The dream disturbed me. Rassmussen was not himself, and yet, he was. In appearance, he was no longer a gargoyle, rather a stocky man in his middle-aged prime. His dark hair, full of body and reminiscent of a romance novel hero, hung to his shoulders. I don’t normally like men with long hair. It often … Continue reading A Dream of My Gargoyle
After buying my way out of my contract with a questionable publisher at best, we have had to start all over with the Shyster & Shyster cover art. While this isn't the final version, it is awfully close. Purple on purple with a popping red lips suits the personalities of Lolla Brigida and Janet Shyster … Continue reading Shyster & Shyster Cover Art
Small people with small minds are toxic. They make me doubt my sanity. Part of me wants to fight as dirty as they do. The bigger part me knows for a fact that the only way to win against small-minded people is maintain my composure and be true to who I am. When I was … Continue reading Small Minds
Halloween left Rassmussen fat with candy and miserable with a cold. You don’t want to see a gargoyle with a cold. It is a horrendous sight, nose running, bloodshot eyes, and his normal gray-brown complexion muted to a sallow pea green. The oddest thing, even in statue form, his nose dripped. The most sanitary solution … Continue reading Fairy Tales and Tissues
I've decided to get a life; one that expands beyond reading and writing and spending long winter nights snuggled up to a laptop. I've heard there is a whole world out there where people actually talk face to face. Some even date. I remember dating. That was before the gargoyle moved in. I'd meet someone … Continue reading Get the Girl a Life
Every day we are surrounded by numbers. Many of those numbers have a dash or are spaced in clumps, such as a credit card number. Most people understand that a space or a dash equates to a pause when speaking the numbers. If I call in to pay my bill with a credit card, I … Continue reading Remember the Dashes and Digits, Folks!
Rassmussen wanders off for days at a time now. When I ask where he's gone, he mumbles something about mind my own business or snaps, "What's it to you?" Personally, I couldn’t care less where he goes. I just wish he would let me know how long he plans to be gone. I don't appreciate … Continue reading Running Away From Home