MM Valentine’s Freebies and What Really Pulls The Trigger of a Gun 💔

Hey, peeps!

Shout out for all the newbies who picked up The Autumn Prince which was featured on Instafreebie Monday. I’m Sadie Sins and this newsletter is about free and discount mm (gay) romance and erotic books, and whatever I feel like rambling about at the time. You’re not obligated to hang around—click the unsubscribe button if you’re in newsletter overload, no judgments—but if you do hang around, hi and welcome. ^^

I’m putting my gun rant at the bottom. It’s not really a rant, it’s more just a thing. Life and death and not having the outrage in me anymore. But first, a quick update of all the things that happened book related.

You can read Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid on the site for free along with its sequel, My Broken Angel. Valentine’s special! I wanted to clean them up and get the edited versions up (Gail, you did an amazing job) but time just wasn’t on my side. When everything is a priority, nothing is a priority. (I’ve been saying this so much lately. @[email protected]) Still, they’re wonderful and heartfelt and, uh, pretty boys with wings. Can’t go wrong with that.

I’m nearly done writing Episode #3 of Teddy’s Naughty Adventures. I wanted a break from Hellcat before Hellcat broke me. Everything is turning into a long ass novel lately. I need to find a way to stop being so long-winded. Ugh. I’m going to be trying some speed writing, actually. Like, I came up with a template for the kind of formulaic erotic writing I do for the shorts (think Coffee Guy or The Drunk Email,) and I’m going to just fly through a story and see what happens. I need to finish something! My brain needs to be able to go ‘STOP!’ and I can feel content and satisfied in something. It’s getting overwhelming, all these novels without any end.

What else… oh, I did some pretty pictures of the Demon Bonded guys.

Wasn’t really even planning it, but instead looking for a break from the novel writing. I don’t know what it is but this week feels like it was twice as long as normal. So far I have Ky, and Lovely. And I did a little video thing of Lovely from start to finish! There’s something really satisfying to watch a painting get to the end. I think it’s the same trigger in my brain that paints in the first place—seeking a balance.

I want to make a video for the book covers I create. I don’t know if I want to put the time in to make it ‘instructional’ but you can learn a lot from a walk through about composition, placement, and how to get to the end of something when you don’t realize you’re still in the middle.

Call for REVIEWS!

Okay, so Wendy’s book, Zeus: Conquering His Heart is officially live and free to read on KU! It’s all about Eros (aka, Cupid) so very Valentine’s Day related. Wendy has that beautiful way with prose I dream of fondly while absolutely ignoring it in my own writing. If anyone has some extra time, I know she’s looking for reviews. It can always be hard to get reviews—it’s the bread and butter for a lot of authors, and always greatly appreciated. <3

Don’t miss the books down below (aka, if you don’t want to read about my take on gun control, scroll away. XD)

Where all My Opinions Lead to PTSD… Again. XD

So I heard about the Florida school shooting in passing (I’m not watching the news anymore,) and as terrible as it might sound, I didn’t feel a thing. Because this keeps happening. It’s going to keep happening because nothing is being done to change it. There is a problem in this country and it will not evaporate on its own. It’s only February and there have already been 6,965 incidences of gun violence in the US.

I heard a line from someone who was previously on Cracked (can’t think of his name) that went along the lines of ‘just what do you think the generation who grew up afraid of being shot up in their schools is going to do to your guns when they’re in power?’ It really got me thinking. That statement sounds so obvious, right? When we can’t even get reasonable regulations, just what do you think people who have lived afraid for their lives will do when given a chance? They’ll definitely not want to be shot, so they’ll definitely call to regulate guns, maybe even ban them completely. The next generation will be smarter than this one. Except, every argument from people who want to keep guns is the same fucking thing—we don’t want to be unarmed against a gunman. Guns save lives.

Yeah, the instrument made solely to murder totally saves lives. That’s why we use them all the time in hospitals. To save lives. They’re totally not what puts people in morgues. When they made that model that literally brought people from the dead (Lazarus .45) I was sold. (I make no excuses for my sarcasm. Deal with it. XD)

Logic has no place in this problem because gun violence isn’t a problem of logic, it’s a problem of fear. Perceptions of safety. Every day people all around this country are sitting at home waiting for someone to walk through their front door and murder them. That’s why they want a gun; they don’t want to be murdered. They are terrified of the world, they believe people (or at least the people they don’t know) are innately evil and murderous, and this is the only way they can grasp some sanity. With a gun, not a shield. Safe. They bring a weapon of murder into their homes to feel safe. This is not logical, but it is the human condition.

I don’t know what war is happening in America today, but there are a lot of people waiting for one. When people don’t perceive the world as safe, they want to feel safe and that drives them to do irrational things like kill a teenager for being black or assume a gun is unloaded after a safety demonstration or spend their entire life waiting for some huge disaster by stockpiling food and useless shit and telling themselves how smart they are for cheating death. Death is still coming no matter how far you push it off, and you have no control. Period. Nothing you do will stop death, but my fuck, people are sure causing a lot of death in their fear.

People who want guns to protect themselves from people with guns, really want guns to protect themselves from their own insane minds. And guess what, it’s not going to do the trick. The gun isn’t the problem, it’s the desire to feel safe in an unpredictable world. It’s choosing to see fear has more value than every single life lost because no one will regulate a series of machines made solely to murder. There is no other purpose for a gun than to kill. It is not a paperweight, it is not a collector’s item, it is not a magic shield that makes everything safe and shiny—it’s a specifically designed killing machine being put into the hands of people who are not required to train to make sure they know how to use that weapon, or even see if they have the mental capacity to keep them from using that weapon on fellow human beings.

There are no locks on these guns, no keys—imagine having a car where a child could just sit in the driver’s seat and start driving? How irresponsible, and yet the fingerprint technology we have is not being used for gun locks. Guns are made to murder people, and we have laws to keep people from being murdered, and yet, the disconnect continues because ‘guns save lives.’

What we’re seeing is trauma 101. Give me control over the uncontrollable. This is what turns rational human beings into unbearable assholes, religious fanatics, rule creating neurotics, and obsessive fortune tellers. They will seek any mental concept to allow them to feel safe in an uncontrollable world. They will create rules, gods, laws, constructs to a false reality, and tell themselves as long as they follow it all, they will be safe. Immortal. Maybe even important and brilliant cuz they have it all figured out. They know no harm will come, they can predict and control the future, all because they followed those arbitrary rules they made up.

As you can see, I’m enjoying my PTSD writing. XD And for this, my mindfulness. Because I cannot take the unbearable feelings of being unsafe away from people. This irrational pattern of thinking is a coping strategy people use when they’re overwhelmed. This irrational action of killing before being killed (even when no danger is present outside of the mind) is what humans in trauma do to feel like they have control. They do this to themselves, and to everyone around them because this is the only way they know how to cope. I have the ability to see through that problem and cope differently, but it’s not something you can stamp into people’s brains and force them to follow. Many are extremely happy to live in fear thinking they have the answer to it all. They have their rules; they’re in control.

When I sit in my house, I have a choice of how I want to feel, and I choose to feel comfortable, happy, loved, compassionate toward my fellow humans, joyful and free. I am not afraid. I don’t know many of my neighbors, I know even far less of the people in my state or the country or the entire world, but I love them all, and believe that they don’t want to harm me. That’s all a belief is and it allows me to live feeling safe verses fearing for my life. The world doesn’t change depending on my belief, but I certainly enjoy living my life far more when I believe there is nothing to fear.

