What's this all about

Chronicling my steps to becoming a published novelist, and the randomness of my life.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

There Will be Blood...and Brains

With Halloween, my most favorite time of the year, looming in the near future, I have decided to resurrect a short story I started nearly a year ago and get down to business with it and kick its ass into something awesome.

A while back I had been looking for writing contests to enter so that I could start building my writing resume, when I came across a lit mag for western writers. I am not really into writing westerns, but I am from West Texas and I know more about cowboys and the open range than the average bear; and the criteria for the next contest had been horror. A western horror story.

This excited me more than I had expected and it didn't take long for the creative juices to spit out an idea of cowboys fighting zombies. Three vivid scenes - as vivid as a memory - bubbled up to my conscious.

The first, was of a man making a run for it out of a shoot out, but being gunned down by a sheriff. He falls to the ground, skids a little ways, kicking up a cloud of dust around him. The sheriff laughs and his deputies congratulate themselves. Then, no one notices as the dead man stiffly gets to his feet, and then clambers towards the men who shot him with nothing but brains on his mind.

The second was of a woman trapped in a small jail cell, trying to escape as the man in the cell next to her as changed into a zombie, and is stopping at nothing to get past the bars and into the cell with her. The thought of being trapped next to someone who is willing to break every bone in his body and pull himself around with his fingernails to kill you - is really terrifying to me. =)

The third was of a small white church exploding in a ball of fire and spray of wood, impaling and burning the zombies who surrounded it.

Those thoughts pretty much came to me on their own. The job was to link those images together and make a story out of them. A few weeks later, I had my outline. I still don't have a title for this story - I hate coming up with titles - but I'm working on it. I'm also open for suggestions! =D

So, now, without much further ado I would like to share with you the beginning of my short story. Caution - scenes contain violence and death and strong language.

Happy reading!

