When something really resonates, I often find myself writing in my sleep. During my dreams I sometimes capture the perfect words to describe my thoughts and what is lingering my heart. When I wake the words have flown, and I struggle to recapture them so I can voice myself, my heart, my mind. Last night was the same. I wrote in my dream, had the perfect words to describe what the lyrics of “Strange Fruit” sung by Billie Holiday woke inside me. It was perfect, my words, my thoughts, accurately displayed. But with the rising sun they have faded and I am left trying to stumble my way through all I feel inside. 

I have always known of slavery, of lynching, of the horrors done to Black men and women. I read of them in black words on white pages, in history books and articles. I knew, but somehow, never “knew”. How is it that we can be taught dates and times and names and are never told the story? We’re never told in history class the way it smelled. The bodies hanging on trees, how the flies gather and the crows cry with greedy voices to devour our family. We’re never told how it would feel to stand beneath the shadow of your mother’s dead body, her eyes plucked away, her tongue sticking out, swollen in death because she choked and struggled at the end of a rope. A rope tied by angry, selfish men. We’re told and not. This is information, a picture we should all see and for some reason we have to hunt it out. Why? Why haven’t we been told ALL the stories? Why haven’t we been made to connect and feel like this is OUR history? Why do we say it is Black history when it is all of ours? The horror of it is ours. The pain they endured, all of it is OURS. They are US. They are our family and they are ignored. 

They cry, they hurt. They are WE. This horrible past is our responsibility. And don’t start the argument of “my family never owned slaves”, “my family-“ 

Shut up! That’s not the point. OWN THIS HISTORY. OWN THE HORROR. OWN AND ACKNOWLEDGE THEIR PAIN!

It happened, so show me. Show US. Make it REAL. 

Stop hiding behind shame and take responsibility. It belongs to us. It belongs to me. 

This is the history of my people, because they are MINE.

Make is Real – A Poem by L Becker

When you read of things in history class

It looks and feels the distant past

Very rarely do we compare

The distance in time from here to there

I read of slavery and do not see

Bodies swinging on the trees

I read words in black and white

Never feeling the urgency in the fight

For justice and equality

For human beings just to be free

It seems separate, disconnected from me

To this past I’ve been partially blind

Disconnected and not claiming it as mine

I have no distant relative

Who were killed because of their skin

I say what does this have to do with me?

Because what’s written doesn’t make me see

Doesn’t make me feel and realize

What children watching parents eaten by flies

I do not live inside their hearts

Having read only bits and parts

I am disconnected to the truth, to reality

Living in a bubble, white washed, so pretty

Tell me more than what is written and told

Make me feel, see, smell what it was like to be sold

Tell me more than facts and a date

Make me understand the root of hate

Bring the truth home to me

So I can finally truly be

Connected to the world in which I live

So at long last we can outlive

The past so broken and wrong

To acknowledge a people made strong

No longer shall I be

Disconnected from my world’s history.

I’m a pagan who very rarely gets to be. Who doesn’t always have the choice to observe the high holidays, the sabbats and esbats and traditions of my chosen faith. I don’t even get to observe the traditional holidays most of the world does. In part it is by choice. A large part by necessity and through survival. Self-employed people don’t always get to choose their time off. I get days off when no one wants my services, not because I choose not to work. I’ve worked on Easter, 4^th of July, Thanksgiving, every Memorial Day and Labor Day for the past ten years. I’ve worked Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and the  day after. I’ve worked more New Year’s eves than I can count and my share of Valentine’s and Halloween. It is part of being self-employed. I take the work when I can get it, which means many of my holy days you’ll find me at work, wishing I was out in nature, celebrating, commemorating and connecting to my faith.

Today is Ostara, and I am at work. I did not get to watch the sunrise over a circle, I will not get to walk under trees in the new light of spring. 

Still, I will celebrate in my way. I will take a moment to acknowledge this day, this rebirth of the sun. To revel in new warmth, new life, new everything. Spring is my season, my time. I am an April baby and with the new found sun I come alive each year. The cold melts away and I feel renewed like flowers coming back from a long winters slumber.

