Cover Love

A book cover matters. Maybe that’s not a popular opinion. Sure, the blurb is also important, but the first thing I notice is the cover. I know we don’t want to think of ourselves as superficial, but let’s get honest about this; sight is the first sense we use to catalogue all kinds of information. It’s natural. It’s normal. So let’s forgive ourselves for saying that how something looks matters. It does. Especially a book cover.

So this is an embarrassing post, but I also think it’s important to showcase that it’s okay to make mistakes and learn from them too. This kind of transparency about my author’s journey serves to exemplify that I got it wrong, and though I’m initially embarrassed, I’m also kind of proud too. I was brave enough to take the risk, make mistakes, and learn from them. 

In a new author resource book I wrote called The Indie Author Book Planner: Navigating Indie Publishing to Establish Your Brand as an Author (officially releasing June 1), I talk a bit more about why I made the choice to rebrand the Cantos Chronicles. On Instagram, I’ve been showcasing the evolution of The Cantos Chronicles covers from my first jump into publishing to where they are today.  It’s been fun remembering Swimming Sideways and The Ugly Truth, and today reveals the evolution of The Bones of Who We Are. I threw in the change for The Letters She Left Behind too, for kicks.

I’m so excited and proud of the new book The Stories Stars Tell. And I love how the upcoming releases In the Echo of this Ghost Town and When the Echo Answers connect aesthetically. Super cool how Sara Oliver made that happen. She’s a wonderful cover designer.

Here a few of my favorites covers I thought about off the top of my head. This isn’t an exhaustive list but I’ll start keeping track so I can do a fun cover post toward the end of the year. I also need to be honest about Wilder Girls; I DNFd the book (I made it through 100 pages and just couldn’t keep reading). BUT THAT COVER! Also, I couldn’t choose which Aurora Cycle Book Cover I liked best; all of them are gorgeous!

Writing Limbo

I’m in writing limbo. It’s the in-between space when I finish one project and need time to refill the well. It’s uncomfortable here. I have several projects waiting in the wings, but I’m not ready for them; my well is empty.

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What do I need to refill the writing well besides time?

  • Rest

  • Reading

In the meantime, I will be a part of my first in-person author event this Saturday (May 15 from 11am to 1pm) at Village Books & Music at Ward Center on Oʻahu where Iʻll be reading from Swimming Sideways, answering questions, and signing books. Iʻm super exciting but also nervous.

Writing In Between

I’m in The Fold of Ravka (and, yes, this is a plug for both the books and the Netflix series which is awesome). Why am I in the Fold? I’m in between writing books and am ducking Volcra trying to eat me as I try and find my way through the dark.

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I have all of these ideas: several new contemporaries, an adult romance, a dystopian idea (can’t work on the fantasy right now since it’s resting for the next eight weeks). I don’t know where to go. The thing is, I do this every time. I finish a book, then spin in the dark unsure what’s next, worried I’ve lost my way, and struggle with the doubt that I’ll ever be able to do it again. 

But somehow, I find the thread of light. I find my way through it and out the other side to write a new story. Not sure what’s next, but in the meantime, here’s a snippet of something I wrote while hanging out in the dark.

If you’ve read The Cantos Chronicles which starts with Swimming Sideways, you might recognize some of these names.


Something New…

I don’t need snow today, and it isn’t even the good kind. Instead it’s wet and slushy, sinking razor cold teeth into everything. Fitting really. I was prepared for the rain. Freaking Willamette Valley weather. I’m still getting into the swing of things after winter break. The swing of a new term, new classes. The swing of being single again, not that it’s much different than when Sebastian and I were together. Six weeks removed, and I’m seeing that more clearly, now. We’d been going through the motions as a couple, far longer than in the swing of two people truly in love, and I should have seen it but hadn’t until it was removed.

As I was walking out the door of my apartment to leave for work, he’d called. That was not in the swing of things. My axis, which had finally regulated, tilted more than I cared to admit.

“I’m just checking in on you,” he’d said.

I could picture him sitting at the desk in his bedroom at his own apartment running a finger along the edge like he often did when he was on the phone. His bedroom barely controlled chaos behind him. His curly dark hair in need of a trim. I didn’t like that I could picture him with clarity still. 