A piercing scream shot through the night.
            Rhett sat straight up. His Colt Peacemaker was cocked in his hand before he’d even fully awoken. Wide eyed, he searched the dark desert for his demons. But the landscape was empty.
From the corner of his bloodshot eye he could just make out Lee standing stalk still a few yards out from the campsite. His white long johns caught the light of the moon, giving him a glowing, phantom-like appearance. Lee took three deliberate steps backwards. His gun belt was tied fast around his waist, all three of his guns in the holsters.
“Somethin’s out there,” he reported. There was an even, almost jaded tone to his voice. No trace of fear.
Rhett stood and padded over to his right hand man. They had been drafted into the same North Carolina regiment during the war, and had ridden together ever since. Rhett and Lee had saved each other’s lives no fewer than six times. Not that either one was counting.
“Maybe it’s Munson or Ricky.” Rhett suggested. They had taken the first watch and should have been up by the campfire with the horses. Rhett cupped his hand to his mouth and whistled a quail call.
            No response.
            “I’ll take the perimeter.” Lee rested his hands on his guns and marched into the darkness.
            That left Rhett to check around the fire. Keeping his gun drawn he quietly crept towards the faint embers smoldering ahead. There was no time and no use in putting on a shirt or boots. The devil didn’t care how you looked when you came to meet him.
            Rhett reached the fire, but there was no sign of his men. The horses were still tied to a nearby mesquite tree, their ears pricked and alert but otherwise calm. An armadillo carcass hung off a makeshift spit above the fire. Rhett bent down to inspect the sandy ground. There were a few solid footprints here and there, but no traces of a struggle.
            Sighing, he sat down on the twisted trunk of an old tree. Rhett rubbed his eyes. It was too damn late and he was too damn tired to make sense of this.
            Back when the war first started, he would have chalked this disappearance up to his men simply goofing off and not following orders. But he had seen too much since then. Now he always expected the worst; The very worst.
            While Rhett struggled to shake the fatigue from his eyes, he did not notice two hands stretching up from behind the tree like two snakes poised and ready to strike; the rigid fingers curved like so many fangs. Slowly the limbs rose higher. Then, with impeccable speed, the hands struck. The fingers clamped down on Rhett’s shoulders and tore him off the tree.
            He kicked and flailed as he slammed into the ground. His Peacemaker slipped out of his hand and landed a few feet away. A guttural, inhuman snarl roared in his ears. The attacker pinned him to the ground.
            It was Munson.
Rather, what used to be Munson. What was once the chiseled face of a good man was now the bloated, putrid face of evil. The eyes - so full of blood - oozed from the corners like crimson tears. Grisly chunks of red clung to the thick moustache. The mouth growled and snapped at Rhett’s flesh. The tongue wriggled like a worm and the teeth clacked together with each empty bite.
            Rhett punched Munson in the head to try and back him off. He delivered blow after blow but the undeterred head continued chomping at the air. Rhett reached out for his gun. The head lunged. The clammy lips brushed against his cheek. 
            Rhett abandoned the gun and focused on keeping Munson at bay. He grabbed the head by the ears and pushed it as far away as he could. Snarling and grunting, the horrible head pressed closer and closer to his face.
            With a loud thwack, hot blood sprayed across Rhett’s face. Munson – head and body – rolled off of him. He sprang for his gun and spun around, just in time to see Lee removing his Apache tomahawk from Munson’s skull.
            Relieved, Rhett relaxed his wrist and let the barrel of his gun see the sky. He wiped his face on his forearm. That made for the seventh time Lee had saved his life. Not that he was counting.
            Lee took a step towards him. He held the tomahawk tightly in his fist and cocked his elbow. He eyed his friend suspiciously.
            “You bit?” He demanded.
            Rhett stepped closer to the light of the fire. He knew Lee wouldn’t take his word for it, just like he would never take Lee’s word on having been bitten. Countless numbers of men – dependable, honest men - had lied about being bitten by the dead, and countless numbers of lives had been lost because of it.
            Lee followed Rhett to the light keeping his weapon raised and ready. The fire cast awkward shadows over Lee’s rough face, and deepened the scar that ran from below his right eye down to his chin, distorting the corner of his mouth into a constant sneer. With sharp eyes he inspected Rhett’s body for wounds, but found none. He lowered the tomahawk.
            “Did you find Ricky?” Rhett asked.
            “Parts of him.”
            Rhett shook his head. There was no use in asking how or why this had happened. Some things weren’t meant to be known.
            “Let’s get what’s left into the fire.”
            The fire bulged and licked the sky as the flames greedily devoured Munson’s body. Greed and hunger, thought Rhett. That’s what keeps this world spinning.
            “Somethin’ on your mind, Rhett?” Lee asked, tossing Ricky’s arm into the hungry flames.
            “Just keep thinkin’ about why we’re doin’ this. All the killin’ we done, all the bodies we burned…it doesn’t seem to be doin’ no good. The dead keep rising. The innocent keep dying.”
            “Someone’s got to do somethin’. It might as well be us.”
            Rhett knew Lee was right. It didn’t matter how tired and how sick he was of riding and killing. He was a man of action. He could no sooner stand by and let the Devil devour the world than he could stand by and let some thief steal his horse. This was his calling; the only thing he’d ever been good at. This was his crusade.
            “It’s another day’s ride to Boracho,” Rhett said. “We’ll pick up reinforcements there. If there’s anything left.”

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Oh How Pinteresting!

I have now entered that magical stage of adulthood known as Renting a House. Renting a house comes with a great deal of responsibility; namely the responsibility of making said house as cute as possible. So where did I turn in my quest for excellent decorating?

Pinterest of course!

If you have somehow missed the Pinterest bandwagon and don't know why I keep mispelling the word "interest", then you should know that it is "an online pin board" where you can look at all kinds of things online and then "pin" it to your board. (AKA, save it to your account so you can come back and look at it later) It's like window shopping. And it's a great place to get ideas for recipes, decorating, gardening, outfits and pretty much everything and anything. The best thing about the DIY section is that you can follow the link to get directions on how to make things...awesome things.

Things like...

A floating bookshelf!

A crayon melt to add color to a boring tan room!

Ways to make Mason jars useful!

Inspiration to turn this...

Into this...

A way to display your jewelry!

And lastly, a way to display your hip record collection!

Yes, my three rooms have become Pinterest rooms and no, I'm not ashamed of it. I've probably spent more money trying to make these things than if I had just gone out and bought a simple shelf or an ordinary jewelry box. But I am a maker; and I hate the ordinary.

So nevermind that I spray painted the bottoms of my feet blue or that my mother told me I don't have nuts. I created something. I did it myself.

So, here's an update: there now exists an Official Facebook Page to SpinningJenni's Path to Publication. And that is exactly what it's called. Please like my page! You'll get exclusive content of my goings on, and access to my posts. The main reasons I'm doing this are to get to know my readers a little better, generate more traffic to my blog, and because I don't want any creepers stalking my personal page.

