Price Drop for Horizon on Kindle

I’ve lowered the price for Horizon from $3.99 on the kindle to $0.99. I’m really trying to push for more reviews on this book so if you’re interested right now is the best offer for this book on Amazon. I’ve also started the process of reducing the prices on my publisher website and other retail sites. You’ll see the changes on the kindle hopefully by the end of the day. The other sites, it could take up to 6-8 weeks. Thanks guys!




Things to Consider

I was just going through Amazon Kindle’s unlimited section on my phone. I came across a book that looked like an interesting book to read, and I saw it had about 1500 reviews. Most were four and five stars. There were a decent about of 3 and 1 stars though. After reading some of the bad reviews, they all had the same complaint about the style of this author. After reading a lot of the 5 stars, it was very narrow minded explanations and not as much detail as the bad ratings. Now, what I gathered from this review is that the author forgets what her main character looks like, and some of her characters act childish with situations even though they are professional engineers. This really had me thinking for a moment because this seems to be one of her first books.

I understand as a first time writing there will be many mistakes, especially if you self-publish. I made that mistake on the first printing of Horizon, then I went back and fixed what my readers had issues with. It wasn’t so much the story line at all, more of editing errors. Let’s just say I learned my lesson quick. So now, I have this second novel I’m working on. I’ve learned from my first book that planning and brainstorming is the most important part of writing.

It took me about five years to finish my first book and it was mostly because I was following politics and researching a lot about the material I was writing about. Now, I’m working on Phantom Force with a totally new approach. I’m planning the chapters ahead of time, writing the characters descriptions, and drawing maps of the areas these characters visit. It almost seems like it’s easier to write this novel only because I have a better perspective of who my characters really are.

I understand everyone is not going to love what I write, but I would rather them totally not enjoy the genre/story than get frustrated with grammatical errors, poor character development, and lack of research. Just remember don’t rush to publish your first novel because it could hurt in the long run. Good luck with your writing everyone!

To Mom and Dad

I don’t say this enough to my parents, and I probably look like an ungrateful son for not. Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done from raising me to being here whenever I needed a ear to ramble to, or a shoulder to cry on. The last few days I thought a lot about things that have happened in the last year that scare me to utter death like someone calling my job to tell me my dad’s heart has stopped and he’s in the hospital, but really it was a hoax from a sick son-of-a-bitch. That isn’t the point though, it scares me to death to think that one day I will be alone on this earth. I will not have someone to dial and talk to about personal things. I will not have someone there to help me when I’m having tough luck in life. Honestly, I don’t know how my parents do it sometimes.

All the secrets and events that I have shared with my mom and dad are what make me who I am today. They spoiled me as a child, but I do appreciate all of the places we went to and the unique things I got to experience. If it didn’t happen then, I may not have experienced them now. It’s funny how they prepared my sister and I for everything ahead. They sacrificed time and money to give us the life they may have wanted as a child. From what I know, like anyone else, they both had struggles in life that they faced. Somehow they both overcame them and raised my sister and I very well. Honestly, I beat myself up so much just to be able experience the life they had again. I wish I had the work ethic and strength my dad had. I wish I had the talent and charisma my mom has, but I have never really been as successful as them two.

It’s funny though. No matter how many times I fall, they always are there to try and bring me back on my feet. They always seem to know how to turn my wheels or press my buttons to get my ass back in gear… even if it’s something I don’t want to hear. I hope that one day I will have something to be proud of like they did. They owned a moving company and traveled to many exotic places. It seems like just yesterday that I was on a beach with them belly surfing on the waves with my dad, or hearing my mom scream from the stands to “Hit that ball, Will!” or “Strike him out!”

I know my dad threw baseball’s with me and helped me practice. My mom always was the moral support that wanted to make me better. They have both contributed to molding me into the person I am today. I will admit that I still have my rough edges, but it is all just part of that journey. I love you, mom and dad! No matter how stubborn I am with certain subjects or sarcastic I am, I will always love both of you.

