IFTTT For Writers Part 1: Facebook

I discovered IFTTT (If This Then That) about a month ago while I was looking for a way to connect the Road Home to Medium. Ironically I still haven't found an applet that can do that. I have set up numerous applets that make my life easier;

• Texting a code word to my lost phone to turn it into the alarm clock from hell
  
• Get new NASA wallpapers daily
  
• Notify me whenever my wifi drops (for which my bill is thankful)
  
• Automatically turns off my Bluetooth whenever I disconnect a device.
  

I'm still tweaking. There's so much more. Apparently, there are these things call "Smart Lights" that have been missing from my life. But anyways...

The most beneficial part of IFTTT is that it has eliminated the time needed for sharing content across the web. I used to spend more time sharing than writing, and when you combine that with promoting others, that can really eat into your morning. My publishing schedule used to look like this;

• Write/Edit Post
  
• Publish Post
  
• Shrink links
  
• Publish to Twitter
  
• Publish to Facebook (2 Pages)
  
• Publish to Pinterest
  
• Publish to LinkedIn
  
• ...you get the idea

Since IFTTT, my posting agenda looks more like this;

• Write/Edit Post
  
• Publish Post
  
• Shrink links
  
• Publish to Twitter
  
• Publish to Facebook (2 Pages)
  
• Publish to Pinterest
  
• Publish to LinkedIn
  
• I can work on my books now!

So in this post, I'm going to show you in three easy steps how to automate your Blogspot blog, so it auto-shares to your personal and professional Facebook pages.

1). Go to IFTTT.com and create an account.

2). Migrate to "Settings" and link your Google and Facebook accounts.

1. 
   

3). Search for Facebook. You should get a screen that looks like this;

4). Click on "Facebook."

5). Click "Share new Blog Posts To Facebook"

6). Click "Turn On."

7). Here, you can customize whether or not you get a notification when the applet runs. Connecting your Google account should incorporate your Blogspot info, so you don't need to enter it here. 

8). Customize this info as you see fit. You can alter the headline of what appears on Facebook in the lowest field.

9). Save.

10). Enjoy your day! Any new publication should now auto-post to your Facebook page! Sometimes it can take up to an hour to appear, and you should see this little icon to know that it worked. 

I don't use this particular applet. The one I use posts instantly and has never failed. So get in here and poke around, find something you like and go with it.

If you need help or anything, drop me a line in the comments and I'll get back to you. If you know something about this I don't, please, educate me.

Thanks for reading.

Writing/Publishing Update! (September 2017)

I know, I haven't done one of these in ages. I think my last one was more than a year ago.

The number one question I get from both friends and fans is are you ever going to re-release your books?

Well, the short answer is, no, I'm not.

I confess that I fell into a trap after Era of the Scourge: The Ring of Asarra, The Anniversary, and Era of the Scourge: Reclamation. Those titles did better than I was expecting and I got arrogant. I figured I could market those stories forever and not have to worry about anything else.

Yes, I'm an idiot, I know. But the good news is that I learn from my mistakes.

I've decided to take all of the lessons learned over the past two years and turn them into something I hope you'll love. I'm writing two one-hundred thousand word novels over the next three months because I just didn't have enough stress in my life.

Era of the Scourge: Reclamation and The Ring of Asarra are being retconned into the current universe, which begins with Era of the Scourge: Avelith. For those of you who've been following me for awhile, Era of the Scourge (think Star Wars meets Lord of the Rings meets Game of Thrones meets Street Fighter 2) is a prequel to Universal Warrior, and they all take place in the same universe at different times.

Avelith, the first official main story in the Era of the Scourge series, takes place early in our world's history when our planet was ruled by the original four horsemen of the apocalypse. Cut off from the Haevens in the First Dimension, twin sisters attempt a harrowing journey through the wildlands of Panagaea to seek help and find themselves embroiled in a civil war between ex-slaves known as the Fatherless and an impossible enemy.

Agoura Hills is about as far outside my comfort zone as it gets. I've written (and tossed) three drafts before I realized what the story was really about. Based on a true story, Agoura Hills (Supernatural YA Mystery Thriller) follows Chance Bailey and Celia Youngblood-Dobson as they race the clock and other forces as they attempt to unravel the mystery of what's been taking people from the nearby national park. First of a trilogy.