Thanks for reading! =)

Wednesday, July 11, 2012


I have been very blessed and very lucky to have been able to be in the room while my very best friend gave birth to her baby girl. It was miraculous, beautiful, joyful...all that cheesy stuff you are always told by your mom and her friends while you're sitting there going, "Yeah. Right. That's disgusting."

(Some names and places have been changed. Just go with it.)

Shavia and Jose, my best good friend and her husband, had asked me several months ago if I would like to join them in the delivery room to take pictures of the baby after she was born. I was honored and flattered that they would invite me to share this moment with them. I accepted with tears in my eyes. I was just so touched.

"Do you think you'll be able to handle it?" Shavia asked point blank after I said yes.

I don't do well with blood and bodily functions. When I see my own blood, I pass the eff out. When someone else is bleeding, I feel as though my stomach has been filled with worms and I have been dunked in cold water. When people tell me about that time they broke a bone, I close my eyes and shout "No, no, no!"

So, it was a valid question.

"Of course I can handle it. I mean, I might pass out. But I'll be totally fine. Just have someone shake me."

Cut to six months later, AKA Monday night.

I had been hanging out at Shavia's house watching Baby Mama with her until Jose got home from a late night at the office. Towards the end of the movie she got really quiet and seemed extremely uncomfortable. I asked her if she was alright, but she would just brush it off saying it was heart burn and cramping. She has the pain tolerance of a prize fighting pit bull, so she's really hard to read when it comes to that. I took her word for it and went home at about 11:30.

11:40 she sends me this text:

I doubt anything is going to happen tonight. But you should keep your phone near you just in case.

I had gotten texts like this before, and I always kept my phone near me at night, so I didn't think much of it. I went to sleep at 12:09.

My morning alarm went off. I groaned and shut my eyes tighter. It can't be 6:30 already! I rolled over to hit snooze. Mid-roll I realized that the tune wasn't my alarm but my reggae ring tone. Picking up my phone, I saw Jose's name and face staring back at me, under the time 12:59am.

"Hello?" I asked, completely befuddled.

"Hey. You need to come to the hospital."

"The hospital? Why? The hospital??"

"Yes. You need to go to the place where babies are born."

"Oh. Oh. OH!"

"Shavia and I are almost there. Kim is at our house with the kids."

"Ok. So I need to come straight to the hospital. Not your house?"

"Right. Unless you want to go to our house."

"No! No I'm coming to the hospital. I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. Ok. I will get dressed and come to the hospital. Bye."

I sat up and swung my legs off my bed. "Ok. Go time." I quickly thought of the essentials I needed: Jeans, shoes, camera, a spot of make up. I hardly remember getting all these things together, but I was out the door at 1:06am.

Driving through my desolate neighborhood, I started to wonder if the conversation I'd just had was real. I had been so asleep, and there was about a 50% chance it had been a dream. Nothing added up quite right. The plan had always been that as soon as Shavia went into labor, she would call me first. I live with Kim, and there were no lights on in the house when I got up and came down stairs and the doors to her rooms were still shut.

What if I get all the way to the hospital and none of this was real?

I decided to voice text Kim to make sure.

So you are at Jose's?

Yeah. Shavia's in a lot of pain. I've never seen her like that before.

I floored it. Shavia birth's babies quick. There wasn't a minute to spare.

The hospital looks like a castle, and it's not exactly down town, so it was very dark. I couldn't tell where I should turn in at, so I finally just chose an entrance and wnet with it. I quickly came to a fork in the massive parking lot, and found a sign that gave me a left and a right option.

< Deliveries
> Hospital

"Well...I mean she is delivering..."

I was baffled! You would think that a hospital would make things crystal clear to understand but I didn't know what they meant by "deliveries." It was a delivery room, after all. In what context were they using the word "delivery"?

I went with my sleep deprived gut and drove towards Deliveries.

When I got there the place was completely deserted. I knew this couldn't be right, because I didn't see Jose's car. At 1:22am I called him.

"Hey, it's Baylor right?"

"Yeah. It looks like a hotel."

It looks more like a castle to me. "Ok. I'm here."

"We're on the second floor."

I ran up to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" asked the cute, blond security guard.

"My friend is having a baby."

"Second floor."