Ostara for me is the birth of that new life. A new year, refreshed and invigorated. I am ready to embrace the sun, the flowers. I am desperate to be outside and alive.  These sabbats are more than the acknowledgement of gods, old and new. They mark the passage of time, the reminder to be grateful because life is short and precious. The reminder to acknowledge the passing seasons, the ebb and flow of the tide of time. To remember we are connected to the earth, to nature. That we do not live apart, but a part of this amazing world. 

I start fresh, I start anew each sabbat, each turning of the wheel. I reaffirm myself to myself. I set new goals, shake off old doubts and begin again. Rebirthed and reborn so many times throughout the year, every shedding the old to don new layers of self. 

Ostara for me is another rebirth. The quickening of life and energy inside my mind. It brings me hope and happiness and, I will confess, a little fear. Not fear that time is passing or that my birthday is quickly approaching to count down the years of my life. No, the fear that something more will awaken me, the fearful mania of my Bipolar. This is the season I will go manic if I do. So while I am awake and happy, I am watching myself. Waiting, worrying that this joy is not real and will spiral into a storm of manic anxiety that will lead to fear and self-destruction. 

Still, I love the spring. It is my time.

So, for years I’ve been a PC girl and have been happy. Mostly. However, over the past few years I’ve been leaning more and more towards getting a Mac and switching OS. Most of this decision was prompted by the random virus, slowly degrading usability of my PC’s and the necessity of having to purchase a new PC every 2 years. I kept trying to find the perfect PC. But my discontent kept growing, so, after much debate I finally broke down and am now officially a MacBook owner. I knew it would happen, I’m an Apple girl all the way, owning an Apple Watch, 2 iPhones (one personal, one business) and an iPad. So, you would think the transition would have happened sooner. Honestly, I had considered a Mac, but the idea of learning a whole new OS, not to mention the price tag that is attached to one of these bad boys deterred me. Now, at long last, I gave in and bought the Mac I’ve been wanting for a long time. 

After lots of research I opted for the MacBook Air, a lightweight, mobile friendly version with a nice, bouncy keyboard, and all the benefits of an Apple product. After downloading Windows/Word for Mac OS I’ve got to say I’m already in love. Yes, there is a learning curve, but not as big of one as I had feared. I’m still trying to learn all the shortcuts, but I’m a quick study. I’m a happy girl and can’t wait to write my next book on this bad boy.

So, tell me, are you a Mac or PC user? Which do you prefer and why? Let me know. 

Until next time, 

L

Forgive and forget…we hear this and expect it to be true. That we can forgive someone and move on. That we’ll never have to face that hurt, the betrayal or the emotions that caused our hurt and anger in the first place. In my life I’ve found that not to be the case. Forgiveness is a continual process. It takes work. You can forgive someone, understand they have human frailties and still be hurt. Forgiveness isn’t a magical act that takes away the memories or the pain. Forgiveness simply means that you understand they are human and you don’t expect anything more from them. Forgiveness means that you’re letting the injury go, that you are opening up the door to maybe trust them again. But it doesn’t mean you will automatically trust them again just because you have forgiven how they have hurt you. It doesn’t mean that everything is magically ok now. Forgiveness is a work in progress. Forgiveness takes time and sometimes you have to re-forgive them a hundred times as you work out the issues their betrayal caused. You may need to forgive them again and again as you work past the hurt because, like them, you are only human. Emotional injuries, like all injuries need time to heal. Forgiveness in the beginning is the bandage needed to allow the heart to heal.

Forgiveness isn’t magic, forgiveness is work. I’ve been hurt and I’ve forgiven those who have injured my heart. I understand why they did what they did, I can understand and even empathize and still I hurt. Forgiveness doesn’t heal the wounds, it simply means your letting go and moving on, that you’re not pursuing revenge, or trying to ‘get even’.

