Author: MJ Garriga

Writing is my true joy in life. It brings out the pieces of me that anyone rarely sees. This is my outlet. The way to bring light and life to those pieces of myself that were almost forgotten. Welcome to my soul.

Chapter One Part Two

The single candle barely lit the stone walls, but another unearthly light emanated from the bowl of water in the middle of the room. Frustration and anger floods through the shadowy figure standing over the bowl as his control over the body lessens. The bowl goes dark and the image of a wooden door, recently slammed, fades from the water. His control was gone.

The bowl smashes against the wall opposite the man. He watches the water travel down the stones as he seethes. A presence emerges from the corner behind him and his nostrils flare at the smell of decaying flowers. He turns to see the demon. Her wings stretch out behind her and the candle’s flame flickers. Something stirs inside him and like she had told him, he embraces the feeling of darkness. She saunters toward him and retracts her pockmarked wings.

“I sensed your anger,” she whispers.

“I can barely control the humans!” he all but shouts.

“You just need more time. To practice.” She drags her fingers around the edge of the table as she parades around it.

“I don’t have time,” he says.

“Yes, you do. The more time you waste trying to force your powers, the more you give yourself away. Practice in secret. Take all the time you need, and they will forget this little incident. When they forget is the time to strike.” She had made her way around the table and ran her fingers up his arm.

“Now, you need to relax,” she whispers in his ear.


I’m Back!!/ Chapter One Part One of Blood Slave

Hello everyone! So after months of wrangling four children and battling depression I am back! Seriously couldn’t be happier about this right now. It’s been a long road and my therapist and I have decided that keeping up with my blog is healthy for my mind. So here I am! 🙂

I’ve also decided that I’m narrowing down my blog topic(s). I’m strictly going to use this to essentially self-publish my book. It’s what I really want to work on right now. Anyway, here is Chapter One-Part One. Enjoy my friends. 😀

Chapter One

            Pre-dawn light filters through the sheer curtains of my master’s window. I lie on my mat in the corner adjacent to the window and wait as the shadows dissipate and the room comes into focus.

            I first see my master’s face, turned towards me and fully relaxed in sleep. I rarely see this side of him anymore, as his coronation approaches. He is so still I can barely see his chest move as he breathes. I think I might love him but even if I did nothing would come of it. Interbreeding is punishable by death. I should know, my parents died because of me.

            I was too young to remember the orphanage, but I still know I am different. I can feel it.  When I turned eight, three years after my master, I timidly asked his mother, the queen, where I came from. She didn’t hesitate to explain the whole truth of the matter. The Queen might be a callous woman, but her honesty and candidness are refreshing. She even said how she didn’t expect me to live very long but, the prince showed great self-control even as a child.

He is also different but not the same way as me. His selflessness is unheard of for a vampire and his generosity puts the humblest to shame. His kind see him as weak. I am not sure if it makes him weak or strong, but I know he will be a great leader. The Queen told me so.

The movement brings me back to reality. I lower my eyes in panic for fear of being caught staring and quickly get up to roll my thin mattress, tucking it to the side in a plain chest with my name clumsily carved on the inside of the lid. I pull out a pale pink dress with blue trimming. I smile sadly as I rub the silk between my fingers and think of my missing friend. Today will be the first day I won’t wear mourning colors.

I stand and tiptoe to the opposite corner and pull the dressing curtain closed. Slipping out of the nightgown, I pull the dress up and over my shoulders. I reach for the buttons in the back and just manage the bottom few, but the dress has become too tight. Suddenly I feel cold fingertips button the rest of my dress and settle on my shoulders.

“You know, Alana, when a dress gets too small most women throw it out,” my master whispers in my ear.

“Well, that usually applies to women of noble birth,” I reply softly.  I can feel the closeness of him, and it sends butterflies to my stomach. He chuckles in my ear and puts his hands on my arms.

“You are the closest any servant can get to being royal and still you don’t take advantage of it. Most would not have the severe restraint that you have with finery.”

He chuckles again and lets my arms go. I finally let out my breath I was apparently holding. I turn to look him in the eyes and then I remember my place and curtsy.

