The #WIPSnips word of the day is "heat." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: This time of year, Lafayette County burned with the kind of fury only Southern summers could summon. It left tempers short, conversations shorter, and provoked even the most God-fearing into swearing under their breaths.
Just another Sunday in Lafayette County. Heat is a way of life down south. 🥵 #WIPSnips #amwriting #writesky
Same 😞
The #WIPSnips word for April 6th is "rampant." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: As easily as a summer rain fell from dark clouds or morning fog rose from a valley, six ancient souls stepped through a tear in the world and onto the shores of the New World. Afirika knew them as Damu ya Buibui, Blood of the Spider. Brothers. Their father gave them free rein to roam the world. To influence mortals. To weave chaos into their lives. Chaos ran rampant in their wake. So long as their deeds didn’t interfere with his plans, he let them run amok.
Everyone knows Anansi the Spider, but did you know he had six sons? 🕷️ Like their father, they weave chaos and disorder into the world, and now they set their sights on the American South in the early 1800s. #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy #writesky #WIPSnips
Diagram of a spider web with the title, "Spider Web Anatomy." It shows the structure of a spider web, calling out spiral lines, radial lines, and drag lines. From Nebraska Game & Parks.
When one of the big bads in your #histfantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD is Anansi, you gotta research how spider webs are built. #amwriting #afrofantasy #writesky 📚🕷️
My life 😞
Congrats!! 🎉 That's huge.
Screenshot of an AI detector showing the pasted text is AI-generated. The text is from Psalm 23 in the KJV Bible: “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”
Right?! One my characters is prone to spouting Bible verses. ZeroGPT claims this passage from Psalm 23 KJV is AI-generated. 😖
Dope! 💯
This. All of this. Support indies if you want to see the stories that trad pub doesn't and won't publish.
That's huge news! I'm right there with you tryna finish the draft I've been writing for years. Congrats on such an amazing accomplishment.
The #WIPSnips word for March 21st is "wake." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: “I ain’t one to speak ill of the dead,” Betty said, wiping away the tearful facade of grief into her handkerchief, “but can’t say I didn’t see this comin’.” “Did the best he knew how, Sister Betty.” “You ain’t the one who found him, Reverend. Face all twisted up like that. ‘Best he knew how’ still got him dead.” Cope couldn’t stop staring at the grave marker. Reverend, please. Tell her to turn me loose. Zeke’s last words crawled beneath his skin. A chill gripped his spine like icy fingers, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. “Seen more folks end up like Zeke than I care to remember, Sister Betty. He’s in the Lord’s hands now. Best not throw stones on hallowed ground.”
Reverend Copeland is feeling guilty, but doesn't let on. He plays his part well. #WIPSnips #writesky #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy
Dayum! The new Soulive is solid open.spotify.com/track/0z2Lou... #nowplaying 🎶🎧 #amwriting #writesky 📚
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "beam." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: The little thing blinked. Yipped and yawned. Licked its short and fine black fur clean of fluid. It wobbled on four tiny legs, then bones snapped and lengthened. Newborn fur gave way to a course tan coat speckled by dark brown spots. Paws stretched and joints shifted with cracks and pops. It grew and grew until its shoulders brushed against the tiny shack’s low beams. Broad jaws opened wide, revealing teeth made for tearing carcasses and crushing bones. The beast crept forward, ducking under the doorway. The men retreated, step after ginger step. They had no name for such a creature. Nanyamka did. Dayo. Laughter spilled from the hyena's throat. A sound that turned bravado into fear.
Dayo goes from newborn to massive proportions in moments. Hyena's aren't supposed to do that! #WIPSnips #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy #writesky
Dayu ya Buibui: See Trouble, River Drinker, Stone Thrower, Skin Changer, Road Builder, and Fire Bringer. 🕸️🕷️
Anansi the spider sits in the center of a web while surrounded by six smaller spiders, his six sons.
It's #amwri̇ti̇ng day! In chapter 7 of my #histfantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD, Anansi's 6 sons, Damu ya Buinui (Blood of the Spider), step through a tear in the world and set foot on the shores of the American South in the early 1800s. #afrofantasy
Oh, the drama!
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "thing." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: Birdie followed the stone path and stopped at the back door of the church. She hiked up her petticoats and drew the small single-shot flintlock tucked snug in her garter belt. “I need to find a better place to keep this damn thing,” she said. “When did you start carrying a gun?” Cope whispered. “After what happened, you don’t? You really want me to bring up Sadie again?” “Men of God don’t carry guns.” Birdie rolled her eyes and slipped through the open door. “I liked you better before you was a preacher.”
