Aah! My last post got a lot of new followers to the blog. Thanks guys! You’re awesome! I guess people benefited from my sage advice. I really should charge money for this.
I’m feeling a bit of pressure to deliver something worthwhile for the new folks, to prove their click of the follow button wasn’t just a freak finger spasm. But what should I post about? I decided to compile a list of ideas for future blogging. They are:
- Apples! What are my opinions on them?? How do they work??
- A tutorial for how to put your pants on without getting one leg stuck in the hole and falling over. Still haven’t mastered this but perhaps I can blog about the learning process.
- Apples again????
Zalea, this is everyone.
Character portrait by yours truly.
Zalea is the second-most main character in the fantasy novel I’m working on. She’s part of a race of humans blended with tree elements (inspired by the dryads in Greek mythology), who can manipulate the growth and shape of botanical life. She has brown skin scattered here and there with wood knots, and hair the same color as the fuschia flower that grows from her tree branch horn. The rest of her people have symmetrical antlers that stretch outwards above their heads, as a tree would – Zalea here is the only one with the curled horn on one side. The others poke fun at her for it, but she doesn’t mind; she laughs along. 🙂
I am VERY excited to announce that the hilarious e-magazine, Vandercave Quarterly, has published my short story, “The Houseplant in Love with a Girl.” Huzzah!
This is my first publication. Ever. So please excuse me while I flail wildly and probably fall down.
Click here to read!
I also highly recommend the other stories and the first issue as well. This mag was my top choice because of how much they made me bust up laughing. The editors rock, and I can’t thank them enough for their publication. 🙂
Sun came in through the blinds as she laid in bed, casting a band of light directly down the center of her wrist. As if she had sliced herself and found golden light underneath. She laid there, that dreamy morning, and imagined that we are all full of light. Not blood, not tissue, not bone, but rays of sun. Maybe that’s what people are looking for, when they hurt themselves. Maybe they want to see that there is still a glow, just a small one, still there, hiding beneath the surface.