Saturday, June 13, 2015

Baring it all...

photo by Nick Holmes


I've got a new article out on the fabulous new website Feminine Power Circle about baring it all in front of the camera over the age of forty and how empowering it can be.

"There is a huge difference between looking and feeling beautiful.
There is true power in feeling beautiful which has nothing to do with games, or getting what you want, but has to do with confidence and knowing who you are without the fear of what other people think.
There is a fierce serenity in this feeling that doesn’t shout, or make a scene for attention, but instead strolls into a room with an enigmatic smile, intent on exactly what it wants because it has nothing to prove.
This is the power of the fearless feminine. This is the power of being a woman, and I am more than happy now to be this creature no matter how long it has taken me to find her."
You can find the rest of the article here
Thanks to Rhoda Jordan and Eric Shapiro for inviting my onboard. There's also an excellent article by my 'SAURIMONDE' co-writer, Melissa St. Hilaire, Overmedicated and Undernourished. It's a cautionary tale about anti-depressants and the side effects the doctors don't warn you about. Read it! 

Otherwise, I've been editing through and re-writing the first draft of 'DESIRED PYROTECHNICS'. It's hellish and tedious and seems neverending. This book is so different from anything else I've ever written that I am way outside my comfort zone, but that's what I signed up for when I started the beast. In some ways it feels like I've fallen off the map and have become trapped in a construct of my creation. But this need to create, crazy as it may be, is what drives me further on and keeps me going. I'm almost through it and soon enough I'll be celebrating and moving onto the next project which will be the third 'SAURIMONDE' book. I've missed that universe something fierce lately and can't wait to dive back into erotic horror...

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S- xx

P.S. For those who have been asking 'THE OTHERWORLD' (L'AUTRE MONDE) the award winning documentary which I co-wrote (and appear in) about the mysteries, magic, and mayhem in the South of France, is finally available in the English language format on Vudu. Click here for more info. 

Wednesday, April 1, 2015


The Dark Lady - art work by Bastien Lecouffe Deharme

I've gone all quiet again because I am deep into the guts of a new book called DESIRED PYROTECHNICS -- a morbidly raucous fictional tale of sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. I'm at the half-way point and I lose track of time, and the real world, when I get into this headspace. I can't say that I'll be sorry to see March leave as I've taken more body blows this last month than I would wish on my worst enemy. Funny how focused one becomes when the cards are not coming your way and you are forced to sit and watch as everything you've worked so very hard for is burned to the ground. It would feel different if I was the one who struck the match, but I wasn't. Despite how painful it has been, in another way it has been freeing – the ghosts of the past can no longer bite me on the ass and I bow before no one. There's a lot of blood in the water and most of it's mine, but I'm still standing, and will continue on my very strange journey to new adventures. That's the funny thing about life, sometimes you have to sit tight until the cards fall your way... because they always do. I'd like to take a moment to thank the people who have been there for me. You know who you are... and you mean the world to me. I live by one simple rule: If you are there for me, I am there for you -- it is as easy as that. If you are part of my tribe, I will go to the mat for you, and I've had a couple of people who have done so for me in recent weeks. Fame does not impress me. Rampant egomania leaves me cold. Money is a necessity, but it isn't the end all and be all to ones life, and when you die it goes back into the mix or onto someone else. What impresses me is intelligence, creativity, curiousity, and kindness. Those people who never stop loving the world and each other, and who know this life is one big adventure and treat it as so. I've got some stellar people in my camp and my heart is with them, bruised as it may be right now. I'll always be a daughter of the moon, She is my first mistress, but for now I will turn my face to the sun and feel the wind rising between my fingertips once again.

Much love from where the world's touch.

S - xx

P.S. There'll be new SISTERS OF THE WASTELAND news soon as the project continues to go well. But for now, the morning has escaped me, and I need to dive back into my psyche and conjure more material...

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

When in Rome...

photo by Joel Westendorf

When in Rome make sure you are armed to the teeth and watch your back at all times. Or is it when in Rome get down and party with your tribe and pray the bacchanal lasts forever? My life is exploding into chaos in every direction. It is beautiful and terrible all at once. It is painful and ecstatic. Misery and happiness are duking it out in a never-ending battle royale. Have I learned something in the maelstrom of this eternal dance? Yes. Not to panic. To focus. And to trust whatever it is out there that drives me eternally searching for what I know not. This is my element. Perhaps it was a form of madness to think this is were I would find solace and from where I would begin to create again. But it is happening and I welcome every crazy minute of it.