“Your highness, you are looking faint. Here your morning blood,” I say as I pull my tangled hair over one shoulder to expose my neck. I can’t see his face, but I see his chest rise and fall dramatically as he sighs.

“Yes, of course.”

I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but he has been acting strange lately. Almost reluctant to feed on me. Teasing me as if I’m not a servant but a noble woman. I’m not sure what to think about his behavior but I don’t dwell on the thought and step closer. I tilt my head to the side and wait for his teeth to pierce my skin. He leans in and the feel of his breath sends shivers down my spine.

“You can be so frustrating, Alana,” he whispers on my neck. I feel his lips brushing my skin and I chuckle nervously as he pulls me closer. Then ever so gently he bites. I don’t feel the blood rushing through me like I normally do, but a picture starts to form in my mind. I see bright sunshine in a clear blue sky. I hear waves crashing against the cliff and smell the salt in the air. I hold myself as a breeze chills me and I feel the roughness of peasant clothes on my skin. I close my eyes letting the beauty around me sink into my soul. Another breeze drifts through me and I start to shudder, but warm arms wrap around me and keep the chill at bay. I open my eyes and turn in the embrace to see my master. Nothing seems amiss but a small piece of the back of my mind is shocked. The warmth of his body is what tells me he’s human. I relax into him and revel in this new-found warmth of him. My prince in peasant clothes. This moment is all that matters, and this feeling of peace and comfort is foreign, but I relish in it.

My sigh of contentment is echoed at my neck. My eyes shoot open and the vision is gone. My master is still at my throat, but I don’t feel the pull of him drinking my blood.

“Master? Prince Luken? Are you alright?” I ask. The panic in my voice is obvious to me and I know it is not for my master’s well-being. He doesn’t say anything as he walks away and hands me a cloth to stop the bleeding. Usually he heals my wound to keep me from fainting, a trick he learned when we were both still very young, but I don’t blame him for walking away. I am just a halfbreed. I compose myself and push away the unusual feelings that had lingered from the vision. I have chores to do.

“I’ll prepare your bath, my lord.”

I walk to the washroom and turn the knob at the tub to start the hot water. Steam slowly drifts up and hits my face. The stark contrast of the steam to the cold breeze of the ocean hits me and the feelings start to rise but I push them back down. I must remain focused, but the image and touch of the prince are harder to push away. The slight pressure of his arms around me is almost tangible.

“The tub is filled enough, Alana.”

I jump and finally pay attention to what I’m doing. Turning off the water, I stand and leave the washroom. The door clicks behind me and I start making the prince’s bed. A faint smell tickles my nose as I move the sheets and blankets. It’s oddly pleasant. Wait, I can’t enjoy this smell. I am a servant. I am nothing more than a fly on the wall. Granted a very well-dressed fly but a fly, nonetheless. I pull the sheets up to the headboard and kick some pillows on the floor. The pillows suffer the brunt of my master’s tortured sleep. I pick them up and put them back on the bed. Satisfied with their placement I nod then hear a soft knock at the bed chamber’s door. I walk over, thinking it’s a kitchen maid with the breakfast tray, when a horrid odor drifts in under the door. I stop and almost plug my nose. Miraculously keeping myself from gagging, I crack open the door.

“Prince Luken, is indisposed at the moment… Lisia? What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

I’m shocked to see the kitchen maid, my friend. She is still missing as far as I know, and the stench is definitely coming from her. She doesn’t answer me but looks at the floor and just holds out the tray of food in her hands. Something isn’t right. I keep the door closed as much as possible and leverage my foot at the bottom of it. My hear beats quicken and my chest starts to tighten.

“Lisia, where have you been?” I repeat. She keeps her head down and tries to move into the room, using the tray as a barrier between her and the door.

“Lisia, why won’t you answer me? I won’t let you in until you answer me. Lisia. Lisia!”

She pushes harder and harder but I’m stronger and keep the door mostly closed.

“Lisia, what are you doing?” I all but yell.