Elevator. Second floor. Fancy lobby with way too much furniture blocking my way. Another security guard.

"Down this hall, take a left. Push the intercom to get a nurse to help you."

Hall way. Sealed doors. Intercom.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking Shavia Knight."

"Hold on. Who are you?"

I waited in the hall for about 5 minutes until Jose came and got me. He lead me to the room, where Shavia was already in a gown, on the bed, talking to a nurse who had an accent I couldn't understand.

"Hi. I'm glad you're here." She said to me, through grimaces.

Everything happened very fast next. They hooked Shavia to an IV, made her sign a million papers, asked her a million questions, went running for the anesthesiologist (CRNA), gave her ice cubes, told her to breath and called her doctor. The CRNA came waltzing in and the nurse said "We are either going to have an epidural or a baby."

I wasn't going to watch the epidural process. I don't especially love needles and I'd head horror stories of how big and epidural needle is. But as they pushed my friend over and the CRNA painted circles on her lower back, I couldn't keep my eyes from wandering over.

The CRNA held up the first syringe, and the needle glinted in the spot light. Oh that's not so bad. That's normal sized.  That shot came and went. Then he pulled out another needle. One that looked like a drill bit.

The blood drained from my face and I quickly looked away. Holy shit that's big! Don't pass out. Keep it together. I concentrated on breathing in and out and pictured a calm meadow in my mind. This picture of calm was soon shattered.

The CRNA didn't get the epidural to Shavia in time. The baby was coming and there was no stopping it. She was coming au natural. No pain meds.

I'm not going to go into detail here. I don't think it's appropriate, and you probably don't want to hear it. All I can say, is natural child birth is exactly how it's portrayed in the movies. They don't exaggerate.

At 2:39am the nurse pulled out a screaming baby girl. I saw the whole thing. I saw her come into this world. It wasn't gross, or scary or messy. It was honestly and truthfully the most amazing thing I have ever seen.

I was so proud of my best friend. So happy for their family. And so excited to see the little baby I had felt kicking around for months.

She is perfect.

"The miracle of life" is an over used expression that is synonymous with health text books. But life really is a miracle. There is a new person in the world. She's one of us now. She's going to laugh and play and read and watch movies and go to school. It's easy to get caught up in thinking of all the things she's going to do, but when you stop and look at this tiny little baby just a few days old who can't even hold her own head up...it really just blows your mind that this life is even possible.

I wish the deepest congratulations to my friends and all of their family.

Thank you for reading. =)

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

A Hard Day's Night

I recently went to Georgia with some friends of mine. They were going to visit family and I had never been to Georgia so I said "I'm down. Let's go!"

It also didn't hurt them to have an extra man on defense as they were driving from Dallas to North Georgia with 2 children under the age of 5. Another added bonus other than the pleasure of my company, was that the kids love me. And what's not to love???

So we left one stormy Friday evening after we'd all gotten home from work. There was a lot of crap to load and even though we were all in a mad dash of efficiency and team work, we still ended up leaving about 3 hours later than planned. This put us at crossing the Mighty Mississippi at approximately 2:45 in the AM. Because it would have been mass suicide to continue on, we stopped at a hotel for the remainder of the night/morning.

I ended up sharing a bed with their 4 year old daughter, who was very excited about being in a new place and didn't quite grasp that even though she had been asleep for a while, it was not actually time to be awake. I climbed into bed and as soon as my head hit the pillow my cramped neck muscles started to relax and my heavy eye lids slid shut. Sleep, sweet sleep was on it's way.

"Um...Miss Jenni?" The tiny whisper sent my eyelids flying open.


"You can sleep with Pink Puppy. Ok?"


A small stuffed dog was shoved into my arm pit. I waited as the little girl re-situated herself on her side of the bed and after 30 seconds of wonderful silence I gently closed my eyes. I was so excited for sleep I almost giggled.

"Um...Miss Jenni?"

"Go to sleep!" her father said from across the room. "It's not time for talking. It's time for sleeping. Leave Miss Jenni alone."

A tiny hand began to softly stroke my forehead. I raised an eyebrow. Physical touch is not my favorite part of life, especially when I'm trying to sleep.

"It's ok Miss Jenni." Soothed the little girl. "Daddy will make it all better."

I couldn't help but laugh. Delerium had set in.
"No more talking!" Said her mother. "You can play with Miss Jenni in the morning. Everyone needs to go to sleep."

