FULL DISCLOSURE

Yeah...Full Disclosure, I'm high

Full Disclosure works on another level; this blog is about how I write a novel and publish it. Let's hope I can manage it under the influence... 

I was recently asked "How did you write your books and get them published? Like, what inspired you to write them?"

It starts with a desire to create and communicate. All art is a desire to create something...

8 hours later:

Nope, nope, I can't write while under the influences...I tried. LOL  

The first part of the question was, how did I write my books, is best answered by another question. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice. Start small. Write your daydreams, write a chapter, write a little here and there. When I first started writing I wrote different genres and didn't finish the first three books I started, but the fourth book I wrote from beginning to end...it took me years, but I did it. There's no quick and easy way to write, you just write and you write a lot. Eventually, your distinct voice, your writing style will develop. Keeping a blog is a good way to get that practice and build your audience. 

Write and read, read a lot. Writers need to be readers, in my opinion. Always have a book in your bag that you're currently reading, fiction or nonfiction. I feel that reading helps maintain a strong inner monologue and sense of sentence flow. 

What's the Big Idea? You have to have one. What are you trying to accomplish? What are you trying to explore? When I started writing Fatal Retribution my big idea was to take an innocent young woman and turn her into someone capable of killing a man. For the longest, I was studying serial killers. I couldn't quite wrap my mind around their motives so I found them fascinating. With just that idea I knew my beginning (innocent lady) and I knew my ending (she kills a man). I just had to fill in the middle bits...

Write what you know. Every writer, whether it's fiction or not, writes from personal experience. Again, when I started writing Fatal Retribution I started the book off with a camping trip on Mount Rainier because I've had a good number of them in my life. I gave my innocent leading lady many of my own characteristics. I gave her siblings that reminded me in small ways of my own and a familiar family dynamic, that certainly did not mirror my own precisely, but was equally problematic. For years I've wanted to write a nonfiction book about Rape Culture because it feels like a great big underlying theme of my life and now, heck, I work at a rehabilitation center for violent rapists...nice -_- 

So, yeah. How did I write my books? By writing a lot, reading a lot, having an idea and leaning hard on my own experiences... 

The second part of the question. How did I get them published?
That was a frustrating road to be sure. Normally the process is such: for fiction, you start by writing the book. Then you write a query letter which you send out to literary agents, whose job is to find you a publisher. You can try to cut the middleman and send your query letter directly to a publisher, but most publishers will not let you do this. 

Here is an example of a query letter:

This query letter was sent out when Fatal Retribution was called Into Darkness and Mortal Sentry was, The Hunted...I kind of still like the old titles and the old description...

Date: 1.21.2010
PMA Literary & Film Management, Inc
kelly@pmalitfirm.com
Dear Kelly Skillen,

In a world of gods and monsters, a young witch will give up everything to bring a man once blessed by the god Apollo to justice…her brand of justice.
Raina’s life has never been easy, being a bastard and a mixed breed always makes things harder. But when a man starts selling a deadly disease on the street as a cure-all her life takes a turn in a dark direction. The disease this man is selling is highly contagious. It will cure you. Yes. But it will also kill you.

Raina finds herself and her brothers at the mercy of the disease, but strangely it only kills them. Her beloved brothers’ lives lay in ruin amongst those of countless others, and she can no longer trust Seattle PD to bring the man responsible to justice.

In the end it’s up to Raina and those who would fight at her side to slay an immortal of ancient legend gone mad. She cannot save those he’s wronged, but she can avenge them, she can stop him. Even if doing so changes her forever. Her family will forsake her, strangers will praise her, and ruthless men will take her in as a kindred spirit.

If you are seeking dark paranormal fantasy look no further. Considering all that I’ve read of you and your agency, I believe you are exactly the agent I want to have representing me in selling my first novel, INTO DARKNESS. The novel is complete at 130,000 words and I am interested in your evaluation of its commercial potential and any constructive criticisms you might offer.

Into Darkness is the first book in a series, I’m halfway through the second novel, working title, THE HUNTED, and I have story ideas for at least three more books. I can email the completed manuscript or a portion of it at your request.

Thank you for your precious time and your consideration. I eagerly await your response.