“Alana, what is…”

Prince Luken emerges from the washroom with a cloud of steam behind him. He’s just in trousers but rushes to help me close the door from the onslaught of the kitchen maid. As the door slams shut, we hear the tray clatter followed by an unearthly scream. I’m breathing hard and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Tears burn my eyes and I slide to the ground as the sobs come. I realize now what the smell was: decaying flesh. I should have remembered from the time Prince Luken’s friend visited. He is a Lord in a neighboring city and his blood slaves are kept as trophies after they’ve been bled dry. He reeks of rotting flesh wherever he goes. NO one seems to notice it besides the guards but they’re lycanthropes. This Lord is my least favorite vampire, not that my opinion matters.

“My apologies, master, for not realizing the danger you were in,” I whisper, when I finally calm my sobbing.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he replies questioningly.

“Lisia, the kitchen maid, she… she’s dead…”

Shock and confusion cross his face before understanding sets in. He composes and nods to me in sadness.

“Master, how can she be dead and walking?” I ask, tears clinging to the corners of my eyes. Lisia was my friend. We used to pick wildflowers and make crowns when we were children. The memory pushes a fresh wave of tears down my face and another sob escapes my lips. A hand appears on my shoulder. The chill from his skin quickly seeps through the fabric of my dress, despite the warmth from the still steaming washroom. It somehow calms me. It also reminds me I have a job to do. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and chin, leaving my hands damp. The chill settles in my heart and a thin wall of ice builds.

“Excuse me, master, your bath needs draining.”

Before I leave, I lock the door just in case Lisia or whatever that thing was came back. I don’t get very far before I feel Prince Luken’s hand at my elbow.

“Alana, I know she is… was your friend and showing the loss you feel does not make you weak. It helps you to grow stronger. If you need the more mourning time, I will grant it without hesitation.”

His sincerity floods his eyes and as I let it flow over me, I feel a small door beginning to crack its way through the ice wall around my heart.

“Master, my mourning period ended this morning. I knew… Something in me knew she would not be found alive. I only wish she could rest in peace.”


Alana Character Description

Hello Readers! I’m back this week with another “short story”! Since this month is all about characters, I’m going to describe Alana in more detail. I know this may sound boring but hear me out. I’m going to do this:

I’m going to write these as scenes of dialog between characters. These two separate scenes will probably go in my book. Although they are starting out as very rough drafts on this blog. Seriously first time they will be written. So be nice. ?

            I’m going to start with Alana’s love interest, Ferrin. Then I’m going to write how one of the other female werewolves in Alana’s squad, which contains five soldiers that all share a sleeping space. I will post the negative view of Alana next week. Well here we goooo!

            Ferrin walked out of Alana’s room and down the hall, in search of the General.

            “General!”

            “Yes, Captain. If you could get a move on. My wife and I are getting ready to leave. Once Alana gets here.”

            “That’s what I want to talk to you about, sir,” Ferrin said.

            “Go on,” said the General with a raised eyebrow.

            “I want to come with you.”

            “And why would that be?”

            “Well… sir, I guess to keep an eye on her.”

            “Her? You mean Alana?” the General chuckles and raises an eyebrow at Ferrin. “Are you sure she really needs you to keep an eye on her?”

            Ferrin smiles and says, “Sir, we both know she doesn’t, but I still want to. She hasn’t talked to me since…”

            “The Midnight Run?”

            “Yes, sir. How did you know?”

            “Just a hunch, Captain. Tell me, Captain, what do you see in Alana?”

            “Sir?”

            “Just answer the question. Be as informal as you like. Ferrin.”

            “Well, I see her strength, but not just her physical strength. Her heart knows a lot of sadness and she still presses on. I know a lot of soldiers who would break under the weight she carries. Her smile is like that first ray of sunshine after a storm and her laugh reminds me of a raging river, loud and boisterous. Hem. Sorry sir I got carried away.”

            “It’s alright Ferrin. Thank you for your honesty,” said the General and clapping Ferrin on the shoulder. “Why don’t you get your bag and then we’ll check on Alana.”

            “Yes, Sir,” replied Ferrin with a smile.


Character Building

Hello Readers! So, this month I want to talk about building characters. If you are just looking for a questionnaire (or two) feel free to scroll to the end.