“That isn’t your job,” I’d answered as I checked the locked door of my apartment, then started down the sidewalk to my car, annoyed at the intrusion but also conflicted by it. I thought I’d been in love with him. I thought he was probably the one, then I got the We should talk followed up with him dating a new girl a week after that talk.  Nine months together, most of them pleasant, the comfort of sliding back into an easy pattern of behavior that feels safe and secure is tempting. “Why are you calling?”

“I just–” he’d paused as though weighing and measuring the impact of his words. This was a usual Sebastian speech pattern, as though he hooded his words, himself, in the guise of how he said something to make me feel complacent but equally unsure.  “I know the anniversary is coming up, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

I had a fleeting thought that maybe he’d been planning on saying something different, but then settled on what I’d heard. I dismissed the doubt. My normal pattern of behavior where he was concerned. What he’d asked was more endearing than holding onto any negative thoughts about his intentions. “I’m going home. I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

I’d climbed into my car, phone pressed to my ear with my shoulder holding it in place. Once inside the car, I’d started it, the phone switching to bluetooth, and I sat there, waiting for the car to warm up but also for him to say something else. The silence between us stretched into awkward territory. 

“Was that–” I’d started.

“I miss you,” He’d said at the same time.

“I’m not sure what to make of that.” My heart stalled in my chest, frozen in suspended animation awaiting something to bring it back to life. Being with Sebastian was so easy, yet he’d moved on way easier than me. I suspect it had started long before we actually parted ways. That hurts. The knowledge that I’d been so easy to replace slashed and burned the already broken parts of me. I was sitting in the car feeling like a hollowed out version of myself, and I wasn’t sure anything would ever feel normal again.

“I feel sort of lost,” he’d said. “And you always helped me figure myself out.”

My eyes had slipped closed. Always what I could do for him, just like my sister, Ruth, pointed out over the break. “He’s selfish,” she’d said. I’d opened my eyes back up and drove from the parking lot toward my job. “Sebastian. I can’t do this.”

“Hannah–”

“We’re over. Remember?”

His silence was confirmation enough.

I took a turn. “I can’t be your go to, Bash.”

“You’re right.”

I parked the car and sat back against the seat surprised by his admission. This was different for us. The swirls of us had mostly been the opposite, Sebastian maneuvering the conversation to where it was in his favor, and me capitulating. “I have to go to work.”

“Okay. Maybe I could call you later?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just to talk.”

I sighed. “Okay. Sure.”

We’d ended the call, and I sat in the car imagining myself the shape of a gooey heart where everything gets stuck inside the viscous jelly of my inability to set limits. I folded forward with my head on the steering wheel and bumped my head a couple of times with annoyance. Why couldn’t I just be stronger? Returning to rehash Sebastian even if that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about wasn’t good for me. It was good for him.

Now, I look up at the clock and hustle from my car. I need to get back into the swing of work, and because of that call, I’m running late for my shift. I hate being late; I hate letting anyone down.

 I rush through the doors at Hammerson Library, my eyes unfocused and replaying the conversation with Sebastian in my mind, and bump into someone hurrying out. The books in my arms flop out, falling to the ground in a syncopated succession of thuds. “Oh. I’m so sorry,” I say, and bend down to pick up the books which I don’t want to get wet. Shoot. Shoot. I’m going to be late.

“So sorry,” a deep voice says at the same time. “My fault. I wasn’t–” A familiar voice. Stalled now on his last word. “Hannah?”

I glance at a face I recognize. Warm amber eyes. A dimpled smile. 

A smile spreads across my face. “Seth! What are you doing here?” My smile won’t stop and communicates with the rest of my body that it needs to get involved in the joy. My heart hammers against my ribs. My face heats.  

He looks like high school Seth, but different. Older. Slightly crooked nose, mouth with perfectly proportional lips that cut adorable dimples into his cheeks when he smiles which he does now. Light brown hair—darker now— styled so that wavy locks stray across his forehead. He’s still taller than me.

My heart adds a hot hum of awareness in my chest. 

Because he’s my friend, I tell myself. One I haven’t seen him in a long time.




April Challenge: Update No. 4

It’s the final update for the April Challenge. There’s good news and bad news.

