Looking To Untether

Hey babes!

So this has been a damn fine month for me. I mean, well, ignore the bullshit, the pain, the chemical sensitivity, Candida overgrowth, and the mold—which we realized is what’s killing me in the house. It’s mold. We’re treating it with tea tree oil, and hopefully that’s going to fix this shit. It must have come in on the bed frame because the moment we brought it to the curb and left it to be picked up, the rain hit it and mold sprouted all over.

Anyways, the good stuff—the fucking amazing stuff. What did I learn from living out of my car? Home is where I am. My confidence, my belonging, my acceptance of life; that all comes with me. And, on the flip side, my bullshit can come with me too because, hey, that never needed a building to contain it. I have been amazingly okay with myself lately and it feels great. No anxiety, no feeling like I’m faking through life or don’t belong places. You know what I was thinking the other day when wondering if I should go into a restaurant to use their bathroom? It wasn’t the old line of I should pay to buy something so I’m not being a total tool by using the bathroom. No, I was thinking why the fuck aren’t there public bathrooms everywhere, especially since if you’re caught going to the bathroom outside, you can be charged for a sex crime? (No joke, it’s a thing in America.) Seriously, why should anyone in this modern day ever have to wonder if they’ll be able to use a bathroom? What kind of society is this that people are made to feel guilty for needing a restroom when our basic biology requires it?

I have stopped giving a fuck about a lot of things I didn’t notice used to plague my thoughts and define what I’d do. I used to have this constant thing in my mind that I’m supposed to be somewhere, and only when I’m there (usually hidden away at home) can I feel safe. And if I’m not somewhere I’m supposed to be, clearly I can’t be safe. Life without PTSD is so fucking amazing, and it’s just been great to have this opportunity to finally challenge those old emotional softwares by living out of the car. I wouldn’t have known if this didn’t happen. I would have been content to just hide away in my room working, when now I realize depending on where I drive, I can have whatever view I want when I’m working. Trees, fields, other cars, a lovely sky day, whatever. This cute little hummingbird who showed up at the community garden I was hanging out at…

So freaking tiny! <3

It reminds me of how I want to write a nonfiction book about hacking your own brain. That’s basically what I did to get past PTSD and what people need to do to get past the brainwashing they’ve endured. And it’s not unique—every culture, every family, every society does it from sports teams to politics to religion. One moment of trauma can be used to justify a million horrendous acts afterward because that’s the way the human brain has evolved. Some people, they break free, they see past the bullshit, while others are happy to live in the cage of their own mind while being exploited by every salesman who comes their way.

It pisses me off, really. Seeing intelligent, compassionate people being preyed upon because of their own basic wiring. I read a lot about marketing, and I study it at work, especially in the book industry. I follow probably more newsletters about marketing than I do about actual fiction writers because the human brain fascinates me. Just to be clear, I do not actually apply these strategies. (I’m actually the asshole who points out to people how they shouldn’t buy into the sales pitch, stop being a fucktard, and a free book isn’t an obligation for anything.) Why? For one, because I assume something so basic shouldn’t work. It wouldn’t work on me so why the fuck would it work on anyone else? But really, shit doesn’t work on me because I walk the spiderweb threads while other people float blissfully into the web, which is the real reason I don’t do this shit. Compassion. I feel for the people being exploited and I think those doing the exploiting are pretty damn scummy.

Some quick examples how you as a reader have your wiring exploited and don’t even realize it. That thing I mentioned about giving away a free book? Some people are wired in a way that they feel so guilty, they want to go buy the book afterward, or if not that, they need to leave a review. Sure, it’s nice when people do, but some people aren’t reviewing because they want to, but because they feel like they owe the person who gave something away. It’s free but they feel like there are strings attached demanding they act. Another example, pretty similar, I’ve had half a dozen reviewers come to me pleading to be able to stay on my ARC team for fear I’ll kick them off. You know, like the free and generous service they provide to help let other readers know that they might like my book is actually a job they can be fired from and they are so full of anxiety for fear of being punished. There is absolutely nothing I have done to train this in some people—although after a few conversations, I’ve learned other authors are traumatizing the fuck out of these people to make them believe this twisted mentality. Reviewers, you are not obligated to do fuck, and don’t let anyone ever make you feel like reviewing is a job and they are owed a review. Seriously, fuck those kinds of authors. How dare they exploit your natural compassion that way. I hate that shit.

