Sometimes there’s so much that you need to say that you can’t even say it. Like, it’s so overwhelmingly that to expel it will take your heart, your lungs, and organs that you can’t even pronounce. The purge will destroy you. Keeping it inside will destroy you. No matter what, it will destroy you.

I am waiting to destroy myself or be destroyed. It’s in me, waiting. I cannot purge it. It’s attached to too many VERY IMPORTANT THINGS and I’m afraid of the blood and guts that will pour out.

So I will ignore it. It will go away. Or not. Neither way is better. I just wish that it wasn’t necessary.

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Peter Blade Cover Reveal

Good morning all. I am lucky to do a cover reveal for my friend Y. Correa’s new novel, “Peter Blade.” She’s a fantastic writer and I hope that you check the book out when it drops.

Peter Blade Cover

Peter Blade
Author: Y. Correa
Genre: Psychological Drama

Release: October 31st, 2018
Available: All major book retailers
Autumn 1970, Manhattan, New York

“♫ Life gives you surprises but Surprises give you life, oh Lord … ♪”

A single night can carry both contempt and horror.

The notorious Peter Blade is on the hunt … just like many nights before. Adhering to his father’s words, “You’ve got to get deep into the gut, that’s how you’ll be able to bleed the animal. It’s the only way to get him clean …” Peter ensures that every hooker he kills is bled to pristine flawlessness.

Dancing with the phantasms of a murky past and the reality of an ominous present, Peter Blade trades places with his victims for the foreboding remembrances which cometh after dark. This night is entrenched in the unexpected and Peter finds himself contending with life and death. From dusk to dawn, Peter Blade is inescapably haunted but to what end? Which could be worse, living the terror or dying by its hands?

The Frog and the Hen: Another Fractured Fable

Once again, I am adding another fable to my collection. I will probably add this one to an anthology I’m working on about stories, fables, and fairytales from the Watchmage Chronicles’ world. Now that The Watchmage of Old New York and Cold Iron are both out, I can work on both these and the third book, The Fiddler’s Bow.

Oh, and if you’d like to jump in on The Watchmage Chronicles, the first book, The Watchmage of Old New York, is only 99 cents. Both books are free if you have Kindle Unlimited.

Watchmage black

Once upon a time, though it happens every day, there lived a frog named Bud. He lived in a swampy pond, not far from a chicken coop. He slept all day and spent all night drinking fly-flavored beer (Coors Flight: “the Buzzy Bullet”) and croaking as loud as he could with his frog buddies, Err and Weis. The croaking was so loud that it kept the chickens awake, and sometimes Weis would play his banjo, making the party even louder.

One day, Henrietta the Hen made a racket, clucking away as loud as she could. Annoyed, (because how dare someone keep him awake) Bud hopped over to the chicken coop.

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Maribell of the Needles: A Watchmage Story

I’m working on a bunch of fairy tales and short stories that take place in the world of The Watchmage Chronicles. I’ll release them in an anthology after the 3rd Watchmage novel comes out (since some of the stories take place after that book). Here’s a variation of the White Lady myth called “Maribell of the Needles.” 

Watchmage black

Maribell of the Needles

By C.A. Sanders

Once upon a time, though it happens every day, there lived a young seamstress named Maribell. Still apprenticed, she was at that tender age between the pins and the needles, where love takes hold and never lets go. It was a dangerous age indeed.

On a bright Spring morning, a knight and squire came to her village and visited her mistress’s workshop. But these shining warriors had a secret. They were not men, but the mysterious Sidhe, faerie nobles from across the Veil, where time is not the straight stitch of a hem or seam. Time is the loops, swoops, and twists of embroidery.

They entered the workshop and the knight requested a new tabard be sewn. The squire, Litrin, locked eyes with young Maribell, and swore that no woman would ever take the place of the sweet, cherub, brown-eyed, young woman before him. And Maribell felt the same, for she looked into his eyes, a soulful shade of blue. No longer was she of the pins, but solely of the needles.

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Cold Iron, Feverish Writer

Sooo, now that the chaos of Cold Iron’s book release is over, my body decided “hey, wouldn’t this be a super awesome happy jolly fun time to get sick?” Of course, it didn’t tell me this until I was mid-date with Katie, so she’s probably sick too.

At least my summer position in the job coaching program is over. I have 2 weeks of summer before school starts once again.

I hope that the cold doesn’t last that long. Despite being the size of a small bear, I am in poor health and many of my colds turn into bronchitis or pneumonia. Just something to be concerned with.

Yay

Oh, i should make a graphics ad for Cold Iron. This book is really freakin good, and I usually hate the things that I write 😛

guinea pig card