To The Editing-mobile!


Help Raven Publish

One thing I can thank my day job for is skill in dealing with “real-world” situations. We are basically predators so, often, interactions that do not involve friends we are comfortable are merely acts of posturing. The rules are: don’t apologize, don’t be completely honest, and, whatever you do, absolutely do not be vulnerable. It sucks…and this is not going to be one of those times for me.

While I’ve mostly given up my habitual need to apologize, I do crave honesty and vulnerability. These are part of the writer’s arsenal. Even in creating the truly fantastic, there is complete honesty. These stories contain our fantasies and, often, our closely held desires. Right now I’m just going to be honest: no fantasy involved.

I hate asking for help. If I don’t receive it then I’m pretty sure people hate me and think I’m nothing more than a leech. If I do receive it than I’m pretty sure (see the previous sentence), or they want something from me that’s awful and will later use this to their advantage because I’ve definitely fallen for the guilt trip before. I realize, rationally, this is rarely true, but I have to deal with anxiety so…brain often does it’s own thing. Sometimes you gotta be scared and do it anyway.

Above is a link to my GoFundMe page. I’m a multi-pronged planner. I am going to continue the search for an agent today, and find more places to submit my manuscript, but I’m also going to try to do this on my own. Did you know there is some chick who makes a living selling stories about fucking T-Rex (please note that ‘fucking’ is being used as a verb not an adjective here)?! It costs to do it on your own though, which leads me to do this scary thing and ask for help. If you feel like it…awesome! If not…that’s cool too.

Thank you for reading.



I wish I was a bear

Wrapped and warm in fur

Hidden away from winter wear

In sleep I would confer

I find that I am bare

Naked without my faith

Exposed and retreating where

Sleep becomes a wraith

I wish I had a bear

Stuffed full of love and hope

With button eyes so fair

Stable against this tightrope

I have all these wishes

And the warmth of friends that care

Full of love their dishes

My heart beats as the bear

To Write or not to Write

I got the kind of news on thanksgiving day that you keep thinking you’re going to wake up to find it was just a bad dream. Mostly. I knew the possibility of it all. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but when it happens to someone you love very dearly, someone who affects so much of your life, it’s hard to get out of that denial.

Now it colors every aspect of my thoughts and I’m not sure what to write about.

If this was just a diary I would write any drivel that seeps across my addled brain. I’m kind of glad I have an audience…however small. It discourages me from wallowing in my own self pity. It still makes interesting topics difficult however.

So the answer is…write. That’s always the answer. No matter what. Write.


I remember a little way into my first year at college in 1996 I wanted to go home so I pack my shit up and I went. I want to now so bad today, but there isn’t one to go to. I don’t think there was back then either, but at least I didn’t have to worry about bills and grades. Life as a teen wasn’t so bad, but there was always an underlying dark yuck that followed me everywhere I was. Seems it still follows me. Everything is an almost…well almost everything. What do I have now?

  • A wonderful healthy daughter
  • A full belly
  • A full tank of gas
  • Rent will be paid next month at least
  • A Car I love
  • A man I love even if I haven’t told him that full out yet
  • Friends that I love and love me

Life is good even if it isn’t perfect. One thing someone with a rough past can almost always say is that things have been worse. And if you are sitting where I’m sitting now you can say they tend to get better.

Home isn’t where the heart is or where you fall back to when you have no place to left fall. It may be for some people, and I guess home is something a little different for everyone, but for me home is where you make it. Just some days it’s a little harder to make than others, but that’s why I’m the Battle Raven.

The Veil 

“They” say that the witching hour is 3am. Or maybe it was midnight. I don’t know. Hollywood and wild imaginings have mucked it up a bit. My hollow bones disagree. 

The witching hour is maybe a moment when magic is easiest to summon. It may be the moment when monsters are most likely to roam. Regardless of how it manifests it is always a moment “between”. 

There is a veil that protects us from the between. Most people never even know it’s there. They move through this world as if it is the only one. Some people can hear or even see through it. A few can cross it. Me? I just know it’s there. 

I can feel it when the sun dies daily leaving only the strangeness of twilight. I know it in the moments before I lose the last vestiges of a dream. I am positive I’ll find it as I move from life to death so death doesn’t scare me. 

