The Daily Post 11: “Climate Control”




I’m actually doing one of these BEFORE midnight! Which means I might actually get it done and not fall asleep in a lump!


Have fun~







I definitely say that climate has some kind of effect on people’s moods. I mean, ba-dur. It doesn’t have to make any kind of consistent sense, though. Like how some people love hot summer days and I think that just outside of the window is the world slowly being baked to death beneath the unflinching fire of the sun. So to heck with that, time to completely steer myself away from this original point!

So I prefer to think about how weather can affect your thought processes and imaginations. Like how storms for me charge up something deeper and more brutally natural about the world. So, I’m further developing a philosophical trend of thought for a novel/novel pair of mine that involves the trinity of Machine, Sentience, and Nature and Nature certainly isn’t the way we like to think about it on our padded modern world. Nature, as we like to think of it now, can be easily corralled and persuaded to move or be removed so it can fit neatly into our little gardens or groves out behind our homes and other nice stuff like that. When in reality, if nature had its way, it would tear off our faces and wear them as trophies after sucking all the nutrients from our brains, of course. So when I see stuff like thunderstorms and droughts and snowstorms and hurricanes, I can’t help but be reminded just what the ruling of the world’s natural order is:

Humanity likes to think it’s at the top because of its creation of machines that allow it to survive the natural world. And yet, without that assistance, humanity would be consumed in an afternoon by a system that doesn’t care if it lives or die. Nature doesn’t care for art or culture or great legacies because it created all of those things in its earthy, pulsing womb. All that has been created or ever will be created is the product of the natural forces around us that provided all of the atoms and materials and the laws of physics and energy that makes every one of our human creations (from the material to the imaginative and existential). Again, when I see storms blasting bolts of sky-splitting energy or a rainstorm turning a desert into an ocean of flowers (Have you seen those Atacama Desert pictures? That’s what I’m talking about!), it makes me realize just how tiny we humans still are, even with all of our machines. Everything that we make seems to have an edge of disdain for it- disdain for the natural world that seeks to disempower and unmake us at every turn. I suppose that’s something that we humans can be thanked for, the feeling of scorn that drives us to pursue progress at an almost homicidal rate just to ensure that we aren’t subsumed by a force that can crack the freaking sky open with a flick of its finger.

I think I had an ultimate point I was going to try to get at with all of this but now I’m afraid I’ve lost it. Oh well, that’s part of the fun of doing these- the point arises from the process. It also helps that this is usually how I make my little diatribes. I usually just make noise and say things until I realize there was a point there all along that I just wasn’t able to see.

I suppose I could say here that it’s not just weather that affects our moods but our moods affect how weather appears in our eyes- from something to be afraid of or annoyed back to something from which all awe and self-reflection as a person and as a species springs.

If that was all a bit too high-brow of you, here’s a stupid thing I made up recently:

Being killed by Satan should now is called (by me and nobody else ever), “brimstoning.”






<a href="">Climate Control</a>



There was another dumb thing I made up that I wanted to add up there but then I forgot it. You’ll be spared, readers, this time.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!







Flash! Friday: “Land of the Lost”




I think, in honour of my first Flash! Friday entry, I should coincide similar satanic themes with this penultimate entry. It was going to be creepier at first, but I had too much fun randomly capitalizing words to make them seem important. Which automatically makes it biblical, I guess.


Have fun~




Prompt: Photo Prompt and Character (Hunter)

Title: Land of the Lost

Word Count: 160


Sometimes they come to us from darkened forests, their eyes wide and deer-like. Others fall down from the burning sky, flailing as if they were trapped in fog. Some are young, some are old. Most go mad when they see our welcoming smiles. The rest are worth all the Kingdom’s gold.

I see myself as a connoisseur of sorts, a hunter of the forlorn and lost; when they show up in our town, it falls to me to shepherd them. The most spirited and fiercest of fighters are the best catches; my butcher-eyed friends see them as a challenge. After all, the stronger the wall, the more spectacular the fall. And the greater the faith, the stronger the convert.

It’s ironic that when our Great Enemy finds His precious ‘lost children,’ He won’t like what He finds.

I should write a letter to the Boss: ‘Curiosity should become the eighth deadly sin.’ He’d get a hellish laugh out of that.







I think I laid this on a bit thick this time around but hey, if Mr. Stan can be the subtle master of lies, he can also ham-fisted and brimstoning. Death by Satan, now called “brimstoning.”




Good luck, you brave writer folk!







Daily Post 8: “Secret Admirers”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Secret Admirers.”




I am having a disproportionate amount of fun making power grids and generators in Fallout 4.


Have fun~



Title: Daily Prompt 8: “Secret Admirers”

Prompt: You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?