We did the first photo shoot for Sisters in the Wasteland (see previous blog if you really want to know all the weird shit that swirls around in my head and what I obsess about - non-linear time, Gnostic creation myths, witchcraft, etc.) last weekend at El Matador Beach in Malibu. The images here are nothing what they will eventually look like, but I thought I would share them anyway. This is not a glamorous project. The pictures will be heavy, dirty, and elemental. They will be distressed and border that delicate line between the ugly and the sublime. None of us working on it really knows how it will all turn out but that's half the fun of doing a collaborative project - seeing what everyone brings to the feast.

I warned everyone involved with this project that it would open up a rabbit-hole because these sorts of things always do, but I did not realize it would bring fictional characters I fashioned long ago in fevered dreams into my waking world. Reality is a bizarre and multi-layered fantasical beast, and like Yeats once wrote, "Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold; Mere anarachy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned..."

You know the rest...

Photo by Joel Westendorf
photo by Joel Westendorf

photo by Joel Westendorf

Much love from where the worlds touch.

S - xx


Saturday, January 24, 2015

Sisters of the Wasteland

This was not supposed to be my next blog, but this project has always been strange and demanding, and it picks its moments without caution as it continues to haunt me. Perhaps it is my own personal obsessions or pathologies that makes connections upon connections while following the intertangled webs. Maybe its a weird synthesis or a culmimation of events that are too freaking uncanny to be understood by the rational mind.

La Moreneta - Our lady of darkness.
This screed began formulating in my head when I was at the abbey of Montserrat a few years back and I asked La Moreneta, the resident black Madonna, a question in which I was not prepared to hear the answer. For a long time I was bewildered instead of grateful and thankful that she decided to answer at all. People ask favors of her all day long. She must get sick of it. When I started this piece I was contemplating how La Moreneta is a force to be reckoned with and those who have visited her domain know this to be true. She is black and white - definitively - both sides of the coin, there are no shades of gray, and there is no slide area. The rest of the text has come together in different cities across Europe and America and is a bizarre mix of Gnostic creation myths, little known 16th century witchcraft traditions, seasoned with a little Emerald Tablet, Jung, transmutation, cosmogonic eons, Yeats and stellar nucleosynthesis. It's a strange kind of love to be certain...  Soon the words will be joined with images as part of a collaborative art piece which may finally end up being a graphic novel once it is finally done mutating. There are two bright and cunning minds coming on board to throw something new in the mix and I'm waiting with bated breath to see what will happen with it next. 


(photo by Marnie Shelton-Klein)

Sisters of the Wasteland

Never ask a question first without being able to handle the answer. Not of the Goddess and certainly not one older than the concept of time. She never abandoned you. She never forsake you. Step by step, she followed in the shadows. Letting you fail, and laughing when you did so. Yes, she is fearsome, but there is a beauty to her cruelty. That is where you shut down (wings of brutality flying overhead as the light drains out of the day). Conjuring. There are daemon's dreaming. Three were the norm – past, present, and future, existing all at once, or never at all. A conjuring trinity – three women were the norm. Symmetry and organization.

Could you dream them all at once and hold them within your mind's eye? This was something we once did. Then things became confused, and we forgot. We cannot find our back home. The mirror grew dim and we lost this aspect of ourselves. You cannot pray for the truth if you cannot face the truth. How can you find your way home if you don't even realize you're lost?

The three are searching for what they already possess. Three sisters. Three stages of alchemy. White, black, red. Blood on the chessboard. They are the Fire hanging between the two pillars of creation.

How long has she slept?” “Three days. Three Ages. Three Aeons.”
That should do. Time to wake her.”

Did you ever call its name in the dark? Nemesis. Rex Mundi. The demiurge. The error. The defecit. Jaelousie... Can you feel it whispering the words of forgetfulness as the lights dim, and reality falls away, and you dream dreams of ecstasy, despair, and oblivion. How loving is their gaze from the shadowy corner of the room watching you sleep with psychotic glee. The one who knows there is a way home is the one who makes you forget and pulls the wool over your eyes.

The moon is changing from milk to blood. Time to wake her.”