Kind Regards,
Diana Graves

From 2009 to the end of 2011, I sent hundreds of these letters out to agents and publishers, each one tailored to their unique requests. Some wanted a full outline of the novel. Some asked for the first three chapters. Some wanted the entire novel physically mailed to them with special instructions...For two years I did this. I could have covered every wall in my house with their rejection letters...

So traditional publishing wasn't working for me. Vanity publishing is always an option...but it's called vanity publishing for a reason. Vanity publishing is basically publishers that will take almost any novel anyone writes, edit it for a price, format it for a price, make a cover for a price, market it for a price and you pay out of your pocket for all they do. This road is for the wealthy...

What I ended up doing was Indy Publishing. There are many places you can go for indy publishing (Barns and Noble for one) but I like Amazon the best. Of course, when it comes to Indy Publishing you are in charge of getting your book edited, formatted, cover designed and marketing. Thankfully I'm a total control freak and enjoy doing all of that myself. I'm not the best editor so I do hire outside help for that bit, but I'm pretty good at formatting a novel and designing its cover.  Amazon also has free tools on their publishing website for all that jazz. Marketing is the thing I'm super bad at doing and haven't been able to bring myself to outsource just yet.

The third part of the question was, What inspired me to write them?
I have a few answers for that and I'm not sure which is more right than the others. I could tell you that my mother was a very stoic woman. She worked multiple jobs at times to raise her many children alone, and when she was home her face was always in a book. I had a great desire to please her, but everything I did never felt like enough. Part of me thought that if I wrote books, at least her face would be stuck in my book...but alas, she won't read them...sadness. Another reason I write is because I've always been an artist. Painting, acting, drawing. Writing is just another way to communicate something pregnant with emotion, something that takes the reader on a journey...Yet another reason I write is to get that story out. Many people have a story inside them, not just writers. So many times, very often, in fact, I'm told by people who find out I'm a writer that they themselves have a story inside them that they wish they could write, but they don't write it because the act of doing so seems so daunting! Writing a novel is intimidating. It's frightening. It's walking through a ballroom full of everyone you know and complete strangers, buck naked with a smile on your face. It's a bold and cocksure move that leaves you open to severe criticism and immense emotional pain...but, like giving birth and raising children, it's worth it more often than not. 

I hope this helps.

ZOMBIE BOOK 2: CHAPTER 5

The new chapter 5  of book 2. (a work in progress) Remember, these are not finalized chapters. Shit may change...

If you haven't read chapter 1 PRESS HERE

THE

ZOMBIE

BOOK

2

The Zombie Book Series

By Diana Graves

Copyright © 2018 Diana Graves

All rights reserved.

