nothing to do with my anniversary, the lack of sitters, or a wedding I did not like. It is because after turning this day into an icon to represent us for so many years, it means nothing to me. When I think of the good times and what I miss it is not the wedding, the cake, the yearly attempts at February 14th. I miss not cooking when I am sick. I miss popping my back at night like a routine so I am not in pain. I miss not going to the ER alone. I miss relaxing on the porch on summer nights, with crickets in the background as we talk about what it is going to be like when we are old. But mostly, I miss not seeing that we didn’t really start becoming friends until we knew we were over and that we’d left so many scars on each other, the wounds would never heal together.

Every single day you spend with someone is a brick in your foundation. Friendship is the mortar. If you build a foundation with ideals of not being alone, materialism, other people’s opinions in charge of your choices, and talking without communication, you will fall apart. If you slow down and make friendship the mortar, I’d say you have a 50/50 shot of making it. If you don’t take that time, every year brings another shot at a good Valentine’s Day. You’ll always have that.

Lit Genius Extraordinaire! — With The Lovely Ms. P.

A very sincere thanks to the lovely & talented Valarie Savage Kinney for allowing me on her blog to post the A-Z basics of Livian!

Organizing Chaos And Other Misadventures

ASHELLYEDITEDA

Hi there. Yeah, you! Like fantasy? You do? Well, check this out I have a new book. A timeless fantasy. Warriors, death, fear, and everyone seems to dig this blood-thirsty unicorn army. I’ve made a quick A-Z list of keywords that may just pull you in enough to make Livian your next read! Scroll all the way down for information on how to possibly win an ebook of Livian! Here we go…..

Alpha- Leaders of a tribe or race.

Brutes- Name for the strong magical beings known as Elf.

Crawlers- the vast array of spiders that spin mazes of webs in the woods.

Dreamers- The Gods. The Creators.

Elsa- The only female role model Livian has known. She is a tender hearted fairy, sweet on Inennious.

Fairy- Winged Beings known as warriors

Greenery- Nasty meals needed to keep the bowels from exploding, according to Inennious

Healers/Horned Ones- The Unicorns

Inennious…

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What Dreams May Come

 

I imagine some piece of every human heart broke with the tragic news of Robin Williams passing away. I have to admit, I’d hoped it was one of those cases where twitter trends “kill” someone that is still very much alive. But it wasn’t. I was visiting with my mother when the news broke, and you would have thought we lost a close family member with the way it stunned us into a silence, followed by tears. Here in the south, I think our first instinct to cope with deal is to cook and/or eat. Something about frying chicken, making a cake, or some other southern dish and taking it to the home of mourning takes the sting away, at least a little bit. On the other side, something about caring people showing up with fried chicken or a cake when your home is the home of mourning makes the moments feel less like shattered glass beneath bare feet.

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But in this case, I think the house of mourning was every home in America, if not the world. It is easy to say that this brilliant man was in some way, a part of most of our youth. He was why we all tried to sit on our heads. He was a rapping bat. He was a genie. This man was Peter Pan. He was so many things, and he gave us the freedom to imagine, pretend, act, and for some of us, we wrote words and prayed someday, he, or someone like him, could make our words come alive for the rest of the world.

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But the fact of it is, Robin Williams was not just the vision of our youth, but the understanding of our adult realities. Some of these need no explaining, just titles. Dead Poets Society. Good Will Hunting. Jack. Patch Adams. A million times during stressful kid moments, I’ve turned to my kids and said, “POOF! Whaddaya need? POOF! Whaddaya need?”

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Jack made me appreciate life. I remember the local casting calls for this movie called Patch Adams, set in the 1970s. My (then) boyfriend at the time and I sent in our photos for a shot at being in a Robin Williams flick. We weren’t 70s enough, though with both of us having hair past our bottoms, I never understood. I recall us being upset, but quickly stating, “Well, I guess Robin Williams had nothing to do with extra casting, or we’d be in!” Because, come on, we all felt like he was our buddy, our pal, one cool fella.