Birdie knows how to handle herself. #WIPSnips #writesky #histfantasy #afrofantasy
The #WIPSnips word of the day for February 20th is "corner." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint SLAVES OF GOD: “Good morning, brothers and sisters.” His raspy baritone washed over the congregation in a comforting wave. He nodded to familiar faces dressed in their Sunday best, even acknowledging those huddled near the door. He smiled; the kind that formed wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The kind that made folks trust him before he even spoke. The church hushed.
Reverend Copeland got folks in the palm of his hands. #WIPSnips #writesky #histfantasy #afrofantasy
Chapter 7: If the lion doesn’t tell his story, the hunter will.
Stories traveled faster and further than people.
But in this foreign land, Nanyamka’s story hadn’t been told.
Not yet, anyway.
#OpeningLines #amwriring #histfantasy #afrofantasy
And now ,,, chapter 7. #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy 📚
My #WIP is set in the early 1800s so I feel you on that one.
The #WIPSnips word for February 7th is "redeem." Here's a snipped from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: The reverend stared at Ezekiel’s empty seat. Hadn’t seen him in days. He never missed Sunday service. Never. Though most called him Zeke, everybody knew his story. A punchline, the town drunk, a cautionary tale. Reverend Copeland had given him purpose. A place to lay his head. A few humble tasks to keep his restless mind occupied and idle hands busy. His living, breathing sermon. A man redeemed. But when the reverend needed proof that the Word worked miracles, sitting plain for all to see, Ezekiel missed his cue. Had Zeke fallen back to his old ways? Not now. Not in front of them. Not in the house he’d built.
Where's Ezekiel? Reverend Copeland needs his poster boy. #WIPSnips #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy
The #WIPSnips word for Feb. 5th is "except." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: “Let’s go for a walk.” She returned the letter and stepped into the night. Cope snatched the long linen shirt hanging from the doorknob and pulled it over his head. Anything to keep folks from spotting the preacher in his skivvies following a woman in the dark. The fabric clung to his sweat-soaked skin, sticking where it shouldn’t. Birdie took the lead. He followed, keeping a few paces between them. They passed through the garden. He scanned the streets, eyes darting for any sign of movement. Except for a dog down by the general store, likely barking at a squirrel, not much else prowled. No curious eyes. No gasps of impropriety. Safe, for now.
Cope and Birdie getting up to no good at night. #WIPSnips #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy
"You write in order to change the world... if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way people look at reality, then you can change it."—James Baldwin
A rough pass a the book bio for my urban fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: Slaves of God is a Southern Gothic historical fantasy rooted in the early American frontier, where enslaved people, con men, and old gods collide, for readers of Toni Morrison, Colson Whitehead, and Octavia Butler who crave brutal honesty, moral reckoning, and a story that refuses to let them look away.
Had a visit from writer's block over the weekend so I spent some time working on a book bio for SLAVES OF GOD. It's pretty generic, but it's only a first pass. More to come. What's your book bio? #writesky #authorsky #writingcommunity
Thank you! I appreciate that.
I can't stop thinking of the line: "the meat of me." That does so much work. Love it.
Right?! Definitely a reason to respect nature.
Today's #WIPSnips word is "bone." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: Trees grew close together here, bowed under moss and time. Roots curled, vanishing beneath the dark water and silt, like they tried to escape whatever tethered them to this dead place. Deeper into the swamp, the air turned. Old rain. Fish bones. The slow decay of things too stubborn to die. Off in the distance, a dark shape drifted, half-submerged near the edge of a clearing. She mistook it for an old log until it blinked.
What's worse? Getting lost or getting lost in a swamp. 🐊 #WIPSnips #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy
The #WIPSnips word of the day is "gold." Here's a snippet from my historical fantasy joint, SLAVES OF GOD: Nanyamka didn’t understand the language, but she’d heard it before. On the tongues of men who came to her homeland with their god, guns, and greed. They stripped her of her clothes. Fine garments, bright with colors, bold patterns threaded with gold. Craftsmanship their simple minds never imagined. Her locs lay scattered across the dirt floor. Hacked. Torn. Left behind. Stripped of the silver and jewels once braided in. Still smelled of moringa oil. Faint. Nutty. Green. A reminder of home. They wanted to shame her. Break her. Make her small. But she had no humanity to lose. Not the kind they understood.
You can't dehumanize a god. #WIPSnips #amwriting #histfantasy #afrofantasy