I will never fear one of my loved ones being shot in this house by a gun, because there will never be a gun in this house. There’s no question of it. If a gun isn’t here, it can’t be used to shoot us. And if a gun is brought in, we had no control and that’s that. It just is. Control is an illusion, safety is an illusion, fear is an illusion. I will choose the world around me where no one has hurt me, over the lies in my head that people find me so interesting that they’re waiting to murder me—how interesting one must be in that scenario. XD

I truly feel for the people so terrified that they would rather surround themselves with the thing they fear—death—than live in life. But more, I feel for those who keep being victim, who keep suffering because these people refuse to wake up to the environment they’re perpetuating. When you believe the world is a dangerous place to be, you are very likely reacting in ways that make it dangerous. I am the kind of person who will help a stranger, smile, have a conversation instead of that cold, hostile, terrified girl I used to be because of my PTSD filter. The world didn’t change, it’s all my perspective.

I contribute to the world I want to live in, as do we all. When your inner world is consumed with seeking a need for control in a terrifying existence, the outer world you create will reflect it. Everyone will be a potential enemy who may want to harm you, every dark night full of potential monsters, every helping hand hiding a devious intention. And as someone who still struggles with those neurotic control freak mental patterns, I know what little joy there is being around someone like that. It’s fucking misery. The first part of this newsletter was me needing to explain how I’m ignoring or working around those impulses because living with a need to control shit that doesn’t matter is miserable.

Compassion is still my keys to living free. If I can be compassionate for my own flawed, broken, traumatized self enough that it got me this far into freedom, surely compassion for others can allow them to change. It cannot force them, even nudge them, but so many are waiting for permission to change and stop being so afraid. They can’t give themselves that permission for whatever reason, but compassion from others can. If we reflect our inner world, we can hope that the outer world can work to transform the inner worlds of those so lost inside. They’re trying to grasp control in the uncontrollable instead of enjoying this wonderful ride on this spiral of a planet hurtling through the galaxy in an immeasurable universe—maybe it’s why they’re grasping on so tight, huh? Do they feel the planet move? XD

We’re living on a fuzzy, waterlogged rock but we still think everything we do is so damn important… aka, I accept I’m probably not going to have Hellcat finished this week. Just sayin. >_> It can be hard to let beliefs go that hurt us, that construct a familiar world we understand but also terrifies us. But it’s that need to understand what can’t be understood that causes this in the first place. Sometimes terrible shit happens and you can’t prepare and you can’t avoid, and all you can do is love the people and the life you have right now. This is the one guarantee, this moment. I don’t want to waste it fearing something that may never come to be.

MM Reads!

Zeus: Conquering His Heart – Free in KU

I do not yet know how to be a god, for I am only 18 and still just a silly boy who has fallen in love with Love himself, while my father Cronus plots and schemes to lock me in his dungeon and make me his slave forever.

When I throw the lightning and summon the thunder, it isn’t always out of anger, but often from a love so all-consuming it could only be the effect of Eros himself. Yes, he is beautiful. Of course he is. How could he be otherwise, with hair the color of sunlight and white-feathered wings that drape to the floor? And he is as ancient as the myth of time itself, an immortal with powers and glamour beyond my ability to imagine. He struggles to teach me wisdom, control, strategy, yet I sit here babbling like a child, for all I can think of is how I might try – at least let me try! – to prove myself to him in some way that will cause him to crave my company and my touch, just as I crave his.

Spanking the Boss – $0.99

A secret night of passion just got a lot more complicated…

Young and savvy CEO, Trent Davis has a reputation for being in control—of everything. But when a case of mistaken identity puts him in a situation more pleasurable than he’s ever imagined, Trent knows he needs more.

Hungry for success as a new junior analyst, Charlie Reynolds is determined to prove himself at work. Winding up in his boss’ arms isn’t exactly his best career move—especially since the powerful CEO has no idea who he is.

Will Charlie admit the truth and destroy his future in the company or will “spanking the boss” be the beginning of something deeper?

Omega’s Rockstar

A rock star doesn’t need a babysitter.

It’s just the stupid record label forcing them together. They think a reckless Alpha like Seth needs a nice Omega from Nebraska to keep him in line. Whatever.

A self-made Alpha doesn’t need another lover to bring him down.

After what his ex boyfriend did to him, Seth would rather stay single. Mister Rockstar in his pants can find his own action, without any stupid commitments. And Seth especially won’t get involved with that beautiful “sobriety companion” the record label sent over.

Mike doesn’t need Seth. But he does need this job.

Going For It – $0.99

What Happens When These Two Teammates Accidentally Get Married?







Free to Read for February!

Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid

Aiden didn’t expect to spend Valentine’s Day doing anything but cursing the color scheme. He’s built a wall around his heart filled with bitterness and cynicism created by years of disappointment and neglect. A wall two winged boys are determined to ignore as they claim that Aiden is their destiny.

My Broken Angel

I didn’t know that one bloody kiss could change my life forever. I‘ve found my soulmate and nothing makes sense anymore. He’s a half demon, half angel who just got out of the pit. Danyal doesn’t know how to be human—Worse, he doesn’t know how to keep living. There’s nothing I won’t do for him but I’m only human and when Danyal runs, he flies.

Guess Who’s Being Featured (And Guess Who Gets A Free Book!) 🎨

Hey, babes!

Instafreebie Feature

So, a proper announcement! The Autumn Prince is going to be featured on Instafreebie Feb. 12 (Yup Monday!) and I want to link you all while I remember. Get it, get it, get it!!! XD

Zeus, Conquering His Heart

I finished Wendy’s cover! I think it came out gorgeous (I’m totally biased and don’t care at all—it’s gorgeous!) Her book should be dropping some time this week. The link will eventually work.

Okay, so as you can tell from my many exclamation points, I’m feeling better! Lol. I had one of those moments, epiphanies. I started writing a book about PTSD and how to break free, and I’m looking at doing a series on how to basically hack your brain to live the life you want. You won’t see a lot of mention of this with the Sadie Sins’s stuff, I like to keep on target when I can, but it’s really passionate stuff for me. Not just thinking your way out of PTSD where you need to break the forth wall of the false reality of PTSD to get free, but just in general.

Like, this week I noticed how I’m struggling with reaching my goals of writing. I’ve been struggling awhile. One is priorities shifted to health and living—I’m loving being alive and feeling far healthier. The other is mild feelings of resentment, of not wanting to be where I am sitting and writing. Felt a bit like a kid staring out the school window. When I realized that, I was able to address and accept and let it go. It got me thinking this can help people. I could literally make a point to help myself so I can get the structure to write manuals on how to help others. Lol, it’s a fun idea, huh? Like exercising just to get a book out. I feel like that would motivate me to do the things I want but don’t prioritize. Make a manual for creatives on how to keep focused, and to do that, practice it in my daily life. Love it!

Oh, so I apparently blanked and didn’t remember I had My Broken Angel free just a few months ago. So, next week I’m going to put Drunk, Blind, Stupid Cupid up as free. Like a Valentine’s Day special kinda thing for the second half of the month. And if I get my ass in gear, it might even be an edited version with a new cover. (I know!) I seriously want to figure out how to record a Photoshop session so I can share how I make covers.

