Ellie Potts's Blog, page 22

Ten things about me

Ten things about me for fun.

I am a procrastinator even though I should know better.I like to create lists and attempt to follow.I love to read almost anything.I love blue Poweraid, just the blue though.I love tea, over almost anything else including Dr Pepper. And I love Dr. Pepper.I have an addiction to sweet tarts, which I am not supposed to eat.I am a die hard Fangirl.I love to TV binge.I love my stories so much I almost don’t like to share them.I love music more then I like almost anything else, including tea.

Author… Writer… Creator…

I never really planned on being a writer. I just liked to make up stories. As a little girl I had an overactive imagination. No dolls or toys, no problem, I could make them up with paper. I lived in fantasy worlds, I created space stations, and endless love stories. I loved telling a story and everyone being captivated by it. I just turned that making stories up, and put them on paper.

In 8th grade out English teacher had us create our own short story and mine was the Tell of the Baby Snatcher. It was about a young girl who was babysitting. A monster came and tried to steal the little boys she was watching. She had to put up a fight but she saved the boys. I received an A+ on the story. My first real A that I didn’t have to work on extra credit for. It made me so happy.

Before high school I wrote my first fan fiction based on Newsies. :o) Yes that was fun.

In high school I started to use the trusty type writer and I created Ellie’s book of Evolution. I angered some people with this, only because of their closed mindedness. I covered different theories from aliens to aliens.

Soon enough by the end of high school I had already had a three ring binder full of short stories. Halfway through my first year in college I had two, and had started on my first novel. Why because me and my friend Author Toy Davis were hanging about writing talking about how we should write novels and bam we started that night and began writing. Her’s a vampire novel and me a witch novel.

I never really thought about publishing or anything like that. I just wanted to tell my stories. Great therapy because you can do whatever you want in your worlds and be whoever you want.

Writer’s Block

Photo by Negative Space on Pexels.com

Writer’s Block- The condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing.

This happens to even the best writers. I let myself get distracted…

Here are some tips to help with your writer’s block:

1. WALK AWAY
Walking away from your computer, tablet, paper, or notebook can provide the break you are looking for. Staying in the same place will only discourage you more so walk away and give yourself a chance to take the necessary mental break.

2. WRITE SOMETHING ELSE
Sometimes writer’s block occurs because you just don’t enjoy the topic you are writing about so try writing about something else. For example, write about the events of your day, a hobby you enjoy or even just draw some pictures to distract yourself. After this, go back to your original topic with a more refreshed and relaxed mind.

3. READ SOMETHING ELSE
Taking a break from your own writing to read something else may provide a new idea or inspiration for your own writing.

4. MAKE A LIST
Write what you know…make a list of everything you know about the topic you are trying to write about. Creating a list will provide you with new directions and areas to take your story. The list may also provide you with new topics for the future to add to your blog’s editorial calendar.

5. RESEARCH AND LEARN
Go online and research to learn more about your topic…this will give you many new ideas and areas to write about.

6. ASK YOURSELF QUESTIONS…AND ANSWER THEM
Ask yourself questions about the topic and then answer them…and answer them as if you were describing it to a child. Sometimes we forget how much we know and neglect to inform our audience.

7. DON’T EDIT…JUST WRITE
Allow yourself to write from a stream of consciousness…write whatever comes to mind and continue to write. You can go back and edit later, just get the words down so you are moving forward and making progress. Remember, good writing means rewriting.

8. TRY WRITING AT AN UNUSUAL TIME
If you typically write during the afternoon, try writing late at night or early in the morning. If it’s usually on the weekend, try it on a week night…you might find that this disruption actually becomes a great creative outlet.

9. EXERCISE
Getting the blood flowing can help get the creative juices flowing. Exercise not only keeps you healthy, it can keep you mentally strong by giving you the needed break to reduce your stress and increase your heart rate.