If you google “character traits” or “character questionnaire” there are a million different things that pop up. I’ve found doing a questionnaire is helpful to get the basics down, but I’ve also found that those answers change as I continue with the story. For example, in Blood Slave I honestly thought my main character would for sure have this one character as her love interest but as I wrote more it changed and honestly, I think it changed for the better. So, don’t get mad if something about your character naturally changes while you’re writing. Just make sure if it’s not something they learned that it is there throughout the whole book. Another thing that should stay the same throughout the book with your character is appearance.

Creating the appearance of your character is probably the most fun. If your talented at drawing, then draw that sucker. If you find a picture in a magazine or online that is what you want, use that. Heck make a creepy collage of different pictures if you want. If writing it out is easiest, write it out in excruciating detail what your character looks like. Then when you are writing you won’t want to throw their entire description into the first chapter, or when they are first introduced, and the appearance will naturally come out while writing.

It’s also important to think about where your character spends most of their time and how that affects their appearance. What is their job? My main character, Alana, at the beginning has pale skin and dark hair because she is always inside but later in the book, she is spending more time outside so her skin gets darker and her hair gets highlights/lighter. I remember seeing this physical change in my head when thinking about her in different scenes and it bugged me but then I realized as long as I didn’t make the change too drastic it would be believable.

Their personality should be believable too. Perfect heroes only sell in children’s books. I am most definitely not perfect, and I have yet to met someone who is perfect. Flaws/weaknesses should be part of your character but don’t force a flaw onto them. Write a scene with them in danger or in one of your own memories and see how they would act or react, good or bad.

Strengths are important too. You can’t have weaknesses without some strengths as well. I am a very good writer and I can articulate what I want to say in writing much easier than when actually speaking to someone. Alana on the other hand wasn’t taught much in the way of writing and can barely read what she does scratch out on paper. She is however good at speaking. She’s grown up in court and picked up all the lingo. Alana is kind and will go out of her way to help those around her, especially her friends. Some attributes can be learned or taught but really think who your character is at their core.

So, the basic questions you should answer about your character are:

  1. What does this character look like? Include gender, hair color, eye color, height, weight, if they wear makeup or not, etc.
  2. What job does this character have and how does it affect them/their appearance?
  3. What core traits make my character who they are?
  4. What role does this character play in the story? This could affect how detailed you go into their background.

Also another good website that has a little more detailed questions for your characters is https://www.somethingdelicious.co/2017/01/bullet-journal-writers-novel-character.html. She is talking about how to add characters to a bullet journal (which I love bullet journals) but you could add this to your notebook for your book or in a word document to save in your writing folder.

If you need some help with traits for your character here is a graphic with an extensive list. Happy character building and I will be back next week with a short story! ?


Blood Slave- Prologue

Hello readers! Today we have another short story. The prompt is actually the prologue for my book Blood Slave! J It’s not the original prologue that I had in mind, but I think it makes for a better beginning. So, here it is!

            Lisia practically skipped down the trail to the small clearing in the woods. She held the note in her hand and read it again in the dying light.

            “I cannot hold my feelings back anymore. There is something I must tell you and I can’t do it inside the castle. It is too important to tell in a note. Meet me at the first clearing in the woods where the mulberry trees grow at dusk.

Your secret admirer.”

           Anticipation coursed through her veins. She had never left like this before. She reached the clearing and didn’t see anyone but the hairs on her neck raised. She felt a presence at her back and turned to see nothing there. The smile fell from her face and the last rays of sunlight died. She backed up and fell. A sharp crack quickly broke the silence of the forest and a hooded figure emerged from the trees.

           He whipped the hood back revealing his handsome face creased in anger as he held up a lantern to see Lisia’s head resting on a rock. Blood starting to drip to the ground.

            “Now what?” he yelled, frustrated.

            “She’s still useful, Kieran,” whispered the she-demon into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

            “I know… but…”

            “You were going to kill her anyway. What does it matter?” she asked.

            “Well… I was… hoping…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. He couldn’t say it out loud.

            “What? Have some fun with her before…? HAHAHAHA.” The she-demon laughed manically than abruptly stopped.

“Here’s something you need to remember. Whether you have fun or not you are following my orders and the faster you fulfil my orders the faster you will learn. If you truly wish to have fun, I can tell you, I am an excellent partner,” she said, with her nose practically touching his and her fingernails caressing his chin.

