It took me a long time to write this post. Honestly, even while I’m writing it now, I’m trying to think of reasons not to. It’s really easy to think of reasons not to do something you’re scared of.

It struck me as self-indulgent, talking about why I left the church of my childhood. Perhaps even a little mean spirited. And, worst of all, I wonder if anyone is really going to care about this. I wonder if it’s just wasting time, mine and yours. This is a blog, sure, but it isn’t a personal blog. I’m not on here blogging about the dream I had last night or the wonderful time I had at the Science Center last week. (We did go to the Science Center. It was a great time.)

Did I want to talk about leaving the church? Of course, I did. If something hurts me, makes me happy, makes me feel any emotion at all, my first instinct is to get that feeling into words and share it. That’s not always an instinct I need to listen to.

I’d almost decided to just not do it. Then, while I was scrolling through Instagram, I found a comic by a wonderful artist who writes a comic called Ah, Mince. Here’s a link to her site, please check her out. She wrote a whole series about growing up in the Mormon church, and what drove her to leave. It’s called GUM. (Growing up Mormon.)

This is not her normal bag. She normally writes funny material. That’s why I started following her. But this series, it really hit me between the eyes.

Because, even though she was talking about her own experience, and it was wildly different from mine, it didn’t feel that different. It felt like she understood what I had gone through.

And that meant a lot to me. Leaving a religion you grew up in is an isolating experience. So, finding someone else who knows what that feels like, is like finding a light in a dark tunnel. And I decided that if I could be that for someone else, even one person, that was worth a post.

Now, I’m not writing any of this to encourage any Morman to leave the church. I’m not encouraging anyone to leave their church. I would say except Scientologists, but that’s not really a religion. I only want to share with you what made me leave, and how it’s changed how I see the world.

I was a third generation Mormon. Or, as I was taught, I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. My grandmother joined the church when she was a young mother. She was raised Catholic. Her brother and his whole family are still Catholic. So if anyone knows what I went through after leaving the church, it’s her.

Not sure why I’ve never talked to her about that. Maybe it’s because I’ve never talked to her about leaving the church.

I don’t really know the details of why Grandma left the Catholic church. Even if I did, that’s not my story to tell. It should suffice to say that she had good reasons for joining the Mormon church. And, they did wonderful things for her.

The church gave her a home and a family when she needed one. They helped her quit some bad habits she would rather I didn’t talk about here. I have never said, and will never say, that the church didn’t do great things for my grandma. I’m happy about that. She’s still a devout member of the church, and happy about that, too.

She raised all six of her kids in the church. They all consider themselves Mormon still, I think. It has a pretty high success rate.

As a kid, my mom didn’t take me to church. I’m pretty sure she had good reasons not to. She was working, or she’d worked the night before and was now justifiably exhausted. Maybe she just didn’t want to. Whatever the reason, I always attended church with my grandma.

When I was little, it wasn’t all that bad. I have vivid memories of coloring with wind up crayons that I wasn’t allowed to use any other time. Grandma taught me to fold a handkerchief so that it became two babies in a hammock. After Sacrament meeting, I would go to Primary and she would go to Relief Society. Then, we’d go home and she’d make us lunch. Those Sundays at her house are some of the strongest memories I have of my childhood. We didn’t watch tv on Sundays, so I would either play with my toys or read Calvin and Hobbs until my mom came to pick me up.

Even as I got older, and I was no longer allowed to color during Sacrament, it still wasn’t that bad. It was boring, but the classes after were fun. I had friends, and they were all in my class. Then one day, without a lot of warning, I was moved to a different class from my friends. You see, all of my friends were boys, and I was now in the girl’s class. That was my first sigh, looking back, that I might have a little bit of a problem.

As a teenager, I really wanted to be a good Mormon. I’ve seen Saturday’s Warriors literally over 100 times. There are three different Mormon magazines, I got them all. I read them, too. I subscribed to Ensign right up until the day I left the church. I was the secretary of my young women’s group. I went to the Young Women’s Summer camp and all of the youth group events. I was baptized in the church and received a Patriarchal Blessing. I’ve been inside the Temple in DC many times. I still consider it one of the most beautiful buildings I’ve ever seen in real life. (If you’re wondering, Mormons have churches called Wards that everyone is welcome to. They also have Temples, that you have to be a member and have a temple recommend to go to.)

The problem was, I just kept running into things I didn’t agree with about the Church. Like, some pretty major disagreements.

If you’re a man, and a Mormon, you are considered a member of the Priesthood. Members of the Priesthood are able to do things within the Church that other’s can’t. One that came up time and time again was a Priesthood holder’s ability to give a blessing.

Now, let me explain something about blessings in the Mormon faith. They were part of a regular Mormon’s kid’s life. A blessing is a prayer said on your behalf by a member of the Priesthood. If you were sick, or had a big test coming up, or just feeling kind of shitty, you asked your dad for a blessing. Your dad, or your big brother, or your uncle. Because women can’t hold the Priesthood. You can see how that put me at a disadvantage as a child of a single mom. All my uncles lived out of state. If I needed a blessing, I had to ask one of my friend’s dads. That was awkward.

This is getting a little long. I’m going to cut off here and pick it up on Friday. See you then.

Let’s talk about anger today. Not because any of us are particularly angry. I’m frequently angry, about any number of things both personal and universal. But I’m no more angry today than I ever am.

But it’s best to talk about anger when you’re not angry. Most people don’t think clearly when we’re angry. We do stupid shit when we’re angry. We yell at people we love. We drive too fast, drink too much, lose our temper. We make monsters of ourselves.

That’s the assumption, at least. We assume that anger boils over and scalds. We assume it ruins lives and that it is poisonous.

I don’t think that’s right. I think anger is an emotion, a state that we cannot judge because we don’t have any control over it. The pain of anger comes only if we react to it poorly.