10. ASK FOR HELP
One of the best ways to get over writer’s block is to ask for help from your family, friends or even online community. Reach out to fellow artists and ask for new ideas or tips for how they deal with writer’s block. Community support is the core of everyone’s success so make sure you ask for help.

The Pretty -Short Horror Story

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

The knife’s tip sunk quickly into the flesh like butter. Just bringing a trickle of blood, and easy enough to wipe off. Her cries were muffled by the handmade muzzle fastened to her face. She was a newspaper reporter and had stumbled on me through investigation. And, well, I couldn’t let her tattle on me and the pretties. It was an added bonus that she had a very pretty pretty on her belly. I ignored her as I pressed the blade in deeper. I was cutting a bit deeper than I needed, but I didn’t seem to care. It was her fault, and I was still a bit angry with her. That and I wanted the pretty in perfect condition.

My hand worked the knife easily; after all, I have been skinning animals since about seven. The right age to learn, my father had told anyone asking. When I had finished, I gathered the edges of the pretty and gave it a small tug. Using the knife, I cut it loose. Blood and meat hung from it, dripping. I transferred it over to a small plate. I looked briefly into the crater I had formed. It was a bloody meat crater. The blood swished as the reporter moved her body like a red lake. The red meat reminds me of the animals dad used to bring home when I was younger.

I shook my head, snapping myself from the thoughts. I needed to finish. I had no time to drift off. I looked at the pretty, and all I saw was a mound of flesh. And then my eyes took in the pretty. I took it to the contraption I made that helped me make the pretty perfect. I fastened it in tight, clipped it under the UV light, and set the timer. I then went to the moaning creature on the table.

Skinning is much harder than people think it is. And there are certain areas you can’t get the skin off properly. The biggest lesson dear old dad taught me was always, ALWAYS, clean up your mess.

“Daddy always knew best,” I said out loud and laughed. The laughter hit hard, and I doubled over laughing until my face was drenched with tears.

When I was done, I wiped my eyes and went to my mess. What got me was that she was still alive. I put my hands on my hips and looked over the mess: bleach, check; fire, check.

I inherited an old house that used to belong to my great granddaddy, who supposedly built it with his own hands. I believe he actually killed the man who made it. It just shows you how I think of my family. Each generation was to be born under the roof. But I’m the end, and I didn’t feel sad about it at all. There was no way in hell I was going to give birth. Too painful and way too fucking messy for me. I watched and helped my mother, who was nothing but a baby maker with short, stubby legs. And each child gave her nothing but grief. I saw it and what they did—each one born after me had horrible problems—too much anger, too crazy, or too something. So I helped mommy. It’s a wonder what a knife can do during childbirth. There was so much blood. In the end, when it was time to grieve, daddy had us clean up the mess. Dad was a different story.

The reporter wiggled and squirmed. Pain pinched her face as she fought to get loose. If I had been a man, maybe the sight of her naked and squirming would have turned me on. But it didn’t. In fact, it affected me in a totally different way. I ran to the toilet in the corner, the bile rising. The thing had been mistreated. You could tell by the green film that covered it. And as I looked into the cruddy water, eyes opened looking at me. My head tilted as I looked back at the dark wet blob. The frog jumped out, startled. Well, it wasn’t the only one. Where the fuck did the frog come from? I found a mess I hadn’t noticed before.

I turned and stepped around the old lawn mower as I returned to the table. No falling apart, I told myself. I went back to the reporter. She still struggled. It would only be a matter of time before she passed out from the blood loss. I didn’t have the patience to wait. I pondered the many ways I could kill her and put her out of her misery. I could take the same knife and slit her throat. But then that would create a bigger mess than I already had to clean up. I guess I could just suffocate her.

She went still, and I went to work. I started to remove the homemade muzzle, chuckling. I was the freaking Martha Stewart of the woods. Dad had always hated my tinkering with stuff in the basement. How many times had he found me making a mess was beyond my thinking tonight. All I remember was lying in bed crying ’cause of the whip marks he had given me, fearing when he would join me to finish my punishment.

