So… I’ve got a new book coming out in a couple of weeks. That’s kinda old news, isn’t it? Fish Stick Fridays, what I called my sweet little cozy and was promptly informed I am off my rocker for thinking it’s cozy. It’s got a couple of cups of hot chocolate in it. Sure, there’s murder and sex but what doesn’t?

I’m waiting for Dirty heart to come back to me for edits. Edits. The bane of all existence but quite quite necessary. I don’t think I give enough shout outs to Grace who is the lead editor on all my books. Her team rocks. She rocks. Even if it took her a little while to figure out I was wearing a Blue Sun t-shirt. But hey, it was a long weekend.

Speaking of long weekends, I have mine scheduled to lay down some words. Maybe grab some Thai food. I could eat some shrimp pineapple fried rice. BUT I also have stuff to make gumbo so I should get that cooking. Perhaps starting it tomorrow so we can eat it on Saturday.

The dog’s wandering around the living room. He and the cat are battling for the couch. Well the space next to me. The cat’s had enough of his shit. Dog is now up and down. Seriously, sometimes Gus the dog is just a pain in the ass.

Whatcha all got planned for the weekend?

Sometimes people struggle with the idea that they’re not loud enough, aggressive enough, committed enough in their efforts to change the world for the better.

I read a twitter today that said…to paraphrase… “this movement is not for you.”

This person was angry because a journalist/photographer intended to document / record an event about racial challenges.

It struck me as horrifically sad and disgusting that this person had the hubris to tweet…this movement is not for you.

Not everyone marches. Some people document events because if no one records history… like the tree in the forest that falls… does it ever really make a sound?

If you march…or do not march… if you chose to work to change the world, know that there is no one way to do so. Some people do choose to put forth a fight they might not be affected by. I am not gay yet I choose to fight for equal rights for everyone across the racial and gender spectrum.

Many of the rights I have, I will never use. There are many situations I will most likely never encounter. I will probably never marry. I will never be denied adopting a child because it is a different race than I am. I will probably never know the fear of being pulled over by a cop in a sketchy neighbourhood and I will never BE a cop who is fearful for his or her life because someone is targeting men and women in blue.

I will more than likely never have to wonder if I didn’t get the job because I am a woman….or because I am not in line with an ethnic requirement. Mostly those ideas never occur to me but I have discovered being female and practical in the workplace is always an amusing challenge, especially with rigid-minded people. I have the luxury of being able to work elsewhere. Not everyone does.

But I do have a voice. And unlike the tree, we are being heard. You are being heard. So don’t think your one voice isn’t worth using. Be an activist. Be one on your own terms.

Even simply treating people as you’d want to be treated is often the greatest form of activism there is.

Fish Stick Fridays is now up for Pre-Order on ARe.

https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-fishstickfridays-1923934-145.html

Deacon Reid was born bad to the bone with no intention of changing. A lifetime of law-bending and living on the edge suits him just fine—until his baby sister dies and he finds himself raising her little girl.

Staring down a family history of bad decisions and reaped consequences, Deacon cashes in everything he owns, purchases an auto shop in Half Moon Bay, and takes his niece, Zig, far away from the drug dens and murderous streets they grew up on. Zig deserves a better life than what he had, and Deacon is determined to give it to her.

Lang Harris is stunned when Zig, a little girl in combat boots and a purple tutu, blows into his bookstore, and then he’s left speechless when her uncle, Deacon Reid, walks in hot on her heels. Lang always played it safe, but Deacon tempts him to step over the line… just a little bit.

More than a little bit. And Lang is willing to be tempted.

There are a lot of people chiming in on Nanowrimo.

You should do it.
You shouldn’t do it.
If you do it, you’re a success.
If you do it, you still aren’t really a writer.
Why are you doing it?
What do you think you’ll accomplish?
You gain nothing by doing it.
What are you going to do with it once you’re done?

… And the list goes on.

Here’s the thing… if you want to do it, just fucking do it and have fun. Don’t let anyone tell you how to spend your time or your energy. If Nanowrimo is a goal you’ve set for yourself…to make that word count… to write that story… and I’m going to be the first one in line to cheer you on.

Because it’s YOUR want. YOUR desire. YOUR goal.

So you go do that thing. And do your best. Be the best fucking you that you can be.

And if you don’t make it, do it again next year or next month if you want to. We all have dreams. Big dreams. Little dreams. And every size in between.

Regardless of the size, it’s still a dream. You can do this. Have faith. And chocolate. Never underestimate a nice handful of chocolate.

Just saying.

TL;DR: Fuck people who tell you that you’re not worth your own time and desires. Eat chocolate.