Horizon Reveal (Sample Chapter)


May 29, 2113

Los Angeles, California

Berringer and Son Law Firm

Saulter enters the law firm with his two CIA operatives, Foster Lancaster and Miguel Perez, close behind him. His stiff posture and masculine march brings everyone in the firm to a sudden silence as though waiting for one of their own to be sentenced to death. He pulls his badge from his pocket and reveals it with a swift snap of his wrist to the receptionist. The woman behind the desk cowers in her seat as she watches him return it to his belt. Saulter reaches for the desk tag and reads the name. A devilish smile appears on his cracked lips.

“Mrs. Rose,” he says underneath the raspy and barbaric undertones of his voice.

“Miss,” she replies.

“Really, now? For an attractive red head like you, I would’ve expected you to have a significant other waiting for you at home.”

“No,” she shivers. “Recently widowed.” She squints at his tag. “General Saulter Williams. Oh my, is there something wrong?”

Saulter removes his green hat. “Every day, Rose, something is always wrong. That is why I am always getting the tough assignments. It’s because I am the kind of man that gets the job done.” He smiles. “And you may ask, at what cost? And I will answer in a heartbeat—at any cost to keep the lives of this nation safe.” He leans back from the desk and returns the hat to his head. “Now, you can make my job easier by pointing me in the direction to a Mr. Nathan Berringer’s office.”

“I would, sir, but he is in the middle of a—”

“Tell him it would be in his best interest to speak with me at once. I am a very busy man, and I am extremely impatient.”

“I understand, sir, but he did give me very specific instructions not to interrupt him today,” she says, looking up at Saulter with her hazel eyes.

“Cute,” he answers, looking up towards the hallway behind her. “I’ll invite myself in then. On behalf of the President of the United States, I am authorized to go into that office.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded document. “Here is a warrant.” He tosses the papers on the desk and marches towards the door that has N. Berringer written across the glass.

“But wait, I can’t let you go…” Rose trails behind the men, still begging them to stop.

Saulter pushes the door open with both men close behind him. He discovers Nathan Berringer flipping through a mess of files on his desk. The stout man wrinkles his forehead as the three men enter without warning.

“Rose, I told you I can’t be distracted today!” Nathan exclaims as his glasses slide to the end of his nose.

“I tried…” she answers as Saulter slams the door behind him, locking it. Both of his men flank either side of the desk.

“Gentlemen, you can’t just barge into my office without an appointment. I’m a very busy man,” Nathan says in heavy breaths.

“No need for an appointment, Mr. Berringer. I have a warrant that comes straight from the Commander-in-Chief. So, in my professional advice, I would suggest you sit your ass down and listen up,” Saulter says, slamming his fists on the desk.

“I will not tolerate—“

“Oh, you will tolerate anything and everything I throw at you, Mr. Berringer.” Saulter turns to the bookshelves, taking notice of all the pictures of the lawyer’s family. “Not to mention the impeccable danger your family will be in if you don’t cooperate with us.”

“My family?” Nathan’s eyes widen in shock. “What do they have to do with any of this?”

“Nothing at all. It’s just in my nature to use people’s prized possessions as bargaining chips,” Saulter grins. “Let’s just see how much information I can squeeze out of you before I explain what my men will do to your wife and children if I don’t get the answers I want, okay?”

Nathan sits back in his chair and looks up at all three men. Saulter pulls out his badge and rests it on the desk. He sits across from Nathan in an empty chair. He stares at the lawyer’s frizzled brown head of hair and dirt cheap suit. The prime example of a compulsive liar and cheat in American society. He watches Nathan reach for the badge and bring it close to his face.

“Director of the CIA, huh?” Nathan chuckles. “Had nothing better to do today, I presume.”

“Nathan, you have something the president wants immediately, and he is going to get it whether you want him to or not,” Saulter answers, snapping his fingers to Foster.

Foster pulls out a manila envelope from his black jacket and hands it to the general. Saulter flips through the contents and pulls out a letter addressed to Nathan that reads: From the desk of the Commander-in-Chief of the United States.

“I just wanted to make this more formal. President Rashaad has requested that the inheritance and/or inheritances of Captain Weston Lambright be confiscated and not recorded to the decease’s immediate family members,” Saulter says, watching Nathan skim through the letter.

