Archive: January 12, 2019

💥A New Year’s Opinion On Vaccines And Failure💥

Hey babes,

No, I don’t have an opinion on vaccines. Well, that is, there is no way in fuck I would share my opinion with the drama queens who clicked on this newsletter just over that title. *wink* No, I saw this post on Facebook after my week long retreat away and I couldn’t stop laughing. The exact quote:

Opinions on Vaccines? For a new baby.

Glorious. I started laughing immediately when I read it in bold letters and a bright background where it was posted in a natural healing group. I knew. I fucking new. A baby combined with vaccines plus OPINIONS? Oh, the torches were already lit to save or sacrifice, and depending on which side, the end result is still you’re either saving or sacrificing that babe. 1.1K comments and it was only posted 2 days ago. Lost it when I clicked and saw the moderator had turned off any new comments because of the flaming. XD

OMF, the Internet is amazing! I appreciate it so much more when I take long breaks away. I’ve been doing this social media break where I stay away during the week and only visit during the weekend. Now that I’m past the ‘reach for the phone’ addiction, it’s so much fun.

Hold on, before I forget…

Did you snag your Demon Bonded calendar?

Orders are already piling up and this is a limited time thing. There is no way I want to screw around with all this shipping nonsense for long. (Labels. What the fuck is the point of making shipping labels so stupidly complicated? @[email protected]) So if you’re interested in a calendar full of nostalgic Demon Bonded covers, now is the time.

Oh, and I added some of the inner images so you can see on the site. It really is just the old covers, plus an extra poster for the bonus month. 😉


I have way more focus during the week since turning off social media. I appreciate my work more, actually. I’m not looking for distraction. I have plenty of shit I can do to distract myself and be productive at the same time. But my weekends now feel a bit like Jerry Springer time cuz I stumble into Facebook and Twitter and YouTube, and I realize just how desensitized I have become to so much insanity. The drama! The click-bait. The fucking useless text wars over shit that will never impact the individuals posting. It is amazing.

I’m starting to think people don’t care about porn anymore. No, they come to the Internet to argue and feel shitty, or ‘right,’ or angry. What happened to healthy, happy orgasms? XD

It’s also an interesting perspective when I think of the hours to days wasted on shit that doesn’t matter but people have chosen to invest their emotional selves into it. Like, are people really paying attention to the path they’re taking?

A New Year’s Introspective

I was thinking about how I used to ride dirt bikes before I got sick. Nothing crazy. The biggest thing I rode was along the lines of a Honda CRF250. I can remember ending up at this motocross event in New York staring up at these people jumping off giant mounds of dirt (it felt like hundreds of feet in the air, although I have no clue how high it was really.) And they were doing crazy tricks while flying, like legs up, entire body lifting off the bike, etc, before having to land with that heavy bike safely on the dirt beneath and not break their faces. All I could think at the time was huh… no way in fuck.

I already knew how I learned to ride a dirt bike. I would go super fast once I figured out how to make sure the thing wouldn’t stall, and I’d keep going fast until I hit a rock, tree root, or a turn I couldn’t make, and I’d go flying to the ground. This was the way I learned things, by being thrown over the handle bars, repeatedly. And to be clear, it was fun as fuck! XD I loved riding dirt bikes.

Still, seeing those people make that giant jump was enough for me to go, nope, that is not a fall I want to make. It wasn’t this fear of possibly falling, so much as knowing that falling was a part of the sport. If you’re not willing to fall, you’re not being realistic. It doesn’t mean you have to fall, but yeah, I know from all the times I went flying, falling was going to happen. Respecting the sport and my limits of not wanting to break any bones, I was not interested in learning to do huge jumps.

But it’s what makes me interested in doing so many things that don’t involve me breaking my face at high speeds. Because I know that failure isn’t that bad and I plan for it. When you try something and fail, rarely are there consequences worth mentioning. Some money lost. Time wasted. Frustration and disappointment. Maybe bruised pride and embarrassment if you have people watching. Is it cancer bad? I took care of my mother through high school until she died; few things are cancer bad. Is it breaking your face bad? Probably not.

Perspective is a beautiful gift, even if how that perspective is gained can feel like hell. I’m thinking about this stuff a lot because it’s a new year—you know, that arbitrary point that we decide is the measuring of a cyclical calendar for linear time. I see people make resolutions, or talk about not making grandiose resolutions because they’re afraid to fail. They take it so seriously. They’re afraid with every failure they’re not going to try again. And all I think is, wow, people need some perspective on failing so they’ll be willing to go for something.