Anger is good.

At least, honest anger is good. It shows us points of pain. Think of what makes you angry. Do you feel anger when you hear of people persecuted against? What about childhood hunger or abandoned animals? That’s good if you feel anger at that. How could you call yourself human if you didn’t?

Honest anger is a flag you plant to show you what you are not comfortable with. And this is all personal. I am angry about any manner of situations that might seem petty or small, but they cause me anger and so I must pay attention. Even if someone else might consider it a minor inconvenience, or even perfectly alright, my emotion is different. My emotion is valid. And so is yours.

That is not to say that anger is permission to do harm. No emotion gives permission for that. But it does give you permission to set boundaries.

No, I do not want to go there.

No, I will not do that for you.

No, I will not be that.

This is what anger tells us when we should say no.

But we must take care because while anger is honest, other emotions aren’t. Fear, like the coward it is, will wear anger’s face. So will exhaustion. These are emotions that we associate with weakness, and so we shun them if we can. We say it’s anger, because anger, for all we claim to hate it, is powerful.

This is crucial to recognize in ourselves. When you have time today, make a list of the things that spark anger in yourself. Think as big or as small as you want. People who don’t use their turn signal all the way to racists bearing tiki torches. Get it all down. Do you see a pattern?

Now that you understand what sparks anger in you, consider what sparks anger in your main character. Are they many of the same things or are they wildly different? Free write for ten minutes about how you both react to that anger. If you want, post your response below.

Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.

Download Seeming on Smashwords for free.

You might already know this, but I freaking love cooking competition shows. Right now I’m marathoning the Spring Baking Competition and I am loving every second of it! I also watched every single episode of the Christmas competition. Of course, the Halloween competition is my all time favorite.

I know, this seems like a silly time-wasting show. And for the most part, it is. That’s kind of why I watch it, to be honest. You don’t have to be productive all the time to justify your existence. I’m trying to instill that in myself.

Which isn’t to say that there aren’t lessons to be learned from these baking shows. There are lessons to learn from everything in life if you’re willing to learn them. So, here are nine things I’ve learned from baking competition shows.

Manage your time

The number one reason why someone on these baking shows fails, and fail miserably, is that they don’t manage their time well. The cakes aren’t ready, the whipped element needs more whipping, the ice cream didn’t freeze enough.

Honestly, the competitor’s surprise at the time constraints always confuses me. What, you have an hour to make a three-tier cake? Don’t you usually have forty minutes to get dressed, walk two dogs, pick up the house, water the plants, get meat out to defrost, walk two dogs again, feed the dogs and the cat, read your emails and maybe eat something? That can’t just be me.

Proper time management is essential for every single one of you reading this. Now, I’m not going to go over all of the different ways to manage your time. There are more posts about time management than anyone really has the time to read (ironically). Find what works for you and roll with it.

Be all you

You are you, that is truer than true. We should all thank Dr. Seuss for these affirming words of love and acceptance. And we should live these words.

The competitors who do best on the baking shows who do best bring a part of their lives onto the plate. Their kid’s favorite cookies, their grandmother’s recipe, the cakes they baked with their dad. They bring their own personal twists to tradition and expectations as well. They are themselves, and they bring their whole selves to this experience.

This is how I intend to live my every day. I consider this living my best life. I will rejoice in my favorite colors, crochet all day, watch my favorite shows, ogle planners, and talk about stories. Always, every day, I will talk about stories.

Don’t hide what you love, what you feel or who you are because you’re worried people won’t like or understand you. If people don’t like you, they’re not your people.

Follow the rules

If a challenge calls for almonds, you really need to include almonds. You can have the best dessert on the planet, spun sugar to the roof, perfect blend of sweet and tart, and it’s not going to matter at all if you didn’t include the damned almonds.

Now look, I’m a big believer in using common sense when it comes to following rules. There are times to ignore them, and times to stick to them. But anytime you ignore a rule, you do so at your own peril.

If you’re a speculative fiction writer and the agent you’re submitting to an agent who doesn’t represent genre fiction, guess where your manuscript is going. Now you’ve just wasted your time and theirs.

If you’ve made an appointment to video conference with someone about a job at 11:00, don’t roll in at 11:10 and expect to get the job.

And if you’re told to include almonds in a recipe, include the freaking almonds!

Some people will love you and some just won’t.

Frequently on the baking competition shows, one judge will think a competitor’s creation will be the absolute bomb. But another judge will feel it’s lackluster.

That makes sense. Everyone’s taste is different. And the same goes for you. You are not going to be everyone’s favorite person. You are not going to be everyone’s perfect match, bff, ideal employee.

Don’t take it personal. You will be someone else’s favorite person, just as you are.

All the advantages in the world won’t help you

I’ve seen some people get some cool advantages in these baking competitions. One of them got Doug, from Ace of Cakes, one of the judges, to help her with her cake. How freaking cool is that?

But she squandered him. She had him spend his whole time working on one tiny detail that just didn’t wow. She could have had him do so much more!

Listen, life is this. We all have advantages in our lives. Some of us are physically fit, some of us are really smart. Some of us are born with just God-given talents for some things. Some of us are born with the right bone structure to be considered beautiful for the time.

None of this means a damn if we don’t use these advantages to our benefit. So don’t waste them. Whatever you have, whatever your advantage is, use it.

And by the way, if you don’t know what your advantage is, ask someone else. You for sure have something going for you that other people are jealous about.

Don’t panic

I couldn’t survive this baking show, just to be clear. I have watched these people, on multiple occasions, have a catastrophe happen. Raw cakes shattered sugar work. Cakes that are too hot to put the icing on, pieces of chocolate that don’t fit together.

This is almost always not the end of someone’s appearance. Almost always, the competitor responds with, “Then I thought- Insert fancy idea that no other human being would have thought of-.”