I regained my composure and everything was silent again. I laid there wide-eyed waiting for something else to happen. But nothing did. I waited another 5 minutes...no sound, no movement. Finally. I smiled and closed my eyes.

"Um...Miss Jenni?"

"Noooo!" I moaned.

"The animals are nice."

"Go to sleep!"

The next morning I ate grits for the very first time at a breakfast buffet that included fried chicken right next to the bacon. We finally got to our destination later that afternoon, where I was introduced to all the dogs and got to watch everyone enjoy a second Christmas. It was all very relaxing and warm. Bed time rolled around soon, and the aforementioned little girl was not too keen on sleeping all by herself in such a big, unfamiliar house.

"Would you mind sharing a bed with her again?" Her mother asked apologetically. "She said she's afraid to sleep by herself...."

Of course I didn't mind. These people were like family to me, and I'm always trying to be helpful. Besides, I figured by the time I went to bed the little girl would already be asleep.

I was wrong.

She was wide awake when I pulled back the covers. I pushed her small menagerie of stuffed animals aside and climbed in next to her. I told her we had to be quiet and go to sleep. She seemed fine with this and laid down. I reached over and turned off the lamp, hoping that tonight would be easier than the night before.

"Um...Miss Jenni? I can't find her head."

"W. T. F."
I rolled over to her, completely thrown off by that statement. All I could think of was that horse scene from The Godfather. You know the one.

What I saw instead was the body of a small porcelain doll, with a sharp metal rod sticking straight out of from between it's shoulders like a spine. Unsettling is an understatment. I sat up, blinking at the horrid little thing.

"Will you help me find her head?"

"Um...this is weird. Why don't we wait til morning when there's light and we can see?"

"Oh! Haha, I found it. Will you put it back on for me?"

I put the creepy doll head back on it's metal neck stick and handed it back. What...an event.

The rest of the week wasn't quite as disturbing, but I hardly got any sleep. This child did not stop moving. She tossed, she turned, she snuggled, she kicked - a lot. One night her hand hit my in the side of the head and work me up. I reached up to move her hand away only to realize that it wasn't a hand at all. It was a foot. I sat up to find the girl with her feet on the pillow and her head down by my knees, sound asleep. As I didn't want to get kicked again, I picked her up and turned her around. Amazingly, she stayed dead asleep the entire time.

Here's an interesting fact about 4 year olds: They do not experience jet lag. This kid woke up at 6:00 am every morning, just like at home. Which meant I felt like it was 5. AM. And when I say she woke up this is what I mean...

Popping straight up out of bed like something from The Exorcist declaring with glee, "I'm awake!"

"Great...go see Nanna and Papa."

Even though I had no sleep, I also had no shortage of entertainment. I had a fabulous time in ATL and got to go shopping at a real Piggly Wiggly (they didn't have anything we needed, but I got a shirt out of it). I even saw someone driving their 4Runner with their foot hanging out the window. It was a wonderful time with wonderful people and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Though I might think twice before sleeping with a 4 year old again...

Thanks for reading! =)

Thursday, May 17, 2012

I Can Be Your Hero Baby

I am a hero.

Yeah, I'm saying it. No sense in being bashful about it. You don't ever see Batman going "No, actually...I'm not him. People make that mistake all the time. I just wear this latex suit because it breaths well when I jog."

I saved a life this week, y'all.

Here's the back story...

At my current dwelling there resides no less than 7 beta fish. 5 of which are located in the kitchen. As you probably know, beta fish really like to call themselves Siamese Fighting Fish and much like the Offspring song, you gotta keep 'em seperated. I bring this up because there are fish tanks everywhere, and I think it's hilarious.

Anywho...Archimedes is a small white/albino beta who tanks in a window sill above the kitchen sink.

Earlier this week, my roommate/co-worker/homie Shayla and I were stumbling around the kitchen trying to get our lives together to go to work. Since neither of us had had coffee or breakfast yet, we were basically bumping around the kitchen trying not to fall over while packing Greek yogurt and cheese sticks. If you've ever seen someone run a Dizzy Bat Race at a baseball game...that's how we look in the morning.

I had just manuevered around Shayla to dump an old glass of water in the sink when I noticed that the pink rose in the green glass vase on the window sill had dried up and died. I don't know, it's still kind of pretty that way, I thought as my eyes slid down to the bottom of the vase.