Fail To Win

What if you set the expectation that you’re going to fail at least 5 times, every single month, until you reach your new year’s resolution goal? Well, already you’re giving yourself a message; failing can happen repeatedly, and it doesn’t mean it has to keep you from your goals. People think of fucking up as a one time thing. Like when the ‘worst thing happens’ they’re automatically required to stop and give up.

Babes, let me explain how the ‘worst thing ever’ can change when you stop giving up. When I was fresh out of college, my worst thing ever was being noticed by other people. Yeah, this was after my mother was dead and I was helping my dad with dementia get through the days. My perspective was so broken from PTSD and anxiety, that my ‘worst thing ever’ was being noticed. It made singing a trial every time and compliments misery.

Today, after years of experience and finding way worse things to face, my worst thing ever is death. I know it’s the end, just as I know I won’t be around to actually experience it. But I didn’t get to this mentality because I gave up. I was able to get here because I learned to accept that fucking up is part of trying something new. The ‘worst thing ever’ is in some ways inevitable, and it’s not the end of the world. I will drop dead one day and I won’t be alive to regret it. I’m hoping the moment before it happens, I’ll be aware enough to have no regrets, though.

Plan for failure like it’s exactly what it is, part of the learning experience, and you won’t ever have to worry about giving up on what you want. You might decide you don’t want it, like I did when watching those people fly off that giant jump. You might decide what you want is a little to the right or left of your original idea, or not in the same category as all. I went from singing professionally to writing commercially. The worst thing that happened was I realized what I was doing wasn’t enough for who I am today, and I changed my goal. I didn’t fail at singing or at life, I just admitted I wanted something else.

Failure loses its meaning when you embrace it. It’s not an end; it’s not a defining factor in your plans; it’s not anything. It’s just a step in being alive, like everything is. When you strip the meaning away, you have so much freedom to love what you do.

I love to learn and grow; it feels like the epitome of life some days. I would rather trip up and learn something new, than stay grounded and never try. I don’t have to break myself to try, but I do have to try. If you find yourself blazing down to Earth in failure like a shooting star, remember someone is making a wish to be as high as you reached for. Nothing has to be the end unless you choose to give up.

I hope you all find something awesome to reach for this new year, or even something mundane, just as long as it makes you happy. That would be an amazing resolution:

I want to be happy for 2019!

The Wild Ones

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he’s led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he’s renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn’t until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem…


One Last Heist

One last heist.

It should’ve been easy. Crack a safe, steal from a villain, and go on vacation. The last thing Mack and Toshiro expect is to descend into a nightmare of betrayal.

Mack Ueda-Easton loves three things: his husband, heists, and his odd family of friends. He lives life on the edge. The only cloud on his horizon is the degenerative disease stealing his sight.

Toshiro Ueda-Easton tries to juggle his husband, his autistic sister, his interfering mother, and all of their heists. He knows they’re spiraling out of control and the journey they’re travelling can’t last.

What neither of them expect is to get catapulted straight into a dangerous conspiracy. They’re now in a race to come out on top. If they fail, the consequences are unimaginable.

Don’t Call Me Kid

Falling in love with your brother’s boyfriend and pining over him for a decade? It can’t get any more complicated than that!

Van found the man of his dreams on his fifteenth birthday. And promptly lost him on the same day when he realized Parker was dating his older brother, Taylor.

Ten years later, Van still nurses his unrequited love, but Parker and Taylor are no longer together. Too bad Parker only sees Van as an inexperienced kid, or a friend at best.

If Van plays his cards right, he might get a chance to tell Parker how he feels. With their complicated histories and Taylor wanting his husband back, their situation is as difficult as they come. Will Van finally get his man, or will he have to give up his teenage fantasies once and for all?

Don’t Call Me Kid is the first novella in the Just Don’t contemporary gay romance serial. If you like your romances on the angsty side and with a touch of complicated family dynamics, then this first book will have you craving for more in no time.

Buy Don’t Call Me Kid today to see if Van’s love truly conquers all.

Remembering You

“Careful there, Robbie.” 
My sweater obscured part of my sight, and my fogged-up glasses managed to take care of the rest of it, but I’d recognize that voice anywhere, even after eight long years. It was deeper now, a bit more gravelly, but it most definitely belonged to the guy I’d spent most of my early teenage years pining after. My first—and unrequited—love.

“Troy?” I exclaimed, blinking my confusion as he helped pull my sweater the rest of the way off. 
Troy Jacobs’ gorgeous lips twitched in amusement. “You remember me. Didn’t know if you would.”

“Oh, I remember you,” I mumbled. Hard to forget your first kiss—or the first guy you ever loved.