How did they come up with that? Simple, they didn’t panic. They thought of a solution. And usually, it’s a great one.

How much better would your life be if, every time something went horribly wrong, we thought of solutions instead of panicking?

Don’t ever play it safe

The people who get kicked off the baking shows fastest are the people who play it safe. The ones who don’t show creativity. The ones who play it safe, and make what they know. They don’t make it to the final round.

There are all kinds of ways we can play it safe. We can keep the boring job, wear boring clothes, take boring vacations. We can stop learning new things because we might fail. We can just stop growing.

Don’t do that! Try new foods, take a class, read a book you’ve never heard of. Try to make that big ass seven-layer cake if you want to. Go somewhere you’ve never been.

This is how we live. And what’s the point of living if you’re not, you know, living!

Get something on the plate

So many times, I’ve seen contestants put absolute garbage on the plate. I mean, I could do better. And I’m a terrible baker! That’s why I’m watching this, to live vicariously through them and they are ruining my dream.

But they are always better off than this one kid I saw on Great British Bake off one time. He was so frustrated by his work, because it was just not good enough, that he threw the whole mess in the trash and had nothing to present to the judges at all.

Paul Hollywood was not happy with him.

It’s always better to at least try. Even if it’s not your best, even if you’re not thrilled with it.

To put this one another way, let me share with you my favorite quote. I live my life by this quote, and so does my hero, Tina Fey.

The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready. It goes on because it’s 11:30.- Lorne Michaels.

Of course, we all want to do our best all the time. But sometimes we’re going to fall short of that. We’re going to have a project, a blog post, a novel, a painting, a letter to a family member sitting in our workspace for way too long. Or maybe you’re dying to have friends over but you don’t know if your home is ready for them. Maybe you’ve been wanting to go back to school or start writing, but it’s just never the right time.

It’s never the right time. Get something on the plate, get the show on.

So, what do you think? Do you watch baking competition shows? Let us know your favorite in the comments below.

Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.

Download it for free on Smashwords

Camp Nanowrimo is over for the year. And, as it’s the first year I’ve ever participated, I wanted to share my thoughts on it. Surprise, it didn’t go as planned. But then, what does.

What I thought was going to happen

Because, you know, what I think is going to happen is totally always what happens, right? Yeah…

So, I thought I was going to edit my new wip for 36 hours. I thought that would be pretty easy, two hours on my days off, one hour on each workday, take Sundays off. Easy, right?

I guess I don’t really do easy when it comes to my writing. I guess I don’t really do easy when it comes to Nanowrimo.

So no, I decided four days in that this goal was too easy. Too attainable. So I moved it up to 50 hours, the official goal for NanoEdmo. I’ve done NanoEdmo before, multiple times. I totally thought I could do it.

What I ended up doing

Yeah, so I realized on the 23^rd that I could probably make it, but it was going to require me to pretty much die.

I’d be willing to do that. I bust my ass to write, and I have totally pulled some crazy hours in order to make a goal before.

Then I took a look at my word count. And I realized that I was at 46,510 words for the month. On the 23^rd. Which meant I would, at this rate, surpass the amount I write during November NanoWrimo with ease. I could take several days off and still make my goal. And I’d put in 36 hours already. That, if you’ll recall, was my original goal.

So I decided to change my goal to writing 50,000 words. I might have done more and will probably do more during next Camp Nanowrimo. But that’s still more than I would normally write in a month. So I’m still getting a ton more done.

What I realized about my writing practice

I don’t think we ever become masters when it comes to writing. I think we’re always just students, leveling up as we go.

I really struggled to reach my Nanowrimo goal this year. I struggle every year. That’s why it’s a challenge. And sure, I took a mini vacation in November. Sure, there was a holiday. But I took several days off in April too, and we can throw Easter in there for good measure. I was certainly no less busy this past month. In fact, there have been some new complications that made me even busier. So why did I spend November 30^th hammering out words to meet my goal, then reached 50,000 easily on April 25^th?

Well, there was one big difference; I was writing a second draft in April. That may seem like a cheat, but you have to remember some key differences between my first draft and my second draft.

The most substantial difference, I think, was that I write my rough drafts longhand and I type second drafts. So I was typing all month. I’m not a slow typist, but I am slow at handwriting.

Now, there are parts of a second draft that are undeniably faster. I already know most of the story, for sure. I have the outline pretty well hammered out, and the characters established.

Except that I largely threw out the first draft, added a whole new element to my main character and a slew of new characters. Oh, and all of this new required a ton of freewriting and research before I even started putting words to page. So how in the hell did I write more than 50,000 words in 36 hours, when a good amount of those hours were spent looking up sigils and the magical properties?

Because typing really is freaking faster!

Now, for literally all of my writing life I have balked at the thought of typing a rough draft. I have always said that I just don’t think the same typing as I do writing longhand. I’ve insisted that I can take a notebook anywhere, and so I have an easier time slipping into my work when I don’t have my computer. I’ve always had a slew of excuses that really just came down to I didn’t want to change.

And yet, again, 36 hours to write nearly 50,000 words. Can I also just say I thought that was going to take a hell of a lot longer? I had no idea that I could do so much work in such a little amount of time.

So it’s time for the takeaway.

What I will take with me from here

• I will try to type out rough drafts. I’m starting a new novella in May, and I’m going to try to type it.
• I will realize the insane amount that can be done in a little amount of time. Honestly, I can do so freaking much in just a few minutes. I’m going to be looking at my time differently from now on.
• Change is good. That is all. Trying things a different way can lead to some amazing results.
• I have grown as a writer, and I’m going to keep growing. The second draft of Broken Patterns took me six months. The second draft of this novel took two. I’m dedicating more time, my writing is improving, and I’m streamlining my process. It’s showing.

Will I do it again?

Absolutely.

Just a reminder that Nano dreams do come true, this was my first ever Nanowrimo project.

