S.E. Reichert's Blog, page 12

Book Launch and Something Fun

Hi kids…

Just a friendly reminder that my writing partner and I will be at Totally 80’s Pizza here in Fort Collins for our book (Back to the 80s) launch, next Tuesday (August 1st) at 6 pm. There will be prizes for best 80s costumes, giveaways for trivia, and books for sale! Also, we’ll be rocking some utterly disgusting neon so… come and at least laugh at me. Maybe buy a book while you’re there. (AND enjoy some pretty good pizza and all the amazing nostalgia that Totally 80’s offers)

The book release for Granting Katelyn is the same day as Back to the 80s, and since I can’t be both morose and Scottish and 80s Retro Bright at the same time, I’ll be hosting that launch in September. Stay tuned for details on that and a possible get together after the signing.

That’s the news that’s coming up soon. I’m currently making arrangements for a book tour up in Wyoming in November (may the road and weather gods smile on me) and so far only have the set date of November 21st at the Saratoga Branch of the Public Library. I will have all three of The Sweet Valley Series Available (signed) and will give a little talk about the books, the characters and how the state shapes great stories. More of that to come.

But–because I don’t just want to sell you books (in neon and blue eyeliner nonetheless) here’s a little flash fiction piece to entertain. It’s, as Monty Python would say, something completely different. Enjoy!

Demon-O’s

The day I summoned the demon was a normal Tuesday. I’d been reading the back of my cereal box, as usual. Milk dripping from my bottom lip as I tried to decipher the answer of the puzzle, by reading the letters upside down. My lips spattered sugared milk, through the white bubbles as I muttered and remuttered the words. Finally convinced, I shouted them out a third time, in fluffy robe victory. And there, before my eyes, sprang up from a tear in the fabric of time a blackened corpse, tattered wings, and one broken horn. It’s eyes bored into my soul as he asked, in gravelly tones.

“What is thy bidding, master?”

The milk dribbled down the front of my batman t-shirt and soaked into my robe from my agape mouth as I tried to reason with the smell of brimstone among the vanilla, frosted sugar bombs (now with extra marshmallows!)

“I—Do I know you?”

“You have called upon me, on this day, to aid in the wreck and ruin of this failing world.” Its voice rose in melodramatic glee. I put my spoon down and considered.

“Well, I hadn’t thought about that just yet. I haven’t even finished breakfast—” The demon heaved in deepening breaths, stoking up the fire of destruction that glowed like coals being blown on inside the empty cavern of its exposed ribs.

“What is thy bidding?”

I sat back, considered for a moment. One should always think clearly when presented with the opportunity for rampant destruction. I picked my spoon back up, tapped it in the air before, folding my hands in my flannel covered lap.

“Well, I—I do have some laundry needing folded.”

The demon stared at me, head cocked to one side, a bit of ash fell from its one decaying horn, dirtying my carpet.

“Laun–dree?” its voice croaked.

“Yes. Definitely.” It was my most hated chore. If I had someone at my beck and call, I wasn’t going to waste the resource on a world already destroying itself when I had three good sized piles waiting on my bed to be folded.

The demon’s boney shoulders shrugged up to its ears, clawed hands rose up in the in the universal gesture meaning ‘what in the fresh hell is wrong with this guy?’ and a disgusted look turned its mouth and stony forehead down.

“We do not fold laun—dree.”

“Are you or are you not at my bidding?” I glowered back. The demon grumbled and a hot coal fell from its grinding teeth.

“I am.”

“Well, then. Laundry first, world domination second.” As though versed in the obstinate language of teenage defiance, the demon threw its clawed hands up into the air and rolled its glass-like eyes skyward.

“This is bullshit!”

“Whatever! Get the chores done first and then I promise we’ll go find some havoc to wreak!” I argued back. You may not know but demon sighs are punctuated with smoke and spits of sparks that float on for seconds. Still, to his credit, he trudged up the stairs all the same, even if grumbling all the way.

“And don’t forget to separate the delicates!” I poured another cup of cereal into the bowl and looked at the answer again. I’d misread it. Thrice perfect times over.

“Oh—that’s an L not an O.”

