Alexa Nichols's Blog, page 3

Dungeons & Dragons… and being Haunted…

If you follow me on social media, you likely know that I’m a huge fan of anime, manga, and roleplaying video games (Skyrim, The Witcher, Final Fantasy, etc.). What you might not know is when I was younger, I used to play Dungeons & Dragons with my big brother and his friends religiously every week and became somewhat obsessed with it. The time I spent playing that game… I suppose this explains why, when I grew older, I became so obsessed with roleplaying video games like Skyrim and Final Fantasy. And writing, for that matter. Immersing my mind into the role of another person, becoming that person for a fleeting time, and living in their world… it calls to me on a deep level.

Later on, my brother and his friends decided to do something with the game they loved so much and create a trio of worlds (Zymph, Dark Earth, and MuN), a strategic card game (Warlock: The Enumeration), and even a computer program (DM Secretary) to better help manage their Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. Though Real Life kind of got in the way and one by one everyone dropped off and the projects became inactive, they always maintained a seat in the back of my mind because I saw the potential.

I still do.

So, now that I’m winding down my writing career in a few years (2027, to be exact), I decided to pick them back up and help them blossom into what I know they can be. I’ll use my Patreon and Subscribestar.adult platforms to showcase them and see where things go from there. I’m thinking about hiring someone to make an app for Warlock down the road once I scrounge up all the notes I can find and attack my brother’s brain.

It’s going to be fun, yo, and I feel bad for my baby squirrel because she’s going to be the sounding board for so much of my craziness these next few years… 😄

Speaking of my demon baby squirrel.

I decided to start working on something extra special for Halloween – a short story, Haunted. My goal was for it to be finished by the end of the month, but that definitely didn’t happen. I have the hardest time keeping a story simple and barebones; once you read this puppy, you’ll see what I mean. Here’s the cover (which, for the first time in a long time, I made myself!):







Once it’s done and I give my Patreon and Subscribestar.adult peeps a chance to read it, I’m uploading it to Amazon. I’m proud of it so far, though it may take at least another week to finish. No regrets. It’s a blast to write.

You know, serious moment: I love being alive. I really do. 🥰

My retirement (NOT clickbait)

So I’m retiring. Not today, or even this year, but at the end of 2026 (the year I turn 40!) (😭), I’m outta here. And no, this is not a joke. I may occasionally post a story, but for the most part? That’s a wrap. Of course, this means I have a shit ton of writing to do before then, so I’m going to pick up the pace and write as often as possible because my backlog is horrendous. Especially when you consider I have to finish the Nephilim, Voyeur, and Killer Lolis series, as well as a few other yarns I haven’t even started to weave yet that are slated to be released.

And it’s not only my backlog either, but those of several pen names as well (such as my big brother’s Change series, which I’m taking over). Any of you that know me in the least know I’m passionate about writing, and my retirement may confuse you because of this. Well, I’ll make it simple: I love writing, but it is not my everything. The people in my life, both digital and non, mean way more, and the more time I spend writing is time I’m taking away from them. Time I could be enjoying them, because, you know, life isn’t promised.

I’ve lost many people I care deeply for; it’s taught me not to take them for granted.

2026 Is still a way off, however, so for now, I’m going to focus on bleeding out on the page. Which is exactly what I’ve been doing. Currently, I’m in the first of my revisions of a heartwarming little diddy called Taking Care of Daddy, a book scheduled to be released on April 1, 2024. So much fun. And… weird. 😄

I love writing, don’t get me wrong, but… to be honest, it’s going to be nice to step away from it all. I mean, by the time I’m 40, which is more or less the halfway marker for life, I’ll need to take a step back and evaluate what’s important to me and what’s not – and, of course, spend as much time as I can with the people I love before they are taken away. Or I from them. After all, no one knows the hour our time is up, right? All we can do is live like it’s our last. ✌

I died.

I had the most realistic nightmare last night, and I’m finding it impossible to shake. I stayed up late the night before because I had this writing bug (I’m putting the finishing touches on Erotic Urban Legends: Sisters, a Patreon and Subscribestar.adult project of mine, and I’m really into it!), and Anne has a dozen shows she wanted to watch on about as many streaming networks. So we stayed up, went to bed late, and I woke up at my normal 6 AM time… only for my body to tell me it wasn’t having that shit, and a nap was going to happen.

After a few hours of attempting to work, I finally gave in and took a nap.