I placed the homemade muzzle on my little work table. I put my palm over her petite mouth and used my middle and pointer finger to pinch her nose. She was already unconscious, so this clean death should be easy. Her eyes sprang open, startling me, and then the bitch bit me. My other hand smacked the side of her head, and her teeth released my palm.

I stepped away to look at the bite mark; she had drawn blood. Sick bitch! I examined the wound. The human mouth held so many germs because they were so dirty. I went to the sink and poured a whole bottle of rubbing alcohol over the bite. And then she started to scream, high and shrill. It hurt my ears, making my head feel like it was going to explode.

I grabbed the nearest thing I could, which was daddy’s sledgehammer. I hefted the heavy head onto my shoulder and started walking toward the noise. My eyeballs throbbed in their sockets, which made my face start twitching with my anger. I stopped at her head and let the hammer fall on her face. 

It broke off the bottom of her jaw, shattering all her teeth. It stopped her screaming, but I flinched at the shattering sound. I thought that would be it, but she shrieked again. I picked up the sledgehammer, and in anger, lowered it onto her face. I saw red as I hammered away even after the screaming stopped until her head was nothing but shattered bones, blood, and brain matter.

I let the sledgehammer fall to the gore covered ground and looked down at my apron. I was covered in blood and brain matter. I was drenched in crap, and it revolted me. Never had I ever been so fucking dirty. It took me most of the evening to clean up the mess I made.

When I was finished, I stepped back and took in my clean basement. Bleach hung heavily in the air, threatening to choke me and brought tears to my eyes. There was nothing like surrounding yourself with cleanliness. Just then, the timer went off. The pretty was done—all that mess and all that bleach, all worth it.

I unclipped it after switching off the light and turned it over. The skin had darkened to mahogany, and the ink around the bellybutton was a lovely black. The design itself was something I had never seen before. I trailed a finger over the soft, leather-like skin. To make it even, more eye-catching there was a piercing—a shiny diamond. A mouse ran across my bare feet, and I barely noticed since I was too busy looking at the pretty. I carefully undid it from the contraption and made my way up the stairs with it.

I walked it into my tidy workroom, where I had created a frame for it. An oak color would bring out the pretty a bit more. Of course, it was only for me to see. I never show people into the house. Actually, they get a shotgun to the chin and a ‘get the fuck off my property’. I wasn’t a people person. I put it carefully into the picture frame and walked it to my living room. I had just the spot and put it up with the other pretties. The grandfather clock, which stood in the corner and was even older than the house, chimed twelve. I yawned. It was way past my bedtime.

The sun woke me from a dreamless sleep. I felt alive and refreshed. Good work usually did that to me. After my usual morning duties, I went straight to the kitchen and made some eggs, toast, and milk—breakfast of champions. You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m a vegetarian. Too much animal killing when I was younger, I guess.

Or maybe it was daddy. The sick fuck. I had finally killed him one night as he was “punishing” me. He was in baby-making mode, and after mom died, he needed new hosts. All my sisters were coming of age to bear children. The boys were taught to hunt and defend the home.

My bloodline was tainted. It was a comfort to me that I would be the end. One of my brothers ate a cop. He liked meat a little too much. One of my sisters is a prostitute with AIDS. She doesn’t have long. About six are already dead. Shot down, death sentence, suicide, one on death row, and two others are serving life sentences. Me, I’m the only sane one in the bunch.

I sat down in the living room with my breakfast, surrounded by my pretties. There were about fifty, give or take. I loved sitting here in the early morning looking at them, thinking of all the hard work it had taken to create them. By my chair sat a pretty, little pink phonebook. I had found the treasure in the bitch’s purse. There were a lot of names. I couldn’t risk that she might have told someone about me. And they might have pretties too. For now, I was sated. I ate and looked at the pretties. But my eyes kept wandering to the book.

