Murderous

In comparison to others, I am an infant in this whole network of authors, bloggers & lovers of all things literary. At a tender age I discovered my infatuation with words, which eventually matured into a deeply fulfilling love, only to evolve to something essential to my very being.

BOOKS ARE VITAL TO MY EXISTENCE.

The words, ideas, thoughts and expressions of others are key to my survival. This web of coexisting, collaborative and supportive people; unbeknownst to the majority; are like a furnace that keeps this beating organ in my chest from icing over.

So when I find out about the cowardice and repulsive behavior that seems to be pervading the worlds of people that I happen to care for, it doesn’t piss me off. Oh no.

THE SHIT ENRAGES ME! And I am not a nice person on an even day.

Who in the entire fuck do you believe yourself to be, that you can degrade the work or success of another? That you can somehow cheapen the substance; the blood, sweat, and tears, that someone gave to their life?

You fuck ass, sour patch eating, garbage pail dwelling, grime in between the tiles of a motel bathroom.

It is nauseating to hear of you fucking parasites, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to leech onto a person of worth and try to suck the very essence of what it means to be an artist out of them.

That goes for you piece of infected genitalia muthafuckas as well. Oh, you don’t know who I’m talking to? I’m talking about you assholes out here pirating books.

Yeah you! How dare you! I can’t even tell you how much I would love to get my hands on each and every one of you, peel the skin off your raggedy ass bodies, lay it out for you and have you write standards in your own fluids, to the key of: I WILL NEVER STEAL ANOTHER BOOK, then sew that shit back on you Jeepers Creepers style, so that vow seeps into your substandard DNA. (In a HAZMAT suit of course. God forbid I get any of your taint on me).

I will never understand your unrealistic, undeserving, convoluted sense of entitlement. It’s blatantly obvious that you haven’t done enough in your pathetic lives, otherwise you’d never engage in such deplorable behavior.

I could go on and on, but if I don’t stop, I’m going to end up starting an FBI worthy search for some of you and I’m too cute to go to jail. Let’s just hope I never have to run into the likes of you. Because believe me when I say, I don’t fight fair and I will make you rue the day that you ever chose to disgrace the literary world with your dishonorable presence.

For what it’s worth, I offer my thanks and my continued support to the authors, bloggers and nut cases I’m fortunate enough to be on this literary journey with. I will always be an advocate for you. I will continue to promote in an honest and favorable way, as a show of good favor and mostly because that’s the way God built me.

Eventful

Kind of still wrapping my mind around the not-so-randonmess of recent days past. I gave my first review and made my first ever blog post, which is a huge stepping stone for me. And although my journey is very much in its infancy, the step is one I intend to follow in the direction of my ever expanding dreams and purpose.

To say that the out-of-this-realm possibilities that subsequently resulted from one little review have been amazing; unbelievable; mind-boggling, is a complete understatement.

My review garnered some very interesting attention. Namely, from the author herself; Tarryn Fisher, author and genius-brain behind Mud Vein and the Love Me With Lies Series. She is my overlord and reigns eternal as the Evil Queen of the deceptively dark and torturous literary Wonderland I exist in.

I hadn’t realized the door I was opening when I began reading Mud Vein, but I can say, wholeheartedly that there is no turning back now.

I’ve wandered into a mental death match with people who’ve come prepared to fight to the very last drop of intellectual ichor. Persons I was not at all expecting to connect with and move with. They have pulled me into the fray and I’m anxious, eager even, to battle it out and claim victory. Mostly because I feel as if everyone will win.

We all stand to gain from this literary journey. Take from it what you will. I choose to soak it all up, devour every last morsel that is laid before me. I feel like a tyrant, poised to overthrow any and all who stand in my way, but I digress. Heehee. (I have an evil lady in my head).

Any who, I also won a book yesterday in a giveaway. This is the second time in less than a month that I’ve won anything; ever; and they’ve both been books! How righteous is that! Books are my drug of choice and these crafty chemist of the bookish variety are my pushers. 🙂

Thank you to Jovana Shirley over at Unforeseen Editing. I’m really looking forward to reading Breaking Alexandria by K.A. Robinson.

I have also been given the opportunity to beta read which is new and fun and scary, and a whole slew of other emotions that I can’t convey at this moment. It is sure to prove worthwhile for myself, and universal fingers crossed, for the author as well.