He looked at her with wide eyes then kissed her, hard. He could hear her chuckling and he deepened the kiss drawing blood from his own lips. She pushed him away while keeping her hand on his chest, and he could see the insanity in her eyes.

“Don’t touch me again unless I say so,” she said through clenched teeth.

She disappeared into the darkness of the forest and he looked at the body of the girl, blood still pouring out of her cracked skull.

“Well, how am I supposed to get her back to the carriage now?”


Intro to Blood Slave

Hello Readers! Today I’m going to introduce my latest book. ? Let’s see, I had this idea two or three years ago because I was frustrated about how all vampire stories make them stay in hiding. Think about it. They are essentially at the top of the food chain and they stay secret. How does that make any sense? They would make great kings and queens or whatever rulers fits your fancy.

So, I realize, now that I’ve started talking about it that I should remind everyone that since these ideas are mine and mine alone, they are under copywrite law. If you ask for my permission to use something I’ve written I honestly don’t have a huge problem with it depending on what you’re going to use it for. ALWAYS ask me first. This paragraph doesn’t NOT give permission. I’m just letting everyone know!

Anyway, back to my story. So, I had this question that formulated into an idea. Vampires essentially rule everything (kings and queens style), werewolves are their bodyguards/military/detectives, and the humans are peasants. That’s the basic run down anyway. As with any monarchy there is a hierarchy within these classes.

The Royalty is like any monarchy with their courts and such. Most all of royalty are born vamps meaning a sex happened and they grow normally until they reach like 20 then aging slows down. There are some vamps with no titles that are the turned ones and kind of act like mercenaries and assassins.  Vampirism and Lycanthropy are mutations in a human’s DNA which can be spread in my book. Honestly, I don’t have all of it figured out yet and it may never be all figured out. ?

The Military is like the US military because that’s what I know and what showed up when I google searched it. Haha. So, you have the General, Lt Generals, Major Generals, Colonels, Lt Colonels and so forth. I will be changing the names to something else but I’m still working on that. There are also the specialty squads that do detective work. They’re kind of my favorite squads cause I am such a geek for murder mysteries and cop shows. (Hello Castle, Bones, NCIS, Criminal Minds… do you want me to keep going?) I can’t give too much away. I do want people to actually read my book. ?

Now the peasants are where it gets interesting. I highest “rank” of slavery is called a blood slave. (Squealing with excitement because I honestly LOVE this and can’t wait to share!!!) A blood slave is the personal slave of any ranking vampire. The higher up the royal is the higher up the blood slave is but the less freedoms you have. They get the perks of nice clothes, regular food, a decent place to sleep (depending on how generous their master is or isn’t) but they always must be by their master’s side unless they’re released. Some masters believe that release is death, others just want some privacy occasionally.

Now my main character, Alana, is the crown prince’s blood slave. They’ve grown up together. She’s also a half breed (half human and half werewolf) which is technically illegal. Well it’s illegal to birth and help create a half breed of any kind so, Alana is an orphan. She doesn’t have too many friends because she doesn’t really have to freedom to. It’s a sad existence really but don’t worry it changes early on in the story. ?

Well I don’t think I can say much more without giving away more than I should. I certainly hoped you liked this little intro and as I write more, I will tell you more about it giving some scenes and such. So next week I will have another short story for you guys and next month along with some more short stories I will talk about how to develop characters (there really isn’t a right way but I’ll tell you what works best for me). Well that’s all for now!


Peace in the Rain

Hello my dear readers! Today I’m posting another short story and tomorrow I will be posting again to tell you about my book!!!  I guess I should preface this with I suffer from depression and anxiety and at times things get incredibly hard. Writing these stories, though they are dark, help me through that. Turning my darkness and depression into something that others can enjoy brings me happiness. Anyway, this short story I wrote a while ago from a story prompt I found again on Pinterest. Not sure where it is from, but it was to “end a story/scene with the words I always found peace in the rain.” So here it is! Hope you enjoy!

I make my way through the gray headstones. My suit coat flutters behind me but I don’t feel the wind. I look up and the last of the funeral goers are making their way back to the parking lot away from me.