I’ll start with the bad: I didn’t write everyday.

I have learned this month that an important part of my writing process is the necessity to step away and allow the story to rest while the flavors meld. It reminds me a bit of that space between a finished draft and a revision. When I attempt to force it, I mess things up—like globbing on too much makeup— and then have to do a lot of rewriting. When I’m patient, however, I’m able to approach the writing with clear understanding and perspective. So this month, those goose egg days were time spent away, but time thinking things through.

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So, the good news is that this first draft is complete even if it’s only bones. Better yet, I have a sense of how to revise! Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!

I must share some credit for this breakthrough. My wonderful writer friends, Brandann R. Hill-Mann, author of The Hole in the World series, and Stephanie Keesey-Phelan were gracious enough to read the first act for me. Brandann offered me this golden nugget: “What would happen if this story occurred in a white room, removing the setting?” The obvious outcome is that if you can remove the story to a white room and the story essentially remains the same, the setting either doesn’t matter OR the setting isn’t working hard enough to help tell the story.

Lightbulb moment!

I realized while I could remove this story to a new setting and still have a story, that wasn’t my problem. I’ve written strong characters, and one of my strengths as a writer is being able to write character driven narrative, but plot driven narrative, which is important to fantasy as a category, is sorely lacking. My problem was that I hadn’t weaved the setting enough into the conflict to support the plot driven element.

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So dear friends, I’m smiling as I finish out this April Challenge, because I have a draft, and I have a sense of which way is forward. THAT is exactly what I’d hoped to achieve. Time to set this book aside for several weeks, work on that setting and conflict, then it’s time to revise.

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April Challenge: Update No. 3

I’m cranky.

Maybe that isn’t the best way to start off a blog about the Work in Progress, but this story is so hard to grab ahold of and hang onto. It feels like trying to hold onto water. Just when I think: Oh! That’s it! the idea slips away. This hasn’t kept me from writing forward, however. I’m still just getting story—the good, the bad and the ugly—on the page.

So the stats:

  1. I wrote 5 of the 7 days.

  2. I wrote approximately 7,000 words this week for a total word count for April of 26,000 words give or take a few.

  3. I don’t think I’ll make a 50,000 words added, but I do think I’ll have a rough idea of the book beginning to end, and that was what I’d hoped for.

  4. One more week to go…

So, as promised, here’s some story info about this book tentatively titled Deconstructing Cale Elysian:

The original blurb:

For nearly nineteen years, Cale Elysian has lived a sheltered life. Whether it’s in the country manor where he resides with his family or the dormitory school life that he’s shared with his friends, he knows little beyond the confines of this existence. And lately, that awareness has begun to fester into wishing there was more, wishing he was more. He feels like a blank slate and no prospects to change it. Unable to go with his friends on the traditional, celebratory Grande Tour around the continent of Anola following their Year 7 exams, Cale resigns himself to the fact he’ll have to live vicariously through their stories when they return. He can't change the characteristic overprotectiveness of his father or the fact his step-mother is dying, after all. 

But when two strangers show up at the manor house with a magical item and dangerous intent, Cale realizes that not only has his father’s overprotectiveness been warranted but that magic, he thought was only in stories, exists. More outlandish, Cale learns that he and his father have powerful magical abilities that have had them in hiding. Worst of all, Cale comprehends his father has been lying to him his entire life. 

Separated from his family and on the run from a danger he can’t identify, Cale is ill-equipped to navigate the complexities of the world. Though he has a treasure map of memories his father gave him as a path to his true self, his strongest assets are his best friends, Yoneo, Jem and Domis who await the adventure of the Grande Tour of Anola. While Cale hides in plain sight among them, his odyssey will challenge everything he’s ever believed about himself and his family. It will test and define his relationships with his friends in new and complicated ways. By the time he collects the last of the hidden memories, Cale will have to decide once and for all who he really wants to be.


The Cast of Characters

Cale: The main character. It’s his journey of self-discovery. He learns he has a magical ability and everything he understood about who he is has been a lie. The most complacent of the group, Cale usually has gone with the flow, but now, his old ways of being have been stripped away as he begins to redefine who he is.

Yoneo: Cale’s best friend. They met when they were ten, and have gone through all of their school years together as dorm mates. Yoneo is wise. Of the group, he’s the one most likely to diffuse a fight.