And I dreamed…

I was at the bank, talking with a cashier for whatever reason. This guy beside me, who was also talking to a cashier, became agitated because she wouldn’t accept a sloppy-looking check of his. He argued, but she stayed firm, and after listening to this for several minutes, I decided to try and be helpful. I told him he might have better luck at a smaller place, like a credit union, and rattled off a few I knew in the area.

He seemed receptive, listening and nodding, then said, “Or I can just do this.”

He pulled out a gun. I froze. I had no idea what to do. He was a lot bigger than me, and I watched in disbelief as he moved his gun arm towards me and started shooting…

Me.

Point blank.

I dropped to the ground.

My vision went first.

My hearing dulled next.

I felt the bullets as they entered my body, but oddly they didn’t hurt – I just felt their pressure. I felt my grip on reality slip, and this strange sort of encompassing darkness began cradling me, and my heart, for some reason, started beating hard in my chest.

I was dying.

It was then that I somehow became aware that this was a dream, so I pulled myself out of it, snapping awake and looking wildly around me. My heart was going crazy, so I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down. I then grabbed my phone and started typing all this while it was still fresh in my mind (cause, you know, writer, and there’s a good chance I could make an interesting Erotic Urban Legends story using this as the catalyst).

Honestly, I’m still shook. The news lately has been getting to me far more than I let on. Hopefully, this is a one-off event and not the start of a trend. I don’t think I could mentally deal with a recurring dream like that… 😩

Writing in my panties

First of all, fuck this heat. I’m starting to have a psychological break, yo. I mean, at first it was nice, and it gave me an excuse to dress skimpy (which I love), but then it just kept getting hotter! Lately the temperature in the part of Texas I live has been hitting 105°, and… my baby squirrel and I refuse to leave the house unless we absolutely have to. We have officially become domesticated! 🤣 And I’m so strange that when we have the AC cranked up I get too cold, so I turn on my mini heater at my writing desk, but that makes me too hot, but if I turn it off, I’m freezing, which makes me turn it back on… 😭

I’ve taken to just saying fuck it and lowering the air conditioner to warm levels and just sitting around writing in my panties and nothing else. Dead serious.

Come on Winter!!!

Writing-wise, I’m all over the place. I expanded my Little Dead Girls novel by adding four novellas (Cat, Stormy, Lilith, and Brittany), detailing the pasts of some of the main characters, then became inspired by a recurring dream of mine so took a brief break to write that out… only to be distracted yet again by Halloween so deciding to give that a break and write a short erotic horror story to be released on the day of. I’m sure my Patreon and Subscribestar.adult members (who get regular updates on my writing progress) are going crazy trying to keep up with everything I’m doing. If they only saw my to-be-written pile, they would never be the same again…

I mused a long time ago in one of my social media posts that I finally came to the realization that I will never be able to write all the stories I have planned, and that revelation stunned/depressed me. Well, I’ve since changed my philosophy. Though it might not be probable, it is possible, so from now on I’m going to fight like all hell to try. 🥰

The emotional roller coaster that was July…

Note: I had originally published this in my August 2022 newsletter, but since not everyone’s subscribed to my newsletter, I figured I’d put it here as well.


Most of July was peaceful, allowing me to absorb myself with my current writing project, Little Dead Girls, and the four spin-off books that take place before the main story: Cat, Stormy, Lilith, and Brittany.

As the month started winding down, however, things began to darken.

· A close friend of mine, who is barely making it off her government SSI check as it is, had her rent raised by $100 out of nowhere.
· That same friend is also having issues getting her food stamps renewed, and no matter how many times I call on her behalf, they keep telling me the same thing: COVID/economy is to blame, so they’ll basically get to it when they get to it. She’s been waiting for them to ‘get to it since May.
· And then the most frightening thing happened: Anne, aka The Notorious Baby Squirrel, asked me to feel her up one morning before I even had a chance to get my stuff setup (I’ve known her for almost 20 years now; I’m also presently her caregiver), so I did. And felt a small hard left in the same booby she had cancer in. I immediately got on the phone with her doctor… we’re waiting for a call back with an appointment…
· On a less traumatic note, my air fryer, the love of my life, died. I was heating up a breakfast sammich and… When the timer was up, it was still cold. I tried two more times, but nothing. It was dead. Luckily I had given a friend of mine my backup air fryer, so she gave it back, and now I’m happy. But still!
· Last but not least, I took a shower the other day and decided to wear my Galaxy Watch Active because I’ve been thinking of tidbits to add to my story every time I bathe, and remembering them is annoying. So I wore my watch, put it in water mode (motherfucker is supposed to be waterproof), and when I got out… it was stuck in a boot loop. After several minutes, it died and hasn’t come back on since. Luckily I put insurance on that motherfucker when I bought it, so I’m in the process of getting it replaced or compensated, but until then, I still need a smartwatch… So I dug through my hoarded electronics, found the Pebble Time Steel my big brother got me several years ago, and found that it not only still held a charge but was at 75%! 😳 So I signed up with Rebble, tinkered around a bit, and even subscribed to their $3/month tier so I could reclaim my watch’s voice and weather features, and now – it’s up and running! Sure, it’s nowhere near as advanced as my Galaxy Watch Active, but the battery life is amazing! And it does everything I need it to do, so it will definitely work until my insurance processes my dead darling.

