#5 – Live Video

In this video, bear with me as my son bangs on the wall upstairs (I have an indoor swing without enough clearance 🙂 ) I work from home and a mom and puppy mom, so there’s always something going on. But, I also hope you’ll appreciate insights into my novel, my life, and my takes on politics and what’s going on on with the world. I want to help you understand what’s going on, not just talk at you.

Red and the Russians

“They didn’t really care that much about who won at first, because they didn’t think the prez was going to get elected either. We were far easier to manipulate than the Russian dictator Putin could have imagined in his wildest wet dreams. He just wanted to stir up shit here and weaken the person who finally won. Russia is a country that was once a superpower, but has been fading. Putin wanted to throw his weight around on the world stage. He loves his useful idiot now, though. He’s not giving him up. Fucking Putie Pie.” Red pretended to gag.

Rachel in Morocco

They stepped inside the building and she pressed her hand against the worn smooth surface. It was deliciously chill and she wanted to press her whole body against it. She thought of a millennium of people’s lives passing by. She closed her eyes to imagine the scene. Rachel could never imagine building to suit the climate, rather than the other way around.

How Dystopian Fiction Changed My Worldview

To say I was a quirky kid would be an understatement. I preferred spending time with trees than people. Trees don’t yell or make you feel small. Trees shelter and protect, and that’s just what the little copse of bushy trees did for me as a kid. I would snuggle in the middle of their hollowed out area with a blanket and book and pretend as if nothing else existed. My early favorites were science-fiction and fantasy, but fairly quickly I moved onto more intense works of fiction, including dystopia.

Beer or Divine Inspiration? Why I Wrote this Novel.

My youngest child was just six and the thought of what life he’d have when he was my age haunted me. It was all too much. I was on overload, and I took to bed. I cried often and didn’t want my kids to see. I had a hard time interacting with them lest grief overtake me. I wasn’t eating or sleeping. Weeks passed with only marginal functionality on my part, and I knew I had to do something.