Shout out to Gail, while I think of it, who has been amazing at taking the time to go through some of my work and clean it up of many a typo and fuck up. She’s amazing. Lol, and a shout out Seth, who wants a Demon Arms autographed copy (because that still tickles me when people ask. I’m such a dork. :D)

Hope you all are having a wonderful day. <3

Pyromancer – $0.99

One desperate night, a rent boy hot enough to scorch the motel sheets, meets a man doomed to burn for love.

Christian Ryder is cursed with pyromancy, a deadly ability he has difficulty controlling. Having hurt lovers in the past, he has sworn off personal attachments.

Tanner O’Bannon is broke and desperate. The recent loss of his father has thrown Tanner into a tailspin of debt he can’t afford to pay. Working as a rent boy allows him to pay the mortgage and his college tuition, but it’s burning away his soul in the process.

Through the machinations of an escort agency these men are thrown together. Smoldering embers of desire fan the flames of love, but will it be enough to make Christian overcome his fear of love, or to save Tanner from the fire?

His Precious Undoing – preorder

Lancelot du Lac has quite the reputation. He may or may not have had something to do with the issues between Arthur and Guinevere. He certainly had something to do with Elaine’s tragic death.
1500 years after the legends, he’s back. And everything you thought you knew about Lancelot was wrong. He’s bound and determined to make up for the love he destroyed before, but can he overcome the blood on his hands?
*** This tale starts as a M/TransM erotic romance, then becomes M/M erotic romance. Release date is Feb 14, 2018



All You Need Is Love – $0.99 preorder

Romance Collections is proud to present these fourteen stories of love that know no boundaries. Like rivers flowing through the canvas of earth, these stories will run deep, touch softly and leave you breathless.
No matter who it is with, passion is magnificent, desires are bold, and love is beautiful.

Featuring stories from:
Tamsin Baker
Jess Buffett
Kristine Cayne
Adriana Kraft
Cate Farren
Valerie Ullmer
Kai Tyler
Lexi Thorne
Izzy Szyn
Aeryn Jaden
Dana Kenzi
Celia Fay
Dani Gray

My Broken Angel – free

An angel-demon halfbreed just falls into my lap. Okay, bleeds all over my shoes if you want to get technical. Moments later, this total stranger also manages to steal my heart.

Damn, I don’t even know how to explain this.

Have you ever met someone and just known they were the one? I thought I had until I met Danyal. I thought after eighteen years of living I knew all about love and meant to be and heartbreak. Then this damn bastard of a gorgeous fallen angel bleeds all over me, nearly ends up dead, and tears my reality in half. The wings don’t help. The kiss? The kiss makes me realize Hell is real and far hotter than I could ever imagine.

Discovering I’m bi is way less mindblowing than finding out my soulmate comes from a different realm of existence with bloodthirsty demons hunting him down. Worse, the longer I know him, the more I see it’s the demons in Danyal’s head that are going to kill him first.

Getting Danyal to stay and be mine is going to take an act of God. Or maybe a favor from the guy down below.

New MM Freebie Of The Month! 💜💙💜💙

Hey, babes <3

Gonna try to be brief today…

Eventful week where nothing really happened. Two deaths (my foster sister, and a very elderly relative of my bf,) writing stuff, planning on a book cover for Wendy soon, and…Oh, and the Autumn Prince is being featured on Instafreebie soon. I’ll email it out when it happens. Haven’t really been in a talkative mood this week. Trying to keep things even and smooth and too many voices can shake that up. Hoping to be out of the mental funk soon though. Hellcat is nearly done—it’s at like the best damn part writing wise where all the threads come together.

I wrote a blog post for anyone in a reading about writing mood. I needed a new outline approach after all this trouble with Hellcat. I lost focus in the outline stage, and it caused so much extra work after the fact. Funny thing is I never used to really ‘plan’ how to write, I just did it and hoped for the best. As some of these books get longer than I’m used to, the serials even longer, I need a little more to hold onto. Lol, my brain cannot be trusted to remember it all. I need to have prompts when I can, especially in the planning stages of something like the interactive Demon Virus story. There are so many possibilities and it will be easy to forget where I am if I’m not careful.

Hope you all enjoy My Broken Angel for this romantic month—seriously, February always feels like this cold wasteland of misery. XD Even with the Vitamin D3. Ah, that could be part of my mood, now that I think of it. I buried my adoptive mom on Valentine’s Day so many years ago. February has a lot to fight with my mental associations.

My Broken Angel – Monthly Freebie

I didn’t know that one bloody kiss could change my life forever. I‘ve found my soulmate and nothing makes sense anymore. He’s a half demon, half angel who just got out of the pit. Danyal doesn’t know how to be human—Worse, he doesn’t know how to keep living. There’s nothing I won’t do for him but I’m only human and when Danyal runs, he flies.





The Baristas’ Surprise – $0.99

Two Omegas. One kiss. And an Alpha who wasn’t supposed to see it happen…

I’m supposed to be an author, but I haven’t finished a book in years. Not since things got out of control. So, to hopefully get back on my feet, I move to a new city, start teaching at college and suddenly find myself intrigued by two Omegas that pass me by every morning.
One day, on a whim, I follow them and see something I shouldn’t have seen. A kiss. A beautiful kiss. And it stirs something inside me…

I fled from the arranged marriage my parents set up for me and I was ready to give up on love entirely, and then my best friend saved his younger Omega brother, Wes, from a bad situation and suddenly I was falling, head over heels. It’s amazing to be at Wes’ side and to see him flourish, even if our relationship is a little complicated, we’re making it work. Maybe love isn’t so bad after all.
What I hadn’t counted on was the Alpha walking into the cafe, and the way my eyes keep getting drawn to him…

After my brother saved me from my abusive ex, I’m getting my feet back under me. I’m finally doing the things I was never able to do, like having a job and going to college. It’s not easy to combine it with caring for my four children. But with my Omega boyfriend Zeke and my brother’s family at my side, we make it work, they’re all the people I’ll ever need.
Until, one morning, an Alpha walks into the cafe that I work at, and he asks Zeke and me out on a date, together…

This is the first novella about Alpha Nathan and Omegas Zeke and Wes in Omegas’ Destined Alpha, which takes place in a non-shifter Omegaverse world and contains mpreg (male-pregnancy).

Prey – KU free read

When the rescued slaves were first brought on board my ship, I saw only the one. The one they called Arcana. And though I realized the others had all suffered similar fates – fearsome torture and erotic conditioning that had estranged them from whoever they had once been – I focused on the one who met my eyes with what could only be interpreted as a defiantly seductive lure, while the others held their gazes downward, at their feet, at the floor, at the past which had shaped them and undoubtedly doomed them to any sort of normal life.

Not so with Arcana. That one had no shame in whatever had happened to him. In that one blinding moment when we saw one another for the first time, I knew he was as brash as he was beautiful, and I knew without any doubt that he had chosen me – though for what dark agenda, I could not have said.

My heart went cold and silent in my chest. My throat was dry. My breathing faltered and I was forever changed.


We danced. Captain Mordecai and I. Not any traditional dance, but a dance of power. A battle of yin and yang, light and dark, pleasure and torment.