Both of these books are going to come out 2018.
I'm also going to lose a lot of money on these stories because they're first in the series. People rarely buy into first in the series. Justifiably, because people deserve to know that the stories they become invested in will be finished.

In the meantime, my other stories; Run, The Anniversary, The Appraiser, and anything else I have out there not connected to Era of the Scourge will be given away to new newsletter subscribers.

Thanks for reading.

Offbeat Christian, indie author and trying to strike a balance between family life and being a nomad, Avery K. Tingle is on a quest to write 200,000 words between two novels by the end of 2017. You should follow the misadventures on Twitter and Facebook. Also, he loves coffee to an unhealthy degree. You can support the journey by funding his Patreon, for which he'll be profusely grateful on social media. He also has a short on Amazon you'll like.

That's Not Snow

I have to see it.
I looked my friend/guide in the eye and spoke with more ego and bravado than the situation warranted. He immediately shook his head, his eyes going wide and somber. No, he said, no one goes there. Dude, no one is supposed to go there. Not even the hustlers go there. He paused and said, that's hallowed ground.

I didn't care. I browbeat him into taking me, even threatening to abandon the fight I was there for if he didn't.

It took us about ten minutes to get there in the dead of night. The stars peeked out between the other skyscrapers, but dimmed as we drew close. We shared the streets with quiet souls moving in the opposite direction. Those who took our path did so with their heads down and no sense of excitement.
When we reached the site, the crime scene tape had been eradicated by those who came before us. My friend/guide stopped at the base of the grotesque cemetery; I'm not going up there, he said, you wanna do this, you're on your own.

I thought he was a coward.

I climbed up the hill of shattered glass, girders, and stone, giving no thought to what I was truly stepping in. As I ascended I found I wasn't alone; others were there, chattering amongst themselves as they retrieved debris and examined it with varying degrees of anger. Like me, they just wanted to see.
I reached the top of the incline and stared into a howling oblivion that went on forever. It was a gaping hole that tore into the planet itself and channeled an ethereal wind borne of those still trapped down there, in a sense. They'd had plans that day, of what we'll never know. None of them' imagined they'd end up the victim of someone's fanatacism.

I couldn't take another step forward once I reached the apex. Peering into the abyss was a bad idea. The pull of the angry was a cold wind, both pushing and pulling me, demanding I join them to pay for trespassing.

I squatted. I don't remember if I took my glove off.

I dipped my hand into the ground and pulled back cold, gray, fine dust. Instinctively I let it run through my fingers, thinking how unseasonably cold it was.
It snowed. I said, It hasn't melted yet.
My friend/guide appeared like an apparition behind me. I wasn't aware of his presence until his spoke, his words resonating through the ages.
That's not snow.
Shock and horror hit me like an ice wave as the gravity of where I stood, and what had happened, hit me. I tilted my hand and let the last of the victims pass from me. We turned, left, and allowed an hour to pass before we spoke another word. I didn't look back.

Fifteen years later I can still hear the howling.
Some say America's innocence was lost that day, when planes flew into the towers and destroyed our illusion of invincibility. I remember firefighters, police, volunteers, and others who didn't care about color, political affiliation or creed coming together to save who could be saved and mourn those we lost.

That's what I choose to remember today. I am looking forward to the day that it does not take unspeakable tragedy to make us realize what really matters; that we are all in this together, that we are better and stronger together, and that our unity is our greatest asset and our enemies greatest bane.

Thanks for reading.

Offbeat Christian, indie author and trying to strike a balance between family life and being a nomad, Avery K. Tingle is on a quest to write 200,000 words between two novels by the end of 2017. You should follow the misadventures on Twitter and Facebook. Also, he loves coffee to an unhealthy degree. You can support the journey by funding his Patreon, for which he'll be profusely grateful on social media. He also has a short on Amazon you'll like.

How To Use IFTTT to Optimize Your Social Media

I went looking for a way to auto-connect The Road Home to my new Medium account and wound up taking the red pill.