Good.

No will know I was here.

Clouds darken and mirror the guilt inside me. My burden weighs me down and my steps are harder to take. Finally I reach the fresh dirt marking her grave.

Emily Schwartz. 1992-2008.

A water droplet darkens her headstone and I look at the sky but rain hasn’t fallen, yet. I touch my face and see the tears cling to my fingers, gathering, and falling again on her headstone. My skin is numb. Has been since the accident.

A shout brings me to turn my head and I see Emily’s brother. The way he stalks toward me tells me I should be afraid but all I feel is guilt. He should be angry at me. It’s all my fault. I take a few steps toward him. I’m ready. Punish me for my awful mistake. The mistake that took your sister’s life. I want to say this but my body won’t respond. His red face is shoved into mine and I see his mouth moving but I hear nothing.

Suddenly all I see are the clouds. I hear thunder as my head slams into something, her headstone. I see the rain drops coming at me and hear them hit all around me. I can feel them. My burden is gone, and I realize as everything darkens…

I’ve always found peace in the rain.


Hello, Death, My Love

Hallooo! (said like Tigger) Here we are for a second time! Amazing! Today as promised, kind of, is a short story. It is from a writing prompt found on Pinterest. Yes… I know. I call Pinterest, The Deep Dark Hole because I always spend way more time on there then I intend to. ANYway, it is from the website proptuarium.wordpress.com. The prompt is this: “Death and I have been scandalously intimate for some time now.” And here we go…. ?

July 9, 2020

            I’ve decided to keep a journal. It was his idea, actually. He said he wanted to know my thoughts about our relationship. Silly man. I would do anything for him.

Death and I have been scandalously intimate for some time now. It started innocently enough. He intrigued me. When I turned 25, I started seeking him out. I was clumsy at first. I left that poor person out in the open, but I was just so excited to see him. He walked with me as I’d pick someone out. He even helped me, pointing out who wouldn’t be missed and who would be a low risk to me but as soon as the person’s soul left them, he was gone yet again.

           I’ve gotten much better over the years. My farm hides those poor soul’s bodies very well and even if the Canine Unit comes around, they’ll first find dead animals before they reach people. It’s been quite an adventure. There’s just one problem. I haven’t been on a hunt for a few weeks now, but he’s been around. I love seeing him and talking. You should hear the stories he can tell. I keep wondering if it’s my turn now. I wouldn’t be surprised. The news talks about all the “missing” people I used to talk to him about. I know the FBI is on the case. I’ve left behind an MO apparently. I can’t imagine what they are talking about. Oh, he’s here again!

            “Hello, Death, my love,” I say.

            “Hello.”

            “What brings you here?”

           “Oh, you know, death. As always.” He smiles as we wanders around the room looking at my reminders of all the ones who have brought me closer to him.

            “But whose? You never tell me anymore. I assume it’s mine. I’m the only one here that’s still alive.” I pout at him from my chair. My limbs are old and it’s hard to move too much anymore.

            “Are you sure?” he asks me. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and it sets my heart fluttering.

            “What? You can’t mean to say the FBI found me. I’ve been too careful. I’ve followed all your instructions. YOU said I would never be caught,” I say, pointing my finger at him.

            “Ah, about that. I’ve realized there’s a better way for us to be together. So, I’ve been leaving behind clues about you, about us, for a while now. It’s all been linked to that very first and messy crime scene, my dear. I’m sorry but it really is for the best.” He walks around as he talks, picking things up and setting them back down.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well…”

            “How could you not tell me there is a better way for us to be together?!” My frustration and anger propel me out of my chair and towards him. He takes a step back surprised at my outburst.

            “Now, dear, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wasn’t sure you would like it. You must get caught. Someone has to pay for these crimes you’ve committed.”

            “I only did it for us,” I whisper. I touch him arm and look longingly into his eyes.

            “Alright,” he says, and he links his arm in mine and leads me back to my chair. “Sit here. The authorities will be here soon. We will be together forever my darling, I promise. Here take this.”