A dangerous dance of right and wrong in a single moment caught outside the tendrils of Time.

It was easy to see the raw and sensual power in that man’s gaze. But also the fear. Fear of being seen for who he was behind his carefully-constructed masks. Fear of finally surrendering to the dangerous desires he clearly felt when he looked at me, knowing my past, knowing I had been enslaved by sadistic aliens. Knowing I had not only enjoyed it, but had come to love my master. All the wrong things. So very wrong.

That was when I knew he wanted me. That was when I knew I needed him.

That was when I knew I had him exactly where we both needed him to be.

Seducing Coach – KU free read

Innocent? Naw. Professional trainer, Riccio Moretti, soon discovers that the quaint façade of the Wildwood community hides hormonal men at every turn. And now that Riccio has been hired as the new Wrestling Coach for St Thomas Academy, his butthole will likely never been the same. Will Riccio fend off unwanted advances or give-in to being a talented muscle bottom?






Oliver Ever After – $0.99

Me, my high school ex, and a five-star hotel room on reunion night. He can’t break my heart twice, right?
Oliver: It took me 7 years to forget my high school boyfriend, Luke, and just one night to–

You know what? Scratch that. It took me 7 years of pretending to forget Luke to convince myself that maybe going to my high school reunion was a good idea, that maybe I could show all the kids who’d bullied me just how little I cared about them, and show Luke how little I’d thought about him.

Uh, news flash: it didn’t work, and it didn’t even take me a full night to realize how wrong I was. It took approximately 5 minutes of moonlit conversation in our high school parking lot (super romantic, I know) to figure that out–though I guess inviting Luke back to my hotel room, dragging him into bed, and then having a panic attack in the middle of the, uh, festivities didn’t exactly help matters.

And that would have been fine, honestly. Completely humiliating and a memory I would cringe over until my dying day, sure, but fine–if only I weren’t stuck at home, helping my father with a health crisis and dodging Luke’s calls–and my feelings about them. Luke’s a player–he always has been. I know better than to get involved with him again.

So how the hell do I get my heart to listen?

“I’m not asking for much, really. Just you. Just every little thing about you. That’s all I want.”

Luke: Oliver Luna. The guy’s haunted me since high school. Oliver’s the first person I ever fell in love with–and the last. He’s the guy who showed me what I was made of–and it turns out, what I’m made of isn’t pretty. I know I’m a jerk–which is why I don’t date. I won’t risk hurting anyone else the way that I hurt Oliver. And I’ve never forgiven myself.

I guess that’s why I decided to go to this reunion. I figured maybe, if I apologized, I’d be able to let Oliver go. Maybe I’d be able to stop thinking about him at 4 a.m., unable to sleep, googling him for the 10 millionth time. That’s how it works, right? You say you’re sorry and you get to move on?

Only, first, Oliver tells me he’s already moved on, and somehow that just makes me feel worse. Like, what the hell, heart? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? And then, just when I think I’ll never see him again, Oliver lets his guard down, just a bit, and all I want to do is pull him into my arms and make his pain go away. Honestly, who even am I at this point?

I have no idea how to fix all the pain I’ve caused. All I know is this: I’ll die before I let Oliver walk out of my life again.

Partying In Graveyards 🐰

Hey loves,

Freebies at the bottom. Lol, I rambled again this week. Don’t miss out on the reads below. XD

It’s been an exciting week in a lot of ways on the writing front. I’ve outlined the next episodes in City Howls, Teddy’s Naughty Adventures, and Demon Bonded (which needs a few more scenes to sneak in there). I’ve got two more scenes in Hellcat to finish up, then a write through to clean up some draft scenes and to make sure it’s all coherent before I send it to a new-to-me editor I’m trying out (so excited!) I’m hoping to get the next Teddy book out sometime in February, as well as Demon Bonded and City Howls too. *fingers crossed for luck*

Why so productive after all this time? I’m trying a goal oriented writing system. Intentionally, verses before when, well… I didn’t have goals when I first started writing, I had bills. XD I had bills, and I had PTSD, and I was sick as fuck with mold toxicity, which I had no clue what my level of health could or potentially would reach once I started seeing improvement. I had a lot of fear and a need to prove I was alive. Life was a race of not to die, and my writing reflected it because I wrote to escape and to be able to afford the meds I needed. Now, well…

I don’t really talk much about living in the now in the newsletter. I know my life totally slips in—I write what I know and all anyone truly knows is his/herself. Getting healthy physically when I was sick with mold toxicity, at that time I thought it would mean getting healthy enough to climb the metaphorical ladder to the top of writing, self-publishing success. When I was sick, writing wasn’t just about writing, it was about providing something in the terms of my self identity. Succeeding financially would mean I wasn’t a fuck up, I wasn’t always going to struggle, I wasn’t always going to be fighting every moment to survive. Getting healthy would mean I’d write a novel a month, get that shit out there, and sell, sell, sell until I was at the top of some MM writing empire of awesome and I could shout, ‘Mold toxicity can’t define me! Being healthy means I was this all along, successful and valuable!’

Then I actually got healthy, and my fuck, I just want to be healthy. XD Fuck stress, fuck caring about bills, fuck being on the top of anything. I want to be here, in my body. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here, exploring my house, my family, the neighborhood, the town, my mind and all the things I used to see one way and can now see with unlimited view. I want to be here, be me, living my life. This change didn’t happen overnight, this was months of slowly releasing the white-knuckle grip I had on all these self expectations of what living is about. Living in the now has shown me what I really want. Releasing PTSD as part of my identity has completely opened up the world to me, and I’m still figuring out what it means to live after 30+ years of trauma.

All of this is new and shiny and I don’t want to take a direction where my life is defined by the money I make or the things I have. This last 1/2 a year, there’s a prescription I haven’t been able to fill at all, and guess what? I’m fucking fine. No stress, no fear, no feeling like a failure. I didn’t have to beat myself up for putting money that should have gone into the electric and gas bill into a new laptop when my chromebook suddenly died. It wasn’t a reflection on me in any way, it just meant two bills would have to wait to be paid. Lol, and how funny it is to watch the color coded system in the mail when they try to insist I should care that I’m late. XD

No, I don’t have to care if I’m late paying a bill. I don’t have to care that my lifestyle doesn’t involve the absolute promise and security of having bills being paid. My lifestyle never had that and letting go of PTSD and embracing living in the now has shown me how these things are never going to hurt me. I’m a living being who just wants to live, who was born in a system of society and government who tries to define me as needing to earn an income to prove I’m allowed to live. Well fuck that; no one ever said I needed to play that game. I like my own games much better. <3

Novels are Hard @[email protected]

I want to enjoy what I do. All the things I do. And that means I need to stop rushing toward some goal of the future and just sit here with what I’m doing and enjoy it. Which is all fine and dandy, lol, but I love what I write and I want to make sure it gets out there for others to enjoy. I’ve been lost in my writing lately and haven’t been able to share the way I want. Writing novels is fucking hard some days. Sorcerer Slayer is currently over 160,000 words (Demon Arms was only @100,000,) and as I outline the ending—because it’s not even the ending yet @[email protected]—I’m realizing there is still a shit ton I want to have happen in this book. Like, maybe 50,000-100,000 words more. Only subscribers have had an opportunity to read it, and I’m overwhelmed just thinking about how to get to that ending already and if I should ever have allowed it to get this long. What if it doesn’t flow? What if I fuck it up and readers of my normal style really can’t handle a story this length? What is the ‘right’ way to do this? These are the shitty ass questions I ask myself when I’m lost, and none of them are helpful. This book is exactly as it’s supposed to be and I’m just second guessing because I’ve never written a novel this long.