A good chunk of my writing time isn't devoted to actually writing (which doesn't feel right to say). It's spent sharing and networking. For every post I wrote, a good half an hour went to sharing across social media. IFTTT gave me that time back. If you write, blog, or live, you should be using this.

According to Wikipedia, IFTTT is a is a free web-based service that people use to create chains of simple conditional statements, called applets. An applet is triggered by changes that occur within other web services such as Gmail, Facebook, Instagram, or Pinterest.

Essentially, you set up commands and IFTTT executes these commands. I have my IFTTT set up to do the following;

-Share blog posts automatically to Facebook (both pages), Twitter, LinkedIn and a specific Pinterest board with hashtags

-Share selective pins to my author page

-Share selective Instagrams to my author page

-Share new posts to Bit.ly for link shrinking

-Share new Youtube videos to the Road Home

It's literally that simple. Set and forget.

Here's how to get started. For this example, I'm going to show you how to connect your Instagram to your Facebook page, which Instagram does not allow in its default options.

1). Go to IFTTT.com and register an account. It's free.

2). Under "Services" click "New Applet", and then "Instagram"

3). Click "Selectively post your Instagrams to a Facebook Page when you include a specific #hashtag".

4). Clicking the Gear icon in the upper right-hand corner will allow you to configure the applet. This is where you set your hashtag. Every time you use this hashtag on your Instagram post, it will show up on your Facebook page. You can also set other certain conditions, such as the headline you want to appear on your FB post.

5). Click "Save" and you're done!

The applet will fire automatically, usually in about fifteen minutes. But if you're impatient like me, you can get apps for both Android and iPhone that will allow you to "Check Now" which means you can fire the app anytime you want.

I've only just scratched the surface of IFTT. There are loads of other options, including commands for Gmail (HALLELUJAH!) and smart lights that I'll delve into over the next month.

If you're familiar with this and can teach me something, or you need any help, please drop me a comment.

Hopes this saves you some time! Thanks for reading!

Offbeat Christian, indie author and trying to strike a balance between family life and being a nomad, Avery K. Tingle is on a quest to write 200,000 words between two novels by the end of 2017. You should follow the misadventures on Twitter and Facebook. Also, he loves coffee to an unhealthy degree. You can support the journey by funding his Patreon, for which he'll be profusely grateful on social media. He also has a short on Amazon you'll like.

What Donald Trump Has Taught Us.

It's been a tumultuous seven months. Our President has played chicken with North Korea, banned
transgender people from service in the military despite campaign promises to protect them, and most recently pardoned America's favorite sheriff.

But these past seven months have also been incredibly educational. In Donald Trump, we have come to realize how truly free we are.

We have the right to pretty much do whatever we want.
We can refuse to bake cakes for those who disagree with our religious affiliations.
We can kneel down to protest the treatment of black people in America by law enforcement.
We can march, bearing the most abhorrent symbols and chant the most disgusting slogans.
We can call anything we want a fact.

Know what else we can do?
We can use the collective power of our voice and finances to drive those who use religious persecution as a tool out of business.
We can support (and speak out against) those speaking out against the mistreatment of people in this country by law enforcement.
We can gather our numbers and march back against those who spew hate and hide behind the first amendment to do so.
We can cease trying to convince those who will not be convinced and hold our own facts to be true.

And when the President of the United States continues to take action that directly undermines American safety...
When he speaks falsehoods over and over again...
When a growing number of us realize that his bigotry is fact...
We have the right to band together and demand he be ousted from office.

We have the right to say and do pretty much what we want, within reason. We also bear responsibility for these rights. People do not have to agree with us. They are not bound to support us or share our views. They are not required to share our passions.

But each of us must learn to accept the right of every human being to live and prosper so long as it does not oppress or bring deliberate harm to one another.

When it does, we have the right to defend ourselves.

Thank you for reading.

Offbeat Christian, indie author and trying to strike a balance between family life and being a nomad, Avery K. Tingle is on a quest to write 200,000 words between two novels by the end of 2017. You should follow the misadventures on Twitter and Facebook. Also, he loves coffee to an unhealthy degree. You can support the journey by funding his Patreon, for which he'll be profusely grateful on social media. He also has a short on Amazon you'll like.

