I am troubled for her. I want an anchor to hold and keep her from dashing upon the rocks. There’s been time and room to navigate these challenges, to circle and play, to figure eight, collide the waves.
The surface stretches out like a canvas.
I have numbers to make sense of it.
I have broken her into lines.
Now it is late and the wind picking up. Consonants are overthrowing consonants. All must be sealed and lashed for the night. The vowels are howling. Hoping to withstand the harshest critique.
i printed and read the latest draft of my book. the story holds together well. all is grammatically sound. i have spot checked for repetitions. what i studied this time around is how my story changes my mood from page to page. there’s quite a bit of desperation in the lives of my characters. inevitably they find one another and find their way. well, not everybody. some of the mood flows alongside an adrenaline rush. some of the feelings get flooded. i wanna let the sun into some of the darker places. this is my hope as i continue on with my work. it’s exciting. i think about the book all the time now.
To my loyal readers. Here you can put eyes on the preface to my upcoming novel, Ame and The Tangy Energetic. I am open to any feedback you may have…
This is not a fantasy. This is a story about friendship. About how to move on when your trust has been decimated by the world around you. About a ragtag alliance of nomads and rebels, who show resilience in the face of marginalization and cultural dissociation. This is a story about recovery from addiction and trauma. About alchemy and the turning of fear into vitality. About being real no matter what, even when you look bad. About caring in a careless world and being loyal to the ones who care about you. This is a story about love, heartbreak and redemption. And faith. This story is an oddity, out of step from mainstream literature and made up with its own rules and rhythm, and it comes from the heart of a wounded healer. Someone of no great significance, who simply survived the streets and lives to tell. This is a story for you. – Katya Mills
When they threw the book at you, you caught it and began to read. you sure had plenty of time, son. soon you were self-educated and ready to go out in the world. in your homemade uniform you promised to kick some pretty ass. you didn’t even bother to comb your hair. a child playing with a deck of cards on a doorstep, looked up when you passed by. they stood up in their overalls and saluted you. that was the moment we knew god was somehow involved.
Some kinda store. Little Bit took off as much as she could chew. What was her purpose so to do. The red book back was broken and quite mostly paper-maiche. In look, not essence. Essentially a book and no longer readable. Tragic, were it not for the hope of recyclables. Postconsumer waste repurposed, like even after she got through mashin’ the shit out of it, too! Who? Little Bit, pumpkin shopping in September, true true.