“As much as I would love to cooperate with this request, I cannot, General,” Nathan replies, setting the letter back onto the desk.

“And why can’t you do this simple task?”

Nathan looks down at Saulter’s badge again. “General, due to the moral code of ethics and attorney-client confidentiality clauses, I can’t release that information. In addition, my client specifically instructed me not to release anything to the government, only to his sons.”

“But there are no legal issues that you are obligated to. You would risk the lives of your family and yourself for this man?” Saulter taps his fingers on his lap. His light-hearted spirits turn to a ruthless darkness within seconds as his eyes narrow like a hungry predator.

“I think it would be best if you and your two pets leave now,” Nathan says, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, you have some large balls, Nathan, but, unfortunately, mine outweigh your ignorance.” Saulter cracks his neck and looks at both of the stone cold faces of Miguel and Foster. He leans closer to the desk. “You know, I’ve dealt with many persistent lawyers who have, like you, used the constitution and law to keep the government’s hands off of important documents. Although I commend you for your bravery to stand up to us, I also recommend you beg for mercy from my pets? Isn’t that what you called them?”

Saulter stands to his feet, looking outside the blinds of the window and slowly shutting them. Thin lines of sunlight stripe the walls of the small office.

“My pets were instructed not to do anything too drastic to you, considering you have delicate information, but I am afraid they have not learned the meaning of obedience just yet.”

Foster walks behind Nathan’s chair. He clenches the brown hairs between his fingers and spastically bashes Nathan’s head onto the glass cover on the desk. Foster pulls Nathan’s head back to the headrest of the chair. Blood seeps into the crevices of the cracked glass. Nathan tastes iron on his lips and feels blood drip from his chin. His eyes are beet red and deep gashes line his forehead.

“Are you ready to hand over those documents?” Saulter shrugs and leans close to Nathan’s face. “You can make this easy for me, or messy for you. Honestly, it’s really your choice.”

“Don’t you have his records in your damn database? What more could you need from the inheritance he left for his boys, you sick son-of-a-bitch?” he cries. “You’re the fucking government for god’s sake!”

“Do you not realize technology has created firewalls to keep the government’s hands off of certain individual’s files? Weston has figured out a way to slip through the cracks of our system and now we are at the verge of world destruction as we speak!” Saulter growls, while tossing files and papers off the desk. “Stop feeding me bullshit, Nathan, and give us what we want!”

Nathan keeps his mouth sealed tight. Saulter’s anger overwhelms him as his brain feels as though it could split at any moment. He nods at Miguel and walks away from the desk.

“Fine. I guess we’ll be here for a while then,” he says, reaching for the file on the floor. “Hmm… Becky Berringer. You have a file for your wife?” Saulter flips through the contents. He hears Miguel reeling back his fist and thrusting it into Nathan’s ribcage. He looks back to see Nathan heaving from the blow to his stomach. “Who keeps a file of their own wife, Foster? Isn’t a picture enough to satisfy a husband?” Foster laughs in the corner as Saulter tosses the file behind his head.

“You… can’t… do this. It’s against the law,” Nathan coughs.

“That is where you are very wrong, my friend. We actually can do whatever we want to suspected terrorists now. We can even do some pretty fucked up things to the family, as well. You should know this already though, you’re a lawyer.” Saulter sits in the chair across from Nathan again.

“You don’t understand. You have the wrong guy. I’m not a terrorist and neither is Weston. You guys are trying to frame us!” Nathan exclaims as blood spatters across the desk from his torn lip.

“No, you don’t understand, Mr. Berringer, the government decides who is a terrorist, whether it’s an innocent stay-at-home mom, or a corrupted lawyer.” Saulter walks over to the window again and watches everyone in the street. “We have passed laws only to satisfy the safety of our leaders, and we have desecrated the ones that our forefathers created to protect the people. This nation is no longer a perfect union for the people, it is now a country run by tyranny.”

“That’s bull!” Nathan interrupts as his head meets the surface of the sheet of broken glass on the desk.