You can read more horror short stories in my short story book Flights of Delusion.

Self Care: Tea

Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

Thursday’s I’ve decided to make these posts into love thy self tips. Right now the world is crazy and we tend to forget to care for ourselves. You need me time just as much as I need me time. Here is the easiest, take tea time. Find a moment and enjoy a cup of tea. I am probably one of a few writers who doesn’t drink coffee. I like the smell, kinda like the taste, but there are other reasons I just can’t stomach coffee.

Depending on which tea, they each have their own benefits.

Black Tea-Weight loss, headache, energy booster, mental alertness, heart health, they can help prevent kidney stones, help lower the risk of getting ovarian cancer, and those who drink black tea regularly have a decreased risk of Parkinson’s disease.Green Tea-Helps fight of allergies, strengthen teeth and gums, clears skin, aids in weight loss, enhances eye sight, improves mood, regulates blood sugar level, controls cholesterol levels, may improve brain function, and may increase longevity. Cinnamon Tea-Cold and flu, helps with tummy issues, pain relief, hypertension, helps to decrease the risk of Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s disease, helps lower blood sugar, helps fight inflammation, and great for oral health

My Favorite Teas

This is my favorite daily tea. I drink it every morning. It doesn’t need to be sweetened. It is perfect just plain. But if you add sweetener it tastes like a cinnamon bear. I have this one auto delivery on amazon every two weeks. Not only do I drink it in the mornings, but it makes great iced tea as well. I fight hard with my own blood sugar levels and this actually helps lower it. I have the doctors blood work ups to prove.

I love Snarky Tea! My favorite Profani-teas are Get Your Sh*t Together, Get Your A** In Bed, and the seasonal Merry As A MotherF**ker. You can get your own here, I recommend getting the Brew Book, cause you can sample most of their yummy teas. https://www.snarkytea.com/

Twinings has great tea too. On Amazon you can get a sampler which includes all kinds. My hubby loves their Chai tea. I love their Buttermint. It is just that warm vanilla and mint tea. It takes like butter mint candies, which I freaking love.

So take a moment and make yourself a cup of tea. Don’t forget to fancy it up. Use your favorite sweetner, suga, milk, cream, honey, or your favorite jelly (Russian). Even better if you add your favorite snack. Get cozy and zen out while you enjoy your tea.

Using Pinterest to Aid in Writing.

Photo by Brett Jordan on Pexels.com

Writing is not easy. You have to add in research, even when we are told to write what we know. That only takes us so far. When you write fantasy and science fiction it is all unknown. We are left to do heavy research, and hope you are good enough to keep good notes and records. Some people use real vision boards that they can see while they write their books. Instead of making them and them cluttering up your space. That is were Pinterest comes in.

Create a board for your book. Book ideasInspirationsThoughtsCharacter ideas/inspirationsYou can find a lot of thing there that might help you on your writing journey.

Here are a few screen shots of mine.

Above you can see a screenshot from my writing board. These are articles I found interesting and helpful, and maybe make me a little better at writing.

You can browse my board here: https://www.pinterest.com/fangirlellie But be aware. There are some spoilers.

What techniques do you use? Do you have other vision board ideas?

Juggling…

It’s been a while since I fully published a book. My last one was in 2015. That was when shit hit the fan in my world. Stress, anxiety, and depression is no joke and messes with creativity. I was put on meds that really messed it all up again. And then it seemed like one tragedy after another. Sickness and deaths.

In 2019 I made a choice to quit my very toxic job. It seriously was making me sick so suck I got shingles. Once I left the stress everything got better. My creativity sparked. I was writing again. I hand wrote 4 rough drafts. Last year I typed them mostly out because 2020 was odd giving me a different work schedule.

Krys and I used that time to really work on Among the Stars. My books still had more editing. But now I’m teleworking. It’s hard to juggle writing when you are sitting at a desk for 9 hours a day doing your day job. But I’m slowly getting into the habit again. Adjusting new writing routines that work for me.