Updates, New Releases, and Encouragement

Good morning, my fellow readers and writers. I hope that this blog finds you well. If you’re participating in NaNo, I hope it’s going well. If you’re just trying to survive the summer, I hope you’re surviving. If you’ve given up society for a cabin in the woods, you won’t get this blog but I am happy for your new and quieter lifestyle.

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I’m recently back from a trip to Japan and still trying to adjust to the time and the ‘normalcy’ of my life. If I could tell anyone to do anything that would influence, affect, and change their lives, I would tell them to travel. Especially to a country where you don’t speak the language. Especially to a culture half-a-world away from your own. Become a stranger. Become a wanderer. That’s where you find the kindness and humanity in life, and the excitement of getting lost outside of your comfort zone. Traveling this way helps you to understand that the best lessons come when we are at our most vulnerable and humble. Also, America really needs to step up their toilet game and their vending machine capabilities.

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A quick note that I will be trying to do a couple of virtual write-ins this month for NaNo, on my social sites, so follow me here: Facebook for more info on that. I’m sticking to Sunday afternoons from 2 until 3 for the rest of the month and a final one on Monday the 31st from 5-6pm. If possible, I may be able to give you some prompts, answer a few questions, and give encouragement. I’ll have to see how that all works as I’ve never done it before.

Also!!!! I’m getting to release two new books August 1st (whew, she’s a busy bee!) Granting Katelyn, the 2nd book in the Sweet Valley Series will be out along with my stand alone, sweet comedy romance Back to the 80s. You are able to preorder those through 5 Prince Publishing and online at Amazon. The Back to the 80’s book will be launched into the world at a totally rad party hosted by Totally 80’s Pizza here in Fort Collins, August 1st, at 6pm. We’ll have games, books, some readings, and maybe even trivia. Love to see you there. I’ll get you details on Granting Katelyn’s Launch as they progress.

Stay curious out there. Keep writing. And get yourself some sun and a couple of lazy naps in if you can.

Love, me.

Book Review: The Serpent and The Firefly by Courtney Davis

I hate to admit how long it takes me to finish a book. I love to read, and if I had like ten more hours in my day I would do it all the time. I’ve started carrying around my e-reader (don’t hiss at me you physical book-philes, I love both versions but that tech is a lot easier when the page counts are high, to tote into a doctors appointment) in an effort to spend those free moments lost in worlds instead of lost in the spin of social media doom scrolling. And I’m not surprised to find that the more I read, the more I want to read. But the last book I read, I finished in under a week, so I know it was good.

My last book that I finished was The Serpent and The Firefly by Courtney Davis. Now, it’s kind of hard for me to be unbiased. One, because this beautiful little book shares a release date with Raising Elle (so they’re like fraternal, romance novel twins), and two, because I really love Courtney as a person and as an author. So I’m going to do my best to give you a good, honest rundown of the book.

I love urban fantasy and The Serpent and The Firefly checks so many boxes. From the description and back cover, I couldn’t have predicted how beautiful a world Davis was going to build. She does it in a seamless style that brings readers into a dark little underworld, glimmering on the edges of our reality. I love the variety of characters she brings in (interesting but not overwhelming) and hope that she expands on some of the groups of supernaturals in later books (I’m totally into the angel angle, and I want more nymphs!) Her main character, Jade, is thrown into an unexpected position of power, after having her magic hidden for years. Luckily, she has sexy and not quite trustable Baal, giving her some guidance. Not without cost, as he’s using her to regain his rule in hell. But I love the way she shows him tripping over his desire and need, the more he gets to know the adorable and floundering Jade. And let me be clear…I’m not a huge snake fan, but there are some scenes with Baal that made my little toes curl and think about the advantages of a forked tongue…ahem….moving on.

The chemistry between the two main characters is palpable and there’s a lot of good tension building that made me shake my fist every time they had a ‘nearly there’ moment, but the relationship they forge in the end is worth the wait and I love especially watching Jade’s progression from a timid woman in witness protection, to a full-on goddess who saves not just our world, but two other realms as well.

Davis’s writing is crisp and she gives her characters wonderful personality and dimension with dialogue and just enough description. She builds her worlds beautifully without smacking you over the head with too much narrative. Its a quick read but a lot of story happens in those pages. I’m definitely looking forward to her next series out in August, starting with The Vampires of Atlantis. For more info on Courtney and her books visit her at her website, or on her author page at 5 Prince Publishing.