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Our kids are raised with Williams. Maybe a board game gotten out of hand, or some happy feet, or why we leave RV vacations to Papa.

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Most recently, very recently, I saw Robin Williams in a role again for the first time. Let me explain. I was still pretty young when Mrs. Doubtfire came out, and being a child with parents that just did not work out as a couple, I loved this movie. I could see so much of my dad in the character of Daniel. I wanted to smoosh Robin Williams and Sally Field together at the end in one of those, “Now kiss.” moments but I understood when it didn’t end that way.

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Remember the boyfriend that wasn’t Patch Adams 70s enough with me? Well, he became my husband, Daniel. Seriously, his name is Daniel just like Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire. We married young and we made it though years and years and then we became one of those couples that just didn’t work. Not from lack of love or trying. It just didn’t work. We firmly agreed to remain friends, which as anyone can imagine, is work as well and some moments would be fit for reality television. Le sigh. Through all the tense moments and not seeing eye to eye and sometimes, not even feeling like we lived in the same world, we work on friendship.

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Not long ago, likely not even a month ago, he came over and we were in one of those tense, working really hard to get along moments and when he showed up, Mrs. Doubtfire was on. We didn’t speak, but he ended up caught up in the movie and we sat in silence. Come on, you know it is easy to get caught up watching Robin Williams, even at your ex wife’s house But, as I said, I saw him again for the first time. Robin Williams wasn’t playing the role that reminded me of my father. He was playing the role of my ex husband. My mom wasn’t the Sally Field. I was. It hurt in a way I cannot put into words, and words are my life. And not just because Peirce Bronson is not my rebound, but because I could feel the side of the movie as I did as a child. And now, I could feel the role of Sally Field, and there is no “now kiss and make up” moment there.

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I don’t talk about my personal life too often, not in detail. But I’ve been sick since before the end of my marriage with an undiagnosed illness. I’ve been blessed with a fantastic group of specialists that work with me constantly and try to figure out this grand mystery that has transformed my entire way of life. I’ve struggled with the single mom thing with a lack of mobility and days of constant pain. Little things have become big things. Field trips, awards, talent shows, trips to the park- all these things have become major events with the mystery illness. Sickness also brings about the truth most of us would be better off not knowing. The truth of the people in our life and what happens through thick and thin. Promises are broken. Wonderful people fall from the highest of pedestals, but then other people surprise you. Some people flake out when being in your life or loving you isn’t easy and some people you never expected to surprise you, do and they come with support and love and just knowing you are not alone.

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During a long run of heartbroken and pain-filled nights, I’ve bonded with my oldest daughter. She has helped me so much. She helps make sure the youngest ones don’t see me as anything other than Wonder Woman. A gift I can never repay. She’s gone without a lot during this as well. She has taken on many responsibilities I’d prefer she not have just yet, but life happens. Summer break has given us lots of late nights for her to stay up while I could not sleep and I was proud to share with her something of my own youth. We had our own escape from everything- the stress, doctor visits, busy schedules, pain, etc, etc, etc. We had Mork. Mork and Mindy became a normal relief from our problems. We’ve come close to seeing all the episodes now and we’ve even joked about the perfect men were probably Orkan. Oy. Shazbot!

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Throughout my life, Robin Williams has been one with wisdom, comedy, and comfort. How could anyone not feel like they’ve just lost one of the best friends a person could know. Depression. How heartbreaking it is to know that someone dedicated their life to entertaining others, cheering them up, making them laugh at the worst of times, and inspired so many of us not only in the arts, but life in general. If only we’d had the chance to make him laugh, to make the sadness take a step back, if even for a moment as he’d done for us.

Depression is real. It has been passed by for far too long as a mood or a weakness that could be gotten over if the person really wanted to get over it. Depression can strike anyone and until you battle the beast, you have no clue how deep his claws are. It is not something to be ashamed of, nor is it a form of self consumption. Depression can make you wish you were the one person in the world you could forget. Depression comes with emotional weight and physical pain. Depression is a condition. A sickness too often ignored for fear of sharing our emotions, fears, and pain. When someone battling depression thinks of suicide, it is not a quick escape for them, it is this ripping pain in the pit of your soul that makes you feel like not being around would be better for everyone else. It has nothing to do with feeling unloved. It is knowing people love you and feeling like your existence is a weight and burden. It hurts, but just like A Christmas Carol, you zone out and picture what life would be like for each person you love if you take yourself out of the picture.