Jem: The most rambunctious of the group, Jem is willing to do anything for a good time and a laugh. He’s got the privilege and the money to back up his escapades, but he’s also a hot-head, so watch out when he’s angry. He’s the activity director of the group, he has all the best ideas for getting into trouble, and out of it.

Domis: The logistician of the group, Domis is who everyone goes to when they need to think a problem through. Jem’s roommate for all their years at school, he’s also the best one to pull Jem from one of his moody funks.

Siha: The newest addition to the group, Siha has the most street smarts of the bunch. She’s wily and wise when it comes to keeping them safe from whatever is on their trail.

April Challenge: Update No. 2

An IMPORTANT bit of Writer Wisdom

(Which I often forget)

Good news! My daughter is home after nearly a year away. Oh how I missed her.

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Bad news: I didn’t write for three of the seven days I was supposed to, choosing to spend time with her, instead.

Oops . . .

Here’s my two cents: I know that I often get caught up in my writing. The narrative, the characters, the thinking that happens in that process sweep me away like a current so that I forget to be present in real life. I could feel guilty for not writing (and often do), but am choosing not to. Being present is so important, and though I have to remind myself to do that very thing—to be in the moment IRL—those aren’t moments than I can get back.

So maybe I didn’t get enough writing done, or I failed on my goal to write everyday. O’well. It will still be there. I will pick it back up and keep moving forward.

I vow not to miss out on the important stuff (or guilt myself for missing the writing).

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April Challenge: Update No. 1

5 Things I’ve learned this week about my drafting process:

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I’ve added over 10,000 new words to my 82,000 word draft this week, which brings to word count total to around 92,000. Word count, shmurd count, turd count. Honestly, the quality of those words are crap, but I knew this going in, and I admitted it before even beginning.

So here are things I learned this week about myself as a drafter and about the word count:

  1. I will avoid climbing the mountain of drafting like I avoid exercise. This procrastination lasts until I can’t anymore. But, I am also motivated by being held accountable to the external impetus (YOU), so though I procrastinate, I am still writing forward (at the last possible moment).

  2. Once I’m sitting down to write, there isn’t much to get in my way including family or dogs who might attempt to interrupt. You need to go outside to pee, dog? Hold it. 

  3. I get really cranky when I’m drafting. Don’t talk to me or I might bite your head off (poor family).

  4. When I get stuck, I follow the Peter Elbow model of writing forward: the freewrite (which means I just word vomit on the page to get myself thinking again. So I have a bunch of words that aren’t even connected to the story but are rather my own subconscious conversing with my conscious self, then suddenly I’m back in the narrative, moving on with the story). Keep in mind, that word count report is padded with a bunch of words that won’t even be in the story.

  5. If the Peter Elbow Freewrite doesn’t get me moving, I know instinctively that it’s because I don’t understand something about the character and the conflict. So my next step is to jump into a character interview. Remember how I said the word count is padded with words that won’t make it into the story. Yes. The character interview is one of the reasons why.

  6. Bonus: Word counts aren’t very motivating for me, but coloring in the calendar I made, super motivating. Posting to TikToc and Reelz has also been fun even if getting the words was slighly torturous. I also feel accomplished when I’ve written something that feels like a keeper or that I realized helped me understand something that will contribute to a scene. Those are gems.

I keep reminding myself that the  goal for April isn’t about the word count, even if that’s how I’m holding myself accountable (which means I may relook at how I’m reporting the progress). The goal is to finish the draft of this story. While there’s a modicum of some stuff that will be salvageable in what I’ve written this week, it’s going to take a lot of revision and rewriting to make it useful. On the flipside, however, there is something there to work with that wasn’t there before. I have a trash heap to go through to find what’s usable. 

Remind me: It does not have to be perfect. DOWN WITH THE OPPRESSOR (thanks for that, Anne Lamott).

Next week: Weekly update Number 2

April Challenge: Finishing the Draft

Have I ever mentioned I was writing a fantasy book? Probably once or twice if you’ve been following my writing journey for any length of time. Or maybe this is new information. I started writing it over ten years ago, and for the last ten years I’ve started and stopped and tinkered and dabbled. The story has undergone a series of overhauls because I inevitably get stuck. A year ago—almost to the date—I scrapped everything I’d written chalking it up to world-building and started over. Over the last year, I’ve gotten the closest to a finished draft than I ever have, which is both exciting and terrifying.