So I usually try to tackle Daily Prompt posts that immediately appeal to me in that I know what to write almost right away. This time though, I figured I would try a prompt that I have very few ideas about.


For instance: I’ll just go ahead and say that I have no idea who sent me those flowers. The real question becomes then- who could send me those flowers. With no logical answer presenting itself, I must find a way to extrapolate on what I know and determine who could be the one with flowery fingers.


I’m just going to go out on a limb here and discount any and all of my friends. Dearest Liezl may seem like a suspect due to her caring nature and appreciation of her friends. And I’d like to think that we became very close over our Senior year in college. However, she has a boyfriend of many years that she would be much more likely to give flowers to. Not to say that she wouldn’t give flowers to anybody else but flowers have a specific romantic connotation.


Again, I seriously doubt Scott (read as: Scoot) would care if she sent me flowers, but with no real evidence against her, I shall be striking Liezl from the list of suspects.


Nobody else even comes close to being one to send flowers. Funny pictures, texts full of nostalgia, or inside joke presents, but not flowers. Not even my goofy ex-boyfriend. He wouldn’t do anything so conspicuous.

Something I’m well and used to by now!

*sad rimshot*


Okay, so, there’s no real reason why my parents or family would send me such a thing with no card or anything attached. And if they did, they would be sure to tell me it was from them relatively quickly after my seeing it. So they’re off the list.


I’ve narrowed this down, then, to the only suspect remaining. And it’s a troublesome revelation.


The flowers must have come from one of the surprisingly many people in my life that border on creepy. Yes, those exist. Small in number but unpredictable as a summer storm. Sometimes they go entire years before giving me a questionable Facebook message…

But even that seems unlikely given my general obliviousness to them all.


Let’s just say there were sent by me from the future just to see how I’d react. That seems the most logical suspect of this tomfoolery-myself.

Guilty Part: Future Me

Sentence: Condemned to be created by Present Me


Gotta say, I don’t envy the guy.







<a href="">Secret Admirers</a>


Oh the worries of a man on his day off. How shall I spend it? Writing? Archery? Fallout 4?

Will these worrisome conundrums never end?


Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Friday Fictioneers: Live Wire




Based on real events from last night. Filming football games takes a lot of mettle, I assure you. Especially when it’s 40 degrees and windy.


Have fun~




Image Copyright: Connie Gayer
Image Copyright: Connie Gayer


Title: Live Wire

Genre: Almost Nonfiction

Word Count: 100




The football stadium thrums with life. Our video feed, however, does not.

“We’re live in five minutes, people. Pick up the pace.” My boss tenses over his keyboard like a turtle under attack. The cold inside comes his temper.

“Page?” Someone asks. “Did we forget her?”

“Crap,” my boss said. “She had our video cable.”

“I’m right here,” Page said.

“Right where?”


“No, I mean the cable.”

“I guess I’m able,” Page says, chewing her lip. “I signed up for this, didn’t I?”

“The video cable.”

The crowd outside roars. Football must be a huge deal to some people.






Boy, when it rains it really pours doesn’t it? It always seems like whenever I actually have free time, there’s a thousand new things that I discover that come crawling out of the ground like zombies. The football filming I referenced in the story is one such 12 hour roadblock/zombie.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Flash! Friday: “A Better Day”




Quick quick, I’ve got to leave! Copy and paste faster, darn you!


Have fun~




Title: A Better Day

Theme: Desperation

Setting: A War-Torn City

Word Count: 159



“It’s almost the 21st century, goddammit,” I say, pulling my tattered blanket close to me. “Shouldn’t we be beyond all this by now?”

A shell, or something like it, goes off down the street. The silence that follows is worse than any scream. There could be a family, decades of history, in that space.

My brother and cousin set up his game of dominoes. Again. That’s all they do now, quietly play dominoes and slowly waste away. In their glazed eyes, I see a graveyard. Me, I can at least linger and stare at the horizon, hoping against hope that one day I’ll see the sun rise and not dread the thought of another day.

In the bedroom, I lean down next to my sunny-haired wife. Stolen meds ring around her bed like roses around a coffin. Her breath is weak and low. Somewhere else in the world, somebody is having a bad day because they stubbed their toe.









If I don’t do this now, it’ll never get done! Because I’ll be gone all day. I’m not gonna burst into flames or anything. Yet.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Daily Prompt 6: “Million-Dollar Question”

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Million-Dollar Question.”




I usually don’t write during the daytime but doing blog stuff then instead of at night when I’m doing my novel-writing really seems to help me get out of bed and start making the most of my time.

Oh hey, it’s a Daily Prompt about why we do blog writing! How fortuitous!


