Expressions of a Writer

Life changes. Confidence falters, yet the strong remain. To endure, to grow, to exist. To be a better writer, I must not only practice my technical skills, but dabble in all sorts of ways of expression. Feel free to check out my blog, ask me  questions, explore my writings, learnings, and ramblings.


The Alundra File 01: Sinead Ahern is for sale!

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A Collection of Chaos

I had a strange day, from a fabulous fall this morning to a reconnection with one of my favorite childhood bands: Megadeth. I feel in a way that I have reconnected with my darker nature.

My taste in decoration, color schemes, and music are skewing back to the original gothic nature with a flare fantasy and science fiction. John Saul and Attack on Titan share places of honor, Sailor Moon resting beside K.A. Applegate, Stephen King standing tall with Dune; tree paintings, family pictures, gothic artwork, and a giant poster of Daryl Dixon adorn the walls.

A collection of chaos.

My writings have taken the same form. I held back for so long focused on The Black Sunrise trying to grow from a single idea, but it was impossible. You can’t. Then I read a great post by Tara Sparling: 5 Terrifyingly Awful Books I Might Ha e Written in my 20s.

Princess Serenity as seen in the manga. Unlike...
Princess Serenity as seen in the manga. Unlike in the anime, Serenity is almost always pictured with silver hair in this version (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I chewed on it for a long time. Longer then I think the average person spends on pondering blogs. The thing that resonated with me it not that I have written any of the type of book that Sparling described it is that I haven’t. I haven’t explored or wandered much father than my series. I burned the notes ages ago, I haven’t opened the document in half a year, but still, it lings like a ball and chain.

I am writing great now, writing all of the place. The new ideas are exploding, and I am allowing myself to write it all. I spent a lot of today working with the Alundra File. The one I published. Next month between the first and the third it will be offered free for anyone, so sag your copy (and I will remind you.)

I sold nine copies, which sure I went through a struggle to accept that it bombed. I don’t have the confidence to reach out to people, to solicit reviews. Even if my writing is great, I have nothing without a reader.


Today, I started working on the second in the set. I threw out the old draft I had and started from a blank page, my cursor ready.

I’d like to share the rough draft — I mean super rough of the Alundra File 02:


Sinead cracked a twig in half. Her burns healed in hours and left behind pale skin. Alex didn’t share the same luck. The skin of his neck and arm blistered, a hasty bandage of their shirts, dripping with blood holding in the gash on his side. He shivered, coated in sweat, asleep at their small fire. The agony of his wounds had taken its toll.

The days of rock, trees, and rivers followed his landing at the highest clear spot in the mountains. She welcomed that the woods weren’t populated. However, it did have one major disadvantage: Alex had a day or less and he would bleed out.

As she walked down the trail without him, she thought of the conversation that they had moments before they hit slate covered ground. She watched it’s oncoming hopelessly.

“You told me that you could fly.”

“I left out a few minor details,” he flashed the same brilliant smile as when they first met hours ago. Only now, blood and dirt speared across his face, his eyes bloodshot and every inch of skin bruised, filthy, or cut. “When my grandfather taught me to fly I was eight and sitting on his lap. He let me push the buttons and touch the wheel.”

“That isn’t flying.”

Sinead laughed at it now, but in that moment, it hadn’t seemed funny. They were fugitives in a stolen helicopter escaping from a town that no longer existed.

She followed the trail until the trees opened up exposing a maze of office buildings protected by a wire fence with barbed wire on top. The parking lot deserted save the litter.

She found a hole in the wire and slipped in. As she did a beam of light hit her, blinding her.

“I’m sorry,” the light dropped. “Can I help you … no, offense but you are … well bloody.”

She cocked her head. The speaker was a young man, spiked black hair and camouflage clothing, neither of which matched his thick framed black glasses and deep green eyes behind them. She noted the holster belted around his waist.

“It isn’t for strangers,” he shrugged. “There are all sorts of bear and wild animals that make this job dangerous.” She snatched the phone that he tried to hide behind his back, the display showed text from a book.

“How strong are you?”


I said it was a rough draft right, but I hope it gets you guys excited.

Until the next post,