There you go. A month that started out peaceful and productive ended up chaotic and nightmarish, though still manageable. Let’s hope this month calms the fuck down a bit! 😄😭

My writer’s soul and erotic sisters…

There comes a time in every serious story I write (which excludes most of my Quickies series 😄 #notsorry) where a scene that I’m writing hits a little too close to home. It challenges me as a writer because my natural instinct is to avoid these complicated, revealing glimpses into my psyche, but my writer’s soul demands I not only write about them but dive headfirst into the fray without any regard for my sanity. It gets scary sometimes, the things my mind can come up with, and often I become shook with just how close I come to revealing things from my past that I would much rather keep hidden.

But I don’t. I press on. And in the end, I am always glad I did, even though I might have mentally traumatized myself for a bit in the process. It’s part of what makes writing fun for me, and it’s definitely part of how I become better at my craft. I could easily play it safe, but where would the fun be in that?

That being written…

I finally finished Erotic Urban Legends: Sisters! If you’re a member of my Patreon or Subscribestar.adult at the Initiate or higher tier you can read it right now, otherwise, it’s slated to be released October 1, 2026. And yes, this story was what I was writing about in the first paragraphs of this entry, but you’ll just have to read it to see what tidbits I’m referring to. They shouldn’t be too hard to find if you know anything about me.



Before I go. A good friend of mine, Corrine, whom I’ve known for over 20 years now, has recently been diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia and could really use some help with her medical bills. If you can afford to give anything, I would greatly appreciate it. Every little bit helps. 🧡 https://www.gofundme.com/f/leukemia-r...

Do I write what I’ve lived, or do I make it up as I go? 🤔

The most common question I get asked about being an author is how I write a story. Considering I already detailed my process in the Patreon series Writing 101, I’m not going to rehash that here. The second most common question, however, is (to me at least) far more interesting: do I write about the things I’ve been through, or am I simply making everything up as I go?

The answer isn’t as simple as one would think.

I guess the best way to answer that would be to simply say this: yes. 😄

When I write, I sort of slip into a reverie, and all manner of things make it to the page – things I’ve been through, things I’ve only fantasized about, and a weird sort of medley of the two. Now, in some of my more erotic works, the line really gets blurred, especially since I have a bit of a checkered past in that department. But in my more serious tales? It depends. There are several stories (Erotic Urban Legends tales, mostly) that I have definitely slipped some of my past experiences into, things I would never have the ovaries to just casually write about in a Diary entry or social media post, but in others? I kind of just let my imagination go crazy, pulling idea after idea from a little text file I maintain called Idea Junkyard. Though those stories are fun, they are little more than an exercise of the imagination, a creative flexing of my talents. Junk food, in a way.

The stories I have personal investments in, however, are my meat and potatoes. My five-course meals. I pour myself into those stories, and (not so) oddly enough, they tend to stir readers the most. Interesting correlation, that. There’s probably a lesson in there somewhere…

The current story I’m working on, a little ditty titled “Sisters,” has more of me in it than many may realize. The tale itself is about these two sisters who basically fall in love with the same guy, and both of them have such deep issues that the resolution of this can only be jarring.

It’s proving to be a fun tale to write, though some of it hits closer to home than I’m comfortable with. I explain why in the author notes of the story… which you’ll just have to wait to read.