Kindle Edition

♦

5

Diana brushed off her near-rape and the death of her friends almost instantly. She seemed in high spirits as she hummed a Christmas song while gathering up all the weapons and ammunition from around the dead. I watched her for a moment. She dashed and nearly skipped around the whole scene like a child, throwing what she took into the back seat of the car. I shook my head and turned to gather my bags. “You want to take the truck?” she asked me with my back to her. I turned to face her. She was standing by the car. “Uh, yes, thank you.” “Thank you! That could have ended very badly,” she said. I put my hands out, gesturing to the bodies on the ground. “I think it did.” She looked down with a pout on her lips and a furrowed brow, like she was trying to think too hard. Then her big brown eyes shot up at me in realization. “Oh you, mean because those men died! Yup, happens all the time. The men always die.” She shook her head in disappointment. “They’re like the red shirts on Star Trek, well, not the Next Generation one, but the original, you know?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Too eager I guess.” “What?” “The men. They’re too eager to fight each other. Those men,” she pointed to the truck. “These men,” she pointed to those bodies near the car. “What was going on here?” I had to ask. She bit her lip and went cross-eyed for a moment. “Where to start? Um, in the beginning,” she said with a deep manly voice. “Nah, that will take too long,” she said in her normal voice. “These shit heads call themselves, ‘The Pride.’ They are fucking ass holes. They cage and rape women and they steal supplies and food from other survivors. They kill all the men and take all the women,” she said while pointing to the dead bodies by the truck. “These guys,” she said pointing her thumb back toward the car, “Are okay. They call themselves, N.W.O for new world order. They have a lot of high and mighty principles and rules. Very democratic, very hoity-toity.” “You’re not part of the N.W.O.” “God no! I picked these guys up off the side of the road on my way back to the base after a supply run. Then these ass hats started chasing us down for my supplies and here we are. That’s what I get for picking up strangers…” She looked at the truck and pointed to the broken solar panels. “Looks like the truck might be out of commission. You want a ride?” I gave her a cocked eyebrow. That would make getting to the other side of the peninsula way faster. “Yeah. Just let me grab my gear.” “Cool. I’ll pull the car around.” I stared after her for a moment while she jumped in the car and tried to maneuver around the bodies to turn the car around. She failed once or twice, running over an arm and a head, which broke open like a watermelon. Once she had the car facing the opposite way, she looked at me with a toothy grin and gave me a thumbs up. Okay. Five minutes later we were racing down deserted country streets heading east. “So, you’re not from around here,” Diana said. “I know everyone here and you, I’ve never seen before.” “Yup, I’m new.” “You took a boat to get here, huh? I mean, you had to have because the entire south of the peninsula is overrun with pirates. They don’t have a name for themselves or any real leadership. They’re just this huge group of men and women who are fucking crazy. Evil like The Pride and loony like the Toons.” I had to smile at the way she talked. “No one would survive a stroll through their territory.” “I guess I don’t look like one of them either,” I said. “Oh, hell no, you do not. First of all, you smell them before you see them. They smell like shit and piss and b.o. And they look just like their smell. They fuck anything and everything. I think they escaped from Western State Psychiatric Hospital. They just, their nuts and they look nuts. I don’t think they could pass for normal.” “You think I look normal?” I asked without thinking. Diana looked at me and then the road a few times and then she frowned. “Now that you mention it, you do look off. Bloodshot eyes and pale skin, like really pale. Are you sick?” The look of concern on her face was almost full panic. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just been in an underground bunker for...a while.” Quick thinking and not technically a lie. “Oh, you’ve been in a bomb shelter all these years!? That explains everything. Well, there are zombies all around us. That sucks, but what’s more dangerous are the people who didn’t die or become undead. People are the worst!” “You live alone then?” “No way. My people are the best people. We call ourselves N.E.O, or just Neo.” “Which stands for?” I asked after a long moment of silence. “Never Eat Octopuses…No, kidding, it’s New Elite Order. N.W.O used to be part of us, but we had some disagreements about the power dynamic. They wanted a democratic process, but we agreed that people are too easily scared into stupidity and the most qualified person may not always be the most popular.” “So you have a dictatorship?” “No, a republic. Those with the most level heads and experience have a seat at the table. Those people decide who leads in what areas and everyone has a job based on their skills.” “What’s yours?” I asked. “I’m charged with documenting events, like a history person type thing. I write about everything that happens. I document everything, you know, for prosperity.” “And you were out here picking up hitchhikers alone because...why?” Diana’s face went serious all of the sudden and I didn’t like it. She had the type of face that needed a smile or it just didn’t look right. “Our system isn’t perfect. No ones is. Weaker people just don’t always get a fair shake...We have a diabetic person. He’s a great man, so funny. You’d love him if you ever met him,” she smiled at the thought of him. “But, he needs meds and meds are in short supply these days. No one would approve a med run. Everyone is convinced there are no more meds. We’ve cleaned out all the drug stores, clinics, nursing homes, home homes. But then it hit me, Feline Diabetes! Vets would have insulin, so I made my case for a run but I was denied.” “So you went anyway,” I guess. “Hell yes, I went anyway.” “You’re people going to be mad at you?” “Duh, but they’ll get over it. I am loved,” she smiled widely at the road. “Where am I taking you anyway? What’s the destination?” “As close to Seattle as you can get me.” She looked at me with wide eyes full of shock. “You don’t want to go there.” “Why?” She shook her head. "There’s more than zombies, more than bad people, there are true monsters in Seattle. Thank god they haven’t figured out how to cross the water, and neither should you. You can come home with me. You seem badass enough. You’ll be a good addition to Neo.” “That’s a nice offer, but I need to get to Seattle. I need to at least try.” A moment of silence stretched between us before she spoke again. “Give me one night to catch you up on all the things you’ve missed while you were in your bunker and if you still want to go to Seattle tomorrow, I’ll take you to the Bainbridge waterfront myself.” I rolled my eyes. What could I say but, “yeah, sure.” She perked right up. “Yeah! Sleepover!”