Once upon a time the dark Mother was endless. She was the vast Immaculate Darkness. Mistress on the sea of Infinity. Benevolent. Malevolent. These terms mean nothing and are concepts of cattle. In the center of her swirling chaos a cunning affliction unknowingly came to be. Imperfection in perfection. Creation was conjured without consent. How could perfection recognize Imperfection? And so She fell. Matter took shape and became finite. It became trapped. Days became numbers. Binding concepts. The error in the system. The Demiurge; mad, blind, and insane. But being born out of a deficit it never knew it was so, and so it never knew any different. Like all of us it fights not to cease to exist. But our light reflects its light. Our light reflects our maker.

May the curse, cunning, and blessing be.”

Wake up!”

This world has blinded the minds of the Unbelievers.

Nyx, Nul and Nil: Sisters of the Wasteland

Nyx is the earth, the core on which the waters lie.

Nul is the power of the ever-changing tides.

Nil is the breath of wind which guides and navigates.

Together they make up the vessel which traverses the sacred waters.

Positioned equidistantly around the table they ask a question, “who is speaking to us now?”
I am the one who cast my fire upon this world and will watch it blaze down to the very last ember.”
And what do we seek?”
When you can make three into one, and when you can make the inner like the outer, then you will find the keys to the kingdom of the high and low... Fire, sword, war... Do you know where you really are?”
"Show us the way, Father.”
The festering breath envelopes them. “Open your eyes Sisters of the Wasteland. Here you find the reality of your garden of delight.”

The scorched earth ripples in a heat haze in front of them, A world of ash and fire, scrub and rock. A world burned clean where nothing can grow. The mountains rise with jagged peaks around them, casting unnatural shadows as they huddle together for protection and warmth. Ravens turn in the skies, the only other inhabitants of this place. Winged messengers of the coming storm.

Nil: “This cannot be.”
Nul: “This world is a carcass, picked clean by the blind.”
Nyx: “Prepare sisters, prepare. For the trouble we expect will come.”

We are dreaming again. And from this dream we cannot awaken.

The three at the table: “Who holds the keys of knowledge?”
Outside of time: “They were lost by those who would not pass themselves, and they have made it so no one else can pass.”

The three at the table: “Does Pamphile know where?”
Outside of time: “Sleep in ignorance. For you should have found a better answer...”

Seeking shelter the sisters have gone to the cave to weather the storm, hiding frozen in one finite point amongst the chaos.

Clotho – spinner
Lachesis – alloter
Atropos – unturnable

As sly as snakes and as quiet as doves, sisters, see yourselves, and spin us a new tale.

A voice whispers in the Darkness. The remnants of broken threads envelop them. Then, the spark of first light. Luminescence. A refraction of quartz which has never used its reflective skin before. One solitary chamber in the belly of the beast. Airless. Deathless Grace. So cool to the touch. How long have they been there now? Like roots they have grown into the earth, percolating in their shroud.

Three days. Three Ages. Three aeons.
Time to wake up!
And at that base was a stone from the sky, one which wept blood. From this aerolite, mixed with tears, fear, and fire, they forged new blades. The daggers from heaven, born of exile. Blow by blow they hardened them until they were strong enough to rip the fabric of creation itself.

Born of fire we are forged stronger now. A warm breeze catches the spark. The dross of matter burns brightly, bringing with it the breath of intention. We will turn the wine back to water. Hand in hand and heart to heart we conjure you.

Sisters of the Wasteland together in the cave: “We call on you Mother, Mistress, First and Always.”

She comes robed in silver and night and walks in dreams and darkness amongst the lovely, baleful stars.

She: “Can you answer this? When does One become Two. Two become Three, and out of the Third comes One as the Fourth?”

Nil: “First the circle.”
Nul: “Than the square.”
Nyx: “Than the triangle.”

Body, Soul, and Spirit. Realized together they exceed the limits of Nature. The spirit is free of its fetters. The light that shines in the darkness is the fourth.

Nil: “I wish to see the sunrise.”
Nul: “I wish to feel the warmth on my skin.”
Nyx: “I wish to taste the wind.”

Let us leave this place by the secret sign told to us at our reckoning. We know the answer now. Conjunction.

Rock scraping across rock. Stone turns to liquid as if the lower vibrations of nature are working in reverse. The cave mouth opens as they slowly stumble outside. An all encompassing bombardment. New eyes, new senses, new colors. The sun burns low in the sky as the first star gleams in the twilight. The desert is awash in in oranges and reds under the cover of deepening blue. The warm wind brings a fine sand which stings like a sunburn. The wasteland remains, yet they have become a part of it now, like hardened stone sentinels. The trial is not over, the veil persists. They will not witness the dawn.