And that really is the thing. I can ask all my author friends what works for them, but their way is never going to fit for me. When it comes to your writing and your time, you are responsible to create your own routine. Just because that works for him or her doesn’t mean it’s going to work for me or you. I love seeking advice from my friends. But in the end it’s my time I’m juggling.

Whatcha Watching?

The hubs and I finished The Clone Wars last night. Season 7 was done so well which tied Asoka’s story with Revenge of the Sith. But the final scenes were beautifully heart breaking. We venture on to Rebels. I love how the cartoons tie into The Mandalorian.

I am watching The Alienist on HBO Max which aired on TNT. The best-selling book by Caleb Carr is the basis for “The Alienist,” a psychological thriller set amidst the vast wealth, extreme poverty and technological innovation of 1896 New York. A never-before-seen ritualistic killer is responsible for the gruesome murders of boy prostitutes, and newly appointed police commissioner Theodore Roosevelt calls upon criminal psychologist Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, newspaper illustrator John Moore and police department secretary Sara Howard to conduct the investigation in secret. The brilliant, obsessive Kreizler is known as an alienist — one who studies mental pathologies and the deviant behaviors of those who are alienated from themselves and society. His job, along with his controversial views, makes him a social pariah in some circles. But helped by a band of outsiders, Kreizler’s tireless efforts eventually answer the question behind what makes a man into a murderer.

It is dark and interesting. A disturbing period piece. But pointed out how the rich were above the law and how with new sciences it changed police procedures.

Blood Ties is soooo almost done…

I have a few more things to add and I can finally send it off to an editor!! I am so excited to get this out. I am hoping for a March release. As long as I can get my ass into gear and get it done. But I am freaking close and it will be out this year! Here is a little snippet for you.

Blood Witch readers where we left off… 

Oh,” Leslie said again and looked at Cathy. She was tall and pretty, her body almost perfect except the long gash down her calf. But what really caught Leslie’s attention was the tattoo on her arm. “The plot thickens,” she murmured to herself. 

“What plot?” Nathan asked. 

“Hey Cathy, where did you get that tattoo?” 

She gave Leslie wide eyes. “Oh, this thing. I don’t even remember. It was some drunken kid thing.” She laughed. 

Collin and Patrick tensed behind her. Nathan looked at her and them, a frown on his face. “I missed a call from you,” he finally said. 

“I had an incident at Forever Wet.” 

He took her arm and led her to the back of the house and outside. “What happened?” he asked hugging her to his body. 

“I’ve been having these flashbacks. It seems my brain has been muddled with, as Mr. Forever put it. I believe Cathy is part of this thing, whatever it is, and it deals with Jonathan, those sigils and were-drug.” 

“Tell me everything,” he whispered. 

Her phone chirped and her mom’s face appeared. “Hold on. Mom? It’s late what’s…” 

“Someone has your sister. They just called and said that you need to forget what you are remembering and leave Mr. Forever alone,” she said crying on the phone. 

“Mom do you have the call back number?” 

“It was b-b-blocked.” 

“Okay Mom, I will fix this.” 

“Leslie, I am sorry. Uncle Ted, I mean Mr. Forever promised no harm would come to you but never your sister. She was always so jealous.” 

“Mom, how do you know about Mr. Forever?” 

“He’s been around forever. Should I call the police?” 

“No Mom. I got it. I promise I will get her back.” She put the phone in her pocket and looked up at Nathan and her legs got wobbly and she burst into tears. 

“Shh, Leslie. It will be okay. Pack will help,” he said holding her. “Let’s get inside, I will kick everyone out and you are going to tell me everything,” he said gently, holding her face in his hand so she could look at him. 