When The Monster Strikes: Attacking Anxiety

I've been dealing with PTSD and anxiety for ten years. I have been dealing with anger issues my entire life.

Most days, Trazedone keeps the anxiety at bay. But there are days, like today, where I just can't shake the monster and it seizes my gut like a python.

When that happens, this is how I deal.

1). Acknowledge It.
I'm afraid. Why am I afraid? What is happening right now to make me afraid? What has happened before to make me afraid?
Yelling in frustration to myself "I DON'T KNOW!" is a cop out and just leads further down the rabbit hole. If I don't know, then I can't deal with it. If I can't deal with it, then I will be mired in this forever.
And I will not let that happen.

2). Examine.
What is happening in my present situation to trigger my fear? Is it my writing? No, because I'm writing well right now. Is it my family? We're dealing with the death of a family friend--
That's it.
But there's more. There's always more.
The incident a couple of weeks ago, where I got confronted by the new Confederacy.
.
I'm not as fast as I used to be. I'm not as strong as I used to be. I can't fight like I used too, with reckless abandon only concerned with the victory. I can't do that with a family at stake.
I was afraid; if it had come down to a fight, I'm not sure I could have taken all of them. Ten years ago, sure. Now? I don't know. If that family hadn't shown up...

Between the loss of a family friend and that recent encounter, I'm dealing with my own mortality.

3). Rectify.
I am blessed to be surrounded by some good people. Twenty bucks says you are too. I try to put people around me who have had similar experiences, who are also older than me. These people are great company for pulling me out of my headspace.

One day, I'm going to die. But that does not appear to be today. The incident passed and turned into something positive. The person who died did so smiling, with people who loved him at his side. If I get that at the end, then I've achieved everything I needed in life.

Anxiety isn't something one "Just gets over". A person isn't broken or defective because they deal with mental illness. Everyone who does has their own coping mechanism. The best we can do is offer assistance, rather than condemnation.

I hope you take something from this.
This is how I deal with my anxiety.

Thanks for reading.

Greatly enjoying his status as a "Rogue Christian", Avery K. Tingle "The Gamer Author" is a survivor of child and domestic abuse. The author of scifi romance The Anniversary, he is currently writing two 100k word novels that he's determined to have done by the end of 2017. He lives in Eastern Washington with his wife and son and loves his day job in IT.

Dear Christians: Can We Please Stop Creating Atheists?

Last week, Yahoo ran a story that you either found beautiful, offensive or were indifferent to.
Great Britain celebrated what was widely believed to be its first interfaith lesbian marriage.

In what should have been celebrated as a joyous and monumentous occasion, Kalavati Mistry and Miriam Jefferson finally found a priest willing to marry them after falling in love twenty years ago.

But the internet is the internet, and we all know that we can't have nice things on the internet.
One of the first comments is this kindly and completely unnecessary little tidbit;

You know what the really sad thing is? There are tons of people who want to know what the big deal with God is, who would happily listen to someone who wouldn't act like a holier-than-thou douchebag.

Because the fact is, God doesn't make much sense on paper. This omnipotent being suddenly willed all of this into existence and appears content to watch us destroy ourselves, over and over? It's easy to see why people are so dismissive, especially as they appear more geared to taking control over their own destinies. 

The fact is, no one is more responsible for turning people away from Christianity than Christians themselves. This has to stop.

So I'm gonna tell you some things you might not expect a Christian to say.

Half the time, we have no idea what's going on.

For some reason, we're absolutely horrified of telling someone we don't know. But the truth is, God will never be proven in life. The entire point of faith is to put trust in something you can't see or prove. That is what Christians choose to do. Despite evidence to the contrary, we believe that God created the Heavens and the Earth, sent His son Jesus Christ to die for us, and that Jesus rose from the grave three days later. I know, it's a lot to take on faith, but it'ss what we choose to believe. Most of the time, we pray, He talks to us in a way that will make us sit up and listen, and then we go with it. We often don't know how things are going to work until we get there.

We do not have an "Inside Track" to God.