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Of course, depression is cruel enough to let us create our own illusions of what their life would be like. It is a beast, after all And once those thoughts exist, they will always exist. Even during good times when you think depression has been slaughtered from your mind. It creeps. It pops back in when you feel like you could have done more for someone or even a happy moment full of laughter with children opening gifts. You laugh. You smile, but you look right past reality and imagine a better one for those kids. The beast becomes your shadow and mocks every great moment in your life, making you relive it in your mind and showing you where you weren’t good enough; for anyone, anything, at all. You can push it back. You can remind yourself of the beast and know it is just out to get you, but sometimes, the shadow consumes.

I am not saying suicide is a good thing. We feel the loss. I am saying if the world became more open to the reality of depression as a condition, not a mood, maybe we could save more people by simply saying, “It’s okay. I get it. We’ll get through it.” Because it is okay. I do get it… and I bet most anyone reading this gets it, too.

Like my mom said, “If you know someone you haven’t spoken to in a while, why not call and just ask how they are. It never hurts to reach out. Most people struggle with depression without anyone knowing. Reach out. Know.

She’s right. So I am going to wrap this up. I have some calls to make. God bless, everyone. Go hug someone. Hug them tight as all get out. It’s a cold world out there. Spread some smiles and warmth.

 

 

Sometimes, we kill them. Author-play.

Authors must be the most boring people in the world. We post books, share author links, retweet auto-correct fails, laugh at memes correcting grammar, and when we reach our maximum level of being sociable, we write.

I would say this is wrong, but it is true, but…. but, there is more. Authors are the most intense, outrageous, twisted little suckers in the world. We create people, give them life. We pick names, and towns or worlds. We give them history and attach you to them. We make you love them. THEN, we break their heart. We burn their houses. We kill their parents or loved ones. Sometimes, we kill them. We create things, torture them, and share with you in hopes that you will enjoy it. We are twisted and so are you or else, there would be no books.. and books exist! Oh Lord Almighty, books exist!

Here is a chance for you to see a bit closer how “interesting” we are. Well, in this case, me. I’m interesting, darn it! Yes. I am. Right? Yes. YES! Yes.

I was tagged in a blog post by a fellow author, Laurie Lyons. (Check out her Amazon page!) 1lyonsThe challenge is to answer the following questions and then tag other authors. Because we can be quite the ornery sort, this is a vehicle to pull authors away from their imaginations and get them to tell the world about what is going on in their heads. Here goes nothing….or something… I hate that phrase.

Shelly, what are you working on right now? The second edition of Livian is nearing publication. In the back of that, you will find the opening of BOOK TWO in the LIVIAN series, Inennious. If you like steampunkery, dragons, fantasy beings, and possessed unicorns, keep up with me. I also have a short story in an upcoming 7DS Books collection based on dragons and multicultural faiths. I write Antonia, the dragon of Satanism. She’s probably not what your first thought suggests. It was an honor to work with these six other authors and I am proud beyond words of what we’ve created.

How do your stories differ from others in its genre? I don’t create in depth fantasy languages. There are no love triangles. Happy endings are never certain or promised. My fairies and elves could kick your butt. I add steampunk to dark fantasy with a spine carrying faith, doubt, loneliness, and my words bleed sarcasm.LIVIANTCPEBOOK

Why do you write what you write?  I only write what I wish to read and cannot find. Somewhere in the process of it all, a sort of obligation creates a nagging, dream-seeping tick until I make it a reality in fiction.

How does the writing process work? Before I start a new work, I form it well mentally and spend days, sometimes weeks, acting the character traits physically. Bless my family, friends, and strangers for dealing with my voices, accents, quirks, traits, and flaws for each character. Sometimes, my children are called fictional names of character that may somewhat resemble them. Sometimes, they answer.