Instant gratification isn’t always a good thing. 😉

Going to a dark place…

I never intended to write about this, but… a blog is all about expelling emotion and processing as you write/type, right? So I’m going to. This will be a bit of a deep post, so if you’re expecting this to be one of my usual goofy entries, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Mostly.

So.

Sometimes it’s easy to go to a dark place for me. Too easy. And sometimes, it seems like Life is hellbent determined to bring me there kicking and screaming, no matter how much I fight against it. This past week is a perfect example of that, as I was yanked from my happy place and slung into a deep state of depression, barely socializing online or in real life, struggling to keep myself productive even though all I wanted to do was stay in bed and waste away as I stared at the ceiling.

The reason? My mortality. I don’t know why, but out of nowhere, I became keenly aware of it, so much so that the thought of it gradually turned into an intense fear. I’m not one of those fake-ass people that say I don’t fear anything – I fear plenty – but the only thing that truly grabs me and clenches my heart is Death. I’ve lost so many loved ones, as I’m sure you all have, and the feeling of emptiness and longing for them still resides to this day. Time does lessen the pain, but the void never truly closes. And I’m not sure I want them to.

Anyway, there I was, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, and bam – I became crippled by my fear. It was something I hadn’t ever experienced before, like Death itself was hovering right over me, preparing to reap my soul or something. I definitely couldn’t sleep, so I got up, walked around, snuck into my big brother’s room, and climbed into bed with him like I used to do when I was little. He never woke up. Even as I clung to him, he absent-mindedly slung his arm over me and held me… and gradually, my feelings calmed, and I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke, the feeling clung to me, as it continued to throughout the week. At times, it was intense, and I fought to work past it to Adult, but it was hard. I felt like I was one step away from spelunking into a dark part of my mind that I probably wouldn’t be able to escape, like a sort of poisonous mental quicksand, one that I had to keep wading through I get pulled under. So I moved as best as possible, trying to reach out and be social but falling flat every time. The only real socializing I did was on my Patreon and Subscribestar.adult, and of course with my baby squirrel, but even they were mostly in the dark about why I was being so reclusive. It wasn’t that I was trying to be enigmatic – I’d much rather discuss, evaluate, and repair – but I didn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was. It led to a deep disconnect with the world, one that was alien to me and difficult to navigate.

Life Burnout? I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was a bonafide motherfucker.

And then my baby squirrel came along and casually asked if I remembered the California Raisins.

I told her of course I did. Nerd.

She then went on and mused what would happen if they were still actively promoted – would they be something edgier, like RWA (Raisin’s With Attitude), or maybe drop a diss track on the sun or something? I laughed so hard I nearly died. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows just the right thing to say to yank me out of my shell, and for some reason (even after knowing this wench for almost 20 years!) I never see it coming. Nonsensical goofiness. I love it.

Writing-wise, I was bopping back and forth between Little Dead Girls and Erotic Urban Legends (Sisters), but I’ve discovered that I can’t focus on writing two stories at once. I begin mixing things up and focus on the wrong one while I write. So I decided to stick to finishing Sisters first since it’s a short story and Little Dead Girls is a novel. Even though Little Dead Girls was intended to be a short story originally… I’m verbose; what can I say?

That and I have an inordinate amount of fun writing.

Anyway, sorry this entry was all over the place, but it’s an accurate representation of my headspace at the moment, you know? Regardless, thanks for reading. It means a lot. 🥰

Being passionate and how I just keep getting weirder…

Let me tell you about the struggles of my life, yo. Let’s start with the largest, most grandiose of my struggles: passion. I am a passionate person in almost everything, including writing, friends, lovers, and even addictions. Unfortunately, I can easily become consumed by any of them, so more often than not, I have a glorious burnout and force myself to pull away and recalibrate, lest I go mad. I am not writing hyperbole here. It’s happened before. Yes, I know, I am a weird cookie, but there is a reason my favorite meme is:





It’s accurate. Not only is it accurate, but I’ve actually sat in a sink and licked plates. 😄 And no, before you ask, I am not explaining why. Anyway, moving on… madness. And passion. I don’t have many unhealthy addictions, but the ones I do have are motherfuckers. My biggest, which used to be drinking, I quit cold turkey on April 18, 2021. I write that in a light vein, but the reality is it was no walk in the park. My drinking, which I had been doing fairly regularly since my teens, quickly got out of control. It used to be I would drink every once in a while, like maybe on special occasions, then it became on the weekends, then every other day or so. Towards the end, it was a daily ritual, and after a particularly nasty hangover one morning, I took a good, long look at myself and decided enough was enough. I haven’t looked back since.