In Devon’s world, magical work is as common as turning a pot or fletching an arrow. What isn’t common is a man with thread magic. When Devon finds that he is a seer, weaving prophetic tapestries, his family tries to keep it a secret.
But the family can’t hide Devon’s visions after he predicts a devastating plague in the dragon lands of Coveline. He travels there to help the dragon queen save her people.
Meanwhile, Devon’s sister Lenore joins the Church of Singular Light. As Lenore learns to serve, and falls in love with her city, she discovers a dark underbelly to the church.
Lenore fights for her city, and Devon rushes to find a cure to the plague, while an unseen enemy raises an army to destroy Septa from within.

Get it on Smashwords now.

I’m a pretty big fan of Garfield. Probably no surprise, there. It’s about a fat orange cat who eats constantly and has no ambition to do anything. And I love anything that’s so different from me. This is the same reason why I love Bender from Futurama or Lucy from Disenchanted. I am not them. They are as far from my personality as it is possible to be.

Of course, they also have moments I do wish I could imitate. I sort of wish I could tell someone where to go like Bender. I would love to be a bad influence like Lucy, just once in a while. And I swear I go on vacation just to act like Garfield. Carb load, sleep all day and watch tv with my blanket and stuffed bear.

Now, I told you all that so we could have a talk about one of the simplest and best pieces of advice about money I have ever learned. Because it didn’t come from Dave Ramsey or Gabbi Dunn. It’s from this one old Garfield comic strip. If you’d like to read it for yourself, it’s the strip from November 23, 1988. (I’m not sure if I can repost it without permission.)

Jon comes in with a hat he’s just bought, and it is an ugly ass hat. And Garfield says, “It’s amazing what some people would rather have than money.”

I have spent a long time thinking about that one sentence. It speaks volumes to the relationship we have with money. (It’s a weird relationship, to be sure. Ask someone about their sex life and their finances, and I bet they talk to you about their sex life.)

To start with, I need to explain that when I was growing up, money meant one thing to me. This was how much we had to spend. My mom would pay the bills, buy groceries, and whatever was left was fun money. There was no talk of savings. My mom did not sit me down and talk about healthy financial decisions. There was sure no talk of maybe setting up an emergency fund and investing. My mother was a waitress, and a good one. So, it felt like we always had money on hand. As a child, I never once worried that we wouldn’t have enough money. I also never went to a store that I didn’t get something new.

I don’t say any of this to bash my mother. More to explain why, when I moved out, I had no idea what I was doing with money. And let’s be fair, most people behave with money exactly how my mom behaved. And I never felt like we were poor. My mom did exhibit some great money habits that I have tried to copy.

Always pay your bills first, and always make sure you have your basic needs met. Our power never got shut off, and we never missed a meal.

But what I didn’t learn, and am still trying to get a grip on, is the value of having money, not just earning money. Saving money, not spending money.

Saving money means that I can afford an emergency. Saving an emergency fund means that any number of bad situations can turn out better. Being able to get an Uber, or order pizza when the stove breaks, or replace something when it breaks. Being prepared for an unexpected bill or a prescription that I didn’t know was going up. Even a doctor’s appointment that I have a co-pay for. If my computer breaks, I can afford to go get a new one from my emergency fund.

That’s what saving money is. Saving money, having it when you need it, that’s security. And I like that every growing feeling of security. I’ve also found out that I just like money. I like earning money, I like having money, I like talking about money.

And there are absolutely things that I would rather not have. I would way rather have the money than clothes, for instance. I’d rather have the money than an expensive car, or really any car at all. I’d rather have the money than jewelry, or expensive perfume, or a bigger tv, or a newer computer. I’d rather have money than most things people spend money on.

Having money also means things I haven’t reached yet, but I’m working towards. Having money means investing in my retirement. It means having a ‘fuck off’ fund. So named because it’s in case you need to tell your boss or your landlord to fuck off. If you don’t know what that is, it’s enough money to pay your expenses if you need to leave your current situation. If you need to quit your job or move. Or if you lose your job. This is money that you can spend and know that you’ll be okay for three to six months, ideally. That’s what it means to have money, not just make money. It’s a goal I’m working towards this year. Slowly, I don’t make all that much money.

So that’s what it means to me to have money. It means security. But then, there are things that I spend money on that have nothing to do with either my bills or my basic needs. There are things that I would much rather have than money.

Tools for my art, like my specific pens that I like. Or a decent camera to take decent pictures. Or yarn to crochet with. Or books to read. Even makeup can fall into this category. I love creating, it makes life worth living for me. Those things have value for me.

My pets are another thing that costs me money. All. The. Time. I buy them brand name food, Christmas gifts, Halloween costumes and treats just because. I am willing to spend more on my rent to have them. I paid money to adopt them and paid money to get Oliver, my dog, fixed. To have my fuzzy companions, I always consider that money well spent.

Peace of mind is also something I am happy to say I would rather have than money. Literally twice I have paid to get a new bank card rather than lose my mind looking for the one I’d lost. Same thing for the charger for my fit bit. I decided that the price of the new item was worth more to me than money. And I’ve rarely felt that was the wrong decision. There are also a whole bunch of nights when I’ll order out or pick up dinner instead of cooking. Not most nights. Most nights it’s actually quite soothing to come home and create a hot, tasty meal. There’s holiness in cooking a meal for yourself and people you love. There’s magic as well. Cooking a meal from scratch is like a spell and a prayer intertwined.

I still just can’t do it some nights. I have a finite amount of energy, just like everyone else. And if I’ve started my morning with at least an hour of writing, gone to work at my full-time day job and hit the gym after work, then I feel like I’ve done enough for the day. Let’s grab something simple and enjoy the evening. Let’s have enough energy to pick up my home and feel the blessing in that. Let’s take some of the pressure off.

