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This is honestly its own prompt. A writer/artist who hit writers/artist block decides to go on a little vacation or take some time for themselves and ends up in a fun little adventure that later influences their craft? Could be romantic. Could be smutty. Could be a children's book. Could be an action adventure. Aliens even. The possibilities are endless.

I haven't abandoned this story. I just put it on the back burner for now. The story is just on a small vacation. It is currently out of office. It can't come to the phone right now. It just fell under my bed to sleep with the monsters. It never left my head. It is everywhere - except on paper.

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The number of times I have had to contact Lenovo support for my laptop is as unacceptable as the number of times it has given me a blue screen.

7th time contacting support. Its crashed at least 4x that. I swear they couldn't even read the system logs that I pulled up for them. That's right. They had to ask me to pull them up. Tell me you don't know what you're doing without telling me.

On the flip side, it seems my laptop is also chronically ill. It, too, has great lab work but continues to crash.

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Being an indie author is very difficult for me due to social media, but I can't afford signing events to promote in person.

I often am asked where I got my inspiration from. And I on the spot I dont know how to say that every day, I learn a little more about how deeply traumatized I am.

While Susan is telling people how to let other people watch their kids, I am reminded of what my childhood was.

Unexpected horror on Sunday mornings while the pastor was on the tv.

The unknown of if today would be my last moments with my feathered baby.

Going to the library on Halloween because my dad was throwing a tantrum and asking my mom repeatedly if the puppies would be alive when we returned. If I could go back and get them to keep them safe.

Learning that my dad let me be friends with the pedophile neighbor, but when he started coming onto the property when my brother was home alone, that was a problem.

The real monsters weren't in the trees.

And there was nothing funny about that farm.

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I'm back from under my writing rock.

Update: spiders.

Update 2: Tethered In Blood is now available through IngramSpark.

Update 3: I had to take book 2 off pre-release because being an indie author is incredibly expensive, and due to personal financial strain, I can no longer afford to publish it at this time. I have chosen to push the date in order to save up and hopefully build a street and ARC team this time.

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How to use Em Dash (—) and Semi Colon ( ; )

Since the ai accusations are still being thrown around, here's how i personally like to use these GASP ai telltales. 🦄✨

Em Dashes (—)

To emphasize a shift / action / thought.

They're accusing us—actually accusing us—of using AI.

To add drama.

They dismissed our skills as AI—didn't even think twice, the dimwits—and believed they were onto something.

To insert a sudden thought. Surely they wouldn't do that to us—would they?

To interrupt someone's speech. "Hey, please don't say that. I honed my craft through years of blood and tears—" "Shut up, prompter."

To interrupt someone's thoughts / insert a sudden event.

We're going to get those kudos. We're going to get those reblogs—

A chronically online Steve commented, “it sounds like ai, idk.”

Semi Colons ( ; )

To join two closely related independent sentences / connect ideas.

Not only ChatGPT is capable of correct punctuation; who do you think it learned from in the first place?

Ultimate pro tip: use them whenever the fuck you want. You don't owe anyone your creative process. 🌈

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Write for your heart.

Not for a trend. Not for a loved one. Not for a director. Not for a reader. Not for a publisher.

But for your heart.

Your heart would ramble about all the things it was villainised for feeling.

And don't abandon writing. Because you'd be abandoning yourself.

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Twelve

Lay out a list of all that is wrong

Just to stare at a wall

He says he doesn’t know what else to do

To make you smile, to reach the you he knew

But you’re folding like paper

Trying to hold what’s never been

Now you’re twelve again, in the backseat

Mom’s voice cutting through

Hands in your lap, holding your food

Your inner child screaming, “I am happy, I’m just not enough for you”

He brushes your arm and you flinch too hard

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But you never knew if it would be the day they would.

The air is heavy, your skin too tight

So you fold a blanket in the dim light

Forget to eat, never sleep

Remember every time you couldn’t speak

And you’re twelve again smelling blood

Seeing people that aren’t there

Animals resting in rot

You flinch at tone and closing doors

Your body still counting the wars

Every “I love you” feels like an innuendo

Every calm moment feels like a pacing wolf in the room

Now you're grown, and he waits too long

For answers you had to shape into songs

You hear the words, but they got stuck inside

Like your mouth forgot how to reply

He thinks you're cold, that you don’t care

But you’re just trying to still be there

You want to save what’s in your hands

But you don’t even know if you still can

Lay out a list of all that is wrong

Just to stare at the wall

Fold a shirt and hope you can

Save yourself from whats been done

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I'm not angry anymore.

Now it just hurts.

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I am H.L. , God of disrespect and unmedicated chronic pain

That checks out.

I am Arran, god of the most important thing

EDIT: if y'all don’t wanna use your name use your username

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Them: Hey! You're out of your wheelchair! Are you feeling better?

Me: It's a better day.

Them: So you're better?

Me: no.

Them: you're still sick?

Me: *exasperated sigh* yes.

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My ptsd is bad today.

Flies

There’s flies in the kitchen and bodies in my head

I tuck them in gentle, while I taste the dead

I’m not okay, but no one ever asks me why

As long as the kids are smiling, I guess I’m alive

If I say I’m drowning, they’ll say, “You’re such a good mom”

I’m a fortress for their laughter, but inside I’m all gone

There's rot in the corner

There's buzzing in my brain

I keep it all hidden so they don’t see the stains

The flies keep coming back, no matter how I clean

I’m the ghost in my own story, stuck behind a screen

Screaming at the unseen.

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Unmedicated and fighting my internal enemies hard today.

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From the media that brought you "Millennials are killing [insert industry here]" articles for years and years and years, now we have....

"Hey, Gen Z, we're gonna relabel vacations into something else now and tell you how you really should be wary of taking vacation because it might impact your financial future."

This is a goddamn dystopia, we know this, right?

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not to get too deep on main but did anyone else have such deeply rooted issues with their self worth for so long that they thought as a kid/teen that their only redeeming feature was being “low maintenance” and now as an adult you give yourself guilt pangs asking for any more than the barest minimum in virtually any relationship because asking for things might negate your only good quality which is just “doesn’t ask for things”