((end of chapter 5))

ZOMBIE BOOK 2: CHAPTER 4

The new chapter 4  of book 2. (a work in progress)
If you haven't read chapter 1 PRESS HERE

THE

ZOMBIE

BOOK

2

The Zombie Book Series

By Diana Graves

Copyright © 2018 Diana Graves

All rights reserved.

Kindle Edition

♦

4

AS I pedaled away from the shore two things became painfully obvious to me. One, Gerald would never see me as anything but a monster now and two, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pedal clear around the entire fucking peninsula to reach Seattle. My legs were killing me and I was slowly taking in water, so however small it was, there was definitely a leak somewhere in the boat. Instead, I headed straight across the water toward Frenchman’s Cove. Racing toward the setting sun, soon to be hidden behind the silhouette of tall evergreens. If I was lucky I could find shelter before full dark. About an hour into my journey, I saw a small family of otters in the distance splashing and playing, and the sight of them softened my hardened mind for a moment. The temptation to reminisce about a more innocent time was too great to push away and I soon found myself smiling dumbly at the memory of my late husband and I having a date at the Point Defiance Zoo. We were holding each other tight while we watched the otters play in their large outdoor tank. My smile turned into a deep frown. What happened to all those captive animals at the zoo? Starved to death most likely. It was darker than I would have liked by the time I reached the cove and my legs were spent. I was hoping for some superhuman strength to go along with my zombie infection. You know, a little superhero bull shit would have been nice, like Spider-Man. No such luck. I got one plus, zombies didn’t eat zombies. I also didn’t feel as cold as I should have. It had to have been in the low fifties, but I felt comfortable in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. “Might as well make camp here and start fresh in the morning,” I said to myself after pulling the pedal boat onto the shore. Eight hours later I watched the sunrise from across the water while drinking a cold cup of instant coffee. I was sitting with my back against a tree and my bare feet on the grass. I had a map laid out to my right and Karen’s zombie book in my lap. I’d read and reread the book throughout the night. I wanted, needed answers but for all she knew about the virus, she didn’t know shit really. She knew about the drug, its chemical structure, but she didn’t know how or why it became a virus or why it affected some people differently. God, I could only imagine how fucking excited and curious she would have been about my condition if she were still alive. Fuck. I set my cup down beside me and grabbed a pen out of my bag. I needed to document myself. What do I call this, what I am now. Zombie 2.0? I wrote that at the top of the page in big bold letters. Underneath I wrote, “The first thinking, none rotting, none cannibalistic zombie”….but aren’t those the characteristics that make a zombie a zombie? Can I even call myself a zombie? I have the disease in me, but it’s not being expressed the same way. I decided to start with the facts. As they say, just the facts, mam. Time for some serious self-evaluation. Erin Poe, entry 57. Day 782 Zombie 2.0: Despite a zombie infection, she has clear thoughts and human emotions. She has all the needs and desires that any none infected human would. Except, she doesn’t feel cold or sleep as much and other zombies ignore her. Her skin is almost translucent. All major veins and arteries are visible and her eyes are bloodshot. I looked inside my bag at the apple Pane had packed for me and even though I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, I wasn’t hungry in the least. So, okay, reduced appetite was another side effect. Of course, these are all symptoms of stress and trauma so only time would tell if anything I was experiencing was permanent. I shoved the zombie book back in my bag and with my pen, I traced the best possible route to the other side of the peninsula, where I hoped to find another boat to take across the water. I spared a thought for taking the pedal boat with me, but no. It was heavy and bulky and it would only slow me down. Frenchman’s Cove led me to a nature reserve and Boyce Creek ran straight through it. I followed the creek until I reached a sharp southward bend. According to the map, that meant I was out of the reserve and needed to leave the creek and keep heading East. Not long after leaving the creek I found a large farmhouse. No one was inside it, just dusty furniture and empty cabinets. It was clearly cleaned out a long time ago. But I searched it all the same. I tried to avoid looking at the pictures on the walls and shelves. These people were probably dead and they probably died badly. When I came to the master bedroom I threw my bags on the king sized bed and went to the dresser. Clean socks and underwear were like gold to me. Precious things. I shoved as many pairs as I could in my bags before heading to the master bathroom and checking the medicine cabinets. I didn’t really expect to find anything useful. If someone cleared out all the nonperishable food they sure as shit cleaned the house out of all it’s first aid supplies, too. When I opened the cabinet a bottle of baby powder fell out and landed on the counter in a giant fluff of baby scented white. My hands and front were covered with it and instinctively I reached for the sink’s faucet. I almost jumped with surprise when water came out. “Fuck!” Well water, I guess...I looked to the shower and smiled. After pedaling across the water and hiking through the nature reserve, I was beyond in need of a shower. Quickly, I tore my clothes off. Standing naked, I washed them in the sink using a bar of soap from my bag. I hung the clothes over the door to the master bathroom, giving zero shits that it would make the floor wet as they drip dry. I climbed into the tub, and using the same bar of soap, I took a freezing cold shower. Again, I could tell that the temperature should have bothered me, but it didn’t. I just didn’t feel cold the way I used to. I was letting the water run down my body when I heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. I turned the water off and walked swiftly out of the bathroom and across the bedroom to the window. At first, I didn’t see anything but trees and a neighboring house down the