Experiences are the final thing I would absolutely rather have than money. Just recently we went to Phipps Conservatory in Pittsburgh and saw some truly gorgeous plants. Then we went to the Strip District and bought tea, cheese and spices. Beautiful things that will give us moments of pleasure. An exotic meal or a good cup of tea in the afternoon. I also love going to the zoo, going camping, traveling as far as we can. We’ve been to DC, the beaches of Delaware. I treasure these experiences.

Even little experiences are worth more to me than money, though. There’s this little candy store that just opened on Main Street, and I can’t wait to check it out. I love the experience of going to the coffee shop and just taking in the atmosphere. That’s something I’d rather have than money.

Another thing I’d rather have than money is a life dedicated to my art. That means saying no to opportunities to make more money because it takes away from my writing time. Saying no to that sort of thing also means I’m in a better place, mentally and emotionally. I like my job but I’m an introvert. Spending time with other people, even the exceptional team I work with tires me. Work is like a marathon. I can run a while, but eventually, I’m going to have to stop and rest.

And my health, more than anything, is something I’d rather have than money.

Now it’s your turn. What would you rather have than money? What would you rather have money than? Let us know in the comments below.

Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.

Download it now for free

Are you behind? Catch up now. Episode One, Episode Two

Godfrey

Godfrey followed Akiko to a glass building not far from the loading docks. He glanced between her and Gene, wondering how far he’d get if he decided to run. He didn’t think it would be far enough. And he wouldn’t have put it past this woman to know just where Sennett and the others were, and detain them if he tried.

“Have you ever been to Station Central before, Councilman?” Akiko asked.

“No,” Godfrey said, as they walked past the front desk. The building’s main purpose seemed to be a tourist information center. The walls flashed with event information and activities. There was, according to the advertisements, levels for shopping, dining, museums. There was even a beach themed level, and an amusement park on the top floor.

“You should try Punchello’s for dinner one night, it’s my favorite,” she said. “My treat, I insist. Just tell them you’re there as my guest.”

They wove through the crowd of people milling around, looking at displays and taking pictures, until they reached a quieter hallway. There, Godfrey saw doors with the names of what he assumed must have been other council members. Akiko led him right to the end of the hall, to a door with her own name. She entered, letting the two men in.

Inside, Godfrey saw a white, high polished chrome desk. The floor was a simple tile, and the walls displayed posters of classic movies and plays.

“Please take a seat,” Akiko said, gesturing to two padded chairs on one side of her desk. She settled herself on a backless chair on the other side.

Godfrey sat, Gene settling in next to him. “So,” Akiko tilted her head. “Station 86 sure has been through a lot, hasn’t it? First, eleven of the twelve council members are assassinated. Then, you had that problem with the AI dogs. Then there was that botched election issue. I understand your friend was off planet at the time, and she was nearly killed by a lose virus on Station 16?” Akiko shook her head. “Poor man, no wonder you wanted a vacation. I’m so sorry to spoil your first day here with this.”

“That’s not my concern, Councilwoman,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “My concern is that I’m not a councilman anymore. I’m a private citizen. As I’ve already told you, Station 86 decided to change how we’re governed. We held a free election, and we chose two Marshals to lead us, one from each political party.”

“Yes, but the problem with that is that elections aren’t legal on the stations,” Akiko said. “You’re the remaining Councilman, so you’re fully within your right to claim these two people as fellow council members. But a marshal is not an official title.”

“If you’d had an auditor at the time, they certainly would have told you that,” Gene said. “But I understand that you lost your last auditor. He was on the ship with Councilwoman Thorn?”

“Yes,” Godfrey said, “but I don’t understand how you people think you’ve got any kind of right to tell Station 86 what we’re going to do with our people. We decided that we wanted to be governed differently. Why should that be any of your business?”

Akiko folded her hands on her desk. “Because with Earth silent, my council and I are now the political center for all of the stations. Therefore, it’s my job to assign a new auditor to Station 86. Gene here will go back with you when you go home.”

“It sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do together, with eight council seats empty,” Gene said.

“Nine,” Godfrey said. “I am not a council member.”

“Mmm, sorry,” Gene said, “but a council member can’t resign with empty seats. You’ve got to stay until all twelve are full. It’s down in the constitution you agreed to when you became a station citizen.”

“And in the oath you agreed to when you became a council member,” Akiko said, nodding. “I’m afraid you’re stuck until the council’s full again.

“But, please don’t let that darken your vacation. Relax, have fun with your friends. We can worry about all this when it’s time for you to go home.”

“Alright,” Godfrey muttered. “Since I’m stuck as a councilman, I might as well act like one. What are you planning for the Hollow Suits?”

Akiko and Gene tensed. “I think that would be a matter best discussed later, when you haven’t just arrived” Akiko said. “In fact, I wonder if I could ask you a favor regarding that. We haven’t publicly spoken about the Hollow Suits yet. Would you mind not mentioning it?”

“Why haven’t you told the people who live here?” Godfrey asked.

“Because we’re trying not to start a panic,” Akiko chuckled. “We’re handling it, even as we speak. There’s no reason to worry the people on the station. Especially since they, like yourself, are on vacation.”

“But if these Hollows get on the station-,” Godfrey said, but was interrupted by a knock on the office door.

“I’m so sorry,” Akiko said, rising gracefully. She went to the door, and admitted a young man in a bright blue suit.

“Jeremy, what can I do for you?” she asked.

“Sorry, Councilwoman, but I thought you should see what Commander Tanner just sent to everyone on the station,” the young man said.

Godfrey remembered his wrist pad buzzing as Akiko had led him away. He looked down now, and played it. Gene did the same.

All citizens and visitors of Station Central, please be advised that known terrorist Jason Whitehall has escaped from police protection and is thought to be somewhere on the station. If you spot him, please contact authorities imminently. Whitehall is thought to be armed with illegal weaponry, and is suspected in the murder of May Conner.