So, you know what isn’t hard to write? Serial episodes. I don’t get lost when I write episodes. They are self contained moments in the characters lives that push the plot and tension forward and eventually reach a conflict resolution powerful enough for me to decide the saga of that story arc is done and it’s time to go to the next. I like goals. I like reaching goals and feeling like I’ve accomplished something. Lol, I like how with a serial, once an episode is done, I can’t suddenly decide, ‘No, it could have been this!’ and go back and change everything. XD That shit is done, published, and I have to suck it up and move on.

This new writing system focuses on how I write episodically. I want to approach my novels like I do my serials—on the writing front, at least. Adaption to the media will be allowed, aka, going back and obsessing like a crazy motherfuck at the end of the first draft to make sure it all flows. XD But I want to see how it goes in that first draft where I focus on writing an episode of the story to come, and see if it gives me the results and focus I crave for these big projects. I love what I do, and I want to be able to share this stuff and get it out there, and that means I need better tools to allow me to focus when I’m sitting down to write. I want to ensure that my enjoyment of what I do writing in the moment can be shared faster outside of the subscription side of things.

Also, I think I need stress to flourish. Not real stress—or artificial… All stress is artificial unless something is clawing at your throat, really. My PTSD brain turned every moment into life or death, lol, and it kinda helped me write faster because of it. @[email protected] I’m hoping small goals will be a gentler approach. I guess I’ll see and adapt accordingly.

This is all experimental—and that too is how I enjoy living. Differently from how I lived yesterday. It’s funny the stigma the world has against mania when all our creative geniuses are usually manic. Professional publishing says you must be consistent, predictable, all books 50,000—70,000 words in these genres only or the market has no place for them. I’m tired of trying to fit the ‘norm’ the world keeps saying things are supposed to be. I want to live a life that embraces my strengths and fun, a system that adapts to me instead of me adapting to a boring, rigid system. That’s why I started the subscription site to begin with (well, that and the KU bullshit.) I wanted a system that supported my ability to write, not just my books.

This is where I rant about publishing >_>

The publishing system doesn’t support writers, but instead books that sell, which forces the creation of the same old thing because writers have to live off of books that sell. It turns into a problem of sales trends—be it because of marketing/packaging/genre/content/or plain old luck—deciding what books will be written next. But the passion for the topic doesn’t necessarily transfer over to the writer.

Why the fuck are The Simpsons still on the air after 30 seasons? The show is dead, it wants to die, but the system won’t let it so they keep cranking out the same old stuff. Family Guy tried to die and the system wouldn’t let it—it sells, it must continue, no new ideas. Shows I have absolutely loved—ones that have thrilled and entertained and intrigued me have been canceled because they didn’t sell enough. Why didn’t it sell enough? No one knew how to market it so the show is a failure because it didn’t fit the rigid genre system in place for marketing. Bullshit begets bullshit and nothing new flourishes when systems stay rigid.

Book publishing has the same problems. Books that don’t hit the exact genre don’t know where to go—and books that hit too many genres? They’re just as fucked, hoping that one genre, somewhere will accept them. LGBTQ books get a totally raw deal because the categories are so small. A gay book is a gay book instead of a gay paranormal werewolf romance book like you can get in straight fiction. Go to the gay category on Amazon and you’re overwhelmed with straight menage because they have no other place to go, and now you have to dig to find a gay book in the gay category. Not to be a total dick about it, but there is a small level of expectation that when you go to the gay (mm) category you’re not going to be bombarded with girls. And when I’m browsing Lesbian fiction, it’s a bit annoying to find so much dick. @[email protected]

It’s a fucking mess. There’s no place to grow, no place to be established and found because genre limits don’t meet the reality of the market. The system doesn’t grow and because of it, the books relying on that system don’t get the chance to grow either. And then you have the established ‘this is popular now so write a book for it’ genres, and these categories keep growing and growing, but books are shit without passionate writers and it’s hard to get passionate writing the same trope book after book.

I’m sure you’ve all read books where you wondered who published this drivel in the topic of choice you wanted to read, where it honestly felt like the author didn’t give a fuck about the characters or what happened to them. Even nonfiction where it’s another shallow recipe book or health book that jumped on the bandwagon with nothing new to add. That’s the kind of writing a flawed system produces while the gems struggle to find their place where there is no place for them because everything is about genre. Why play that shitty, broken game when you can start your own fun game instead? Why agree with the same old thing when you can do something new and see how it goes? Why settle when you have the tools to try anything you want?

The Internet is fucking awesome. It has broken so many boundaries, opened so many doors. I love Netflix because of the new shows and movies that have been created because they broke the system and offered an alternative to content creation without huge billion dollar studios controlling everything. Script writers have such an opportunity now, fresh actors, new camera work and visual risks. It opens up so much. Youtube allowed people with amazing ideas but no studio an actual platform to monetize those ideas and because of it, new, unique content flourished. This modern world offers so many self publishing opportunities with Amazon, Smashwords, GooglePlay, Payhip, etc, etc, where before people were dependent on a book publisher.

Seriously, I remember before the Internet where print books were literally the only books. What a daunting system of gatekeepers and genre expectations that must have been to try to get a new idea created into a book among genre defining authors like Nora Roberts and Stephen King. Those systems were too afraid to fail and because of it, books, beautiful unique stories were never published and shared.

Failing is Beautiful <3

People are too afraid to fail. They make it mean something, you know, like paying your bills late (or not paying them at all—whoopsie XD) makes you a bad person, a failure, a fuck up, someone who should never try again. I call bullshit. Life is far more enjoyable when you stop taking everything so seriously. Where the grammar police, the critics, the censors—the people who really need you to know what you do and enjoy isn’t allowed cuz they say so—aren’t heard or heeded. Cuz again, it’s not just that the messages are out there, it’s our choice to listen and follow and waste a life trying to fit instead of being who we are.

That’s why I love comedians. They take the most sensitive, emotional, controversial stuff and laugh at it and make you laugh at it, and remind us all it’s just a fucking game. It’s a joke, so why are we taking it all so seriously? There is one absolute of life, and that is that it will eventually end. Everything up to that point, living, that’s a choice we make. Why don’t people live more? What really holds someone back from living the life they actually want? I want to throw parties in a graveyard so when I’m six feet under I know people will be celebrating life above instead of mourning it. Yeah, you can sleep when you’re dead. You can also cry, regret, freeze, criticize your choices, and hate too. I’d rather save the good stuff for living and laugh all the freaking time.

Ah, rambling again. I want to ramble a lot too! XD Hey, any suggestions for February’s freebie of the month? I was thinking My Broken Angel cuz it’s all cutesy soul mate romance stuff. But if anyone is desperate to read something else they might have been waiting on, I’m open to suggestions. I pick this stuff on a whim, after all.

Speaking of Print…

Totally forgot to mention last week that I got the first two edited Demon Bonded Sagas finally on Createspace. You can snag them both in paperback format.