I think a part of me exists on the other side of the veil. I think that’s why crows call to me and why I don’t quite feel I belong here. Maybe at one time I was a messenger between gods and men. Or maybe a guide from this world to the next. I wonder why I came here sometimes. There must be a reason. The places my mind wanders…


I hate commitment. It’s not that I’m afraid of it. Honestly I’d love to have the thing I said or decided on happen. Every. Time. I’m a creature of habit. But in my world what you say or decide on….doesn’t happen.

For instance: I say I’m going to have the report on the responsibilities of a proposed position later that day. Two hours of Bubble Witch later:

Doesn’t happen.

My reason for falling through on my commitment to write last night? Moonshine. Total. Legit. Reason.

Honestly the reasons for my failing commitments are not generally JUST because I’m lazy. I’m not gonna lie. I am lazy. If I wasn’t lazy I’d be fucking Einstein. (please note ‘fucking’ is being used as an adjective not a verb there). This lazy bitch got a masters, runs a company and is a single mom of a child that is not dead. If can do that while playing too much Bubble Witch and sleeping in imagine what I could do if I focused a little. I have…it involves world domination and making cream corn an illegal substance.

Maybe it’s best I’m a little lazy.

As I’ve told my daughter, however, just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t have to do it. Commitment is a good thing too. Holding yourself to your commitments gains trust and forms good habits and leads to better things. It’s climbing mountains and all that jazz so you can enjoy those lazy moments.

Well…I’ll be back in 2….or so….hours.


Two Channels

I have TV because my internet is cheaper with it than without it. I was fine without it because I’m pretty sure it sucked my life away. I think I’m right. I listened to my ‘Stop, drop & write’ alarm go off and continued watch it. I only watch 2 channels too. There are probably a hundred I could watch, but I don’t know which of the 1000 those are. 

Kind of reminds me of my life. 


I’m sad. 

Every year I get to spend this amazing weekend with wonderful friends and then I have wait an entire year to do it again. 


But here I am writing again. I’m feeling pretty good about it. I have a hard time with change. I get stuck in patterns easily which I used to lament. Then I realized I could use it to my advantage. 

I used to lock my keys in my car all the time. I started making myself look at my keys in my hand before I got out of the car. It was not easy and I had several false starts (thinking I’d finally gotten into the habit and then forgetting again), but eventually I got to a point where I couldn’t get out of he car until I had my keys in my hand.  

I’m going this is what I’m doing with my writing now. 

By forcing myself to write at the same time every night I’m starting a routine that will eventually become a habit. And, with a little luck, it will be a hard one to break. 

Bad Writer…Bad!

I’m pretty sure we (writers) all are. If the writer is capable of turning out good material like a conveyor belt with little to no distraction (life, internet, a cat biting her sunburned ankle at 4:30 in the fucking morning) than I envy them to the point of deserving death. I mean envy is one of the seven deadly sins after all. DEATH!

Ok, that may be a little bit overkill.

Point is…I suck. I haven’t finished a single short story since I decided to publish an anthology of them on the 31st of October.  I’ve only written two blurbs on the short stories I do have when I was supposed to be posting one every Friday.

And the first week of October is almost over.

I think I started this crap in August. In my defense nature did try to flush us all away (you only got my car, Harvey!!! bahahaha!!), but excuses are just escapeisms. If I never try I can’t fail…you know?

What? That’s not failing. That’s totally succeeding at not attempting to do shit!


Of course 80 year old me (I was going to put 90 year old, but that might be pushing it considering my propensity for doing stupid shit…for science!) is going to be stupid pissed at the rest of my ages for not at least fucking attempting. (and I’m not talking posting shit on the internet thats probably already been stolen at least once)

Tomorrow is Friday. Short story blurb time. Tonight is game night. I should totally translate those crazy shenanigans into stories, but, goddammit, I suck at translating fact into the written media. I can write during game though. After I finish my budget and figure out how to live on a job that is not currently giving me a paycheck.


I miss writing about my life. I was trying to make this specifically a “hey look I’m an author” blog site, but that’s not entirely me and I totally need to do me (because I’m totally fucking hot ::grins::). So, if you enjoy getting peaks into the lives of strangers feel free to drop by. Things that will be in there:

-life as a cosplay mom

-my experiences in the world of kink

-dating a man 30 years older than me

-pirate shenanigans (I spell that word correctly about 1 in 5 times)

-What did Nyx do this time?

Until next time, your battle weary Raven is out.