Gene was looking at his own wrist pad, his other hand over his mouth.

“Um, wow,” Godfrey said. “What’s this all about? I thought your council didn’t want to cause a panic.”

“Tanner is not a council member,” Akiko snapped.

She turned, flashing her smile again. “I’ve kept you from your friends long enough. Forgive my interruption.”

She opened the door wider, and gave Godfrey a gentle inclination of her head. “Have a good day, Councilman.”

Godfrey realized that he wasn’t going to get anything further from the situation. His long trip was also catching up with him. He stood, and said, “Thank you, Councilwoman. I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon, Gene.”

“Yeah, of course,” Gene said, but he wasn’t looking up. He was looking at his wrist pad still, his brows furrowed.

Want to start at the beginning? Download Seeming, Book one of Station 86. By the way, it’s free.

Copyright © 2019 Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

At some point, I think we writers need to just stop saying that writing is a solitary profession. It’s just not true anymore if it really ever was. Yes, you write your book alone. Yes, you succeed or fail all on your own.

But we’re not alone. Feel free to play You Will Be Found from the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack. That’s where I’m going with this.

Writers are generous with each other. We want to reach back and help the people farther back on the path than us. I know I feel that way. Why do you think I still write about writing here? I’m always learning new things, and I want to share those things with all of you.

Networking with other writers is important. I know it can be hard, especially for introverts like me. It’s even harder when you can’t attend cons regularly. Or, you know, at all.

Fortunately, the internet is here to help us. I’ve found networking with other authors online to be fun, easy and really freaking helpful. Here are eight effective ways to network with other authors.

Twitter

Yes, I know that Twitter can be toxic. But it can also be pretty awesome if you know how to use it right. (Step one of using Twitter right is turning off DMs. Just saying.) That aside, I love Twitter.

Every Thursday and Friday some other Solstice writers and I do a thing called #twitterstories. We all write little Twitter stories based on the same picture.

I also follow a lot of the literary agents and editors I want to submit to. Funny thing, agents and editors are often pretty darn entertaining to follow. They also give good advice for submitting not only to them but to other agents as well.

It’s also fun to follow other writers in your genre, just to see what they’re up to. Maybe someone just found a really cool new site to make ads on. Maybe someone wants to do a collaboration. Maybe someone just needs a hand promoting and you’ve got that hand to offer.

Bookstagram and other Instagram hashtags

I love talking to people on Instagram. The hashtags don’t work quite the same way as other platforms. Or maybe they do and I’m just not using hashtags right on other social media platforms. Who knows.

Anyway, when you look for the #bookstagram on Instagram, it’s like opening a doorway to a whole group of people who really freaking love books! They love reading books, talking about books. They love taking really beautiful pictures of books. They love everything about books, and I love just dwelling among them. And these pictures, you guys. Some of these photographers are freaking talented!

Forums

I’m still working my way toward using the KDP forum, but I understand it’s a place I need to be. There are so many people out there with answers to the questions I’m sure you have. Because we all have questions about writing. (I’m trying to figure out if it’s skeevy to use Amazon reviews in promotions. Does anyone know? I mean, I’ve seen other authors do this, but I don’t know if they asked permission. How do I do this thing?!)

Blogs, podcasts, and newsletters

You know, like the one you’re reading right now. Reading other author’s blogs, listening to their podcasts and reading their newsletters are great ways to connect with them. Having your own author blog, podcast or newsletter is a great way to get connected with. While I do listen to a good amount of podcasts, I honestly don’t read as many bloggers as I should. So, if you know of any blogs about writing or reading that I’m missing out on, feel free to leave a link in the comments. Even if they’re your own.

Facebook groups

I belong to a bunch of different writing and promotion groups on Facebook, but to be honest I really only pay attention to two. I’ve found that when it comes to Facebook groups, more is less. The thing about groups is that you’re going to get out of them what you put in. I belong to my publisher’s Facebook group and the Science Fantasy group that I moderate. I am active in both of these groups, talking about marketing stuff and looking for people who want to work together. Some people like to belong to groups that work on stories together. Some people like book swaps. Whatever you want to get out of the groups, there’s probably one for you.

Talking to people

I’m pretty sure I did a whole blog post about this once. But quite frankly, it bears repeating. It bears repeating because it’s something that as a socially anxious person I hate, hate, talking to people face to face. I hate feeling like I’m inconveniencing them or bragging. I have this overwhelming fear that I’m going to tell someone “I’m a writer,” and they’re going to smile and nod. They’re going to smile and nod and think that I’m a poser. One of those people who throws up unedited garbage on Amazon because literally, anyone can do that.

Turns out, no one has ever thought that. I’ve made an effort to tell people I’m a writer. And I’ve met some awesome people this way. I’ve met people who can help me, people who I can help. People who want to tell me stories. People who want to hear my stories.

I talked to the manager of my local book store, and she got me in touch with other writers. I talked to the people at my day job, and it turns out that some of them are writers too. I talk to everyone I can about it, and I feel like a writer.

So, what do you think? How do you network outside of a con? Let us know in the comments below.

Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.

Get Seeming now, right here, for free.

I want to talk about beginnings and endings today. No, I don’t mean like big things, like weddings, divorces or death. It’s Monday after all, and too early besides.

I’m talking about events like starting or finishing a big project. I’m talking about setting an intentional goal or planning a life change like finding a new job, starting school or moving somewhere new.

For me, the most common beginning I see is the start of a new draft. This may seem like a small thing, given how many books I write. But it’s not. A new draft means months of work dedicated to one project with one goal. And I get emotional over these sorts of things. Beginnings and endings trigger emotional needs that I don’t really like to ignore.