Have fun~



Title: Million Dollar Question

Prompt: “Why do you blog?”



Interesting question, Paranoid Guy, whoever that is! In an attempt to be more candid and outwardly honest in my life, I’m going to be as frank as possible.


I blog is that I can hopefully drive more traffic to my books and other, much larger, creative works. There, I said/typed it and now it’s been breathed into the world. I think I actually started this blog to talk about NaNoWriMo, which I’m fittingly about to start doing again. Since then and since I started to write more books and get out there in the literary world, I wanted to turn my blog into some kind of useful marketing tool.


Now, that’s how it all started. And it still remains as part of the reason why I do what I do here on the blog, but I think I’ve come to realize that having people who look at blog posts doesn’t really equate to sales or even publicity. I remember talking to an alum from my school, Illinois Wesleyan University, and he said that even though he has a blog that gets thousands of hits, a minuscule percent (no exact numbers given) of those who visit actually buy this books.


So that dream, like many others, is heavily sleeping or hovering somewhere near death.

Anyway, onto slightly more cheery things!


Such as how my blog gives me a place to stretch my literary legs. I find doing flash fiction and short stories to be relatively cathartic and a kind of writing challenge that I wouldn’t normally partake in. I’m a novel-centric kind of person who also dabbles in video games and screenplay writing, but flash fiction and short stories never quite appealed to me. So giving myself a challenge in this way, especially when I also have a deadline (sometimes very aggressive ones such as with Flash! Friday), can be quite refreshing. There is something to be said about getting writerly fatigue when you’re working with a 100,000 word novel. Writing something short, easily digestible, but still creative can really free up the muscles of the mind and help you see things i new and imaginative ways.


I honestly do think that doing all of this flash fiction has helped me with having better control of my pacing in my stories, something that I oftentimes struggle with since I like spending so much time showing how my characters view the world, even if its stopping them from going out and seeing said world. Besides, if I can turn my writing skills to new avenues and reach more people, even if it doesn’t get me any more sales or publicity, there’s certainly no harm in that. I’m actually working on my grad school applications to become an assistant teacher as I type this and I think what I mention in there, such as how writing can not only be very liberating and illuminating for the writer but when ideas transcend the pages and start to influence other people’s lives, it can really show just how much power a collection of scribbled shapes on paper can really have.


Do I think that my flash fiction, so easily and quickly consumed and forgotten, can really change people’s lives in the same way that a novel can? Nah, not really.


But that’s why I’m still a novelist!


And then there’s Lorequest.

I decided to accidentally make my most (by a huge margin) viewed section of content almost entirely out of mass speculation and guessing at the inner workings of fictional worlds. How ironic that I decided to start Lorequest completely for fun and just for my own enjoyment and for the enjoyment of the passing enthusiast of whichever game I happen to be talking about and then it went on to become a huge percentage (over 1,000 views in this year alone) of the amount of activity I get on my blog. Even stranger is that its totally unrelated to any of my own fiction writing since I’m more of an archaeologist when I do Lorequest than any kind of storyteller.


But hey, I like it and people seem to like it so why stop? So long as I don’t get the pants sued off of me for talking about the vidjagames, I shall keep on questing for the lore!


And I might as well keep doing the other stuff too since it always does my heart good to hear people enjoying my stuff. Literature can bring people together, even from across our social-media-maze of a world. And that’s really kind of awesome.







<a href="">Million-Dollar Question</a>



Boy I really should get onto doing those NaNoWriMo posts… I have to stop writing my NaNoWriMo story first though. And that’s just unreasonable.


Good luck, you brave writer folk!





Friday Fictioneers: “Gossamer Wings”




I’m really not a fan of bugs crawling on me. They’re not the worst things in the world (those are spiders) but I love moths. They’re even cute in their horrible insectoid face. They’re just really pretty looking!



Have fun~




Image Copyright: Madison Woods
Image Copyright: Madison Woods


Title: Gossamer Wings

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100


I locked my husband into his room. It’s a strong door, my nightmares won’t be following me from that dungeon of invisible bloodstains.

So I took a sledgehammer into the garage. I raised it like Mjolnir and brought the thunder down. A 1926 Hearse, a piece of automotive history, turned into a child’s crafts project at the drop of a hammer. And that was the least of what I did.

I’m walking away, far away now, angelic gossamer wings only visible to me catching the light.

I am owned by nobody. Please direct your comments and suggestions up your tailpipe.






You know what I need to do? I need to write more stories featuring mentally unstable folks? I wrote a few stories like that a while back that I’m not going to go tracking down and linking now. They’ll just have to remain a mystery forever. But writing people with huge egos or no sense of reality was fun.

Kindred spirits, I guess.



Good luck, you brave writer folk!