We are not, I repeat, are not fit to tell anyone that they're going to hell. As far as God is concerned, we're all messed up. No one is better than the other. That was the point of Jesus' life and sacrifice. So whens someone comes out and publicly (and arrogantly) asks forgiveness on behalf of someone else, that person is usually full of shit. We're rolling the dice in life just like everyone else. We believe and hope we'll live a life worthy of gaining entry to Heaven in the next life, but God intercedes on our own behalf and judges each of us on our own merits. 

If someone asks me about God, I'll do the best I can to tell them my truth; how I came to believe (again) and the road that led me to this point. That's what our duty is as Christians; we spread the gospel to the best of our ability when someone comes to us. We greet them as brothers, sisters, equal under the Lord. We leave the scorn, ridicule, and face-punch-worthy condemnation at home because none of us are worthier than the other in God's eyes, no matter what our ego tells us.

So maybe, just maybe, if we begin to approach each other as lost souls trying to get by in this planet instead of trying to do God's work for Him (WE CAN'T DO THAT!) maybe we can see a positive shift in the world. Because right now, we're doing more harm than good and in order to turn that around, we must accept responsibility for our own shortcomings.

None of us are perfect. Most of us are trying. Most of us need help Most of us will accept help if offered graciously and without condemnation. We're all beating ourselves up enough over what we've done wrong. We don't need help from the zealously religious to make it worse.

John Pavolitz said this better than I did.

God bless and be safe.

Greatly enjoying his status as a "Rogue Christian", Avery K. Tingle "The Gamer Author" is a survivor of child and domestic abuse. The author of scifi romance The Anniversary, he is currently writing two 100k word novels that he's determined to have done by the end of 2017. He lives in Eastern Washington with his wife and son and loves his day job in IT.

America: A True Story About Hatred and Unity

I wanted fast food tonight. That was all.

I found myself at Burger King to pick up my wife's order. I was a few cars deep when I spotted the Confederate flag. I surreptitiously snapped a few photos. This was going to be a very different story.

When I pull out of Burger King, it turns out there's more than one. In fact, there are four trucks, each flying variations of the flag. I have to go around the front of them to avoid an accident. They're parked right in the middle of the road. As I drive around them, each person in the vehicle makes it a point to ensure I see them. I do. They see me too.

When I get to McDonald's (which is in the same lot), I learn that they're not taking debit cards at the moment. Terrific. I wanted chicken nuggets and instead, I get a run-in with the new Confederacy.

So I make my way back to Burger King, again appearing in full view of the trucks. I place my order, get it, pay, and pull out.

Then one of the trucks accelerates into my path. I throw in the brakes to avoid an accident.

And stay in the car.

The driver who nearly rammed me could be about my age. He's balding, beard, horribly overweight, and coming right at me. When he takes his third step towards me, I get out of the car and start sizing him up. Instincts I haven't drawn on in years begin to fire up, coupled with the uncomfortable, frightening reality that I have a family that I'm suddenly desperate to see again.

I repress the latter emotions as the man points at me and says; "Do you know who's in the White House right now, boy?"

My world turns red. Racial slurs trigger me. I am praying, asking God to forgive me for what I'm about to do, praying I see my wife and son again and hoping they can forgive me too.

The driver is then joined by four more people; three males and one female. None of them look like they take care of themselves physically. My mind starts to process. If they're armed, I can snatch the big guy and use him as a shield, maybe get through two of them before they take me out. Maybe.

I've been living on borrowed time anyway...

Another set of doors close behind me and it's an effort not to give into terror. One word flashes through my head; surrounded.

I chance a glance behind me and it's not more of the Confederacy I see; it's a Hispanic family. Actually, it looks like all of the Hispanic families.

I have to stress; I didn't know these people. There were eight of them, and they weren't looking at me. One of them was younger and smaller than my son. The patriarch's eyes were red and on fire. The women were clenching and unclenching their fists.

Suddenly the Confederacy is not eager to proceed. 

I find myself flanked by this family and the father begins to, I assume, cuss these people out in Spanish. I heard the words madre and muerte thrown around. I imagined the guy threatened to kill him and his entire family.