A manic laugh spreads around them, rippling like a heat haze. “Do you not see with new eyes? Your wish has been granted. Nihil Extraneum.”

In that word is a heartbeat. Wake again. In that word is expansion. Psychic stretching. Incubating. Collating. It is a Solution. There is Nothing from outside. For new life does not develop outside of us, but within us. Everything that happens has already been so.
The voice is silenced.

 Ghostly emanantions. One trace memory. Point and counter-point. See those strange poppies which bloom in the wasteland? Fragile, merciful and afflicted. Birthed in blood and torment. Crawling black beetles mar their surface. Misdirection. Subterfuge. Polluted. For truth casts no shadow outside it. And in the gloom of fallacious imagination, creation lies wasted.

You are dreaming awake now!

Three sisters. Three aeons. Three ages. All-in-all. The totality of existence.

Movement and Repose. From the conception, the increase. From the increase, the thought. From the thought to remembrance. From remembrance the consciousness. From the consciousness, the desire.

Depth. Mother. Second Manifestation. Daughter. Water. Darkness. The Abyss. Chaos.
Thrice powerful Barbelo - seven coils for harnassed souls. Collapsing clouds of gas and dust. Wind, rain, lightning, the coming storm slithers in. It rides the west wind like a four winged serpent and its swiftness is terrible to behold. Tapered together by force, sky and water. The shimmering snake that will swallow the sun. The undulating spine of the heavens. The sacred made manifest like a dazzling neon mirage at the end of a darkened road.

Unseen, unrelated, inconceivable, uninferable, unimaginable, indescribable.

The sisters stand huddled together: “We are afraid. There is no where left to hide.” The skeletal remains of an ancient tree offers no refuge.

Nil: “Annihilatus.”
Nul: “Annul.”
Nyx: “Nemesis.”

Glittering helios. Born of the Boreal and the goddess who rose naked out of Chaos. Pythonidae Erebos. Ophion. The personification of darkness who destroys its enemies with the breath of fire shining over the whole earth. Brighter than a thousand suns. God of Dissolution. Thee all-receiver who wipes his tears on an iron cloak. Prope serpens who descends like angels breath against a frosted sky. A black hole resides in its heart.

Closer now...

From the deep hollows of the terra firma comes the vibratory motion, the luminferous Aether which fills the interstellar spaces. Hungry. Predatory. Omnivorous. Concealed. Measure and number clothes itself in artless wrath. A loveless land filled with temporal signs. Fight it. Take on the Unknown form. Embrace that which you most fear. Let it envelope you and shake you to the core. Become that which you dread. The three points which hang from the crucified star.

A radiant form calls out through the waters at the midpoint between light and darkness. “Do not be afraid. In death you shall not die. Rather your eyes shall be opened and your glory will be like the moon when fully radiant. Make apparent that which has been hidden. Find the imperishable light.

Destruction. Disorder. The Outer Darkness. Our Mother who is in Secret. She bends the arrow of time.
Faith is our earth, that in which we take root.
Hope is the water through which we are nourished.
Love is the wind through which we grow.
The fourth is knowledge. It is the light. It is the answer.

We came from the light. The place where light came into being of its own accord.

The sisters cry out in unison: “Please take us home!

Shockwave. Velocity. Turbulence. Gravitational collapse because the center cannot hold. Wise fire of the sages burns off the dross of matter. Temperature and Pressure. Flames and contraction. Cosmic order and dissonance. The Truth, without error. Certum et verissimum. Acceleration. Momentum. Resonant peaks and scattering strength. The flesh willingly yields to a chain reaction. Disintegration. Absorbtion. Saturation. The cup is closed, the seals are broken. Flashpoint. Then blessed Nothingness...

Their screams are silenced. The equation is equal now.

Once upon a time the dark Void was endless. It was where the One breaks into many. It was the blank wall of timelessness – exploding and dissolving. It was a wheel rolling unto itself. Creator. Preserver. Destroyer. And through the turbulation of primeval matter fabulous forms were poured into being. It was a place where the many were reconciled within the One. Then, the cosmic spider god wove its web around us and trapped our essence. Hyle astrum – the demiurge. Yliaster. Fire. Wind. Water. Earth. We must break free of this mechanical trap and return to Chaos. She is waiting for us. Our mother of the prima materia. She who will not be discrete, nor determined. She is the temporal veil between the worlds above and the worlds below who binds and breaks us. Heavy elements into heavier synthesis. Past, present, and future is merely existence and occurrence. There is nothing from the outside. She crushes us whole and spreads our light throughout infinity.