Next week is poetry, then a little homage to a new challenge that I hope you’ll join me in for July.

Poetry 6-29-2023

Distance There is a particle of smoke in the aira memory of a tragedycarried from miles awayfrom a place where someone's worldwas lit on fireand nothing but the traveling ashremainsnow an infinite shudderrippling across the worldof their universe, destroyedmuted with the distanceinto one particleand I wonderwho is tasting my tragedy?on some distant shoredoes someone lift their nose to the breeze, close their eyes inhale and thinkThere's a bit of heartache in the airI wonder who's world burned downI hope they're okay.I hope I'm okay Guilt Someone said to me today,not all guilt is badshe said, you feel guiltbecause you stood up for yourselfbecause you showed someonethat you matter toothat this guilt is learnedwhen we constantly put others' happiness in front of our ownwe feel guilty for not giving away our lightto help them shinewe feel guiltyfor not allowing themto dictate our actions out of fear for their feelingsbut this guiltshould be unlearnedand maybe the true source of the guilt should be reimaginedthat we feel guilty because it took us so longto stand up for our own heart

Camp NaNoWriMo 2023

Hello writers.

I don’t know if you are suffering the lull of longer days and stifling summer heat. Maybe this is your season and you’ve got no complaints. Whether your basking in the golden glow or changing your third sweaty bra of the day with a curse, I have a little challenge to keep you motivated even when the lethargy of July hits hardest.

You all know I’m a huge fan of November’s novel writing challenge, but this is the first year I’ll be participating in their Camp NaNoWriMo. The organization offers two camps each year (April and July) to help keep writers inspired throughout the calendar months. The camps, however, offer a little reprieve from the high-word count pace of November. The rules are simple, during camp months you get to set any word count goal you want and are allowed to work towards any project. Say you have a first draft that you’re ready to get cleaned up, through the camp conversion chart you can estimate how many ‘words’ you would get through your editing endeavors. Or say you want to get a jump start on a new Vella project (ahem–I’m working on it!) you could put out a goal of twenty episodes at 1,000 words a piece and as long as you’re logging your progress towards that, you’re nailing the challenge.

I realize you don’t have much time to prep, like you might in October, but I think the beauty of this challenge is that it’s a lot more lackadaisical and banging out a simple outline or bullet list of your goals might be just enough to get you started. Begin with a project in mind, pick a reasonable word count, page count, or chapter goal (reasonable means it has to still be a challenge, so don’t slack off–but don’t discourage yourself with something you can’t reach in a month–especially with kids at home) and pin it up by your work space to keep yourself honest and inspired.

As the youth coordinator for Writing Heights Writers Association, I’ll be creating a group for my teens to participate. It’s a much lower pressure contest and still has a lot of the same benefits, mainly building good writing habits along with some fun swag at the end. If you’re interested, or you know a writer who could benefit from a little mid-summer pick-me-up, visit their website: Camp NaNoWriMo and register today.

Hit me up here or on social media and let me know what you’re project is and if you’d like to connect via the organization’s site. I’ll also be running some virtual write ins during the month.

Creativity and The Writer: Part 2

Hey kids. If I hadn’t mentioned it before, a lot of what I’m talking about this week (and last) I learned from a great class at the Wyoming Writers Conference a couple of weeks ago with William Missouri Downs, a screen and play writer with years of amazing experience. If you have the chance, check out his work. His class has been on replay in my mind so I thought I’d share the good stuff.

Last week we did a little basic housekeeping when you’re trying to foster a more creative life. This week, we’re going to go a bit deeper into what creativity is and why, sometimes, it can be hard to grasp.

