From conception to release

After two long arduous years my novel A Violet, Violent Spring has finally been released in paperback format.

Not many novels written during NaNoWriMo get past the editing stages, let alone the publication stage, so I feel a lot of pride in being able to say “I wrote this novel in one month” – though what was completed on November 30th 2015 was only a skeleton of what I have now released. I chose to self-publish this novel because it was written primarily as a work for me. I didn’t expect anyone to read it let alone like it, and I certainly didn’t think I’d publish in paperback – but here we are.

I won’t be disappointed if this book gets bad reviews, or if it fails to sell even a single copy, mostly because I wrote it for myself. What I will choose to traditionally publish (and you can expect that I certainly will), will be cut from an entirely different cloth that you will not even recognize that it is the same author who has written it.

Now that this journey is FINALLY over, I can put my mind to the next big task – MARKETING *shudders*

Until my next novel,



Heart Eater | Poetry

Those silly girls

Putting their hearts

Into other people’s mouths

Not expecting them to bite down.


Those silly girls

Pouring their love into

Chalices served on silver platters.

The sound the glass makes as it shatters


Is deafening.

They don’t hear it.

They merely refill the glass

Now they have reached an impasse.


For the Heart

Eater will not drink,

And those silly girls will keep

Pouring and pouring until they fall asleep


In a puddle

Of their own tears.

I can’t understand those girls,

Giving away their polished pearls,


Asking for

Nothing in return.

How do you love a demon

Who cuts you apart while you are screaming.


I never understood those silly girls

Until I met my own Heart Eater.

The way he smiled.

And sang.

And laughed.

It was so much easier

So much sweeter

To put my heart in his mouth

To pour my love into a cup

And forget about his teeth

Biting down, draining the life out of me.

– i am a silly girl











Unrequited | Poetry

The worst thing is

Not when you love

A loveless monster,

Bit when you love

A fire that glows

To warm everyone,

But to burn you. 

Only you. 

– does that make me the monster?

Healing | Poetry

Do not think it is easy to be someone’s punching bag.

The first bruises, you do not see so clearly.

They darken to a purple only after days of

Skin being ripped apart, fingers breaking,

Lungs inflating, exploding.

The healing is arduous.

Tears wash me like walking through rain.

Wounds turn to scabs.

Yet once the healing is done I am still brittle.

I will break again.

After the first punch.

– i wish i didn’t break so easily


Inhibition | Poetry

You do not know the pain,

the revulsion,

Of looking at yourself in

the mirror

The next morning and

thinking why,

Why did I do that? I wish 

i hadn’t

Done that. And it hurts

because I

Knew what I was doing.

– i wish i could blame it on the alcohol.


Weakness IV | Poetry

Giving you my secrets is

Giving you a noose to tie around my neck,

Giving you the sword with which to behead me,

Giving you the exact instructions with which to caress me.



(I wonder, what will you choose to do?)

Key | Poetry

When I give you the key to my heart

Do not expect to find something easy to understand,

And Love, and protect,

Like sunshine, gemstones, and flowers,

In the place of blood,

Lust, and rotted flesh,

Poisoned by memories

I would do anything to forget.