“I didn’t want to jump to this scenario.” Saulter looks down at the photo of Becky. Nathan hocks a wad of bloody saliva towards Saulter. He dodges the red slime and looks up at both of his men with rage boiling in his eyes. “Please, do something about his mouth!”

Foster grabs the stapler on the desk and presses the metallic beam against Nathan’s forehead. He slams his fist against the top of the stapler as multiple staples puncture the lawyer’s forehead. He continues to press until he makes his way to the mangled lips. Miguel presses Nathan’s lips together as Foster staples his mouth shut. Droplets of blood rise from the wounds. Nathan moans as tears well up in his eyes and staples bend in and out of his head.

“Is the brave lawyer crying? Please, help him wipe away those tears,” Saulter laughs in amusement at the torture of an innocent man. He watches Foster seal his eyelids shut and press the stapler firmly against the rim of his eyelids.

Nathan’s shriek in his throat makes Saulter stop the two men.

“Do you have something to say now, before we permanently blind you, Mr. Berringer?”

“Mm…mmm…mmm,” Nathan mumbled behind his sealed lips.

“C’mon, let the guy at least have a chance to speak.”

Foster grabs the small staple remover from the desk drawer and wedges the sharp edges underneath each staple, ripping each one out with a slight tug. Saulter watches and listens to Nathan moan in pain until he can finally speak.

“Now, you were saying?” Saulter asks, leaning on the desk.

“Oh, god,” he exhales.

“Sorry, Nathan, but the big guy upstairs had to take a leak. It’s just you and me now.” Saulter grabs Nathan’s chin and turns the lawyer’s head towards him. “Could you stay coherent long enough to hand over those documents I so desperately need, or should I tell my men to torture your family ever so slowly?”

Nathan lazily tosses his head back. His eyes bulge as staples hang from his eyebrows like tiny meat hooks. His lip dangles from his mouth.

“Fuck… you…” he says under his breath.

“Wow! That’s a first from a lawyer, isn’t it, boys?” He looks up at his men with a devilish grin. “Usually your occupation requires you to squeal under pressure, but you, my friend, are the toughest bastard of them all,” he chuckles. “You should’ve joined the military instead. What a waste of talent.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asks.

Saulter clenches Berringer’s cheeks together. “This is what happens when you are a hero. It turns you into a person you never thought you could be. Almost superhuman.” Saulter tosses Nathan’s head back and sits back into the chair across from him. “It also turns you into a monster. Yes, you may get some nice feedback and decorate yourself with awards, but, in the long run, all people see is a scorched piece of shit.” He waves both men off of Nathan. “I don’t value the lives of anyone anymore. I only value the death of insubordinate citizens.” He looks out the window at the people in the streets with no sympathy behind his eyes.

Horizon Sample Chapter Reveal

Later tonight I will be posting a sample chapter from my novel Horizon. I’d like to thank the people who have already purchased the book and those who are interested but are still on the fence. I know I’m a new author in this large world of creation, but I hope all of you will enjoy the world in my head.

Alan Dread (Sample)

The house is quiet and calm now. There is a ghostly presence that lingers in the master bedroom, but it does not bother Alan Dread. He smiles in the bathroom mirror, while he rubs his bloodied fingers together. His jade eyes are enticed by the red that swirls around the drain. Alan splashes the warm water on his thin face and bald head. He reaches for the nearest towel and dries himself off as he leaves the bathroom and admires the pools of blood beneath the woman’s corpse on the bed. He stares at the woman handcuffed to the headboard, while her feet are bound to the foot of the bed. Her chest is cut open from one breast to the other, and her stomach is sliced from the navel to her neck. Alan pushes her blond bangs with his fingertips over her ear so he can look into her glazed eyes.

“You made me a lot of money tonight, Liz. I enjoyed the…” He looks at her beat up breasts and trimmed bush. “Well, the entertainment, so to speak.”

He pats the thigh of the stone cold body, feeling the skin tighten beneath his palm as the blood continues to pool beneath her. He kisses her on the lips one last time as he smells the fruity scent of her perfume.