First of all, creativity is not something you’re generally born with. There maybe certain individuals who seem to have an easier time being creative, but for the most part, anyone can become more creative. Because, at the root of creativity, is the ability to open your mind to new possibilities and new solutions, and that starts with a few things:

Be curious…about everything. Read articles and blogs on anything that grabs your interest. Give yourself space to wonder and research, even if it’s about the mating habits of the Pygmy Sherbert Moth of Southern Cambodia. Learning about different and strange things will actually help your brain spark ideas and forge connections that you might not have before.Learn how to concentrate. It seems counter intuitive that creatives are able to sit and focus for long periods of time (maybe its that stereotype of the flighty artist, flitting around the room on several projects) but being able to concentrate, uninterrupted, leads to alpha states which leads to ‘flow writing’. And it also keeps you working at a problem until a reasonable solution is found. Think of it as mental stamina, and we all could use more of that.Set aside time for your art and PROTECT YOUR SOLITUDE. I don’t think more needs to be said, except that it also means being able to be alone, and creating boundaries (even with the people you love) to protect your writing space. When people in your life ask what they can do to help, be honest and ask for alone time to write and create.Look for options long after others have given up on a problem. Explore all angles and possibilities. Even the ridiculous and absurd solutions–find those and play, because one thing may lead to another, to another, eventually to the right thing. Whether it’s a plot hole, or a crisis resolution, be open to the strange and impossible. Being stuck is an opportunity to do something different, to get your head completely out of the box.Take chances and accept failure as part of the process. Failures lead to knowledge and knowing you will fail means you take every opportunity as a chance to learn more about what works and what doesn’t without judging it or yourself too much. Safety is not a place you learn anything.Have several different interests. Yes you’re a writer. But you’re also a yogi, or a bat tamer, or a bee keeper or a circus performer. Spend time learning and growing in as many places as you can. We should all actually strive to be Jacks and Janes of All Trades. After all, the whole saying is that “a jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.” This goes back to making those strange and creative connections between things and solving problems outside of the normal lanes of knowledge.Be persistent, write every day without fail. Meet your deadlines (other people’s or self-imposed), without fail. Yes, yes, I know there’s a lot of writing advice out there. And some people don’t write everyday and they’re perfectly happy and successful. I think writing everyday is not so much a direct line to your success in the field, so much as it’s an investment in yourself and a way to give back to your time, your space, and your own sanity.

There are plenty of exercises you can find in books and online to help boost your writing creativity but the habits above will help you cultivate a lifestyle where your brain can do what it was born to. And that’s, create.

Be willing to throw outrageous suggestions and ideas up on your board and not make judgements. Free flow new ideas out on a page without looking back as they land. Then give yourself an hour or a night and come back to it. Even if none of them seem viable, they may lead to different avenues that will be your next great idea.

Well, that’s the short, short version. I hope you have a creative week and feel free to email me here on the site if you have any questions or just want to chat about writing.

Good luck.

Creativity and The Writer: Part 1

Feels like that could equally say, “Beauty and The Beast”. So many ideas of what creativity is exist. Is it limited by IQ? Is it genetic? Does it only happen at given times or is it always on the bench, waiting to be put into play? Do some people have more of it? Does it dry up?

Often, as a writer, I’ve asked myself all of these. At times she has felt like a constant companion, whispering ideas and daydreams into my ear. At times, it feels like I’m alone in the middle of a lifeless desert, not an idea or a breath to take. When the good is good, ah they high it brings. When she’s nowhere to be found, there’s not a deeper low. And sometimes it feels like some writers are blessed with a giant bag of it, that they can’t possibly use in one lifetime, while mine is just an empty plastic bag, with a hole in the bottom.

I know many things, physically, can affect your creativity so I’m going to start there. Here are some basics you ought to know:

You need sleep. Sure, sleep deprivation can give you some really interesting half-cocked (i just wanted to use that word) ideas. But they’re rarely fully formed enough to make much out of, especially once you’re coherent enough. Get sleep. Your brain needs it to problem solve, and that’s a HUGE factor in being creative.Don’t treat your body like a circus tent. Eat good foods, vegetables, lean and clean protein, drink water, watch the sugar and the processed foods. Limit the caffeine (see sleep more). Vitamins, nutrients, and minerals all help to keep your synapses firing correctly and your brain clear.Cut back the Alcohol. I’m not ashamed to say I struggle with this one. Its in my genes, and I have to be very conscious about it. I’m actually taking steps towards sobriety. One glass of wine softens my brain enough to let go of my anxiety and words seem to come easier. But I’m not the kind of person who can stop at one glass usually. Because if one feels good…two would be great right? And why not a third? And pretty soon you can’t even see straight and the brilliant ideas of last night that you scribbled down are incoherent the next morning. Creativity works better with Clarity.Exercise. Might surprise you to know that the old brain needs oxygen to function. How does it get that? Through our vascular system. Want to have a healthier vascular system? Exercise. Not only does it increase your oxygen level and hit you up with a tasty dose of endorphins, it gives your muscles, joints, and tendons a lot of love and attention. I don’t care how you do it, (bike, run, walk, lift, yoga, pilates, belly-dancing, martial arts) just do it, at least 30 minutes a day. Bonus points for doing it outside.Take time away from your screens. This one is going to lead into part 2. We are an overstimulated bunch of hairless monkeys. My goddess, did they do a number on us the day social media was invented. Here’s a little hit off a fake feeling of mattering. Now get twenty thousand of them a day while you scroll through nothing but recirculated and watered down ideas. Nothing original, nothing too insightful, and please feel free to stay in your designated echo chamber. I truly believe these systems, algorithms, AI and the entire corporate conglomerate of Meta is one of THE BIGGEST creativity killers ever known to humans.

So, that’s the beginning, taking care of the basic human needs that create an environment conducive to creativity. Think of it like a garden. You can’t grow anything in a dry and poisoned patch of dirt. It needs all the good stuff to begin a healthy bunch of ideas. Next week, we’ll talk about a little more about what creativity is and what it is not, and you’ll get another good list of ways to cultivate it and use it in all aspects of your life.

Happy writing!

Poetry 5-1-2023

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Postulating Purpose

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Hello friends. Today is the start of the Writing Heights Writers Conference here in Fort Collins, so I’ll be away from my website and blog for a few days while I help out.

I’ve been a part of the writing community for quite a few years (15?) and have attended several conferences, classes and events as both a member and now part of the team. Far from being an expert, I feel like I’m still learning things every time I step out into these forays with other writers. About writing, yes, but also about trends, and people, and methods, and humanity. And myself. Lately, I haven’t been very impressed with myself as a writer. In fact, my startling lack of creativity and drive has been kind of frightening. Even an 800 word blog post feels like a struggle. Nevermind that I have an anthology I’m supposed to be putting together in a month.

So what the actual fuck is my problem? Well…I mean I have a lot of them. But you don’t have time and nobody wants to hear the sad-sack history, but I think this particular existential crisis is coming from a hard round of lessons and the decisions I had to make because of them.

For a long time I was driven by a duel sense of purpose. But lately I’ve felt as though I’m faltering in that. Not because I don’t still love writing, or teaching, or any of the things I’m currently doing, but because I think I’ve put an unbalanced load of it all on my plate.

You see, I used to have martial arts as a balance. Something very physical, extroverted, technical to fill up the other side of my life, so that writing in its quiet, introverted, creative expanse was an equal partner. In this way my brain and body were fed, my need for social interaction balanced with my need for solitude. But now–without it in my life due to unfortunately but necessary circumstances, I’m very wobbly.

I think for too long I defined myself as both. And therein lies the problem. I have been feeling, these past months, half full. Half alive. Half of what I know I can be. I have filled the empty space with more writing obligations but it’s drained the creative parts of me. It’s made me no look forward to butt-in-the-chair time, and I am…edgy.

So the next two weeks are both filled with conferences, and book sales, and networking, and hopefully a reawakening of my creativity will be found sometime between the cocktail hours and the moderating classes. But I worry, that I will only feel more drained afterwards. And what then?

I guess it will be time to find a new balance. A new pursuit. A new purpose, to fill that other half of my soul. Breaks my heart to even consider it. This blog really doesn’t have a purpose itself. Just to let you know, I’m struggling. And as much as I love writing, I recognize that it is one piece of my soul that can’t drive my entire life, nonstop forever.

If you see me at the conference, stop and say hi. I’ll be the one juggling my existential crisis in the back of the room.

Cats, Responsibility, and Writing

What in the hell is she talking about now?

Well, I was going to go through more information on conferences and educational opportunities, and how to network, with the impending conference season upon us all…but right now, my semi-blind, seizure prone cat is sitting at my feet, having unstartled from when I came up in different pants an hour ago.