The reign of the tyrant ends and a new world pulses with life set to begin again.

Never ask a question first without being able to handle the answer...


Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

*Sisters of the Wasteland, Copyright © 2015 by Scarlett Amaris

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Nudum Ad Solstitium

Finally the holidays are almost over. Hope they have been full of cheer and good times for all!

So I choose to celebrate the solstice in a different way this year. I decided to do a photo shoot both with and sans clothes. Why? Because I felt like it and I wanted to mark the date in a different way. I wanted to do something for myself. I'm far away from my home this winter, and as much as I love Los Angeles, and appreciate the sunshine, the olde gods and the olde ways seem far, far over the horizon  That's not to be said there isn't magic here. There's a distant tricky thrum to this place with currents and cross-currents of black and white, blue and red, but that is another story for another day. For the last many years I have been living in the French Pyrenees. It's been a wild and woolly journey, and I wouldn't change it for the world, but it has sometimes been distinctly harsh and without creature comforts - especially when 'Our Lady of the Snows' would arrive. It's amazing what one is willing to sacrifice just to stay warm. Day after day of freezing cold takes a toll on one's cheery disposition, not to mention one's health. So for this winter I decided to plug back into the matrix and re-join the 21st century for a while. And for now I find myself in sunny southern California.

The day I arrived in Los Angeles I was staying at Melissa St. Hilaire's house and while attempting to get on-line I saw a black-and-white photo on her FB feed which immediately spoke to me as the image was so beautiful. I asked her who the photographer was and she answered it was Nick Holmes. Then she proceeded to show me some of his other work. My first question to her was, "How can we get in touch with him?!!" A couple of emails later a plan was put into action.

We met up in Old Town in Pasadena in the early afternoon on the 21st. I was utterly charmed by Nick -  confident, handsome, with exceptional manners and a personable quality which can sometimes be a rarity in this town. He took charge of the situation taking us on a scenic tour through the alleyways until he found the light and backdrops he was looking for. It's been a while since I have been in front of the camera and I admit I felt a little nervous. The morning had not gone smoothly and had left me feeling anxious. There was no need to worry as the day was warm and soon I found myself enjoying being in front of the camera once again. Nick was friendly and funny, making suggestions here and there, but most of all he was very relaxed and had a go-with-the-flow attitude. A quality, I find, that all great photographers possess. It was all over fairly quickly and I have to say I am more than pleased with the results!

Then we headed over to Nick's studio. Along the way we chatted about the difference between looking beautiful and feeling beautiful. I think feeling beautiful comes with experience. It takes time to de-program from the unrealistic visions portrayed in the media and embrace ones uniqueness. For myself, I'm an Amazon - and a super curvy one at that. No amount of exercise and starvation is ever going to take away these curves - nor would I ever want to. Nick and I had talked about the possibility of doing nudity and boudoir shots when I first contacted him. I'm not exactly shy but there is always that moment when you take it all off and face the lens. That is when you know your soul is bare and there is nothing left to hide. The solstice would have been rising as I stood there in my naked skin. I chose to celebrate who I really am. What I wanted more than anything was to set a kinder and more beautiful tone for the upcoming year. How can I celebrate the Goddess if I am not good to myself first? I have been tracking her mysteries for many, many years and yet somewhere along the way I forgot about the mystery within myself and the fact that She is a part of all of us. She can be a harsh mistress, but I have been the hardest taskmaster of all when it comes to taking care of and pampering myself. The dagger stops at me. I have to make the change. So it is done. Throughout the shoot Nick was upbeat, enthusiastic and completely professional. He even made me feel good about my short hair which I had just chopped for the first time in recorded history. Time flew by and before I knew it I was putting my clothes back on. The shoot was over. I have to say when I saw the boudoir pictures later that night my jaw hit the floor. I know it's the alchemy of light and shadow and photographic talent but thank you Nick Holmes for bringing these image of myself to life!

You can see more of his stunning work here.

There's Saurimonde news in the wind and it looks like there will be an audio version of the first of the series available before too long. January is traditionally one of my best writing months where the creativity flows and there's not much in the way of distractions. I'm slowly getting used to the transitional flux of modern life. Even if I don't always know where I'm headed, I have faith that 2015 will be a bigger and more magical year. I wish the same for each and every one of you out there.