I actually smiled, suddenly much happier about my odds. I wasn't alone. Armed or not, this was a fair fight. And if God chose this night to call me home, dammit, some of them were coming with me.

But that didn't happen. The Confederates hurled a few more slurs our way and then drove away. I watched them go, ensuring I wouldn't be followed home.

The patriarch turned to me and offered his hand. In exceptionally broken English he asked; "You okay?"

"Yeah." I lie, accepting his hand, "Yeah, I'm fine. Gracias."

He shakes my hand and grasps it with both hands. He looks at me with fierce, unblinking brown eyes for a brief, fleeting moment, he and I are brothers. "De nada." 

He and his family take their leave. I have a story to tell my wife that's going to piss her right off.

This isn't in DC, Charlottesville, or even in the Bible Belt; this is in Washington state. Someone racially accosted, might very well have been ready to risk his life to fight me, invoked the name of President of the United States because he thought he was justified!

Didn't know me, didn't know anything about me but was ready to come at me because I am black, and he feels vindicated in his hatred.

This is the first time the administration has hit me on my front door. 

Killing all of any people, white or black, will not solve the problem; it exacerbates it. White people aren't the problem. Black people aren't the problem. Illegal aliens aren't the problem. Hatred is the problem. 

We fought wars. People died to stamp out Naziism and the Confederacy. Unless every last one of us who disagrees with this idiotic mentality comes together, they will do it again. 

Right here, right now, we need to put aside our disagreements because there is only one enemy here, and the enemy is emboldened, gaining ground, and marching.

Conservatives and Liberals can agree that hate cannot stand. It's time for the two sides to come together to destroy our common enemy so we can go back to arguing as to how to make our country a better place again.

God bless you, and thanks for reading. 

PS: Just because it doesn't happen to you doesn't mean it isn't a problem for someone else. That's what privilege is.

An Extroverts Guide To Introverts

Congratulations on adopting your first introvert! If you own a cat you have a head start on this adventure. Your introvert will challenge you, cancel plans at the last minute, and may never, ever speak to you on the phone. However, given time and TLC, your introvert will become one of the most loyal and caring people you've ever met, so much so that you'll wonder what you ever did without one.

Let's get started!

So let's start with you. You're the social butterfly, the one who loves to laugh loud, be around as many people as you can, laugh loudly with others who are laughing loudly and happily chatter away with everyone in the room.

Meanwhile, the person you brought with you, the one you swore would have a good time, the one who never seems to get out of the house, has either disappeared into the corner with a single person where they appear to be whispering. Or they're playing with the dog. Maybe both. But they just don't seem to be having a good time and if you'd known it would've been like this for them, you never would have made them leave the house.

Let me start by saying that your friend doesn't hate people. An introvert prefers to take one person at a time, engage in what they consider a meaningful conversation, process that conversation, and move on. An extrovert says 'party' an introvert hears 'room full of walking talking nuclear bombs'. Introverts don't hate people, but being the center of attention is like being in the center of the sun. Everyone is talking so much and so loudly that it all devolves into black noise, and soon we want to go home and never come out.

Image Original Property of Youth Connect

Your introvert would actually love to meet new people. This is why we count on our extrovert friends because meeting people comes far easier to you than it does to us. But please be patient. An introvert can (and loves too) talk deeply about most things and finds that introductory small talk forced and awkward. We're not good at it. This is what we count on you for because you shine at the introduction.

Your introvert will never agree to a spur of the moment party. That's like asking them to walk into that room full of bombs when they're already exploding. One on one events are a little less daunting, especially in the beginning, but still, take days of notice. Don't surprise your introvert with last minute plans because they'll lock up like a turtle's jaw. The more notice you give, the more time they have to mentally prepare for the event. I promise, if they're going with you to this event, know that your relationship means a great deal to them. 

The last thing you should know is that your introvert simply wants to be alone from time to time. They are not antisocial. As you're recharged from hanging out with people, an introvert is a dead battery after a party. They're not avoiding you, chances are they had a good time, but after so much noise, your introvert will need to disappear and recharge in silence. Often this is the hardest part for the extrovert to relate to; an introvert needs solitude, silence, and space to function. Given time they'll be (reluctantly) happy to people again, but that time alone is necessary.