This blog is about writing. In so much as it’s about compassion. In so much as it is about responsibility.

In so much as it is about living, every day, as fully and as lovingly as we can.

Periwinkle started going blind about a year ago, as a year-old rescue kitten. We adjusted, pivoted, and managed the house to meet her needs. Because I recognize that when you agree to make an animal part of your family, then you take them in total, and you care for them as best you can until it’s their time to move on to the next adventure at a nice farm in upstate New York. Then about a month ago her seizures started. Scary ones, big ones, with hissing and violence and running in circles while she urinated all over herself. Trying to hold her steady enough that she didn’t knock her head into a wall again and bloody her nose. And then came the clean up, and calm down, and gentle hands to wash it all away. I was convinced, after the third, that she would need to have help, ending her suffering.

After relaying my plan to my children, to prepare them for this difficult decision, my daughter…my loving, quiet, introverted daughter, the oldest and my first, who never asks for much and is sensitive to wavelengths most people in the world never even feel, looked me dead in the eye and said. “You’re just giving up on her.”

And at first I was mad. I’m the only one who takes care of the pets. I was exhausted. I was doing all I could and our vet didn’t have answers. There was medicine that might not help. There were surgeries she might not live through. All we had were mights and maybes.

Then I let her words sink lower into my heart.

When exactly–in the course of my ever-jading timeline–did I decide that nothing was better than mights and maybes? That the certainty of quitting overruled the hope of trying? When did I start putting my comfort over the pain of effort that may not be rewarded? Was I just justifying her ‘quality of life’ over my own life-weary need to not bother?

And didn’t I have a responsibility to do better for her?

So we took her to the neurologist (a three hour appointment that my husband took on as I had to work that day) and was given an order to administer 2ml of shitty tasting medicine, by mouth, twice a day.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever owned a blind animal, or one who’s breed and temperament predisposes them to vocal and violent physical outbursts but if not, understand that Periwinkle’s NORMAL vet appointments require no less than four vet techs/veterinarians to come in with welding gloves and a kitty straight-jacket to administer a two second shot to her hind quarters. Nonetheless, twice a day, we (two untrained and un-welding-level-protected adults) have to hold her down, open her mouth, and force her to take this sticky, foul tasting medicine.

TWICE A DAY.

FOR A MONTH.

That’s 60 times. 60 times I have to hold her down, against her will, pry her mouth open, let her nails tear into my inner thighs and hands and hope she doesn’t sneeze or vomit it all out again. I hold. My husband gives it to her. We placate her with treats and pets, and clean her face after. And it doesn’t get easier, and it never feels good.

But I’m not giving up on her. Because we don’t give up on the things we love. Not our pets, not our writing, not ourselves. And I try to recognize and respect that present discomfort is short term, survival and hope in thriving are the end goal.

We find a way, we exhaust all possibilities, we trudge through the painful tearing of our work and the forced sittings of writing in the parts and pieces of the story we’re trying to heal and bring to the surface. We go to therapy and we journal and we cut out toxic people who we’ve tried to appease for too long, even when it feels lonely and unsupported. We start saying no. We start aiming for yeses that matter. We sit in the pain and ply ourselves with gentleness in the aftermath. We speak kindly to ourselves. We cherish every moment, even the painful hard ones and we don’t take the easy way out.

Because the truth is, there’s not really an easy way out. Nothing in life is easy all the time. And I suppose you could quit whenever it got hard, but you’d never really get anywhere and all you’d end up with is a huge steaming pile of regret. And that’s a pretty shitty consolation prize for life.

I wasn’t built to give up. I wasn’t built to let heavy weight wear me down. Or have false friends, and gossiping narcissists and egotistical jerks make roadblocks of my own insecurities or need for love. I will do the hard work. Despite the odds, despite the voices that whisper behind my back and inside my head “wouldn’t it be easier if…”

I have a responsibility to my characters, to my stories, to my own love of writing. I have a responsibility to my peace of mind, to my health and well-being, to my balance and serving my future. Anything that gets in the way of those things, whether its claw marks, or vicious gossip, or plot holes…I’m no longer willing to accept or let them stop me anymore.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pet my cat, and enjoy the sunshine calm where I can catch it.

Don’t give up while I’m gone.