A 9,600 word short story about first love, second chances, and family.


💀A Demon Bonded Calendar?💀

Hey babes,

Hey, have you ordered your Demon Bonded Calendar yet? What, you didn’t know it existed?!??? No, you’re not out of the loop. I’m just the kind of asshole who decides in the middle of January to make a calendar. Sorry. =_= But if you want to snag one of these beauties, signed by me, you can.

If you’re one of my Patreon supporters, you can get the calendar discounted. Just include the coupon I sent out to your Patreon email accounts this week at checkout (as in, you have to add to cart, you can’t hit the paypal button cuz there is no place for the coupon by that point.)

I’m looking into starting some merchandise. Mostly limited edition things since I don’t have the funds to do giant orders or anything. I’m looking at t shirt designs next. *eyebrow waggle* Not sure if anyone will be interested in something like a Demon Arms t shirt…


I want to give a shout out to Louise and her very first book, The Wild Ones! It’s MM with shifters, sorcery, and sexiness. If you pick up this brand new read, would you mind taking the time to review as well? Louise is totally new to all this. Reviews are so important, and she would really appreciate the help and feedback.

The Wild Ones

Louis Blackwood has been hiding his true nature all his life, lying to everyone and never daring to trust even those closest to him. When Louis is forced to use the powers he has always kept a secret to save his life, he’s led to prison without any chance of ever seeing daylight again. Until SINS shows up—the Supernatural Institute of National Security.

Lucas Lopes is the most popular professor at New York Supernatural University. Charismatic and honest, he’s renowned for his impressive control of his tiger form and impeccable good looks. Lucas is completely aware of the way he affects people with his charms and beauty, but it isn’t until Louis comes along that his smug arrogance grows to be a problem…


A New Year’s Revolution Announcement *cough* Of Sorts

In some ways nothing is changing, but in others, it’s going to be this huge freaking change. At the moment it’s only a goal, one that I am not rushing toward but instead staring at warily and planning how I’m going to reach it without ending up bruised, broken, and broke. XD But it’s a goal I want, big time. It’s one that aligns with who I’m becoming as a person as I heal and start seeing a future. This shit is going to happen, even if it’s not overnight.

So, what is it? I want to expand the website and hire content writers. It’ll still be my stories, but multiple ones written faster and updated consistently throughout the week. Basically, I want writing help to get my stories produced faster. Not for the end rush of publishing, but to reward readers immediately on the website. You know, like a business. @[email protected] One that sustains itself by telling sexy, entertaining MM stories to readers. Something that doesn’t have to fear the rampant censorship of the big platforms like Amazon and can have a safe place to exist and grow.

Yeah, huge, and yet the same

I was having a conversation with the love of my life a couple weeks back. He asked me since I was feeling better, when was I going to do something with my business idea for M/F erotica. And in that moment I realized, I’m not. I enjoyed coming up with the idea during a business course and it would certainly make money, but I’m just not passionate about it. And if I’m not passionate about something, I won’t see my way through all the damn work to get to the end. So his response was, naturally, why not do it with the Sadie Sins stuff, then? That’s something you’re passionate about.

Well… Why not?

There are actually a lot of reasons. >_> Let’s not pretend, here. But most of those reasons are insecure, dickish fears. I don’t have the money to hire people. I’m not an adult (right? I mean, when the fuck does that officially happen where you have your life together? Did anyone else get that adult certificate?) What if no one wants to read the results? Would I ever be able to find writers willing to write the weird shit I like? Can I even stop being a control freak long enough to let someone write my stories?

That last one is actually the kicker. It’s something that’s held me back from trying a lot of things because in the long run, it makes so much more work for me. It’s the battle against my own perfectionism. I can find blunt, ignore that bullshit answers to all those other obstacles, but me chilling the fuck out and accepting help? That’s the shit of fairy tales.

I want to live in a fairy tale! I’m tired of not doing the stuff I want because I keep holding myself back. I work so hard doing everything when I could be putting my efforts toward the right goal. What it really comes down to is…

Am I living the life I want, or the life I’m afraid to lose?

Perfectionism is a fear of letting go and fucking up. It’s a fear of not being ready to jump off the cliff or just open a new door. I can pretend all I like that it’s all about standards and quality, but under it all is this fear of moving forward and letting go.

The last time I talked to you guys, I went into the freaking journey this has been the last years while dealing with chronic illness. It seems insane that when I was at my weakest with no future ahead I chose to write an escape in these stories and tried to build an income off of it. But I wanted insanity. It was so much better than my reality at the time of having to accept that in my early 30s I was looking at the end of my life with no one able to explain why. Fuck that.