Alan reaches for the cell phone on the end table and taps away at the keys to prepare for his meet with his next victim. He reaches beneath the bed and pulls out a black bag with a clean suit neatly packed inside. He dials one more number on his phone as he enters the bathroom again.

“Is she dead?” his employer asks.

“Yeah, the deed is done,” he answers, ripping off his stained clothes.

“Good. I’ll send someone to clean up the mess. I need you at that diner in an hour. Don’t be fuckin’ late either.”

“Understood,” Alan says, closing the screen.

His phone vibrates on the counter top as he slips on the clean clothes. It’s his wife. He presses the ignore button and scrubs his arms one last time to remove any excess blood that he may have missed before. He shoves the dirty clothes back into the duffel bag and tosses it onto the bed with the body. Alan reaches into his belt and removes the pistol that he has been anxiously waiting to use all night. He walks to the bedroom door and aims the barrel at the woman’s head. He pulls the trigger as an explosion erupts from the weapon. Her head bounces from the pillow as smoke rises from the hole in her forehead.

Insurance he says to himself as he walks down the hallway. The scent of melon and pomegranate fills the air as he follows the trail of rose pedals down the stairs. His eyes wander around the foyer remembering the double life he lived and some of the memories that made him nauseous. He swings open the front door and slams it behind him thanking the lord he no longer has to dwell on this side of town anymore.

Alan enters his black Mercedes and pulls out of the neighborhood onto Elmer Street. He flips open his cell phone and calls his wife back. The lights from the street lamps pass over the windshield as he watches the stars scatter around the crescent moon. He pulls up his sleeve to check his watch; still waiting for his wife to answer her phone.

“Hey, sweetie, I miss you!” she says with excitement.

“I miss you too, but I’m about to be in a meeting,” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t understand why you have meetings at this time of night, Alan. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“Eh, in my profession, it’s all about timing. I just have to meet with this last client, and I’ll be home for the night. I should be home a little before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, well, hurry up. I have something to show you,” she giggles.

“Madison, I’m working. Please, don’t…” His phone vibrates in his ear. It’s a picture message from Madison. He looks down to see her wearing a black laced thong and a transparent bra.

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” he chuckles.

“Just a little motivation to get you to hurry up. Come home soon, okay?”

“Oh, you know I will now,” he says. “I love you. See you soon.”

“Love you too!”

Alan flips his phone closed and tucks it away in the glove compartment. He turns onto the highway towards the diner. He spends about ten minutes on the same road, until he reaches the diner on the right. He pulls into the parking lot, where two other vehicles accompany his. He feels tension in the back of his mind.

No witnesses.

He enters the diner, finding the young woman waiting in the far corner. He walks over to her casually, but his thirst for more blood is making him edgy. He stands at the end of the table, staring at his prey with enthralled eyes. Her red hair curls over her shoulders, and her aqua eyes pierce through him like a needles.

“Sandra, I’ve missed you. How are things with you?’ he asks with a wide smile, while leaning over to hug her.

“Alan, I’m in trouble. I… I… I… don’t know who to go to,” she says with fright in his eyes.

Oh, shit, she knows he says to himself.

“Whoa, hold on! What’s going on?” he asks, sitting across from her.

“Someone is after me, Alan. The police have been snooping around my house searching for something. The bastard my ex-husband worked for is out to get me,” she answers with trembling hands. “I can’t talk to anyone. I feel like I’m all alone now.”

“Except for me,” he slyly answers.

She looks up at him with watery eyes. Her face is red and swollen from all of the tears.

“Yeah, I guess. I trust you more than my own family.”

He smiles thinking about the many torturous methods he’s going to use on her. Alan licks his lips as though craving for her to satisfy his appetite. He looks up at the waitress behind the counter.

“Coffee, please!” he says, waving his hand to her. He returns his attention to Sandra. “That’s ridiculous. You’ve only known me for two years. How can you already trust me more than your own family?”

Well, because you’re a highly trained assassin, who is an expert at deception, duh! He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, distraught by the slightest positive body language.

“Oh, sorry, nothing just thinking about how long you’ve known me and how you can trust me so quickly.”