I’ve forgiven my sister for hurting me, for betraying me and stealing years of my life. I’ve forgiven her and still, I hate that bitch.

A contradiction, huh? Not really. I understand and empathize with her. I understand the trauma and injuries in her life that formed her. I can even see her position, but that doesn’t take away the pain. I can forgive her for hurting me, understanding where she came from and why she felt she had to. I’ve forgiven her, but until she seeks absolution, until the person who broke your heart or betrayed you seeks you out for absolution and forgiveness, the issue is never fully closed.

Forgiveness isn’t closure, forgiveness just means you’re letting the wound heal and not picking at it and letting get infected. Let the wound heal. You’ll have a scar, but soon the pain recedes and it becomes a memory.

Time and forgiveness heals all wounds. Someday the pain in my heart will also fully heal. I’ll never trust my sister again, but I won’t hate her, I won’t feel anything for her. I’ll be able to look back at our memories together, the good ones and feel fondness. Remember who she used to be and accept who she became. The scar will be there, but the hate and hurt won’t be.

Until then I’ll take it one day at a time, forgiving her as I continue to heal and grow.

Until next time,

L

Writers are by nature solitary creatures. We live within the fantasies of our minds, making friends with imaginary people. Existing in a world you’ll never see.  It is what makes us what we are. We are Gods inside our own worlds, worlds in which we can spend decades, alone and never lonely, because we are surrounded by the people inside of our minds.

It is our solitude, our separation from this world that allows us to create with utter abandon in the landscape of our mind. It is something we are applauded for, something we are encouraged to nurture so we can bring to life worlds that only exist inside of us. It is what makes us writers, uniquely capable of sculpting worlds.

And then you write your first book – or fortieth – and are ready to take that next step. A step back into the mortal world to share the fruits of your creation, this world that you have sacrificed a social life for, that you have breathed and dreamed for months or even years and you find this solitude and isolated life is your enemy.

All you want to do is share  your story, introduce this world to your world. But how? You are a writer, not a performer, the limelight does not call to you. You want to share but how do you turn the spot light onto yourself when your entire life has been lived in the shadows of your dreams?

This is the question I ask myself. I’ve been writing for over thirty years. I’m a naturally shy person, more comfortable on the edges of a crowd then standing in the center ring. And yet…I need to step out of the shadows so I can give the final breath of life to my characters, to these stories that have consumed my waking and dreaming mind for decades.

How? How do I change the innate structure of my being so the world can read what I have written? How do I make you read my words when I’m afraid to look you in the eye?

And thus is the challenge of the writer…At least, this writer.

The world is burning. The world is burning. I say these words over and over again. They are the only words I can think. The only words that come to mind. The world is burning and still the violence spreads. A violence born of so much pain, decades, centuries worth of pain.

The world is burning. OUR world is burning. Brothers and sisters stand against the dark, protesting into the void, their voices never heard. Screaming, screaming to be heard.

Our world is burning…

Listen to them, listen to them. Why can’t you hear them?

Masked with silence, muted no matter how loud they scream.

The gag is ripped away and still they somehow can’t seem to hear the screams and so my world is burning. My sisters and brothers of the human race are screaming, bleeding, dying, demanding only humanity. Citizens and friends, tired of being silenced and forgotten scream. And the screaming turns to violence, to anger fueled by fear and centuries of enforced silence.

They are screaming. The world is burning. My world is burning. OUR World is burning.

My world is burning, my world is bleeding. Listen to them. Them…they…we…

Us.

Oh, my God am I tired of the “perfect” man in romance books. Ok. First off there are many – MANY – romance writers who do not fall into this trope and to them I say, “thank you”. But there are also MANY who willfully embrace this “perfect” hero. There’s also the asshole, misogynistic hero that I hate as well. This hero came into popularity in the 70’s and 80’s and has NO place in modern romance or in the real world.