This last year after breaking free of PTSD and figuring out a lot of health answers, I kept finding myself wondering if I’m living now, or am I still trapped in old, negative habits that came with living with an illness for so long. It can become habit, those negative, bullshit lies we tell ourselves. It can be hard to change even when we’ve already changed.

For example, why did I really start writing? To escape death. Is that why I’m writing now? Of course not, so why should I be clinging to my writing the same way? Why did I start a subscription website? To escape poverty when Amazon KU failed. Should I really be doing the same exact thing when my motivations for the subscription site have completely changed? No.

I gotta get out of the habit of doing things for survival and start looking at how to live a life of thriving. What I really have to do is take ME out of the equation. That’s the problem when you do things for survival; you only see yourself and you only see the misery you’re running from. Well, I’m a fucking mess when I’m looking at me, but things are way clearer when I look in any other direction lately. XD There is nothing I’m running from anymore. What a beautiful view the world provides.

If I want a website that can flourish, I need to be looking at what readers want. Consistent, updated stories. Content that actually has a freaking ending. More new, sexy short stories to balance out all the long novels where the sexiness is spread thin. This is obvious stuff, but it’s a mountain of work when it’s all on my shoulders.

How do I get past perfectionism? With one giant question.

What if I’m holding my stories back?

I write every single day, but it was only recently I dared to ask myself this question. And what a huge, scary, dear fuck, could that be real kinda question. How revolutionary an idea. Am I holding my stories back? Me, the only one who can create them? Is that even possible? How can I hold back what wouldn’t exist without me?

Pretty freaking easily, apparently. I’m totally holding back my own stories. It’s not from some place of cruelty or anything, so much as, when I put all the work on me, I limit the ability for these stories to be created faster. And how commonsense that is. There’s only one of me, and I’m stretched too thin. Is my health consistently good? Nope. Can I write multiple stories at once at a quality I feel is acceptable at a speed where people can readily enjoy? Not even close. What happens when it’s time to do the final edit of Demon Arms and I spend hours upon hours listening to the computer read back the text aloud to make sure I didn’t miss any mistakes? Will the rest of Shiny Thief or Hellcat suddenly write itself and post on the website? Nope.

I thought I could time manage myself out of these problems. You know, do one thing one day, another thing another day. But there are too many things. It just brings me back to my nemesis, my habit of how I have survived for so very long through the most arduous of times. Me. I am my own worst enemy because I am the only one I feel safe depending on. No, I don’t let myself down, but I sure can’t do the things a group of people can do with ease. There’s only one of me. I need to change that.

So, how do I stop doing everything myself?

I’m not sure. For real, I have been this way for soooo fucking long.

It’s easy to justify it. Especially when you might be kinda good at something. And if you find with a little practice you can be good at lots of things? @[email protected] It’s misery. I can already write a song and sing it professionally, but I’m also the psycho who would take the time to learn how to record with materials I could afford, edit with the computer, and get that shit online to sell. I haven’t sang in years, but if I suddenly wanted that goal, fuck, I would do what it takes. I’m a jack of all trades, a problem solver. Everything is a problem to be solved, every moment a challenge worth exploring. That’s the way I see the world.

Unfortunately, that creative freedom isn’t always positive. Oh, it sounds it, especially when you’re working with little to nothing at startup for a project. Why pay for something when I can do it myself, usually at a quality others aren’t invested in reaching? I think quality is one of the most important aspects of creation. You don’t half ass something; you do it right and create something that can last. So, do I actually get a return for my quality obsession, aka perfectionism?


It’s fucking horrible to say. It really is, (if my parents were alive they would freak to hear me admit this) but most people don’t give a fuck about quality. You know how many reviews I got bitching about certain stylizations of writing I did constantly when starting out? Like, most negative reviews, even the positive ones, had the caveat of the author uses boy or blond or brunette too much. Did they still buy and read the book and get to the end? The fact they reviewed suggests yes. My bank account totally confirmed a big yes there.

I had a lot of books done in a short amount of time back then. I didn’t care about presentation so much as just telling a story. And yeah, publishing quickly is how to win certain writing games, especially erotica. If you have 1-2 stories out every month of a quality where readers’ eyes don’t bleed, and your work is compelling, you can do well in erotica. I once wrote 5 10,000 word stories in a week while sick. It was a damn good week. Was the quality amazing? No, but people bought the books anyways. Their standards weren’t as lofty as mine.