road, but I could still hear the gunfire. It didn’t sound far off. I had to get out of there. The last thing I needed was people. People are rarely good these days. More often than not, they are evil fucking bastards because rapists and murderers thrive in lawless brutal times. My clothes weren’t dry yet. I didn’t expect them to be. I was planning on hanging around for a while. Not anymore. I left those jeans and the shirt behind, but I put on the bra as wet as it was and grabbed some cargo pants and a black tank top from my bags. I was dressed and packed and running out the door when a car raced down the road in front of the house. The Fuck? The car screeched to a stop at the end of the road and five big men and a woman with long bright auburn hair jumped out with their guns pointed back down the road. I looked back the way they came and sure as shit, there was another vehicle coming up fast. It was a black truck, two men inside and three in the back of the pickup. As soon as they came in range they started shooting at the men and woman standing their ground. I should have bolted right then while everyone was good and distracted, but it was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t look away. Right off the bat one of the men in the back of the truck was shot in the head by one of the men standing by the car and using it’s opened doors as a shield. Two of the men by the car were shot down as the truck came to a stop a good distance from the car. I didn’t see who from the truck had made the kill but while I was looking at them I noticed a large solar panel on the top of the truck. They’d converted it to electric! The car was probably an electric as well. Smart. The auburn haired woman took aim and shot the driver of the truck as he exited the driver’s side door with a shotgun in his hand. The passenger of the truck shot at her but missed and she ran for cover across the road. The remaining three men from the truck advanced on the car at a run. One of them was shot dead. Another one, a big guy wearing jeans tucked into cowboy boots, busted the man who shot his friend in the face with the butt of his rifle, then quickly grabbed him and used him as a human shield while he and the other only remaining truck man shot the last two car men. Then the cowboy threw his human shield to the grown and shot him dead, too. “Diana!” the cowboy screamed out. The other truck man, a hunched over tan guy with slicked black hair circled the car in search of Diana, the auburn-haired woman I guessed... “Come out here. Your men are dead! They had to die, but you know our policy on women, Miss Thing.” The hunchback looked back at the cowboy and smiled. “We’ll treat you real nice,” he said loudly and in a voice that matched his appearance, high pitched and weasley. “I’m not going to be one of your fucking kept woman!” I heard Diana yell before she popped out from the side of the road and shot the hunchback in the chest. The cowboy ran up on her before she could turn the gun on him, and he tackled her to the ground. She put up a good fight, but in the end, all she could do against his massive strength was scream angrily at him while he held her down. Was he going to rape her right then and there? I couldn’t stand by and I couldn’t walk away from that. I dropped my bags, pulled out my long knife and started at a run toward them. “Get the fuck off of me, fucking bastard!” she screamed as he picked her up with her arms tied behind her back. He was forcing her back to his truck, but she was fighting every step. “I’m not a fucking breeder. Kill me now, fuck face. Kill me!” Diana yelled in his face. “Nah, I lost four good men on this run. I’m taking you and your supplies back with me.” He pushed her up against his truck and tore her jeans down with a quick jerk. “But, I think I’ll take it out on your ass right here and now.” “Fuck you! You fucking small dicked ass-face. Fuck you! Don’t fucking touch me!” she screamed. He slammed her head against the truck angrily, a hard hit for every word he said, “Shut-the-fuck-up, uppity-bitch.” She fell on the ground, not unconscious, but not able to do or say much. The cowboy pulled her panties down, revealing her naked ass, which he tenderly pet and lightly slapped before standing up to unzip his own jeans. Diana was moaning her pain as she tried to turn and look up at the asshole standing over her. I saw blood on her forehead as I ran upon them. She turned her head my way, seeing me coming and smiled. He had his erect penis out and in his hands when he finally turned and saw me coming at him, but it was too late. I stabbed him in the stomach before he could say a word. I pulled the knife out and stabbed him again and again as he fell against his truck. His large blue eyes were fixed on me with confusion and pain. Blood erupted from his mouth and I stabbed him one last time for good measure. I could feel my blade hit something hard, probably his backbone. I watched him die and I had to admit, it was a rush. I was breathing heavily and staring at the man’s corpse when Diana interrupted my daze. “Little help?” she asked in a quiet voice. I shook my head. “Yeah.” I bent down and cut the thin rope that bound her wrists together and then backed up and gave her space. I was thinking about just walking away right then and there but I wanted to really meet this woman, Diana. There was something about her that drew me in. I watched her get up off the ground and pull her panties and pants up. She steadied herself with a hand on the truck and held her head. “Thank you,” she said to me without looking up at me, but at the blood on her hands that came from her head wound. “I hate rapists,” I said. She did look up at me then. Her brown eye seemed almost a rich amber the way the sun hit them. Her face was a contradicting mess of features. She had a youthful face full of freckles and even skin, but her eyes gave her away as someone older. Her eyebrows were thin, arched and mischievous, but her lips were pale and pouty and just as freckled as the rest of her. All of this was perfectly framed by a long mess of rich auburn hair, which shined in the sun like an orange-gold thing. “You, too,” was all she said, revealing a gap in her teeth and I felt instantly protective of this woman, who was both strong and fragile, young and old. Strange. She kicked the dead cowboy’s body and giggled when it fell over. “He died with his dick in his hands,” she laughed. I smiled.