Secondly I would like to again point out I write romance and my heroes are pretty damned perfect in my eyes; as long as that perfect includes some physical imperfections, emotional scars -lots of emotional scars – and some personality flaws they have to work through. They are also not always the BEST at everything. It’s important for every writer, no matter what genre, to sculpt a character that is well rounded and real (even if they are angels, demons or Other). That means they will fail sometimes, the will piss off the heroine and sometimes the reader. They will make mistakes and overall not be an unrealistic He-Man without a single imperfection.

NOTE: a single manly scar does not count as an imperfection people!

Third: Now this is what I mean about the “perfect” hero and why it’s so annoying to me: He’s always an alpha male. ALWAYS. He’s never a strong Beta or anything else. He’s always the leader of his people, the prince, the king, the boss, the CEO. He’s always wealthy, successful and most of the times a spoiled dick who “knows what he wants”. He’s always the most desirable man to all women and his sexual prowess is never questioned and his confidence never shaken. He’s always freaking tall and a body builder without having made any effort. He’s always the smartest and strongest. And here’s where “perfect” turns into misogynist: he always takes that massive Confidence and bull dozes his way over our dainty “perfect”, virginal heroine. In many cases he pushes her into sex before she is ready because he’s the “experienced “ older lover and “knows what she wants” before she does. No buddy you don’t know what she wants, you basically guilted, bullied and raped an innocent woman. – Sorry, sorry, went on a tangent right then.

I’m so tired of that alpha male entitled bullshit in books, especially in the romance genre. And thankfully, I’m starting to see some writers who are discarding that stereotypical “perfect” guy for more realistic men. It’s still a mainstay in many genres across the board. You see it in movies and TV shows as well. I want to see real heroes – I know these are fantasy and therefore will always have an unreality to them – but I want to see real, flawed heroes that I WANT to fall in love with.

This doesn’t mean you can’t have a six foot plus gorgeous Demi-god for a hero. But mess him up a little. Give him some insecurities so we see that a lot of his bravado is from the very real and human emotion of doubt and uncertainty. Do you know why we love the “bad boy” in our fiction? Because he has room to evolve into a better being. You bring me Lucifer and show me just the hint of honor inside of him and I will root for him every day. Because it makes him real.

Two authors who I feel do a very good job of humanizing their heroes are Sherrilyn Kenyon and Suzanne Brockmann. Sherrilyn Kenyon always gives her heroes deep emotional traumas that they have to overcome by the end of their story. They evolve and smooth away those sharp edges. No matter how powerful or beautiful they are, they are imperfect and have to grow to reach their happy ever after. Suzanne Brockmann writes romantic military thrillers, about Navy SEALs and other branches of the military. Her heroes are the Alpha of the Alpha and yet she manages to humanize them. To give them flaws, to shake their confidence and evolve them.

I’m tired of cardboard cut outs of heroes that have hot bodies and money. Give me a real man. Throw some age on him, add some emotional scars. He doesn’t have to be stronger than everyone else, make him just fight harder for what he wants. Make him respect the heroine and earn his place in her heart. Please, give him a few flaws and an evolutionary story arc.

And fourth: my heroes are perfect to me. They are my fantasies, some of which I’d definitely do (wink wink). All of them I love. They have their flaws and imperfections and they are hot to me.

Mordecai is powerful, all brute strength and ferocious. He’s also annoyingly stubborn, and only physically beautiful to who AG who can look past the harshness of his features to the warmth in his eyes. He’s not the leader, but a good second in command. He’s strong enough to take what he wants but for AG he’ll ask. He loves dogs and dislikes humans.

Gideon is a little goodie-two-shoes, too obedient to authority and doesn’t always think for himself. He’s absolutely gorgeous but he lets his fear of failure keep him from what he really wants and from true happiness.

Shatter is a traumatized, wounded animal. Abandoned, abused, bringing him to happy ever after is a journey away.

Nomad is an asshole. He’s rude, crude and makes me swear a LOT when I write about him. He’s stubborn, opinionated and loyal as hell. He has no qualms about killing someone but will fight to protect what is his and for those he calls friend. He’s got a lot of rough edges he needs to polish away.