It’s not like I’m dicking around with these rewrites, I want to be clear. I don’t think I’m wrong to want to create a better (the fucking best) version of these stories I can, but it is far more time consuming. Quality is a sacrifice of time. It could be considered a luxury when you have no money. Unless I have the cash and daring to seek out help, something is going to suffer. Right now, it’s me.

I’m looking at this looming prospect once Demon Arms is done and I need to do that final edit. It’s going to be so much longer to tackle, and once again the website will drag with no new content. What about when I want to make that interactive visual novel (a fucking prospect I again decided to do on my own because I’m insane.) What about website content then? I want a solution that doesn’t kill me by meaning I do more work. I want a solution that keeps readers happy and me sane.

Mostly. Kinda…. Fuck.

Okay, you just don’t understand how much of a control freak I am!

I don’t walk these rare, unique paths of life just because I enjoy being creative. No, I do it because it’s wonderfully empty of people trying to tell me what to do. I like to do things my way. I like to throw myself at a problem until I solve it, bloody bruises and a big smile, while other people just do their own thing and leave me to my insanity. Suddenly I want to ‘manage’ people? Converse and get them to follow my guidelines for writing?

I have no clue how to ask when it comes to things. I know how to tell, and I’m sure I sound like an asshole every time. I know what I want, then I go after it until I get it because that’s how I roll, and I don’t really care what people think about it. Excuses are another word for bullshit. I want what I want, and I want to achieve what I want, and it’s why I get shit done. I do the hard stuff and don’t accept bullshit, and if people get in the way, buh-bye.

So… I don’t imagine I work well with others. @[email protected] I will literally have to be a different person to get the results I want… or find a way around my own personality flaws. I’m willing to do that. I am always willing to change to live the life I want. It’s just difficult. I see these character traits as positive, until I’ve worked myself right into exhaustion, once again, without the results I want to show for it.

Right now, I’m thinking a way around my ‘issues’ is to create writing materials that can teach prospective writers how to tackle commercial writing. I mean, everything else is solved, you know? I can create a system of reference for characters, in depth outlines to follow, etc. I can solve that shit. But can I ensure a writer can follow along to my standards? I could give them info that took me years of experience to learn. Things like how to make an erotic scene sexy. How to draft write for speed and efficiency. How to self edit. How to craft different story formats to ensure tension is consistent no matter what you’re writing. How to write more engaging and immersive content.

Oh, yeah, and how to be a total control freak.

Every time I think of this shit, I don’t know if I’m offering guidance or trying to force someone to stay in my style of writing to prevent me from having a meltdown and rewriting everything. Not even joking. This is so difficult for me!

Someone save me from myself T_T

This is a battle I want to win. When I took that business course, this was my biggest weakness. My need to control everything on my own. The only way the website is going to be able to grow and be something more, is if I get the fuck out of the way and allow it to be. Seriously, what an epiphany to realize I am the only person in the way of getting my stories done faster, maybe even better.

I can figure this out. I have never shied away too long from the things that make me uncomfortable. I want to win this challenge. I want to make the website about consistent, sexy MM stories. A safe place where you can read taboo and not have to worry about it disappearing or being attacked by this ridiculous censorship movement happening on the Internet. I have so many ideas just waiting for my time. So I need to solve this problem of time and put my efforts where they’re best utilized.

I should probably be more worried about not having money to do this atm. That would be the logical thing. Weirdly enough, I assume I’m going to solve that problem much easier than the control freak stuff. I can stagger hiring writing based on funds verses, like, hiring an employee. There’s a lot more leeway. I truly believe I can solve a lack of funds faster than I can solve not obsessing like a psycho over full creative control. @[email protected] I don’t know if that makes me cocky or delusional, but I’m going with it. XD

So, yeah. A goal for 2019. One that will take the pace required to prevent me from having a nervous breakdown at the prospect of relinquishing control and coming up with the money to hire help. There is so much to learn and do. Like, this week alone, I’m looking at a new subscription software for the website to finally deal with all those annoying date issues, figuring out shipping costs and taxes—actually looking at Fulfillment By Amazon where I could offer free Prime shipping for physical goods. I don’t think it’s time effective considering the calendar is already late, but on stuff in the future, it might be a win. Oh, learning Google Adwords and Woocommerce. Made a gorgeous visual of where I am writing wise for the 4 main WIPs on the website (and then did all this other work instead of writing. @[email protected] Cuz time management is a fail when there is too much to do.)

Yeah, it’s time to learn how to get help for some of this stuff. I want to see this website be something more than just me. Eventually, I will reach that goal. It won’t be overnight. It won’t look the same as I’m envisioning it now. Still, it will be fucking awesome.

Oh, I’m feeling better! Lol, not sure if you can tell. XD