“Yeah?” she answers with a raised eyebrow. “All I know is you’re the only person who has showed me how to love again. How to be a human being. I know I’ve been widowed once but…”

I already checked your records. You’re a serial killing, gold digging whore, he says to himself, watching her lips move but not hearing anything that is coming out.

“I don’t want to be locked up or be murdered. I’m scared,” she says, pressing her hands against her face.

“There is nothing to be scared of, Sandra. I assure you no one is coming to kill you or lock you up. You’re just extremely paranoid because of the death of your ex-husband.”

“Paranoid? Alan, you don’t understand! I’m under investigation by the F.B.I. Also, my husband’s employer has a bounty on my head!” she exclaims as her face turns beet red.

“Maybe we should leave,” he says, grabbing the coffee from the waitress.

“I can’t! They’re probably outside waiting for me right now!”

Alan calmly sips on his coffee and reaches over the table for her hands. She willingly relinquishes them to him.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” he says. “I’ll take you back to your place and we’ll talk about something cheerful while watching movies that will lighten the mood. Okay? Does that sound like a plan?”

She nods. “Just please don’t let them get me.”

He smiles and places some cash on the table. He helps her out of her seat and leads her to the exit.

“Let’s try to cheer you up, Sandra,” he says, looking at her with his sympathetic eyes.

Tonight you will be able to rest easy for eternity.

He follows her on the highway to a motel called the Blue Chariot Inn. Alan feels nervous when she pulls into the parking lot instead of driving to the safety of her own home. He parks beside her and rolls down his window and waves Sandra to his car.

“I thought we were going to your place?” he asks, looking up at her. He notices something different about her body language. She’s more relaxed and calm now.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking maybe a motel will be safer. No one will know we’re here. If I go back to my house, there may be a group of them waiting for me.”

Don’t agree to this, Alan.

“That’s ridiculous, Sandra. No one is after you, let’s just go back to your place and…”

“No!” she interrupts. “We are staying here tonight. If you can’t handle that, then leave, Alan. Just go!”

Too bad I can’t do that, you crazy bitch!

     “Alright. Let me just get my stuff,” he says. He reaches in the back seat of the car, where he has a white handkerchief and a bottle of chloroform. He dabs some of the substance into the handkerchief and gets out of the vehicle. He turns around swiftly grabbing her throat, but she jabs a Taser between his ribcage. He drops to his knees within seconds as she grabs the white cloth and smothers his own face with it. He can hear her laugh in the background as his eyes become heavy.

“Nice try slick,” she says as Alan falls into unconsciousness.

What’s on Will’s Mind?

I have had a few people ask me this recently, as well as, myself. If you read my blog and my entries, I write about a variety of random ass things and sometimes even I get overwhelmed by my own thoughts. Right now, I’m thinking about how badly I want to finish this cup of coffee, so I can stay awake for the day. Plus, my back is a little sore from working all night.

Yesterday, I was reading through a few rejection letters I had received. Many of them were written in a manner to be nice about the rejection, but no one ever takes a rejection nicely. I understand that for some agencies and publishers they want to pick the best pieces for the particular genre they are marketing, but sometimes it seems like they forget to update their own criteria when it comes to genre selection.

I remember a few months back I had sent my query letter and proposal to an agency, and they specifically asked for mystery, science fiction, romance, and action adventure. In my mind, I felt like my book fit every criteria these guys were looking for. Then, the rejection letter came and shockingly it said that they were not considering science fiction. So in my mind, I thought, what the hell? Why did you have my genre listed then on your website?

Anyways, that’s what’s been on my mind the last 24 hours. Also, I wanted to let everyone know that you should do what you love, no matter what criticism is thrown at you. It’s all just a matter of perspective cause honestly I never thought anyone would be interested in my ramblings on a blog.

Long Week

This week, well these last two weeks, have been extremely busy. Work and writing have been productive I guess you could say. I received one of my first writing jobs this last week with a long time friend of mine. It was just editing, but it was nice to know someone could trust my writing skills and let me put it to good use. Also, there are many people that I thank in my life for helping me grow as a writer, as well as, a person, but I will say there are many that I sometimes don’t remember because I have many people who support what I do. I wanted to sit down and thank one person specifically that has been through everything from the good, the bad, and the ugly. This person has especially dealt with the many rants that have come with working and trying to make it as a writer. Her name is Jennifer.