Extroverts can introduce introverts to the world the latter would never see otherwise. Introverts can provide that lifelong friendship the extrovert may be lacking. So thank you for adopting an introvert and if you haven't, consider picking one up today!

Thanks for reading. 

Three Lessons Learned From Self-Destruction (Why I Pulled My Titles)

Hello there! This is way later in the day than I intended. I just got home from a two-day vacation in Seattle; while the wife went to the Seahawks training camp, I threw a bag over my shoulder and got back to my roots. I really forgot how nomadic I am, and how refreshing it is to have the ground under your feet with no idea where you're going. I still believe that the best things in life happen by accident, and I explored parts of Seattle I hadn't seen before. I'll have photos up on my Instagram and Facebook within the next couple of days.

So come back with me one year. I'd finally done it. After all the planning, pantsing, panicking and pontificating, I finally self-published my first novel to Amazon, Kobo, and Barnes and Noble. It was called Era of the Scourge: Reclamation. It took place sometime before Era of the Scourge: The Ring of Asarra, but I never really cleared up the timeline (mistake one).

Then something amazing happened. A week later (I hadn't checked my sales yet), a friend of mine got in touch with the headline; "Someone's doing well for themselves." She had forwarded me a copy of Amazon's scifi/fantasy newsletter.

Reclamation was right at the top, in new and exciting reads.

I literally fell over in my chair.

It didn't stop there. Reclamation took off on Kobo, so much so that they were using it to advertise the platform.

And right about here is where the self-destruction kicked in.

I added a subplot to Reclamation one week before I released it and people liked it. When you've heard failure loser never-gonna-be-anything literally all of your life, that's what you come to believe about yourself.

I had two days where I moved no units and suddenly I was freaking out.

I looked back over everything I had out at the moment; a few shorts, an audio production, and I decided that my dad and detractors were right. I was crap. People were starting to realize that. So I took everything down before the world could realize I was a fraud and phony.

People started emailing me that week as to why they couldn't find this title and I realized; I'd made a mistake. I wasn't ready to confront the idea that just maybe, I was good at being an author, but maybe I didn't suck as bad as I'd been led to believe.

There are three things I took from the experience;

1). Everyone Suffers From Imposter Syndrome.
There isn't a creative alive that doesn't believe they suck. No one, from Stephen King to J.K. Rowling to R.J. Blain, believes they aren't a giant fraud ripping people off. I'm not special in that regard and neither are you. The successful ones are the ones who drown out the noise in their mind and power through. I'm on the final drafts of two novels, each over ninety thousand words, and I've at last learned to tune out that monster.

2). Respect The Craft.

Self-publishing comes easy for me. I don't have that fear of pushing Publish. I look forward to it because it's scary as hell and each time I do, I stab that self-doubt monster right in its black heart. I can also generate quality content at a high rate when I put my head on it. 

But I left a lot of meat on the bone when it came to Reclamation. I still wasn't satisfied when the deadline rolled around. I felt backed into a corner (of my own making) and I wasn't smart or humble enough to buy more time so I could tell the story correctly. 

Loving the craft--and the business--doesn't mean you should take it for granted. I never announce deadlines anymore. I sparsely release information on my novels. I am taking them time to tell the stories as they should be told so when I do publish them, it's all out there.

3). Just Because No One's Reviewing...
Let's be straight. Reviews are hard to come by. I didn't seem to need them; people were buying my stories in droves. I wasn't getting any reviews so I figured it was the friends/family/intro bump, but then complete strangers were tracking down my social media and telling me how much they loved the story. I had no idea what to do with that. I mean, if they're not taking the time to review, then they're just telling me what I want to hear, right?
Is it apparent yet that I suffer from a tremendous streak of self-destructiveness?
If people are spending their money on your work, that's huge. There are people who won't spend money on health insurance but they'll buy your work. Track them down, if they don't find you first. Thank them for their efforts. Get them onto your mailing list. Reviews may be hard to come by, but a lack of reviews does not indicate a lack of interest. 