I think I have to look at Print as collectables now, luxury items in a modern world where you can snag a digital book for less than a buck. So, if you’re the type who collects, they’re here with the pretty new covers. Finally got Apprentice Saga in print! (Seriously, I need to have someone remind me about all this shit. XD)

The Drunk Email

Last week to read it free. Brothercest and misunderstandings. <3







Nova’s Initiation- Free

Nova has never been interested in normal relationships. He likes to be roughed up, tied up and teased. So when a strange institute contacts him about a training program which matches submissives to their ideal dom, he doesn’t ask any questions.

But this entrance to paradise is barred by a test that will push him to his limits.

Director of the program, Aleril Toress has seized the opportunity presented by Nova’s test to pimp the benefits of her methods to a powerful new investor. Never one for words or promises, Aleril knows the only way to hook Draeldin Loreld, and his considerable fortune, is with a demonstration.

She can only hope Nova is as experienced as he claims.

The Slave Makers is a series of serial short stories, each about 10,000 words long, detailing Nova’s submissive journey, with new installments each month.


So Why Didn’t Gay Marriage Solve Everything? 🍄

Hey, babes ^^

So let me start by saying I don’t want to craft walls and bars with words so that people feel this is the only reality. This is the difficulty of society—the difficulty of being a storyteller when people reading the story don’t understand reality is not actually confined by our perception of it. We are confined by our perceptions of reality. I’m going to tell a story about how I see parts of reality and why I write what I write. This reality is not shared by everyone—thank fuck—but I’d love to hear your responses. I love to talk about this shit. XD Oh, and fuck, I will be getting back to the comments of last week. I got most of you—I’m so excited you’re excited about the Demon Virus interactive story! I just got caught up in writing and didn’t want to leave.

With that out of the way, I love the premise of this book and I want to talk about it! I haven’t read it yet, to be totally upfront. Once Hellcat is done I’m going to indulge in fun, damn it! (and yeah, this kind of reading is totally fun for me and my inner nerd… as is writing… as is writing Hellcat—I’m actually having lots of fun. XD) But just reading the premise, I think you can understand where ‘Sadie Sins’ might be really on board with this whole concept and it has my mind sparking.

Why Straight Guys Love Their Gay Guys: Reviving the Roots of Male Sexuality

After fifty years of progress and the advent of gay marriage, statistics on the well-being of gay men are as grim as ever. Rates of suicide, alcoholism, and drug abuse have not budged. Anxiety, depression, loneliness, and poor health are just as widespread. Studies have shown that gay men who live in urban gay communities actually are worse off, not better.

The utopia promised by gay marriage has not materialized. Gay men seem to have run out of ideas for future progress. There is little acknowledgment of the fact that something remains badly wrong. Nor is there a diagnosis of what is wrong.

This book proposes that the diagnosis is obvious if we look at the origins of male sexuality and how it was expressed in other cultures. The anti-sex Puritan system in which we are now immersed is relatively recent in human history. Yet in less than 2,000 years, knowledge of how other cultures lived and loved has been systematically wiped out. The forms of male sexuality were remarkably similar from culture to culture. But starting with the early Europeans in the last years of Rome and continuing around the globe as Europeans colonized the continents, natural male sexualities have been cruelly repressed and then obliviated. We are all Puritans now.

The greatest taboo of all in male sexuality remains unchallenged and is still heavily enforced. That is the taboo of male-male sex, which until 2003 was still a crime. This book argues that the plight of gay men is only a piece of a much larger catastrophe — the Puritanical repression of the sexualities of all men, in an attempt to harness the enormous power of male sexuality for social purposes in the name of moral progress, with promises of greater glories to be found in heaven. The damage that Puritanism caused to human beings and to stable social systems was never noticed. In fact the damage and misery were regarded as good. It was seen as payback to the devil.

This book is not arguing for something new, untested, unknown, and radical. Rather, the challenge is to return to something very old — the joy of male-male sex — which took similar forms in most of the cultures that we have knowledge of. In such worlds, it was understood that some men are more masculine than others, that some men are gayer than others, and that heterosexuality and homosexuality are complementary and of equal value. And those old worlds were worlds in which every gay man was able to take for granted what to us today is the impossible dream — sex with a straight best friend.

The Root of Sin is a Story

This is the root of all my stories, from the dirtiest noncon/dubcon/beast/incest/degradation to the sexy, happy fluff. This is why I write sex, to offer a narrative that to ‘give in’ to your fears and break the societal constructs surrounding sex will allow you to find pleasure instead of the sin. The sin is a lie, it’s something we were taught, not something that exists. But our brains hold power over us, our narratives—the narratives of society, of the casual little phrases we don’t even think about that create the bars to the cage that say sex is bad and wanting sex means you’re bad. That sweat, shit, tears, cum, vomit, urine, blood, flesh, bones—these things that are a part of living in a human body, something every single person on this planet experiences—is on some level bad and offensive. The body must be hidden and those who don’t hide theirs are narcissists, deviants, godless, seducers, sluts, asking to be harmed because to have a body is to deserve to be raped. These are the narratives we hear every day, little stories that filter in and our brains pick up and form a construct of the world around us.

This is also the root of censorship—I know, that other thing I love talking about! XD I find censorship extra fascinating because rarely is it just for reality but for imitations of reality. If you’ve been watching news about Trump and his ‘shithole’ comment, I hope you’re laughing as loudly as I am every time a newsperson goes to say the word shithole and instead they say something like “bleephole” or “you-know-what hole” XD OMG. They can’t even quote reality. Someone, somewhere is demanding these people not say certain words, and my fuck, they fucking listen, don’t they? They create a complete construct around avoiding certain mouthsounds, and those who don’t conform are punished. Book censorship of course is just as insane—the belief that an idea is wrong and shouldn’t be allowed to exist or people will be harmed.

Sit with that for a bit. Lol. So many people afraid of their brains, claiming their actions are powerless to their thoughts. How easy it would be to justify murder if we truly believed we weren’t responsible for our actions? We thought about killing someone, then we did—blame the thing that gave us the idea, not the choice of committing an action. Society can see how ludicrous that is for murder—usually, don’t get me started on the Stand Your Ground law—but for sex? For an internal desire expressed in the body that our history (and some current cultures) claim is just as atrocious as murder? Far less rational thought occurs when reacting to a societal message of morality.

The Societal System

Society pushes to say ‘don’t accept who you are unless… *insert demand*’ Unless you look a certain way, unless you act a certain way, unless you get that paycheck of a certain amount, unless some god loves you, unless you sacrifice, unless you earned it, unless you prove you’re worthy, unless your parents/teacher/priest/doctor/boss/celebrity/friend/someone approves… unless you’re something else. The message is you aren’t good enough as is; you must be something else and then you will be acceptable and loved. And this isn’t just the big society, that vague ‘them’ that encompasses a state or continent. There are tons of societies from groups of friends, to families, to the workplace, to your singular mind, and in this particular book’s case, the gay community.

