Club High Castle

I feel like the timing of this is all too convenient! Sisters is officially a GO!  I’ve written the first three chapters to get the setting down and a feel for the characters. Once I did that, I paused to create an outline for the rest of the novel. It just so happens that we’re a few days shy of November (well, at the time I’m writing this, anyway). I couldn’t ask for better timing! Hello, NaNoWriMo! It’s been a long time. I’ve got a novel brewing for you that I’m all too excited to start. It’s going to be made of feels. Such feels. For those who aren’t familiar with NaNoWriMo, they challenge writers to write 50K words in one month (the month of November). If you love to write, take the NaNo challenge! See if you can hit 50K. You can sign up at nanowrimo.org/ I’ll be posting about my progress. Just look out for #Sisters422 . I know NaNoWriMo suggests that you just write, write, write, and ignore grammar, but I’m not going to do that this year. Going back t...

It’s finally here, and to celebrate the release of The Emperor’s Archives (TEA), I’m doing a giveaway! Two lucky winners will receive a $5.00 Amazon gift card and a PDF copy of The Emperor’s Archives! How to Enter: Leave a comment on The Command Deck’s Facebook page by Friday, 14 October. Winners will be drawn from a pool of names and announced on Sunday, 16 October! Rules: You must be 18 years of age You must have a valid email address International entrees are accepted! If you’re an international contestant and win, you’ll have to provide me with your country’s Amazon page in order to receive a gift card (ex: Amazon.ca, Amazon.uk, and etc).  News I am so happy that TEA is finally complete! You can read more about TEA on my website here ! I’ve been wanting to tap into the chaos that spiraled from the events of The Year is Now for a long time. If anyone wants to skip to the stories that deal with it, they are Find me, Follow me, and Beneath the Red Lamp 😉 Technically Find me,...

This writing short is for my fellow females. Enjoy! 🙂 2116  The aerial tram zipped past columns of sky gardens, their iridescent domes glimmering in the sunlight as we sped away. I winced when a sudden wave of pain stung my abdomen. I bit my lower lip, fighting off the urge to curl into the fetal position. A perpetual anger tingled my senses, burning every last ounce of blood within me. I closed my eyes and thought of 2016. Here I was exactly one hundred years in the future—that is another story in itself. It won’t be long, I told myself. And I’ll never have to suffer through the monthly b.s. that comes with being female ever again . There was no way they didn’t have remedies that actually worked. Hell, maybe they even had some sort of cure for the entire business—maybe one simple operation, and my body would release its damned eggs some other way. At that thought, I tried to smile, but pain exploded in my abdomen as the tram slowed to a stop. I looked up. This ...

Special character guest, RIA Agent John Smith, talks about his latest assignment. Being a secret agent is not all glam, guns, and action. Exhibit G.305: Clyde Butterworth I don’t know why I always get tossed the weird, odd-ball missions. Maybe Director Rollins hates me, I don’t know. Last week I had to track down a lunatic wearing a baseball cap wrapped in foil. Yes. I had to follow this weirdo all over town (and no, he couldn’t make it easy for me and live in the city). This nutjob lived in a dumpster by the A.D. railroad tracks of a small town up in the mountains. What did I learn? Clyde Butterworth spent his afternoons singing incoherent songs with a voice that made you want to smack your own face with a frying pan. When he wasn’t singing, he was glued to a dented flask of empire-knows-what or collecting pine cones. And so, this “threat” to national security made last week a living hell. Honestly, what unknown atrocity did I commit to get stuck with such an em...

Today’s post is taken from a prompt from the wonderful folks here: The One-Minute Writer . We all love a good conspiracy theory, so here’s the purrfect one! “You are the president of your local Conspiracy Theorist group. Unfortunately with the internet and all, most of your regular conspiracies have been debunked. You need something new, something that the group can really get behind. Create a new conspiracy theory.” Concave of Concerned Catizens There is something out there. I know it. The sheepish minions of conformity are always after people like me. They can’t wrap their minds around the fact that there is more than meets the eye, and it may not always be a crappiota latte or a pair of fuzzy moon boots in 60 degree weather. I’m getting sidetracked. I need to think of something for our next meeting. The Concave of Concerned Catizens is counting on me. That last debunk was a slap in the face. The sheepish minions of conformity won’t stop until...

A grim future awaits us in this flash story of mine. Beware of the $ians, for they may snatch you up! Original photo can be found on wikimedia commons!   2065 Grandpa tells me that I was born ten years too late. I have no memory of what it was like before the world lost its way (though, he says that it had been riding I80 to Stupidville way before 2045). I frown as I gaze at his withered face. It looks serene in the candlelight. I sigh. The power outages have been getting worse. It’s been out for three days straight now. When I see his chest rise and fall, I close my eyes and sit down. Good. I wrestled his mask on just in time. I glance over at the window. He likes to call the deep, dark brown hue “the marriage between a hipster and a trashy sepia filter.” I have no idea what it means, but I always laugh because he likes my reaction. Sand begins to pelt against it. I rise and close the curtains. I’m sick of sand. It wasn’t this bad ten years ago. Resou...

I’m going to be blunt: I could care less about Black Friday, and “I am thankful for…” posts are about as entertaining as waiting in line at the DMV. Does this make me a bad person? I mean, I am grateful for what I have and all… With all the fear, hype, and false quotes floating around these days about special IDs and compulsory badges, here is a little “what if” writing experiment. I refuse to defend a certain business man gone politician, but he never suggested IDs and badges. Photo of the DMV is credited to coolcaesar at wikipedia commons You are number 54. You watch as the ticker at the DMV flashes 52. Good. Just two more to go, and you can hurry up and get on with your life. You shift the paperwork in your hands as it makes an annoying crinkle sound. 53 You double check that you have everything. In the name of security, the DMV wants everything short of a blood sample. Whatever. You just want to get on with your life and go to that new cafe...