I’ve known her since first grade, and I know there have been so many instances, where I don’t deserve to have a friend like her in my life. In the last few years, I have lost many friends in my life the last few years because of my episodes of depression, as well as, my multiple rants about work, but Jennifer has been there to talk no matter what. Yes, we do have our little fights, but we always seem to work our way back around to say sorry and attempt to move on from it.

I just wanted to sit down and thank some one that has really been a great influence on my life, who has really pushed me to follow my dreams and been there through it all. Especially during my times of need when I was suffering from depression. If I didn’t have a friend like her to talk to, I don’t know where I would be right now. Thank you, Jennifer, for being there and reading every single piece of writing that I do from my blog to my novels. Thanks for being here and not making me a second thought when I’m going through my asshole episodes.

Bullying, Really, Dude?

Alright. I just woke up so I’m browsing through some articles in my news feed, and watching the news on television. I’ve come across a number of bullying articles, and I keep pondering the question, why the hell is this still going on?

There are too many cases of teenagers being bullied and taking their own life because they can’t handle the harassment anymore. It extremely saddens me to hear.that a parent says they have talked to their child about the subject, yet the parent bullies others in front of their child. It just makes me wonder if they only talk to their child just to make themselves feel better.

I want to point out that I have never talked about this or let anyone know what happened when I was younger. I remember on multiple occasions I was alone in the bathroom at school and these two guys would come in at the same time I would. They would watch me from the sink on the very end, where they would hang out and just talk trash about administrators and teachers. Well, I usually ended up getting the bulk of the beating whenever they saw me wash my hands.

They would approach me and ask me questions. I was a shy and quiet kid at the time who wanted to avoid confrontation. They asked me if I had ever been beat up? Have I ever been in a fight? Sometimes they asked, if I was too stupid to understand what they were talking about? (This last question was because I had to go to a separate language counselor because I had a hard time pronouncing words properly.) Well, on multiple occasions I was pushed around, and one time I was outnumbered by four guys. They never hit me in the face because they wanted my bruises hidden under my clothes.

I never told anyone about this time of my life for fear that I would be in trouble with them. I only saw one person watch me get beat up and a few minutes later administrators came in to stop it but by then, they had stopped hitting me and the teachers asked all of us questions. I never did snitch on them. I kept it hidden, and I never heard a word from my parents about it because the school system never told them. They didn’t even try to discipline these guys cause there was no proof, but honestly  I should’ve stopped that.

I know that was a long time ago, but the effects it created could be positive, as well as, negative. I just wish I knew it was okay to report people like that, but I was too young to understand there would not be backfire for getting these guys off my back.

Anyone else have to deal with bullies, whether it was you, a friend, or your child? If so, how did you handle it?


What to do?

Has anyone ever contemplated whether to A) Write B) Clean or C) Relax and just enjoy doing something else. Right now, I’m stuck in between these three categories. I started cleaning when I got home from work. Now, I’m contemplating whether I want to progress with my novel, or if I want to sit down and play Destiny for a little while. I know I really should write because as a writer professionalism is the key to becoming known and gaining more knowledge about the craft. It’s just really hard sometimes to sit down and really want to work hard. This is me being completely honest. I know I love to write, but so many distractions hinder me from wanting to finish and excel at my work.

Alright, here on out, games come last. I want to hit a little over 10,000 words a day, but I’m barely tipping the 3,000 marks every day. I even took down a cup of coffee to try and keep me energized with some caffeine. Like I said before, procrastination is a long and dirty battle that we are all probably going through as we blog about our lives, or teachings. So I’m taking a stand and telling myself to look at my future possibilities. Will I choose to continue to play games, work for the same company, and stay stagnant with my writing? Or will I be the guy that actually publishes 3-4 books a year, and creates an audience that is empowered by his words?

I really hope I can find a way to be the second guy. Time to write. I’ll try to answer messages later. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read my blogs and kept me excited everyday this week. Sleep well!