Page Break 

Chapter One 

Leslie started to speak but felt an enormous buildup of dark magic in Nathan’s house. It called to hers. A dark void. Blood, it whispered through her. It expanded like a bubble, growing larger and larger. And like all bubbles— She only had a second.   

She grabbed tighter on to Nathaniel with one hand, thrusting the other out she pictured a shield between them as the dark wave hit after the pop. She shook with the effort but somehow managed to tap into her beast who roared through her strengthening her magic. Her beast called to Nathan’s alpha power. The darkness tried to engulf her, but in the end, it was no match for their combined energy. The power void reminded her of when she tried to feel Cathy’s magic.   

“What was that?” Nathan asked when the power was over.   

Leslie looked towards the house in the dark, the night trimmed with gold. “Black magic.”  

“Why?”   

She stepped away from him, kicking off her shoes, and grounded herself in the earth. Closing her eyes, she released her own magic and felt out into the evening. She felt the young, the old, and the strong and something else.   

Her eyes sprang open. “I feel them. They’re in pain.”  

“Who?”  

“The weres. The young ones.” She didn’t know how to really explain it, so she grabbed his hand and pushed her magic into him. His head fell back as he looked at the sky, and a growl vibrated from him.   

“I got to help them,” he whispered, the pain clear on his green-gold eyes.  

“Let’s check on the others inside.” She had a headache from the use of so much magic that day. With every use, it drained her, and now with what her mom said she emotionally hit.  

They ran inside where everyone lay on the ground in the living room. Nathan checked on his brother as she checked on Collin.   

“Breathing,” he said.  

She nodded eyes sweeping the bodies. “Cathy is missing.”  

Nathan crawled around checking on the other bears as Leslie ran into the kitchen. She grabbed a pitcher off the fridge, filling it with water, she came back tipping it over Collin.  

He sat up hissing. “What?”   

Collin was the misfortunate meeting between a wolf and a vampire. He had some of the classic vampire traits but more of the werewolf in him. He did, however, hiss a lot, which made Leslie uneasy, and he knew, so he used it to piss her off. But they all had their quirks, for one thing, Leslie was a half breed blood witch/werebear. Unheard of, and well, relatively new to her.   

“Cathy is missing. What happened when we went outside?”  

“Patrick asked more about the tattoo. Wanted to know if she saw it somewhere when she got it.” He rubbed his head. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”  

“A magic truck,” Nathan said, making Leslie nod.  

She grabbed the pitcher running back to the kitchen to fill it up again. She brought it back and dumped it over Patrick’s head.  

He woke with a start. “Where is she!” He sat up too fast and held his head. “What the hell hit me?”  

“Big bad magic.”  

“So, who did it?” Collin asked.  

“Someone working with Cathy?” Patrick looked around at the snoring shifters. Nathan had left the house to see if he could sense anyone.  

“I’ve seen the tattoo on Jonathan and now Cathy.” Leslie closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. “I think I know why, but my memory was tampered with. It feels like it’s right there.”

Self Care Thursday

Photo by Madison Inouye on Pexels.com

Self care is important. Specially right now. The world is a little crazy, teleworking, lockdowns, sickness, and of course January (which is usually labeled the most depressing month). It is important that when things seem to get a little crazy make sure you take some you time. Watch your favorite movie or binge watch your favorite show. Get some sun if you have some. It is touch and go here in the Central Valley. Warm up with your favorite tea or coffee. Take a bubble bath.

One of my biggest problems is lingering on the shit that drives me crazy. Stuff that I can’t fix is the worst, and it bothers me pretty bad. I got a fun little journal called Let Shit Go. I am finding it really helpful when I have those negative thoughts. Journal-ling is a great way to help with self care. It just helps to write the problem down sometimes. And there are tons of great journals available.

Getting up and moving seems to help me. I use my work at home breaks and play my Switch. Play something that will get me moving for 10-15 minutes a couple times a day really seems to cheer me up. I am playing the Nintendo Ring Fit, and man it kicks my butt. LOL.