Depends on who you ask

I went to my local auto dealer to buy a car last month.

“I’m sorry,” The salesman said after running my credit, ” We cannot finance you for this car. You are dead.”

“How can I be dead? I just test drove a car. I don’t think dead people drive.”

“I am only informing you of what the credit bureau has reported. You are dead. I’m sorry, you seemed like a nice person. Have a nice day.”

The salesman walked away, and I got in my old car and drove home. I went online and found the number to the credit bureau, pressed zero to talk to a human, waited on hold 25 minutes, and then finally talked to Fran Applebalm in North Dakota. Fran seemed like a nice woman at first. She tsk tsked when I said that I had been reported dead, and made sympathetic noises when I told her I was still very much alive.

“We can fix this, no problem.” Fran said once I told her my tale.

“Great! I replied. Lets do that.”

“Sure.” Said Fran, “You will just need to send me a copy of your death certificate.”

“”What?!” I shouted into the receiver. “There is no death certificate, because I am not dead!”

“You will need to calm down, Sir. I cannot help you if you become hostile.”

I counted to ten, took a deep breath, and tried again.

“Fran, I’m sure you can understand that I may have a hard time obtaining a document for an event that has yet to happen.”

“That’s no problem. Just call us back when you have the proper documents.”

“Wait, I can’t. . .”

A click on the line let me know Fran had disconnected our call.

I tried calling back. I had similar conversations with Talia Montaj in Kentucky, and Frank Smith in Wisconsin. Both conversations ended with the same clicking noise.

I  gave up on getting a new car. My ATM card still worked, and I still had my drivers license. It seemed like I didn’t really need anything else.

About a week later, I was pulled over by a motorcycle cop. After running my plates, he walked back up to my car window.

“Son, did you know that the registration for your motor-vehicle is no longer valid? Neither is your drivers license. I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the car.”

I got out, and sat on the curb while the police officer had my car towed. He gave me a ticket, and told me how someone could pick my car up from the impound lot.

When I got to the impound lot, the clerk refused to return my license.

“This is the license of a dead man. You can’t use this to steal a dead man’s car! Shame on you! I ought to call the police.”

“But I’m not dead!” I shouted at her.

A burly tow truck driver grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and tossed me out of the shop like a rag-doll.

I went to the DMV to correct the error with my license, and they said I had to obtain a copy of my birth certificate.

I went to the country recorders office to obtain a copy of my birth certificate, and they said they needed valid ID.

I rode the bus home, frustrated and angry about the whole situation.

I decided not to show up for work the next day. Dead people don’t have jobs, right?

My boss called me and yelled at my answering machine. I took the bus to work the day after that.

While stepping down off the bottom stair of the bus, my shoelace caught on a loose screw, and I fell face first into the concrete curb.

I was unconscious for several moments.

The bus driver’s face was close to mine when I opened my eyes.

“You alive, son?”

I blinked several times.

Then I started to laugh uncontrollably.

Finally I answered,  “It depends on who you ask.”

Creative Blogger

A fun little chain letter type thing came to my attention this week. My brother Izlain at Me Vs. Myself and I nominated me for a Creative Blogger Award.  It seems mostly like a shout out to other bloggers you like and/or respect. I rather like the idea, and unlike chain letters, I am actually going to participate.

Here are the rules:

  • Nominate 15-20 blogs and notify them via their social media/blogs.
  • Thank and post the link of the person who nominated you.
  • Share 5 facts about yourself to your readers.
  • Pass on the rules.


Here are five fun facts about me:

1. I love to play video games, even though I die a lot. Like, a ridiculous amount of avatar death. Seriously, I suck.

2. I people watch pretty much every day. I’m totally that neighbor that stands on her porch watching everyone on the street. And yes, some of those people have influenced my characters.

3. I have a fairy garden on my patio that I made. I am always adding new little things to it to make it bigger and better. I sit out there and write on sunny days.

4. I have more pictures of my dog Pumpkin than pictures of anything else. She is really cute. I can’t resist a nap-time snapshot.

5. I Get really excited anytime I see the book I wrote in someone else’s hands. The fact that it is even possible for someone else to hold a physical representation of what goes on in my brain boggles my mind every time. I sometimes wonder if that ever wears off, or if I will always be so amazed.


Thank you to Izlain for the nomination, you are the best. You got me into blogging, and it has been a really good influence on me. Read his blog at Me Vs. Myself and I.


And now for my nominations:

Damyanti at Daily (w)rite

James Seraf at Hermit Hideaway

John Callaghan at Get off My Lawn

Sherry Chen at Publishing Insights


This is a short list, I know. These are the blogs I really like, and read regularly. There are other bloggers that write great stuff, but lets be honest, if I sat here listing them all we would be here all day. So to save time, I direct your attention to the list of blogs I follow on the right hand side of your screen. Thank you!


A Year

I have officially been blogging for one year. It is a fun thing, to look back and review my own accomplishments. When I started out, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to blog. My brother, Izlain was a member of the Newbie Blogger Initiative(which has an event about this time every year) and encouraged me to get blogging. I had recently decided to write full-time, but was very disorganized and uncertain about my goals. My blog helped me focus on the work at hand, and I began writing about writing. It took me a while to figure out a schedule, and even now I sometimes have a hard time sticking to it. But blogging helped me focus on my career, and in December 2014 I released my first book, Tilted Tales. My second book, Fayling, will be releasing this summer, and my third by the end of the year. (read a bit about it on my website.) My blog helped me take myself seriously. I have since created my own website, created a professional Facebook profile, and opened a Twitter account.