Errant is under six foot and a demon; Talis is in denial and afraid; Micah is suicidal and lost; L is spoiled and a bully, but also filled with love and longing to be accepted; Sham…well Sham is bat-shit crazy and that’s a lot to explain in a single sentence. My point is they are all imperfect and perfect. They are as real as I can make them.

And that is what I want to see. I want characters to be more than the hangers an adventure is draped over. I want to see hurt and anger, flaws and failure before they reach happy ever after.
Until next time,
L

I write romance. Proudly. Not something I could have said a few years ago and not worried what people think. The truth is the romance and fantasy genres of fiction is the red headed step child. Everyone loves to read us but no one likes to admit it. We’re anything but “literary” and considered the junkiest junk food. When you say you read or write romance it’s like confessing you watch soaps or Lifetime. It’s a guilty pleasure and not taken that serious by most. Just my luck I write romantic fantasy. Talk about double whammy.

But I digress. I mention my genre because there is something I can’t stand in a lot of fiction, doesn’t matter what genre, though romance is one of the worst culprits when it comes to this. It’s the “different from the other girls” or “she wasn’t like the other girls” heroine. Seriously does every freaking heroine have to be awkward and shy? Unaware of her natural beauty while having a killer body and model worthy looks? Does she have to like to “hang with the guys” and despise or at least not understand being pampered? Why can’t a heroine be cocky and bold, knowing she’s hot? Or ugly and not giving a f&@k? Why can’t she like having her nails and makeup done and pamper the shit out of herself? Why does that automatically make her less? The Romance genre could be feminist gold and yet I find it keeps circling around to the old tropes of how to make her attractive to men. So she can’t be emotional and high maintenance, she can’t be truly shy (to the point of agoraphobic) instead she coyly awkward but not really shy. Why can’t she be the dominant in the relationship or short or tall or fat or skinny? Why can’t she hate sports and hiking? And why can’t she go hiking with a full manicure and makeup on?

Believe me that last one isn’t unrealistic. I did a three day back country hike up the coast of California with a full set of acrylic nails. Not only was I feeling pretty they came in damned handy every time I had to open that damned bear canister. Don’t believe me? I’m including a picture of me camping with acrylic nails in all their pink glory. Oh, and fat girls can love hiking. I’m more than fluffy and I love hiking and camping. I also love food and facials and mud baths and I’m a big dork.

My point is: make your heroines real. That means they can be a bitch when they are having their periods. They can NOT want to have kids. They cannot WAIT to have kids. They can want a career over anything else and still find love without giving everything up. It’s time to evolve our heroines and our heroes. Give your heroines some real traits, give your heroes some freaking flaws. And if you want a hot hero and hot heroine go for it, this is your fantasy, but give them depth of character too, make his teeth crooked or make him stink after Playing basketball, don’t have him just smell all manly and musky. Believe me, no matter how hot the dude, he gonna stink after sweating for a while. Fresh sweat isn’t bad, but let that sit after a few hours and your awkward little heroine is going to run for her life.

So write honestly and write passionately. Romance is alive and well and beautiful, but add some new angles to it.

Now before you read some of my work and call me out as a hypocrite let me say:

AG is ballsy and doesn’t take shit from anyone. She’s hot but doesn’t have any boobs to speak of and can be short tempered.

Faith is hot, but she’s also plump, with big boobs that do not lend themselves to grand adventures. She isn’t shy either. She’s sexually bold and asks for what she wants.

Becca is plain. But to Nomad she is astonishingly beautiful because he sees her soul. The rest of the world sees a shy, glasses wearing mouse because she really IS a shy glasses wearing mouse. She is scared of the dark, traumatized and doesn’t believe in herself. She has to learn to embrace her power. She’ll do that on her own with or without her Downcast Angel.