Maybe this is not a season in your life that will include a major change. Most seasons don’t. And maybe you’re not a writer, always going through different drafts in different made-up worlds. But I bet there is a beginning or ending in your life all the same. Maybe it’s a big project at work. Maybe you want to clear out your garage, start your garden or finally Kona Marie your house. Maybe you’re making a big change to your eating habits or starting a new exercise routine. Any of these things can require a ceremony of beginning. And when you finish, they require a ceremony of ending as well.

Today, I’d like to share with you the parts of my staring and ending ceremonies. These have evolved over time through trial and error, and I expect that they will continue to evolve.

Your starting and ending ceremonies might look very different than mine. But there are certain aspects that I do advise for everyone. For each, it’s a three-step process.

Starting ceremonies

Preparing yourself for the project

This is probably the most practical part of this process. Whatever my new project is, I need to make a plan. I need to know what my end goal is, what steps I’m going to have to take, and how much time this is going to take. I map out time in my planner and make a plan of action in my bullet journal.

Cleansing your space

I mean this is two different ways. First, I mean that I’m going to get the whole house picked up and do any little chores that have been bugging me. For reasons I will never understand, I do not give a damn about the condition of my ceiling fans until I’m trying to start a new project. But I also cleanse the space in a more spiritual sense.

I light a candle. If it’s warm enough I open the windows to clear out all negative energy. I will full on do a Chakra cleansing meditation. This is especially important if your new project is at all creative. And let’s be fair, most things require at least some creative energy.

Have a tradition

Finally, once my plan is set and my space is in order mentally and physically, it’s time to begin. I have a special tradition that I do right before I start on a new project.

I make a cup of tea, but it’s not just any cup. I get this tea that is brewed from a flower. The flower blooms in hot water. So I pour in the hot water, and I watch the flower bloom. It’s a ceremony, a meditation.

As I drink the tea, I pray for help. Help in whatever it is I’m about to get started on. I pray for strength, for insight. I pray for inspiration, most of all.

If you’re not a faithful person, that’s fine. If you don’t like tea, that’s fine too. Your tradition might be to go to a specific coffee shop and order a specific drink. You might read a specific book, or do a facial, or clean off your desk. What you do is not important, it’s just the tradition of the thing. It’s just getting yourself into the mindset of beginning.

Ending ceremonies

Reward

When we reach a goal, even a little one, we should celebrate it. We should have some sort of reward to look forward to.

I know that many of the things we work on have their own reward built in. For instance, I’m working on the second draft of a new novel right now. When it’s done, I will have the reward of knowing I’ve finished the second draft of my fifth novel. And that’s freaking awesome! But I’m also going to go out to a coffee shop and sip a fancy expensive coffee and have a pastry.

That’s just this goal, though. I’m also going to go to the Zoo in May to celebrate the end of Camp Nanowrimo. Sometimes I have a celebratory soda, or I bake something. It can be anything, so long as it’s something that makes me happy.

Let go

The next thing I do is put this project, whatever it is, away. I try to get as much distance as possible. If it’s a writing project, I will put the draft away in a box with no intention of looking at it for a while. Then, I take three days off from writing before I start another project.

Finally, I say a prayer of thanks. I started this project by asking for help. No part of me thinks I didn’t get that help. So now is when I say thank you.

Move forward

Finally, I never sit on my laurels. If I’ve reached one goal and properly rewarded myself, then it’s time for me to make another goal. And so the process starts all over again.

So what do you think? What rituals or customs do you observe at the start or finish of a project? Let us know in the comments below.

Station 86 is shocked when a Khloe assassin begins killing members of the all powerful council. Officer Sennett Montgomery and Councilman Godfrey Anders swear to find the assassin after Godfrey’s wife is falsely accused. But the killer, and the council itself, are not what they seem. Neither, as it turns out, is Sennett’s daughter.

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Sennett

Sennett had rarely traveled off station with April. In fact, she’d very rarely traveled off station at all in her life. And after her experience traveling to Station Central, she doubted that she ever would again. April was miserable. She didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to read or watch anything on her tiny wrist pad, the virtual screen almost everyone wore. She complained that her seeming cuffs, which made her look like a full Earthian child, irritated her. She was deprived of her normal routine. She fussed with Bailey. She pestered Sennett and Mason to go to the bathroom, go down to see the dining room and little on board shop. She wanted to do anything but sit still in her seat, which is really all Sennett wanted from her.

“Mommy, my wrists hurt again,” she whined, rubbing at the purple cuff with bunnies. “Why do I have to wear this?”

Sennett sighed. It had seemed like a simple decision, making April wear her seeming bracelet that hid her actual image while they were off Station 86. While it was no longer a secret that she was half Khloe, half Earthian, she didn’t feel like April needed that kind of attention while they were on vacation. It was hard, though, seeing her true face hidden. She looked so much like Lo without her seeming.

“Please don’t mess with it,” Sennett sighed. She rummaged around in her bag. “I have some lotion here, just hold on.”

“Attention, Passengers,” a pleasant voice floated over the sound system. “We will be arriving at Station Central in ten minutes. Please take this time to scan your area and be sure that all your personal belongings are accounted for. Your luggage will be sent separately to the hotel you registered with at the start of your flight. Thank you for flying with Station Direct, have a wonderful day.”

“Come on, let’s get your stuff together,” Sennett said. She looked into the travel bag she’d stuffed Bailey into, checking on him. He wagged his tail pleasantly.

Liam stood up, stretching out. “Been awhile since I flew commercial. I didn’t miss it.”

“No kidding,” Godfrey muttered.

They all headed down the aisle, and towards the exit of the ship. Sennett kept hold of April’s hand, as the crowd moved slowly onto the loading bay.

“No one go wandering off once we get out of here,” Liam said. “I ain’t been to Station Central in a while, but the last time I was here it was crowded as hell.”

“We get crowds on Station 86 too, you know,” Mason replied.