But my one-year blogging aniversary reminded me where it all began.

So today is a salute to blogging, and to other bloggers. If you have something to contribute to the world, then I encourage you to blog.


A rock, Just a rock

A solid chunk of earth.

A place, just a place

No telling what it’s worth.


A gate? Oh, a gate!

It opens by your hand

A portal, a path

Connected by a strand.


Darkness, so dark

Goes on for days and days.

Reaching, extending

In a million different ways.


See now? I see it

A place to touch the floor.

Solid, hard surface

Same stone like that before.


A rock, Just a rock

But oh, it’s so much more!

Not stone, but Gatestone

A world-connecting door.

Plot Decisions

love triangle copy



Ah, to romance, or not to romance? That is the question I have been presented with this week.

You see, I was aiming at a urban fantasy without any lovey dovey stuff. Partly because I was afraid my attempt at literary smootchy-smootchy would end up super cheesy, but also because I wanted to focus on Jeremy-my leading fellow- and not who he is kissing. I have invented a politically unstable world, and thus far I have focused heavily on that. But as you may know, writers invent characters, and then those characters seem to do whatever the heck they want to do, regardless of your original intentions. So now I find myself battling the seemingly natural progression of a budding relationship between two of my people.

I took the issue to several of my writing buddies, and a funny thing happened. None of them had an issue with an underlying romance. Nobody thought it was cheesy. Most of them didn’t know why I was even asking, thinking I’d done it on purpose. Do you know what did happen? I got pretty divided camps on who Jeremy should end up with.


As it it turns out, I have written myself a bit of a love triangle, without realizing I had done it. So I had a choice. Let it work itself out as I go along, or try and snuff it out. When I talked to my hubby about destroying the bit of romance, he protested. Loudly. I got a stern, “what does it matter if there is romance in it?” lecture. Oh, and he tried to say he didn’t care which girl Jeremy ended up with, but he had a lot more positive things to say about the witch. . .

Sooooo. . .

Apparently the romance stays. But I am going to blow some stuff up. You know, just to compensate. =)




A Birthday Present

Being something of a poet at times, I like to give people a poem written just for them instead of a greeting card on special occasions. If you have followed me all along, then you know I’m a bit of a gamer as well. My husband’s birthday was yesterday, and this is what I came up with for him.


The Nerdy Husband Poem


I want my husband dear to know

I have a tender spot for him.

To prove it I would travel

From the Shire to Skyrim.


With the power of the force

Even Yoda hasn’t seen

I love him to the moons

That still orbit tatooine.


If I could jump into the Tardis

I’d go to our wedding day

To repeat the proclamations

Of the vows I still would say.


I’m glad that he was spawned

Nearest to my starting point

because we chanced a meeting

And now we’re gaming joint.


Together we have seen

PS go from three to four

I pray every day I’m with him

We’ll both see seven more.


I’ll build with him in pixels

Till the day that I am ganked.

He’s tanking, so I’m safe here

Developers be thanked!


I know our family’s still in alpha

But the gaming’s twice as fun.

And everybody knows that

The pathching’s never done.


Happy birthday to my honey!

The anniversary of your birth

Is something that is valued

More than a Triforce worth.


I hope I made my point

Of just how much he means.

But if he doesn’t get it,

I’ll repeat it on dual screens.




Progress report

I have known for some time that Fayling belonged to a series that has been forming in my head. I am pleased to announce that series has found a title, The Gatestone Chronicles. Fayling will be book one. I have commissioned artwork for the cover and secured an editor, so I can safely promise you will see it in print before summer is over. Work on Fayling began a long time ago, but I have learned to work more efficiently, and to feed the creative monster that lives in my brain. As a result, years worth of work are finally seeing real results.

With this new found method of writing, I can comfortably promise my readers that book two of The Gatestone Chronicles- which I will not name until closer to it’s completion- will be released sometime in 2016.

Between book one and two, I am working on a collaborative project with my artist friend from Nitsirk’s Grotto. I will give you more info on this project as plans solidify.

So that’s what I am up to reader. What are you working on?

Which Gate?

Whispered words of wisdom told

Unto we by saints of old

Hells gates swing open wide

Inviting us to step inside

Deaths grip as cold as ice

Grips at bones like a vice

Given, bequeathed, passed on, endowed

Upon his face a deathly shroud

That we the lowly be held up

Invitations to the cup

Gates once open swinging closed

Questions never needing posed

Goodness given and received

All for they who but believed.



The Attic of Evelyn Pearl

Tiny young Evy,

A six-year-old girl

Was named for her granny

Miss Evelyn Pearl.


She hasn’t young cousins

Her own age for play.

No brothers or sisters

To fill up her day.


When her family visits

Her grandmother’s home

She goes to the attic

Where she plays alone.


She’s never caught bored

When she goes up there

‘cause mystical wonder

Hangs loose in the air.


A porcelain doll

Becomes her best friend.

She tells her big secrets

For hours on end.


On her Grampy’s old flute

She’ll blow out a tune

And fancy’s they hear her

Out there on the moon.


Old buttons and beads

Become long lost treasure

That salty sea captains

Can count at their leisure.


A toppled old shelf

And a discarded oar

Becomes ship and rudder

That washed up ashore.


With musty old curtains

She fashions a tail

And waves are comprised

Of granny’s old veil.


Old teddy bear people

Are folk of the sea.

They go on adventures

‘Till afternoon tea.


When the moon starts to rise

And it’s time to head out

Tiny young Evy

Won’t grumble or pout.


Her exotic vast kingdom

Will wait for our girl.

‘Till then it’s the attic

Of Evelyn Pearl.