           He hands me the pistol that I used on that first poor soul. The cold metal sits heavy in my hand. It seems to be heavier than I remember or maybe I’m just that frail now. It was an awful long time ago. The door bangs open and men rush in with FBI and SWAT on their chests. I hold up the gun with both hands and watch as the end shakes.

            “You’ll never take me alive,” I say as I squeeze the trigger. I hear the shot, and something hits me. I look down to see blood pouring out of me then up into the black eyes I’ve come to love. I notice a little flame in the back of them as he leans in close.

            “Hello, Death, my love,” I exhale with my last breath.


Hello Readers!

Welcome to MJ’s Literary Theater! I am MJ and super excited to take you on this journey of mine to become a published author.

            Creative writing has always been fun for me. In elementary school I remember writing this short story for Halloween about a girl who just moved into a house and across the street lived a ghost, who inevitably took the life of the girl. It was chock full of the spooky superstitions (house number 13, run down house, etc.) mainly because I read a few of soft thriller books. Funny thing is I can’t stand to watch horror movies (except Supernatural, although I do have a hard time re-watching the first few seasons) but writing them doesn’t bother me. I’m reminded of something one of my good friends from junior high and high school told me when we took a creative writing class. He said he writes about the stuff that scares him to help him not fear it anymore. I have to say it blew my mind that this guy feared anything, but it made a lot of sense. It sparked yet another series of novels I wanted to write but I’m jumping ahead a little bit.

            So, after that amazing little short story, which holds a dear place in my heart, my next big adventure with creative writing was in junior high. I had an amazing English teacher for 7th grade and during our creative writing unit my class was asked to write a short story. The minimum page requirement was 2 pages. I don’t remember how long this assignment went on, but we turned in rough drafts and I had over 20 pages. The look of amazement on my teachers face when she had to make a maximum page requirement makes my life. I believe this was the first time she had to do that.  I wish I still had that original 20+ page story about ants because I don’t remember much else about it. My mom had to help me cut it down to ten pages and that was one of the hardest things I had to do, but after this, I mastered the concept of short stories. My 7th grade English teacher will probably never know how influential she was in turning me towards being a writer, but I will be forever grateful.

            Now in high school I had some ups and downs. I was always creating new worlds and writing about them. I have a binder full of my ideas that I’ve had over the years. I think 11th grade was my most successful year of writing though. My English teacher (yet again) had us write a 50-word blurb about ourselves. Do you know how hard that is? Seriously you should try it. I remember writing it about how I wrote about my dreams or something like that. He was very impressed with it. He even mentioned in class. (Yeah, I was one of THOSE students. Unassuming but a little bit of an overachiever.) This was also the year that I took my creative writing class and I have some awesome poems from it. My favorite is about a girl who went crazy and murdered the people that made her crazy. I’ve always wondered what my teacher thought about it but I’m sure he could see that my soul was crushed. That year, I dated a guy that was manipulative and abusive. It made for some great writing material but, um, it sucked in the long run. I didn’t write at all my senior year and for a while afterwards because I was still processing my trauma. I had to find a way that my writing didn’t involve him.

            After I graduated, I attended one semester of college, got married in the middle of that semester, and got pregnant three months into my marriage. I planned to get pregnant soon but in the happiness of starting a family I forgot my passion for writing. It wasn’t until after my second child was born that I started writing again. I created a new world with new characters, and I fell in love with it. I’ve had an on again, off again relationship with this book. Finding time to write with little kids is hard. I get lost in my writing. I can’t really spend hours writing like I used to when children are interrupting every five minutes. My kids are still little, as I’ve added twins to the mix a little over a year ago, but they’re getting older and I need to reignite my passion.

           So, here we are! Thank you readers for coming on this journey with me. I promise to be real, funny, and hopefully you find me entertaining. I think I am. ?

            Just so you have an idea of what I plan to do with this blog my first month will have three posts of me talking to you and telling you some more things about me and my book, then I plan to post some short stories. Some of these will be new or I might try to tack down some of the short stories mentioned in this post. I know that my ant story is gone. ☹ But I have the other ones that I mentioned (I think) and they will all be updated and revised. Don’t need to subject you to my juvenile writing. ?

            ANYway, I will post again shortly probably with a short story. Until next time!!!