Then I saw it.

I double-blinked. Stared. Double blinked again.

There, lying on the other side of the vase, was a very still, very dried up Archimedes.

"Oh, no!" I gasped.

He looked like this little pink plastic fish I got from the dentist when I was a kid: his little beedy black eyes staring straight at me, his mouth gaping open, laying completely motionless on his side. I vainly searched the fish tank to make sure that he wasn't still in there and that the fish toy from my childhood hadn't pulled some kind of Toy Story trick to put itself back in my life. Unfortunately, the tank was empty.

"What is it?" Shayla asked. She was in the laundry room, which connected to the kitchen, moving clothes into the dryer.

"Um..." I started. Archimedes is Shayla's fish, and I really didn't want to break the news to her that her fish was dead so early in the morning. Especially since he was bought to replace her last fish that died.

"Do I even want to know?" She asked, reading the look of dismay on my face. I could tell from her tone that she already knew what was wrong.

"No. You don't."

"I can't handle it. I can't see it. I have problems...the texture.."

"I know, I know. I'll take care of it."

I sighed and ripped a paper towel from the holder and then scooped poor Archimedes up inside it. Fish deserve a water buriel, so I headed for the bathroom to flush him. As I stepped into the bathroom, I felt a small tap-tap in my palm. I figured it was probably just his little fish body settling in the paper towel, but I decided to check just to be sure. I peaked inside the wadded up paper towel. Archimedes lay still. Then suddenly his tail fin swished back and forth.

"Wait a minute! There's still hope!" I remembered from my beta research that betas actually breath by filtering water through their gills and by gulping the air.

Shayla was my best good friend. She loved her fish dearly, as one would love a dog or a small child. This fish could be saved. I knew what I had to do.

I dumped Archimedes from the paper towel into my hand. He made no other movements than a weak swish of his tail fin. Beta lungs are tiny, be careful.  I lifted his body up to my face, put his little open mouth up to mine and I breathed a small bit of air into his little lifeless body.

Not really. Don't worry, I didn't perform fish CPR. And I wouldn't put my lips on a fish unless it were fried and battered first.

Here's what actually happened...

"He's alive!" I cried.

"Are you serious?!"

I ran back to the kitchen sink and dumped Archimedes into his tank.  Please don't go belly up, I thought. I had no idea how long he'd been out of water. But as dry and still as he looked I assumed it had been a while.

Well sure enough, the little dude starts swimming all over the place.

"He's totally swimming. He's alive." I said in disbelief.

We watched in stunned silence as little Archimedes swam all around his tank, clearly relieved to be back in his natural habitat. He appeared to be fine, other than the fact that because he'd been laying in the direct sun for who knows how long, his little white body had gotten completely sunburned. No joke. The dude was bright pink.

So yeah, I was 30 minutes late for work. And yeah, betas only cost 3 dollars. But I saved his life. He could have been flushed to smithereens. I saved him. He lives to swim another day.

We don't actually know why he was out of his tank. Betas are known jumpers, so he must have jumped out, but we don't know why and I don't know how he ended up like 7 inches away from his tank. He's still doing fine, although his skin is peeling.

How many lives have YOU saved today?
(question not open to doctors, certified life savers or professional rescuers)

Thanks for reading! =)

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The Hiatus Explained

It's been a long time. A really long time.

I had to take a hiatus from blogging and writing around the end of October until now-ish, because even though I have a full time, year round, grown up day job it is still very seasonal. Starting at the end of October I was working 12 hour days plus weekends so my day job turned into an All-the-Freaking-Time Job.

And that left very little time for anything I enjoyed. Except drinking. But even that fell to the bottom of the priority list.

That, my friends, is how you know you're not in college anymore.

Anyway, I stopped writing. Completely. Which really sucks, because it's a huge part of who I am.

I'm trying to get back into the swing of it though, and get back on my Path to Publication. My frist step is to get back to blogging. I miss my super awesome readers, and all of your support. You mean a lot to me.

It's probably going to be a bit of a rough start. Like riding a bike again for the first time in 7 years, it's going to be wobbly, uncomfortable and dangerous for pedestrians. But with a little bit of patience and determination I think I'll be running again smoothly. (I apologize for the mixed metaphor there at the end.) (See what I mean about wobbly?)

As a welcome back present, I leave you with this...

Thanks for reading! =)