That latest bit of self-destructiveness I put myself through was the last. I have taken concrete steps to ensure that that doesn't happen again, though I'm sure there are a million other demons for me to slay. I hope that by reading this it saves you from making my mistake. You're far better than you allow yourself to believe. See your craft through. May you find success in your endeavor.

Thanks for reading.

When It's Time To Walk Away (A Survivor's Story)

Five years ago, I pulled a handwritten letter from the mailbox that changed my life forever. It was from my father. Strange, because we never spoke.

He'd written three pages; front and back. In all three pages, he apologized, over and over again, for what my childhood had been. It tore the breath right out from me. I remember falling back into my seat, horrible memories popping up as I went over his words. He stated that a lot of it was his fault and that I didn't deserve it. I'd never thought I'd hear those words in my lifetime.

I've never cried so hard in my life.

My first memory in life is from my father hitting me. I still have the scar from the occasion. The home was never home and the last place I ever wanted to be. The home was terror, fear, and oppression, wondering what kind of mood dad would be in and how we'd be made to pay for it. The home was where I got hit with everything you could think of, where the punches struck and I thought I would die because I was bleeding so much, or I couldn't breathe.

Home is where I got angry.

My mother did the best she could. My mother never put herself before anyone else, not even a stranger. She would cook for a week. She taught me to write and embrace my imagination. She often physically shielded me from my father's assaults. She paid a horrible price of her own.

I wasn't the easiest kid to raise. I was a bad student, a juvenile delinquent, and I was completely rotten to my little sister. Some of those beatings? Yeah, I had them coming. My juvenile criminal record rivaled an encyclopedia.

For awhile, I thought I might have a real relationship with my parents. Like the ones I heard all of my friends talk about, the ones that made their stories feel like gut punches. That dream of going home for the holidays for the laughing, the food, and even the drama? Seemed like that was in reach for a little while.

Then, the son I abandoned at birth got placed with them.
And it happened all over again.
To him.

I was an adult at that point. I could do something about it now. But I was always afraid that if I ever saw my father again, I'd kill him.

I went through the legal system (it took five years altogether) and obtained full legal custody of him. I still had a tenuous relationship with my family and tried to get my mother to understand why my son wanted nothing to do with them.

But she wouldn't.
I guess I can't blame her. I love my mom. They grew up in different, more violent times. Talking to her and trying to get her to understand--and having my wife tell me to stop trying to get her to understand--was what really made it all click.

To them, there was nothing wrong with the behavior. Fear and distrust were okay, as long as you did what you were told. Nothing else mattered.

Following the court order on my son's custody agreement resulted in a yearlong struggle to get him back. When I finally did, I heard for the last time that my father thought I was a failure for the path I took.

I'm done.

I hate listening to stories about friends and their families, how they go to each other for comfort and solace, or just get together on weekends and hang out. I hate it because it's all I ever wanted in life. I've been on my own since I was sixteen years old. I know how to fight and survive, but getting close to people and forming healthy relationships is something I've always struggled with.

Simultaneously I love hearing about normal stories. I love knowing that not everyone came up like I did. I love that normal still exists.

I don't talk to my parents or sister anymore, and I think it's a silent agreement that we're all better off this way. It sucks because I love my mother very much. I even love my father, if you can believe that. A little while ago, we all remarked how if mom passed first, the rest of us might never speak to each other again. It's hard to admit that you, and your birth family, are better off without one another.

Life is really good today. I'm in a healthy marriage with an amazing woman and partner. I have full custody of an amazing kid I actually left behind at birth (how about that!). Ours is not a home ruled by fear but by love, compassion, and understanding. It's why I rarely leave on my days off.

Cutting people you're supposed to love may be the hardest thing you ever do in life. It doesn't mean you love them any less, but if their absence is healthy for you, then do it. No one has the right to deem you a failure, a mistake, or any of that shit. No one has the right to put their hands on you. Ever.

It's been a long, difficult, and wonderful journey, but I'm a survivor and I'm happy to be here to tell you that it's okay to be yourself. It's okay to look after yourself.

And it is always okay to leave toxic people in the rearview.

Thanks for reading, and God bless.