I character map. I plot scenes and chapters. I wonder if I would cry if a character dies, and if my eyes get a bit soggy, I begin to plot their death. Sometimes, those fully plotted deaths make it on a page. If so, I drink and mourn and get back to it so my characters can do the same. I write in pajamas with sweaters on top. I forget and twist pens in my hair and fuss at anyone around for stealing my pens. Someone plucks a pen from my head and I usually apologize. I make a youtube soundtrack for the book, and I chair dance when I am proud of a scene…

Finally, after sleepless nights and mid-day naps, I write the final words and I get silly with some wine. The next step is months and months of revising, revisiting, reacting, reaching out to a round of beta readers and repeating revisions. Then, I return to a bit of wine and truly breathe…until edits, at least. LOL! This pretty much sums it up. I am a wreck when I write. I do hope the internet never sees an actual image of my pen-head, jammie-wearing, sweater covered- multiple personality-speaking writerly self. The mental image should be enough to scare you or convince you to buy the crazy chick’s book. You can guess which one I’m rooting for, right?

Now, the fun part. TAG! Here are three authors I think you MUST know and I want to know the behind the scenes of their books. Click, like, follow, and buy books from these authors and soon, I hope to see a similar blog post from each of them.

1SAJSARAH ASHLEY JONES– I was lucky enough to not only meet this lovely lady, but to cover panels with her at Nashville Comic-Con this past year. She is a rainbow firecracker author making one heck of a name for herself. Click here for her Amazon page. 

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JENNIFER WELBORN– A fellow, N.C. author, I have had the pleasure of working with Jennifer as an author with 7DS Books and as an editor. She is sharp, snarky, and you never have to wonder what she is thinking. LOL. Click here for her Amazon page. 

And…

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KAT DAUGHTRY– The wordsmith of Romance & Revolution, Steam & Steampunk,and so much more. She is a 7DS Books author and her novels are with Twisted Core Press. She even released dual books (Steamfate & Imbroglio) with the same epic plot, but one for Erotica readers and one for New Adult. Lots more coming from her in the future. Click here for her Amazon page. 

Now, check out these authors. Like them. Love them. Buy their books. Leave reviews. And soon, you should see these authors post about their work and tag three more authors each for you to discover!

Home is where your book is.

I think this may be the root of truth for an author. Home is where your book is.

Sure, many authors have more than one publishing home for their works, and I highly encourage using multiple outlets for every author. I want to go in depth on this topic, and I will- in the near future and likely through a vlog. If you know me or my work at all, you know my debut novel was previously published with another publisher and is now in the process of becoming a second edition through Twisted Core Press. Let’s take a moment and celebrate this new cover.

LIVIANTCPEBOOKThat is what home looks like to me. Yes, the previous cover was very nice and the artist was top notch, but authors are these stubborn, obtuse, critical perfectionists. We have things in our mind a certain way and like minds with true communication are the only ways to fully capture the magic.

We hear so much about bad author/publishing deals.. We hear about scams. We hear about diva authors. But sometimes, it isn’t that dramatic. Sometimes, it is like a decent date. You meet someone. You are attracted to them. You checked them out, and they aren’t felons but you don’t realize until you go on a date, that no matter how perfect the match may seem, the spark and the long term goals just do not exist. Publishing is like dating. You have to get that right match and the right match for you, may not be the one you thought it would be. Sometimes, sadly, you do not know, no matter how  good it looks on paper.

As I said, I will go into this much deeper very soon and it will be a conversation you’ll want to check out. The main point of this, is Livian. She is home. If you have never read Livian, I do hope you keep an eye out and grab a copy. If you have read it previously, it will be different. It will be worth reading again. It will be my vision. The ending is darker, twisted, and sends you straight into a part of the world you didn’t see in the first edition.

So here is to the warrior fairies, the tattooed elves, the dwerger beneath the dirt, the hidden dragons, the demonic unicorns, and the dreamers. Livian is home.

 

 

Final Wishes. Death & Social Media Etiquette

Times, they are a’changing. 

Etiquette has a way of changing with the times, sometimes, for the good- usually, not so much. I still pull off the side of the road when I see a funeral pass, and after I say a prayer for the family, my alter-ego uses my extensive knowledge of four letter words for anyone that doesn’t. I send thank you notes and I mentally note thank you notes I don’t ever see.

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On the other end of things, I remember wearing a lovely, slightly low-cut red silk blouse while pregnant and my sweet, lovely, proper grandmother going off on me like I was a pregnant Demi Moore on the cover of a magazine—nude. Sigh.

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Obviously, it is a give and take on what morals you want to bend, and which ones you want to lock in your family tree for centuries to come. Of course, like my grandmother and the red maternity shirt I wore, we don’t get to choose what future generations abolish.

Now here is my pondering thought of the day, and I warn you; I am lost on this one. Social media etiquette –  now this is a topic I will touch on a good bit in the future but today, I ask you…

Death and Social Media: 

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I never know on funeral sites if lighting a virtual candle is tasteful or helpful in any way. I try to picture life 50 years from now and wonder if anyone will say, “Not many people came to the service, but Grandpa could have set the world on fire with all those virtual candles, eh?”

Is it proper to post a status online for the family, to let them know you care? Or does it look like attention seekers not directly related? Is it just a ploy for some to let the boss see the tragedy, light a virtual candle, and snag a round of golf before returning to work late in the afternoon?

And the BIG question, which as time goes by, is becoming more obvious and kind of an elephant in the room.  What do you do with those on your social media that have passed away? 

I am getting a rather flourishing collection of these lovely people on my social media. People I truly cared about and have fond memories of that I will never forget. At the same time…. There they are. I get leaving the pages up are good for many mourners, but some of us are just lost. Do you wish them a happy birthday and tell them you miss them? Are you a jerk if you do not? Do you like a post someone places on their page about missing them? Or are you saying you are happy they are sad if you like it? Do you untag photos of them? Do you have to leave them up forever if they pass? And how long do you repent if you maybe accidentally beat their score on a level of candy crush and it posts to your profile? (I have not done this, but i have seen it.) 

So yes, I ask you- say it is you that has passed on.. In all seriousness, mostly, at least. I know humor breaks tension on hard topics- but really, you have passed.. Do we delete you? Do we post to you? Do you want a real funeral or a facebook event so more people can “attend” around the world? Do we randomly tag you in old photos? What can we do to keep closure with modern social media venturing into this new territory?

A Comic Con, A Man’s Promise, & General Shenanigans

I’ve said it before, so don’t act shocked. I can be a fairly horrid blogger. I know this. I do. But you have to give it to me, when I do blog, very rarely is the dullness content high enough to register. Right? Right.

Literary-wise- So much has been going on. I highly suggest/push/nudge/urge/nicely demand you check out the blog for Twisted Core Press. If I am shady as me it is usually because I am being somewhat sociable for Twisted Core & 7DS Books. This post is a perfect example.

Wizard World Nashville Comic Con 2013.  STOP! Don’t click it now! We’ve just started. Don’t leave me. I’m just kidding. Go. Read it. Yes, now. I’ll wait…

…………………………….waiting..

…………………………………………………..Sings Frasier theme.

……………………………………………………………………….mmmm scrambled eggs would rock right now.

Hi. Welcome back. I know, right? Yeah, it was a blast. Thanks. Yeah. I know. I plan to go back next year. Yes, you can share that blog link. How nice of you!

In other news, as shocking as it seems with all we have accomplished together, Twisted Core Press is almost a year old! What a year! I could go on, but I could also save that for another blog post and look rather blogger-snazzy. Yes. Let’s go with Option B.

Also, along with several new releases lately for our imprints, I have a new short story released in A Man’s Promise. We have some serious talent and a wide range of plots from love, vengeance, parenting, secrecy, and beyond. This is one hell of a collection. Pick it up and give it a read.

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Yes, read this book. Check out the blogs listed below. I shall return. Be prepared. 🙂