Ruth is over 40 with a full grown daughter; Haley is not just plump but downright fluffy; M is bold, demanding, bisexual and confident. They vary in temperament and in looks. To the world they may not appear unique or “special” but to their angels, demons or other, they are perfect. I believe in romance and happy ever after, but only if they put in the work. Which means he’s not perfect and she’s not perfect. Just like in real life – If real life had immortal angels, a few demons and an Other or two.

Well until next time, that was my two cents!

L

Writing a series is hard. And not just in the planning and maintaining continuity. Not just in the developing of characters and story arcs over multiple books. It’s hard in the day to day. But what I find very hard is not spilling my guts about each new story I’m working on.

I mean right now I’m working on book 4 of my ShadowGate series, yet I’m marketing book 1. So I can’t just go hey everyone guess what? And throw out all these details about the book I’m working on without giving away plot points for the three preceding books. Can you even imagine how frustrating that is? I want to tell the world all about this story I’m writing but I can’t because they have three books to go before I can say a damned thing!

Series are HARD!!!

I want to tell everyone about this story, I want to write articles about it and post in my blog but I can’t say a single word. Ok, yeah, sure I could be really vague and be like, “I’m writing a story about two persons and it’s in the ShadowGate world”, but that’s basically it. So frustrating! I’m just sitting at home screaming into a pillow because I want to give away ALL the spoilers.

And you know what’s even worse????? Knowing the whole f@$king history of my series and universe and not able to say a freaking word because I have to wait for it to be revealed in proper order!!! OMG I’m dying with all these spoilers!!!

At least once book 1, Angel’s Gate, is officially released I can start talking about book 2, Guardian Angel. True I can’t give away too many details, because again, have to wait for people to read it and it’s release date isn’t until end of 2021, but at least I’ll be able to release some of the Character Profiles and talk about the process.

But that means I won’t be able to give ANY details about book 3, Angel Child, until AFTER Guardian Angel is released and that means I’ll have to wait until 2023 to tell you ANYTHING about Cerviel and Micah!!!

UGH!!!!!

I just want to tell you everything! I want to tell you all about Shamshiel and Shatter and Talis and Cerviel and Micah and Nomad and Becca and Faith and Gideon and and and and….See there’s just so much I want to tell you!!!

But I’ll be good and wait. I’ll talk about Angel’s Gate, promote and wait for you to read it before we can talk about everyone else.

But….I can maybe say a little something right now, like just a tease right? Angel’s Gate is available for pre-sale RIGHT now, so you can read it and get all the details. Guardian Angel…want a little hint? You’ll meet Lucifer in this one.

And Angel Child? Take one angel love child, one Angelic Assassin, add lots of demons and you’ll get an interesting cross country road trip. What? Did you expect me to give away everything? Ok, I’ll give you one more taste:

“Now he was driving a stolen truck, praying his Grace would come back before something REALLY bad happened. Like maybe Armageddon or a plague of frogs or Starbucks ran out of Pumpkin Spice and the basic bitches of the world united in their outrage for the weirdest zombie apocalypse he could think of.

SPICE, PUMPKIN SPICE…he could just picture them in their sweaters and Uggs and yoga pants…

“Pumpkin spice?” Becca asked him abruptly, the confusion in her voice seeming to trump even her copious amounts of fear. “What the hell is a pumpkin spice zombie?”

Nomad nearly drove them off the road when he realized she’d just read his mind.” – Angel Child coming 2022

And now for the one I’m dying to tell you about….Sanctuary. All I’m going to say is it’s a love story. Sorry, I’m not saying anything else…

Between angels!

Really, not saying anything else….

So….until next time,

L

The brochures are piled up,

So high the tower begins to sway

So much to choose from

So much to see

How can I decide?

My visit here may be limited

My schedule not as open as I please

This trip is work related

But some of the time will just be for me

Should I go to Rome?

See the acropolis?

The pyramids at Giza?

Stonehenge, the Grand Canyon

Niagara Falls or Belize?

Will I have time to visit more?

Between Crop circles and probing

Surely I can see at least three.