It’s easy to look at a person and know what they want. It’s easy to find that dream and exploit the fuck out of it and just lie. And fuck, it’s easy to sound like an authority while doing it—Do you know how weak minded people are that you can just call yourself a doctor or say you have a degree on something, and people just believe you? Dear fuck if they have an actual uniform. People are so blind they just believe. It’s crazy. Go off to be killed for the government while the people with money who start and benefit from the wars never serve their country and won’t even provide for the body bag? Yeah, support our troops! I don’t understand why so many people buy into what is so obvious a bunch of systems that exist to exploit the fuck out of them. Money—those meaningless numbers in an account or scraps of paper—you think that has actual value when a simple computer error can decide if someone is a millionaire or homeless? How many people go to the fucking grave paying off credit card debt because someone convinced them that borrowing worthless numbers meant they should be in debt to the seller of worthless numbers for the rest of their entire life? It’s insane.

I’m watching these people do it in the writing community because that is my focus of interest as of late. Mostly nonfiction, but it’s directed at writers, at authors who want to make it big—or just be noticed for what they do. These dicks promise the dream, when anyone who has actually taken this journey knows the dream isn’t the answer. Write well and be a millionaire writer. You don’t ever have to market again, just be a good writer and you will be a bestseller. Just pay $500 ($700, $1000!) for this joke course so you can feel validated you never bothered to learn why certain books become bestsellers and others don’t.

It’s like the weight loss game, right? Lose 20lbs in a week while boosting your metabolism! Eat whatever you want, never be hungry, and watch the pounds melt off! How about a junk food diet? Eat your favorite foods and lose more weight than ever before!

Anyone with half a brain can see it’s bullshit, but people gleefully run full speed at this shit and it’s just infuriating to watch. Do you know how many people I talk to who are looking to get help for their PTSD who don’t actually go to therapists who specialize in PTSD? People who never bothered to turn on a computer and google what the most effective and modern treatments of PTSD are. No, they wait for someone to come along and tell them, and if they don’t tell them, well, who’s to blame? Certainly not themselves. They needed an authority.

Oh, that fucking imaginary authority. I went to college and everyone there started out as ignorant as I was. I spent hours in classes being the only one to talk to the teacher but we all got the same piece of paper at the end. Do you really think anything learned in a classroom prepares you for an actual job? You go out and find answers, not assume some random teacher has them. So many people just waiting for the answers to come while doubting their own ability. Bugs the fuck out of me. Cuz that’s really the key. People don’t believe they can ever be smarter than an ‘authority.’ It’s just knowledge, knowledge learned the hard way through having experiences, but some people really believe the degree, the piece of paper is the deciding factor. Why? Because those stupid fucks threw down a shit ton of money to buy that lie, and who knows if they ever actually got the experience that’s needed to really be good at something? How frustrating to watch people hand their decision processes away to those who don’t doubt themselves even if they don’t know shit or don’t have other people’s best interests in heart.

My adoptive mother waited over 8 years for a second opinion when she was certain she had cancer but her doctor said she didn’t. She had breast cancer and because they waited so long to treat it, it got into her bones and eventually killed her. My twin brother took out a student loan of $40,000 for a college that shut down and never refunded his money and he still owes that cash and feels like he’ll forever be in debt working a shitty retail job cuz no college education. My boyfriend is essential at every job he does, is fucking brilliant, but won’t ask for a raise because he believes he should be fired because he never shows up on time. It’s insane. People are fucking insane because they buy into these lies that are so fucking obvious to me but their wiring can’t let them get past it.