I decided that if I could do that, I could do other things as well, things that would make me even healthier. So I started amping up my daily workouts, becoming meticulous with things like step goals and activity targets, watching my calories for the first time in my life, and recently, I hit a wall with one of my hardest obstacles yet: no sweets. Guys, this one is a bonafide motherfucker. I failed twice at this. This is my third attempt, and hopefully my final. I had no idea cutting out artificially processed sugars would make me this volatile, but boy. 😳 I think I’ve gotten over the worst of it, but even last night, a craving for sweets came out of nowhere that was so strong Anne had to placate me – me! – and tell me I was strong, I had this, and she wasn’t going to let me eat any junk food. She was practically petting me and scratching behind my ear. I nearly tore her head off. I tried to distract myself with my current writing project, Little Dead Girls, but I couldn’t get in the flow of the story. If that makes any sense. So I decided to harass a few Patreon and Subscribestar peeps, and after sulking for several hours, the intense urge finally passed. For a while there, it was insane.

I know one thing quitting sweets has definitely improved in my life: my energy. So much so that getting to sleep at night is proving to be a challenge because I seem to have this reservoir of vitality that constantly bubbles to the surface. I need to find a better way to deal with this. It occurred to me why this has been so difficult earlier today: I’ve been eating sweets my entire life. Of course it’s going to be hard! So, if any of you has quit sweets cold turkey and have any tips, please drop me a private message on one of my social media networks (or even email) and let me know how you did it. I need all the help I can get, yo. 😭

Being salty with my baby squirrel

So I developed this habit recently that apparently unhinged my baby squirrel. It started by accident, and because around the people I hold dear, I’m goofy as all hell. I have this thing when it comes to her, see: my goal is to make her laugh at least once a day. Dead serious. I’ve been doing this forever, and it keeps my creative juices flowing and, you know, just makes things more fun in general. It definitely keeps things interesting, especially considering how we’re inside most of the day and together more often than not.

Anyway, she was in the restroom doing a number two, and I was bored as hell (this is usually the catalyst for so many bad decisions), and I decided it was my responsibility to entertain her. Now in the past, I’ve blasted the potty song, porn, and even an instructional video on how to collect semen from a stallion. Hell, one time, I even used my collapsible pointer stick to start swatting her feet, but this time I wanted to try something new.

I ended up sliding a pack of crackers (saltines) underneath the door, the joke being she was in there so long she had to be getting hungry, but before I could utter the words, she hit me with, “Bitch don’t be getting salty with me!”

I lost it. Completely. Since then, whenever I’m feeling ultra bougie, I’ll toss that same pack of crackers (which I keep on top of her fridge) at her and throw my hands up in the air. She yells at me to quit being salty every time, and it still slays me.

I love being me. I love her. I love Life, in general, sometimes. 🥰

Except when I can’t seem to wrap up a story because I keep wanting to add things to it. Take my current project, Little Dead Girls, which I’ll be releasing to my Patreon and Subscribestar peeps in parts soon, but the rest of the world will get in a compiled form on January 1, 2024. I’m midway through revising it, see, at the point where I should basically be just fine-tuning things, tweaking events and speech, and maybe adding in a few bits and pieces to add flavor and context to the story. Instead, a thought occurred to me. Three of the four main characters weren’t really fleshed out the way I like, and trying to add in all the information in the main story just seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. You can only inject so much, you know?

It would be a lot easier to give them their own story. The problem with that is I just wanted to flush them out quite a bit but not write an entire story. I just wanted to explain to the reader why these people are the way they are without getting too out there with it, you know?

An idea came to me right before bedtime: write a short story for each, with each one being the star, and simply include them all in the main book. Each story would occur before the story proper and explain not only why these people are the way they are, but why they are best friends to boot – and add a bit more mystery to why they do the things they do.

These words will make more sense when you actually read the story.

Doing this means I have to draft up, brainstorm, outline, rough draft, and revise three different stories, and then get them to the point where they are ready to be included in the main story at the point I currently have it. In short: it’s going to make the entire project take much longer than I initially anticipated.

And you know what?

I DON’ KUR!

Being an independent writer without a publishing house to report to is a good thing because my agent would have retired long ago and checked themselves into a mental institution.

I’m a weird little cookie, I know. I’m totally not sorry. 😏