((end of chapter 4))

Read Chapter 5 Now!

Everything is Awsome

So, it's been near a month since my last post. Well, I'll tell you what's going on. First, that man who rear-ended me totally got away with it 100%. He knew that it's not a hit and run if you give the person you hit your phone #, so that's what he did. What good that does me, ZERO. He won't give me his insurance info and no one will help me, not the police and not my insurance company. This guy, Mark Williams of Olympia Washington is a total loser a-hole. On the possibly bright side, if there even is one, my health insurance company wants to know who is responsible for my ER visit since I listed the cause of my injuries as a car accident. I'm going to tell them everything and give them all of Mr. Williams information. If they want to go after him for the $2,000 plus medical bill, well that would be just swell.

Otherwise, work has its ups and downs.  Other than that, there literally isn't much I can say about the SCC...really, I signed a nondisclosure agreement, so yeah...I'm a writer and the most interesting part of my life, the place I spend 10-18 hours a day at, the rehab facility for Violent Sex Offenders...that place, I can't talk about. I'm having trouble writing my 2nd zombie book because my overactive imagination is saturated with the oddity that is my day job, and I can't do a dang thing about it. LOL

As for the second Zombie Book, it's a crawl to the finish line. The finish line being October 31st, the planned publishing date. Which means it needs to be done way before then to be edited properly and the cover designed...I'm hoping to post the 4th chapter to this here blog shortly. It's a good thing I'm writing shorter novella's of late. With just 15 chapters planned, I'm a 3rd of the way through.

Even though the Zombie Book is slow going, that doesn't mean I'm not writing. It just means it's hard for me to keep my head in it. I am also writing my sexy book, the erotic novel. It will be a full novel of some 300 to 400 pages, so yeah, I'm still busy. I won't say working where I work doesn't make it hard to write that kind of sexy business though. It does. I'm hypersensitive to unbalanced dynamics in relationships, toxic shit. So you won't see any of that creepy Bella/ Edward shit. Or that totally fucked up 50 shades of gray crap. I'm not saying it's all good clean well-adjusted relationships. I'm just saying that that kind of obsessive, toxic, possessive behavior and sexual violence will not be glorified in my sexy time book.

Well, that's me for now. Thank you for reading and I love you!