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Why?

Because this book has become my personal Camino de Santiago, my creative pilgrimage. Despite my many years of writing and having written ten books over my lifetime, this book has been the one that alludes me and makes me feel like I’m fooling myself as a writer. I set it as a goal, the unattainable one that is a moving target of someday

As a contemporary writer for the most part, there is safety in the known. I can draw from the world around me. I can create a place rooted in the safety of a world that exists in the here and now. The process for writers of historical and fantasy face a different challenges, and for fantasy, specifically, one of those challenges is building a world, its inhabitants and its systems from scratch.

And I’m close!

I made a promise to myself to use April as the month to finish the draft (or work hard trying to do it).  April is here.

So here are the current Fantasy WIP stats:

  • This WIP is currently at 82,000 words.

  • It is tentatively titled: Deconstructing Cale Elysian.

  • There is one main protagonist—Cale— with a cast of “found-family” characters around him.

  • While the story would be categorized as a high fantasy because it is in a brand new world with new systems, the story is driven by low fantasy elements to keep it grounded. 

  • There is a magic system.

What I hope to accomplish this month (so you can hold me accountable):

  • I want to add around 50,000 words (like during NaNoWriMo), or as many as I need to get this book close to a finished draft.

  • I’d like to shut down my perfectionist tendencies and just write forward (it has been harder with this book than my others).

  • I’d like to share my weekly updates with you here and on Instagram each Wednesday. 

That’s it.

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Here’s a snippet of what’s been written. This is from the POV of Cale’s best friend Yoneo:

Yoneo squinted in the darkness of his tiny attic room of their family cottage. Wondering if he heard something, he waited. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes again and rolled over deciding one of his sisters—probably Teniko, who was hiding a new, secret lover—was sneaking back into the house. The brin coursing through his system was wearing off, leaving a nasty headache in its wake which required sleep. When he heard the tap again, his eyes snapped open; he sat up and groaned. 

“Teniko, if that’s you, I’m going to kill you,” he whispered it to no one in particular since if it was in fact his sister, she wasn’t in the room. 

Being stuck between a quartet of sisters was a challenge in and of itself, add the extra pressure of being the only boy and it increased exponentially. The oldest sister, Nika, had paired last summer and lived in Billerdem with her partner, but that left the other three, Kira just above him, Teniko who was just below him in birth order and drove him crazy most of the time, and then the youngest Martika. While he had lots of attention, it was often too much, and his dad wasn’t much of a respite wanting him to be the strong silent type he could count on while his sisters nagged him to share his feelings. It was exhausting. 

Yoneo rolled from the comfort of his bed and slogged his way around Teniko’s bed where his sister was actually sleeping.  Which meant, if it wasn’t her, it was someone else. His heart picked up speed wondering who in the blister of the dark would be throwing pebbles at his window. Probably Jem since he’d be the only one likely to do something so irrational. But that didn’t make any sense. Yoneo loosened the fastener and pushed the window open, not particularly concerned it would be someone dangerous. They lived in the tiny village of Brockton, for light’s sake. 

“Yo?” A familiar voice sort of whispered up from the garden below.

“Cale? What are you doing? Your dad is going to kill you!” Yoneo whispered back.

“Can I come up?”

“Wait. I’m coming down.” Shock flooded his system. Cale sneaking about was like Hah stopping its rotation around the suns and then changing direction to go around the opposite way.

He moved through the cottage with care avoiding the creaks of the old home. Like the third step on the way down the stairs along with one right at the bottom that seemed to have an odd thump when you removed your weight. He took a wide step just the other side of his parents bedroom door to avoid the squeaking floorboard, and when he opened up the door, he made sure to do it slowly so it didn’t groan. 

His friend was nowhere to be seen in the yard, the bushes, the herbs and flowers his mother coddled looking more like a wild meadow than a manicured garden. “Cale?” Yoneo whispered into the dark. 

Cale stepped out from behind a tall shrub. It was difficult to see him in the dark, though the moon provided some light, but not enough to chase away the shadows. He looked weird. And lumpy.

