Sometimes I need to prove to myself I’m not dead


I’m working, brain, I swear I am…

Okay, just a run-down of what I’m playing with at the moment.

Short Story – 342 /10 000  (oh dear god how depressing)


“My leather armour is heavy and awkward. It reeks of sour death, of piss and blood and horses and shit. I died wearing this.”


YA Fantasy Novel – 7864/80 000


Deets uses two long narrow veils to dance with. They're wider than ribbons, about a foot and a half across, and twice as long as her own body. She curls them around her, flutters them through the air so that they weave in and out, like two snakes meeting in the clouds. And then she freezes them. They hang there, still, every curve and billow held in a breathless instant. Then, with a whipcrack flick of her wrists, she shatters the ice holding them in place, and they billow around her again. White silken scarves. No magic here, officer."


Fantasy Novel - 110 k revisions. (um yeah. I'm in full on hate with this book right now, and can't spot a single redeeming word, so this could take a while)

 hob an lam -


“I can’t hold nothing right.”



And hopefully a month’s worth of writing prompts to see if anything catches.



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