I fear just the act of placing the gay label is the first step in this slippery slope of crafting cages and demanding of yourself to be something else concerning sexuality. It was in the lesbian scene I saw the most fighting, the most cruelty, the most anger. I met women abused by men who turned to women, only to be abused again. Or to abuse others. To seek drugs, to steal, to break up relationships, to blame others for their actions. Everyone was a hookup instead of a person. Everyone a savior to prove they’re worthy instead of a person. I saw women who demonized men, women who demonized mothers, women who demonized beautiful women—really, just pick a ‘type’ and someone hated them because of how they looked, how they acted, how they existed.

I saw so much unhappiness in that place, including the beautiful group of males who crossdressed as females and were so defensive, it felt like I was in a war scene when they stepped off stage and walked through a sea of women and seemed to expect to be attacked/judged/mocked. And given the sea of these hurt women, they might have had experience to feel that way. I saw women who desperately needed to have their peers reflect them so they could see who they were. It was identity through the control of others. Identity through comparing. Identity through reacting. They could only find themselves when interacting with others—others who had to fit their narrative or were punished. And why did those who were hurt by not fitting stay to fit? Because they gained identity by staying, by being labeled. Every person there was there by choice.

I can’t speak for gay men in that scene. Why? Because the sexes were segregated when it came to gay and lesbian and the clubs and parties I found myself at. I think part of the whole meat market aspect of that scene was, if you’re not in the market, you’re not welcome. I dunno. Maybe they couldn’t reflect off of such a different looking person—a man—so they kept them away? Maybe what the did reflect pushed them away? I can speculate but I don’t actually know. If I knew there were men out there who hated me just because of my gender the way some of those women hated men (even if those roots were based in abuse,) I probably wouldn’t be in a rush to hang out. XD

A Living Narrative

So, this is a story of the past that doesn’t exist anymore. One place in time through the eyes of one curious woman whose brain loves to find patterns in people and understand. These are moments in my life I remember to write the narrative of today–even if today is completely different. And this is part of the problem; we as humans take the past and project it into the future. We decide everything we know makes us a fortune teller. XD

During that time I spoke with women who left the scene who confided how painful it had been for them, how insane it was compared to being sexually evolved out in the world. I was still watching the scene trying to understand why everyone seemed to have a prescription or a drug or a trauma they were taking while calling themselves these two dimensional labels and looking to be seen but not really known. I was straight out of the psych ward hanging with a lesbian (who by the time I left was considering identifying as a male) who was fresh out of prison, and I had a bipolar bisexual girlfriend (who called herself a lesbian once she started dating me but nearly married a man right before.) The bubble I was in was real but that doesn’t mean it was the entire view.

After the psych ward, where you’re labeled by your brain/behavioral ‘malfunction’—you know, the true way to identify who you are, by the thing that fucks up your life completely and you can never be free of. XD The illness that makes you wrong compared to everyone else; that’s who you are. Sigh. Now that’s a system of suffering that keeps people suffering, and after the psych ward, the scene just seemed all too familiar. You can be sexually free, but only when you label, so make sure you know what your label is and don’t try to change it. We already have identified you by this label and we don’t want to be confused or worse, annoyed. Your sexuality is a judgment on us, especially if you ever fucked us—don’t you dare be bisexual or trans, cus that just confuses the fuck out of us and our sexual identity.

It was a beautiful chaos of pain as people tried to discover themselves while stepping on everyone’s toes. As much as they hurt each other, they hurt themselves even more, and the ones who stayed—so many stay until they find what they need—they hurt themselves the most.

Why Do We Do It?

I love people, I truly do. I love their insanity as they claw at themselves demanding the impossible while hoping against hope if they reach that goal, the suffering will finally stop. And while they’re clawing at themselves, they’re screaming at anyone who looks a little like them, demanding the same of them—be perfect, be this, be the thing I need so I can be free already. Hurry the fuck up and be what I want! XD Ah, it’s so powerful, so amazing, so fucking cruel and beautiful and we demand of our loved ones first, don’t we? Those who provide us the most on a material and emotional level we then refuse to allow to be free of our filter. If you change, then who am I?

I can look back and see how lost I was when I was this person who needed others to be a certain way so I could feel safe in the world. Err… like a year ago. XD This part is not an old story and she still pops up time to time. What an exhaustion trying to get people to change just so I could calm the fuck down over stupid shit like dishes. And what pain I inflicted on myself with my own demands.

Lol, that’s why my writing is so different these last months with less a focus on completion and more on actually writing the story as it wants to be. I finally learned to stop demanding so much of myself, and I’m still learning. A writer can be an ass to herself and decide if editing isn’t perfect, you suck. (whoops.) If that novel isn’t published by the end of the month, you’re a horrible person. And then you can find other writers to agree with that inner bitchy voice. It’s easier to see the interactions with my loved ones and stop, but the pain I commit on myself by having all those inner demands? Whooo, it has taken time.

It takes time not to respond to my loved ones when they come to me to identify them. When some days they want to feel weak and helpless in the world and they lash at me to give them the promise that I’m strong enough to carry it all for them, or that I perceive them incapable so they don’t have to try. Sometimes they define me by the mold toxicity so that they can be my hero for a little bit even if it means I can’t be my hero. It’s not a one way street—everyone is in a relationship by choice to gain whatever it is they need. Some people are afraid to move forward and they want someone to point it out to them so that they can tell themselves they don’t have to move forward, they can just be angry at you, bitch. XD Or they ask you for advice, ask you to carry them and do it for them, and when you don’t, ah, what a washing away of responsibility. Such bliss. They don’t have to do it because they handed you the responsibility, and if you don’t do it, oh, well, it gets to slip away and be unimportant, dragged out only during later arguments to ‘win’ in the battle of dominance for the right to narrate the shared story. Lol, it’s beautiful.

This could be the pain of the group, of the lgbt community that holds itself back, that demands others be a certain way because they have to be a symbol, a representation of an entire sexual movement. It has to look a certain way, and if you don’t fit you shouldn’t be allowed to exist as you are—change for us so we look the way we should.

Freedom to marry doesn’t give you anything when you’re not free to be yourself. It doesn’t change the way you think the world still sees you. It doesn’t change the way you still see yourself. It’s not only straight people who have the ability to judge. I see so many who have struggled to find their sexual identity and they feel threatened by the existence of someone similar but different. I have plenty of gay people still tell me bisexuality isn’t real. Some fear the spectrum because then they don’t know where they fit, who they are without the sexuality label nice and clear. I love writing straight to gay because of this—to show that facing the fear of being different from your self expectations can lead to pleasure.

My theme as a writer seems to be submission to inner dark desire=pleasure. XD I knew nothing about bdsm when I started writing erotica—I thought it was a super tacky genre from the few books I read at the time with all their equipment and living in clubs and their silly rules. All I saw was the structure and none of the underlying emotion. Now, after studying the push and pull of the human psyche as it seeks relief in others, I see the struggle of relinquishing to self.

So funny, the battle of the ego just looking for an escape to let go, looking for someone to save them because they don’t want to think they have the power. If they have the power, then they’re obligated to change their life, right? No thank you, just hand that over to the guy with the whip. XD Keep the changes in a safe place, one room, one little therapeutic dose of giving away control, giving in to desire without fear of consequence in the real world. A structured fantasy with the only one to judge being yourself and your partner.