I’m a storyteller, but when you’re done reading my books you can walk away and know it’s not real. People tell themselves stories in their heads every fucking day, terrible, cruel, soul crushing stories that keep them from living the life they want, and they can’t walk away. They don’t know they’re telling a story; they think that shit is real. How pointlessly cruel we are to ourselves.

I have a lot of plans this year, babes. I’ve outlined the next Paranormal Academy for Troubled Boys book and I’m working on the following one. I want those 3 written this year, along with the second Hellcat, the Coven Saga from Demon Bonded, and the first Awakening book. But I’m keeping an eye on that brain hacking book, because my fuck, this shit just annoys the fuck out of me. I get it; society has trained this into people to believe they can’t be more and our mental wiring helps enable it. Society has intentionally trained it into people to keep them trapped in shitty jobs (hello retail) underpaid and in huge debt while others just step on their backs and exploit them at every turn. The entire purpose of religion was to control the masses, yet the drones instead bitch about what god really wants from them while they can’t get paid a living wage. I’m so sick of people just rolling over and feeling like they have to play the role of victim. I don’t know if a book can change it, but damn, might as well put the info out there so if anyone has the guts to google, they can find it. Seriously, knowledge is right fucking there.

I don’t know when this turned into a rant… This has been pissing me off the good part of a week, actually. People create so much unhappiness out of total lies and then they can’t escape the lie. It’s just frustrating to watch.

Social Sinners: Behind the Lights

Joey Hayes and his best friend Ricky Branson have been together through the good times, as well as the bad. Attending their first concert as teens set the path for their futures in motion. Shortly after, the pair joined band class where they meet Ethan and Mick and the foursome formed the metal band, Social Sinners.

Things were going according to plan until Lucas Shane entered their lives, disrupting the flow and testing the strength of their friendship.

When Joey spirals down a dark path after catching his cheating boyfriend, this tasked the other three band members with making a difficult decision that could end his career as their lead singer.


The Siren’s Lullaby

He rounded the corner, to a small alleyway in the distance. I sped up. When I reached the corner, I saw what that piece of shit was doing. John’s name fell from his lips, as he stroked his small dick with hushed breaths.

Before I knew it, I reached over and smashed his head against the wall. Blood spewed everywhere. There were bits of brain across the ground. I saw the whites in his eyes, as he crumpled to the ground. When I saw his dick again, fully erect, I raised my foot, and smashed it to the ground.

That was my first kill.


Game Night: Gay First Time Sports Romance

His Secret Is About To Come Out

Danny is an emerging hockey star who is finally setting the world alight after years of toiling in the second string. But with this new role comes more attention, and it will be harder for him to hide his secret from the world, the fact that he is gay.

It’s a secret he’s kept from all of his teammates and he hates the thought of them finding out the truth. It wouldn’t be an issue, if his best friend hadn’t returned home and found him again. Danny hasn’t seen Matty ever since he left town after graduation. Now he’s back, looking for a place to live and Danny is all too happy to offer him a room.

But Danny has always harbored a crush on Matty. Seeing him again makes it clear that this wasn’t just a teenage dream. Can Danny keep a hold on his feelings? And what will he do when a rival finds out the truth and threatens to end his career?

Max and Pres

Sometimes, the things you don’t want might be exactly what you need.

Pres has been watching Max, Bound in Silk’s bartender, for a while, but he hasn’t really figured out how to approach the sub. He wants to put Max on his knees, see all those muscles rippling, the large man submitting to him… but he has to get Max to play with him first.

Max knows there’s no man who can give him what he wants. Or, at least, he is convinced he won’t find one. Until Pres asks him to play. He’s reluctant, but who wouldn’t be, given his history with Doms?
When Max lets Pres take over, he might discover there is someone who can deal with his needs… and embrace them. But is it enough for a future together?