“What are you doing? I thought you were sick,” he said. “Come.”

Cale moved down the walk and into the house, looking behind him as he went.

“What’s going on?” Yoneo asked once they were inside and the door shut behind them.

Yoneo’s father coughed, and he held a finger to his lips. It wasn’t that his dad would be angry that Cale was there, but the man loved his sleep he had so little of it. His temper was formidable. “Wait,” he whispered, went up the stairs retracing his silent steps, grabbed some blankets, and returned to Cale the same way. The difficulty of having so many people in a tiny little cottage meant there was no space. “The barn,” he whispered and led the way to the out building.

When they were safely inside and out of the hearing of his family, Yoneo asked again. “What’s going on?”

Cale’s face, despite its usually golden glow, looked pale and stricken. 

“Are you still sick?”

Cale flopped into a pile of straw and it was then what had made his friend look lumpy; he was carrying a bag. “I’m not sick.” Cale finally said after some time.

“Are you running away?”

“You could say that. I’m going on The Tour.”








Character Speaks: Dear Paola, from Gabe

Dear Gabe,

I wish I could give you a hug that will make you feel all the love of the universe...all the love you deserve.

Love, Paola




Dear Paola,

I feel all that love. I feel it, now. Thank you. Your wish carries a promise of future benefits not only for me, but hopefully a pay-it-forward to anyone feeling like I once did. Your message needs to be shouted from rooftops and carried throughout the world because there are so many in need of it.

I remember when I didn’t understand that kind of love, and one of the sentiments of your note that stood out to me was “all the love of the universe”… I hope it’s okay because it inspired me to write a poem. So, for you, Paola:

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Constellations

By Gabe Daniels

We are stars,

Swallowed by bruises,

Hidden in fractured hearts and lonely thoughts,

But shooting stars 

Trailing stardust

Leave guiding paths to light a way.

We venture across the purple-blue sky—

Tentative—

Finding other stars 

Burning bright, reaching

Arms filled with Light and Love.


Though a bruised sky swallows

A single star,

Together, a constellation, 

Shines love to divide

The purple-blue sky.

And the Sun rises.


Thank you so much for your Inspiration and warmest regards,

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Character Speaks: Dear Sam, from Seth

From Sam (October 2019)

“…When I read, I often think of music that fits the situation […] for this little zine piece, [this is the music] I associated with Seth’s character.”

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Dear Sam,

WTF?!? You took the time to make that cool zine? (What’s a zine anyway?) I can barely bring myself to work on my homework, and as you already know, my art consists of ripping up colored paper for a mosaic project. Paper, destruction, and glue. Sounds about right. I’m impressed by what you’ve made!

I listened to all the songs you suggested. Moody, monstrous, heartfelt are words that come to mind and for real, that was me, then. I think my favorite track is “If You Want Love” by NF.  The pictures sort of hit me hard, you know, like I needed a trigger warning, but frick, my life then needed a trigger warning. Everything was so messed up. I think your art reflects the pain of that time. I’ve put your work somewhere safe, because I don’t want to take for granted my life. Ever. I can take out the zine and remember where I’ve been and what I’ve survived, you know?

The Ugly Truth is a story that feels so far removed from who I am now. Granted, it’s taken a lot of things to change. My parents separated after all that went down, but they agreed to therapy both together and on their own. I did too. Dad’s still sober, and they got back together during my senior year. Did you know we moved away from Cantos after I graduated? I’m in college now, and I’ve been through a few different therapists, but now I’m seeing this lady named Dr. Bethany. She calls me out all the time. I hate it and I love it. Does that make sense? She’s awesome.

It’s weird to think that my story connected to someone else, meant something. Makes it feel like sharing it was “right”. I guess that’s what stories are for, though. Connecting?

“Thanks for taking the time” seems like a trite way to say “thanks”, for this amazing effort of creativity on your part, but I do mean it. The zine is super cool. Really cool. I’m super stoked that I get to share it with others.

Keep surfing (whatever it is you surf), Sam.

Peace,

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Note from the Author: Don’t forget to submit your letter, question for a character by February 22! You may be featured in the coming weeks. Email me or click the link to this FORM.