Toxic Fruit

I like the premise of the book, of the greater society, of history and religion and the rejection of the human form being the roots of this problem. I want to see if it goes further. The roots still feed the plants that bear fruit, and where do we see the hurt coming from when history is dust, and morality is merely a system in place that no one is actually controlling? Why do those newspeople really hold back from swearing on television? Do they give a fuck about the concept of morality, or do they care about losing their jobs? Individual humans in this world punish them, and those who are punished choose to accept that’s the trade off to being free to speak certain words on TV—ha! I live in a country where we hold up free speech as some big right while saying it’s not allowed on television. Wow. Individuals strike out at others, demand from them what they demand of themselves to keep the world one way. They perpetuate the message while being bombarded by the message.

We are intelligent beings with technology and information beyond anything we have had before, but we still repeat the broken messages that keep us trapped. Why? Because we open our mouths and speak them. We do this; we are society. We teach our kids to be ashamed of the very bodies they are born into, while we look for ways to stop hating ourselves. We tell ourselves we can’t win in fights we never bother to battle. We create a god we must impress, must live up to, or we will suffer damnation. We decide that speaking up deserves pain, so only the most brave speak up. We create all the monsters that we end up battling or avoiding, while blaming the monsters.

Redefining Reality

Is that an ugly thought? Should it be censored so people don’t have to feel uncomfortable? The beauty of these systems that hurt us is how a changing of the message can save us. If the system in place is redefined, everything it touches redefines. Oh, let’s say the Pope declared sin nothing more than a fallacy of the mind used to control society, and every church in the system took up that belief and spread it to the followers. The next generation of Roman Catholics (and whoever listens to the Pope) could be free of sin. Actually free, instead of the indoctrination of bestowing original sin on every child born just so they could ‘baptize’ it away.

What if the psychiatric community decided to look into how allergies are linked to mental illness? What if they taught how most people who have allergies but don’t produce a certain response are far more likely to suffer mentally from bipolar to depression to mania to agitation to ocd to fits of rage, hence the rise of suicides during high pollen counts? What if when your kids are taught about nutrition, they’re not taught skewed information in there by companies—sugar—who don’t want people to know their product is not required on any level?

Systems allow for very big changes in a short amount of time and hey, they’re already in place. The media is such a system, which is why we have some channels spewing the extreme conservative narrative of ‘fear your neighbor and self,’ and others the extreme liberal narrative of ‘nothing you do is good enough unless you reach our blessed heights.’ I’m a liberal and my fuck, it’s like being a vegan among vegans—you’re never fucking good enough. Lately, I feel like I’m back in church answering to some faceless god of morality claiming gloom and doom if ideas exist and it totally sucks. No wonder Trump is terrified of the media. It’s a system bigger than him capable of changing the narrative of the world, the narrative he can’t reflect off of. He chose his enemy and his enemy grows bigger because of it.

But the caveat? Even when a system changes, it’s still up to the individual to change, to let the old message go. To allow through their filter of the world for things to be different, for things to be fun and not so fucking serious. Ugh, everyone is so damn serious. Do you know how many authors I see resend newsletters over fucking typos? Typos. Gah. I had an old guy glaring at me Christmas Eve—the entire night—and only found out when he said goodbye that he was offended by my lipring. XD I had it for 10 years but he was certain it would be infected by tomorrow because something in his past made his perception of my reality look dangerous.

Our brains are the system of oppression we’re trapped in. We perceive the messages and give them importance enough to actually follow them. Every message out in the world was first conceived in someone’s mind, which was then expressed through language where other minds picked it up, decided it was important, and followed or rejected. I used to think a vow of silence was about being able to finally hear yourself; now I wonder if it’s to do no harm on the world through the influence of words. But the words aren’t the harm, it’s still the minds that turn them into something more and act upon that belief.

There are so many people out there afraid of their thoughts. I wonder when they’ll see that they choose to act, they choose to make thoughts into an action? They choose to believe a message and hold onto it, making it part of their identity.

We Are the Storyteller

In our brains live these realities, these perceptions, these characters born of narratives—I think you’ve all met my characters in stories. XD But just as I’m an obvious storyteller, we are all telling a story about the world and about ourself. We tell the story that our attraction and gender is a part of our identity, that our job gives us value, that our family is a reflection of ourself, that if we’re not liked then we are bad/lacking, that our face defines our beauty, that to lose everything is to really lose everything.

It can be so hard to break out of that story, to see that we still persist even when everything changes. Maybe that is the joy of reading. For me it is the joy of writing. I write freedom (sexy, dirty freedom, lol) for every character I conceive. Maybe to experience a narrative—any narrative—between pages feels safer, allows us to see how we can wiggle free of the story of our life and be something else—but safely, in our brains, because that is where that story lives.

The reality is, for all my intentions, I can only hope people find freedom in my books. For some, they may be perpetuating the cage they’re trapped in, seeing their own self dissatisfaction reflected in the characters and never following to where it’s okay to be okay with yourself. Lol, those outraged reviews from poor souls so angry about the sex or the swearing or the lack of consent or the typos; I don’t think they got it. XD Maybe a few more rounds in the story until they see it can’t hurt them, pleasure is actually pleasure no matter the circumstances in a story. Orgasm = good. My characters still seek freedom and I will still record it, but there is no way to control how any of it is perceived. It’s all in the reader’s mind.

The individual is the god of their story, their world, their life. As your personal storyteller, do you choose to be the hero, the victim, the protector, the caretaker, the child, the clown, the villain? Do you let it change or are you stuck with one identity, struggling to be more than your job or your role in a family or the thing that fucks your brain up? So many stories we write about life, but are any of them as satisfying as the ones where we learn to love ourselves? And… insert masturbation joke here. XD

I have rambled the fuck away. Today I’m an artist, an observer of life who seeks understanding in the name of freedom from my own brain. I hope in my little journey, you have found some too. Let the walls fall down and get some fresh air, eh?

The New Boy

An Iron Eagle Gym Novel

Lance Packet just got a contract to shoot an erotic BDSM deck of cards; the only problem is finding models. So far everyone he’s interviewed thinks he’s looking for sex for hire. Then in walk three perfect examples of men: Tide and his friends, Tyrone and Bran.

Tide Germaine is a model and a Dom. He and his best friend Tyrone opened The Iron Eagle Gym as a place for gay men in the lifestyle to work out, do scenes, and congregate with like-minded men. The modeling is just another job for Tide, but it soon turns into a grand seduction as Tide falls for the shy, self-conscious photographer. The problem is Lance doesn’t believe he’s in Tide’s league, and he’s not at all sure about the Dom and sub thing.

It’s not going to be easy, but Tide’s going to have to convince Lance he belongs at Tide’s side as both lover and sub.

A Night To Remember: Phoenix Wedding Night

A night of romance, passion, and love that they’ll never forget…

Love and passion are in the air as the newlywed couples share their first night together as husbands. Finally released from their celibacy pact, the men are more than ready for a long night of warm romance and heated love. But they aren’t the only ones sharing their hearts and their bodies as other couples, yet to be wed, make the most of this enchanting evening as well.

Note: This is an M/M romance and should be read by readers 18yo and above only.



The Drunk Email

Nick has had a crush on his older brother for as long as he could remember. Justin is just so perfect; handsome, strong with blond hair and blue eyes. It’s impossible to look anywhere else. Nick never thought he’d ever tell his brother how he felt. That was until Justin went on a school trip out of country and Nick got lonely and really drunk.