Liam shook his head. “Not like this, you don’t.”

Sennett was inclined to scoff at him, as they joined the line for the door. But as they headed out into the main level, she saw what he meant.

People were packed into the level, shoulder to shoulder. They were shouting to be heard by people standing right next to them. Children were whining and crying. Thousands of screens, from wrist pads to large ones mounted on food and shopping stalls were flashing and crackling their audio.

“It’s too loud,” April said, putting her hands over her ears.

“Come here,” Sennett replied, picking April up and putting her on her hip. She looked around, marveling at how bright it was. The ceiling was blue, with strange white things floating across it. Every stall had, in addition to their mounted screens, a bright flashing marquee to display their wares above the heads of the crowd.

“What are those things?” Mason asked, looking straight up at the ceiling.

“They’re clouds,” Godfrey chuckled, looking up as well. “That looks like the sky on Earth. I’ll be damned.”

“Let’s not gawk, boys,” Sennett said. “Come on, I want to check in to the hotel and get something to eat.”

“Me too. I’ve never needed a cup of Klav more in my life,” Liam muttered.

The crowd was so thick that they were having trouble moving through it. Sennett tried to lead the way, and found that she had to almost shove some of the people to get them to move.

“It’s weird,” Mason said, “I’m used to seeing a little more diversity in a crowd, aren’t you guys?”

Sennett looked around. He was right, she saw very few Khloe, Ma’Sheed or Toth people around them.

“Not every station can be the station of First Contact,” Godfrey said.

“No,” Sennett said, “guess not.”

Then she noticed someone in a black uniform. The patch on the woman’s arm was familiar, but she couldn’t remember why. It didn’t look like the Station Central symbol, a single star ringed by ninety-nine others.

“What symbol is that?” Sennett asked.

“Which one?” Godfrey replied.

“That one,” she said, looking back towards the soldier. But she was already lost in the crowd.

“Where did she go?” Sennett whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Godfrey asked.

“I think I’m seeing things,” she replied. “I thought I saw someone wearing the same uniform as the soldiers who came to clean house on Station 16.”

“What? Where?” he asked.

“No, don’t freak out,” she said. “I’m just, I guess I’m not as over that as I thought I was.”

Godfrey turned to her, giving her a searching look. Finally, he put his arm around her shoulder. “That’s what we’re here for, for you to finally get a chance to relax.”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing around them still.

April looked around them as well. “Someone’s calling for Mr. Godfrey,” she said.

“Can’t be,” Godfrey said. “I don’t know anyone here.”

But Sennett could hear someone calling, “Councilman Anders!” She turned, looking behind them.

“We should really keep moving,” Liam said, putting a hand on her arm.

“Wait,” Sennett said.

A man dressed in a well-cut suit was waiving at them. He was a large man, a bit paunchy, with pale skin and almond eyes. He wore a silver pin on his lapel, with a single star over an interconnected S and C.

“I think that man might know you, even if you don’t know him,” she said.

“That’s usually not good,” Godfrey muttered.

The man saw them stop, and hurried up to them. “Councilman Anders,” he said, adjusting his tie. “Good to finally meet you. I’m Gene Tao. One moment, please, my mother’s just catching up.”

“Sorry, but why do I want to talk to your mother?” Godfrey asked.

Gene looked confused. “Well, because she’s Akiko Tao, Chief councilwoman of Station Central. She’s sent you several messages.”

“Ah, now I remember,” Godfrey muttered.

“Godfrey, what’s going on?” Sennett asked.

Before he could answer, they were joined by Akiko Tao. She looked very much like her son, slightly heavy with thick, dark hair and pale skin. She was shorter, though, the top of her head reaching Sennett’s nose. Her makeup was immaculate, and she wore a gentle smile.

“Councilman,” she said, her voice deep and smooth. “It’s so good to finally meet you. If you’d told me you were going to visit Station Central, I would have sent a ship for you.”

“Councilwoman Tao,” Godfrey said, reaching to shake her hand. “I’m afraid you might be working under old information. I’m not a councilman anymore. Station 86 doesn’t have a council at all. That’s why I referred you to Marshal Joy Wheatly when you contacted me.”

Akiko’s smile never wavered. “Yes, I did receive that message. I expressed concern at the time, I believe.”

“You did, yes. However, I’m not in any position to speak to your concerns. If you have questions about Station 86, please feel free to contact one of our Marshals.”

“Perhaps,” she said, glancing around them, “this is a discussion that should be had in private, away from Station Central visitors. Would you join me in my office, please?”

“No, thank you,” Godfrey snapped.

“Please,” she laughed, taking his arm. “It seems clear to me that we have some things to discuss.”

“I think you need to let go of him now,” Liam said, stepping forward.

“I’m okay,” Godfrey said, pulling his arm away from her. “Fine, I’ll come talk to you.”

“Godfrey,” Sennett said.

“I’m fine,” he said, “It’s just a talk. I’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“Glad to meet you all,” Akiko said, before turning to leave. Gene and Godfrey followed, vanishing quickly into the crowd.

“What the hell is all that about?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know,” Sennett said.

“This ain’t good,” Liam said, looking down at his wrist com. “Sen, did you just get something?”

She looked down at her own pad. He was right, she’d received a security notification. She opened it.

There was a picture of a young man in a suit and tie, it looked like an employee photo. Underneath, the message read. All citizens and visitors of Station Central, please be advised that known terrorist Jason Whitehall has escaped from police protection and is thought to be somewhere on the station. If you spot him, please contact authorities imminently. Whitehall is thought to be armed with illegal weaponry, and is suspected in the murder of May Conner.

“We try to go on vacation. Godfrey’s grabbed by the local politicians and a terrorist is on the lose,” Mason muttered.

“Yeah,” Sennett said. “That sounds about normal.”

Copyright © 2019 by Nicole C. Luttrell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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