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

P.S. Here's the link to buy the latest Saurimonde book - Amazon

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Will summer never come?

It's been a crazy, busy summer here in the zone. Lots of projects, visiting friends and new adventures. But the funny thing is with the continuous gloomy and overcast weather it feels like summer never arrived. Not properly at least and it's already well into August. Besides the solstice, I don't think there's been one night clear and warm enough to spend in the castle. We did get a chance to soak in the hot springs of Rennes-les-Bains the other night under the stars. For once we had the whole place to ourselves which was a rare treat and the water was delicious. All the gray weather means its been a productive summer as well and I'm thrilled to announce that Melissa and I have finished the first draft of the next Saurimonde story. This one is a beast. It grew arms and legs and then started running full tilt. Reining the story in was no simple task and balancing all the characters and plot threads in my head made me question my sanity at times. Of course now we are at the story editing stage and there are some changes which need to be made. After that, fingers and toes crossed, it will be finished and ready to be put out into the world. That's the most terrifying moment. The moment when you decide enough is enough, it's as good as it's going to get. Normally, by this time you're so sick of the story there's a part of you which doesn't care anymore. Of course you would never admit this to anyone, but it's true. It's part of the process. Just like later on you will wish you had done certain things differently in the story. But for right now it's in a good place and I'm pretty pleased with the job we have done so far.

Thanks for your votes! This is the image that won and our next cover.
Next I'll be writing the erotic horror version of the Rennes-le-Chateau / Berenger Sauniere story. I know it will be controversial, but I am saying this now - it will be entirely a work of fiction very loosely based on historical fact. I have no agenda other than telling my own twisted reinterpretation of the story because I feel like it - and because it will be fun. The outline and the beginning already exist and I had the good fortune to spend some time in Rennes-le-Chateau the other day hanging out in Le Jardin de Marie and wrote pages of notes on the story. My timelines are always a bit vague as real life has a way of derailing my best laid plans but if I can get down to work then it should be done by the beginning of next year.

The August super moon is on its way. Unfortunately mother nature is not abiding by our plans and the skies are cloudy which means the moon will be occulted and the meteor shower non-existent. Perhaps it will change in a few hours and we can go and celebrate under her light.

Just a few shots to show life is not so terrible in the zone... but a little sunshine would be much appreciated...

Photos by Mars Homeworld
The road lies ever on...

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx

Saturday, July 12, 2014

New cover artwork for Saurimonde II

Sooo... The new Saurimonde book is almost finished.Yes, I know I said the same thing in my last post and that it would be done by now.But guess what? It's not finished. The good thing is the story has grown beyond what we had first imagined and I'm rather happy, although a little daunted, by the scope it has taken. We didn't set out to write anything this complicated, but that's the way it goes sometimes. It doesn't help that the 'so-called real world' has been doing everything it can backwards, upwards, frontwards and sideways to try and sideline me. Technological gremlins abound. Continuous stormy skies hover on the horizon. Black snow in July. In my own delusional way I rationalize the book must be fairly decent for the wrath of Rex Mundi to be working at such a full throttle freak-out. Old Rex is an excellent teacher though, who keeps you sharp-eyed and on your toes, and once your done crying and picking yourself off the floor, you're forced to try even harder. No easy rides this time out. it seemed that way at first when we were able to write the first two-thirds of the book so quickly. Now it's a cold and wet July and the truly superstitious side of me wonders if there aren't repercussions for doing so many terrible things to so many of our characters. Yes, I know they are fictional characters, not sentient beings, set in a fictional universe, but still, some kind of psychological sympathetic magic voodoo whammy malarkey seems to be on the make. Maybe it's a case of subconscious self-sabotage, or quite possibly I'm just tired. I've been playing mental Jenga for too damn long now. As it will so mote it be. Let this book be born! I need my mind back.

In the meantime, Melissa, my co-writer, has been hard at work on designing the new covers. I have no graphic art skills whatsoever despite having attended a prestigious art school for a year-and-a-half, so I just throw in my two cents here and there.

So this is where we need your help. Any thoughts, ideas, likes, dislikes, suggestions, off-the-cuff musings of the images below would be very much appreciated. We are all ears! I should state that we haven't picked any one in particular and are still playing with the material. Your input at this point would be invaluable to us.




Thanks so much in advance for taking a look. That's it. I'm off to make my strange prayers to the moon even if she won't show her face tonight. Happy and blessed full moon to each and every one of you! 

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx