At first, the nights were solid things, heavy and encompassing.  In time they wore away like the lining of a cheap pan. Flakes of black caught in my meals but fewer each time, until they revealed a tarnished undercoat.

Since then, I lie awake less each night.  The moments still pass, they must, but there’s a little more bitter shine to them.  Guess I’m healing, or at least forgetting but that’s not a proper choice, not really.  Either one or the other and I’m the path is too close to see.

But I’ve always been a leaf in the breeze, until you.  Now, I’m just a few embers, dancing madness on the wind.

Dawn comes slow today, like normal in winter.  Maybe I just sleep worse in the rain.  I wake for breakfast without much thought, beyond the need for coffee and toast.

Broke a fried egg, but I mix in some pico de gallo and call it good.  Tastes fine and I’m not as picky as I used to be.  Guess embers make no nevermind.  Few shells, still, but that’s rarer too.  Toast is fine and the butter’s always real, now.

Shower and out the door, still sipping coffee.  It’s raining—and my drink won’t survive the walk—so the cup stays by the ashtray.  Seven little paper filters, still.  Told you I was done emptying it last September.  No use in compromise now.

A year past and smoke still clings.  The others see, but it’s bare wisps to my eyes; ghosts I’d rather glimpse than forget.  So, I float amongst my spirits for the day.

Time was, I could pass through the day without a proper sense of the ground.  But ember’s gotta stay up, touching down can be the end.

Or, stick to kindling; the remains of one fire can start another.  But a quick blaze, the roar and rage, hold little warmth.

In the spark and fire, the dreams alight, embers can get lost in too much fire.  I char carefully, a quick singe, an unbidden scorch; unsure but aloft.


#TalesNoir (I Started a Writing Prompt Game)

Anyone who follows me on twitter may have just possibly happened to notice that I perhaps enjoy the odd writing prompt game, now and then.  Just a smidgen.

So I started my own (I wasn’t drinking, and it wasn’t one am. So a mature decision, see I am a grown up. I’m going to have a few gram-grams and some chocolate milk to reward myself).

  I called it #TalesNoir and the first day is Wednesday 12/28!



It’s for horror, dark, gothic, and noir fiction.  All writers are welcome.  The usual rules about courtesy and civility apply.  Also twitters posting rules, of course.

The optional theme is a looser one, since we’re such a specific game.  For example the first is starts or beginnings so any lines that pertain to the first of something, or new meetings, settings, anything.  Also the theme is optional.  Long as it’s got that touch of night, then it’s welcome and thanks for sharing.

So that’s about it. I hope to see you there, I’d love to hear a few darker voices among the writer community.

And while I’ve got you here:  Thanks to all my readers in 2016 and in the many, many years that will follow.  Long way yet, but I’m feeling like we’re coming up on phase two.

Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Happy Whatever Holidays You Do Celebrate (Or If None Then Just Have A Nice Day), And A Bright Shining New Year. 

Thoughts for Food

A Loose Collection of Thoughts on Food and Writing.

World Building

In cold northern Fryhel for almost every meal they serve bread and ‘fairy butter’.

To start it’s called fairy butter because it’s made in Southern Cyok by fairies.

It’s made from a coconut like fruit, reddish according to the locals. When prepared it produces a thick yellowish red oil.  The oil is cooked at a low temperature with orange peels and other citruses for about six hours, then shipped in casks.  Served on heated bread they say eating the butter will stave off illness and diseases of the mouth.

The people of Fryhel got no clue what scurvy actually is, or vitamin C, but we do and good chance your reader does.  (And a people that live off meat and fish alone are a little boring). Continue reading

Free Space 0: Fuel to Fires

This is Free Space, a spot for me to just ramble on about whatever I’m rambling on about. Not that my whole blog isn’t essentially me rambling but here is where I’ll advertise it as such. Not sure if this will be a regular thing but we’ll see.

Today’s topic:

I’ve been thinking about ‘drive’ a lot lately. Not just why I write though, not just the big one, but little things that add to my drive. Things that make it easier to write that I do everyday.

First off, a few nice words: I use motivational posters as my desktop. Writer’s quotes that either mean a lot to me or push me forward. It’s something small but it really helps me to keep going when I’m down. I usually get them online, but I’ve made the last few on my own.

They aren’t world changing but every time I see my desktop, I get a little boost. Little bits add up. It helps, when I close my typing program in a huff or just exhausted, to have those words waiting for me. A lot more than I thought it would.

Secondly, mood boosters: I drink caffeine and listen to music as I write. Coffee usually, and just any music, depending on how I feel. I do have one song, It always raises my spirits when I’m down, and I listen to it at least once a day. Also I always drink out of my fox cup when I write.



Ritual: No, put the dagger and the sacrificial virgins away. I just mean a little thing I do everyday or every time I get ready to write. I get myself something to drink. I pace a bit, and I reread my story plan. Not always in that order but it’s how I psych myself up.

Healthy Body, Healthy Mind: Not really but I walk a few miles each morning. A few more in the evening. It makes me feel better and I’m often most productive after my walks. (Or at one in the morning when I have to be up early the next day)

Clean Body, Clean Mind: Again not literally but when I’m really stuck for writing ideas sometimes a hot shower can help. Full confession here, I often put my hair up afterwards, and put on cologne. Clean, well-dressed and nice smelling writer is far more confident than, ‘Is it really a shower day?’ writer.

So that my how I put ink to paper. How do you like to get ready to write?

What’s your writing ritual?

What habits make it easier for you to slay that blank page?