Now, even though I am over the moon knowing that my review moved others (anyone to be honest), my luck at winning a book, and being presented with the opportunity to aide in someone’s success, it still doesn’t highlight the best part of the past few days.

Megan Simpson, my newest literary ladylove and purveyor of Reading Books Like A Boss found me and gave me some serious mojo. I don’t even know if she realizes how much her friendship and encouragement means to me at this point. Sometimes you just know, huh. ❤

 

Keep Those Pages Turning

Stepping Stone

Inspiration

I’ve never once been compelled or focus-driven enough to put my thoughts into words regarding any literary piece. Don’t get me wrong, I think about the books I read all the time. How they make me feel; if they have a deeper meaning, etcetera, etcetera. Until now, I’ve never truly been able to narrow down my ideas enough to share them.

I’m not entirely sure this blog has a single-minded purpose yet, but what I would like to share is the feelings and thoughts I have regarding a certain new release I finished yesterday.

If you’re not familiar with the author Tarryn Fisher, then, in my opinion, it would behoove of you to acquaint yourself with her. That’s what this post is about. She has inspired me to give life to the thoughts in my head, the feelings trying to claw out of my skin surrounding MUD VEIN. So I posted my very first review on Goodreads. I’d like to share that with you all.

 

Mud Vein by Tarryn Fisher

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Okay, so here we go. This is my first official declaration regarding any written work ever. Bear with me, please.

Synopsis

When reclusive novelist Senna Richards wakes up on her thirty-third birthday, everything has changed. Caged behind an electrical fence, locked in a house in the middle of the snow, Senna is left to decode the clues to find out why she was taken. If she wants her freedom, she has to take a close look at her past. But, her past has a heartbeat…and her kidnapper is nowhere to be found.

With her survival hanging by a thread, Senna soon realizes this is a game. A dangerous one. Only the truth can set her free.

I couldn’t decide whether or not I wanted to let the thoughts and emotions rampaging through me, run their course and settle, or just write through those feelings. Seeing as though I honestly can’t see an end to what I feel regarding this book, I decided to just go for it.

“Because simplicity speaks the loudest.” – MUD VEIN

Not to sure that there is anything simple about the words, character(s), taste, texture, feel, mood, or pace of this book for me.

Quite simply, I’m lost inside of this story and finding it very difficult to pull myself out.

Tarryn Fisher has made me love and loathe someone because of the likeness I share with this person. It is no revelation that we’re our own worst enemy, which in my eyes Senna most definitely is.

Senna Richards is a dark soul. Real. Flawed and broken. Closed off from her own heart by circumstance and choice. She isn’t looking to be fixed. She is comfortable in her disrepair. I’m comfortable with her lack of sense. It makes her human. Relatable. Because yes, some of us are equally as broken and muddied by our past. Most people spend their lives looking to be saved; waiting for a hero to come and rescue them. Some of us are happy to remain broken. To live with the remaining pieces of ourselves until we fall apart completely; so we can stop fighting.

People are drawn to darkness. Without darkness, there would be no light. There would be no need for light. Those of us who live in the light, search for those who have too much darkness. All in an effort to expose the flaws and cracks in our framework. Gives us purpose, or so we like to believe. We feed our egos by focusing our hero complexes on one another and deciding, “I can fix you,” “I can make this all better and right.” Because in the end this little patchwork job I’ve taken on suits my bottom line. I feel better about me because I made you better.

Very rarely do you come across a person in your life that exist solely to focus on you. To give you a breath of life that you didn’t know you needed. Didn’t even realize you wanted. To allow you the space and time to understand that you’re good either way. Light or dark. Whole are broken. I’m going to walk with you no matter what, because that’s what I was made for.

Dr. Isaac Asterholder comes forth fully aware (in a way that I’m still having trouble reconciling) and prepared to serve his purpose. What intrigues me about his character, is his honesty. People aren’t honest. Not really. We lie, deceive, omit, misdirect and manipulate one another. Honesty leaves you vulnerable; open.

How does someone decide to be that honest with another person? I’d like to believe the connection; the invisible thread that held Senna and Isaac together, explains that. Even though it was very one-sided for most of the story, his awareness of that connection exposed a world of possibilities for me.

The possibility that love, a true and unconditional love can exist between two people. Not just a trumped up version of what we think love is. What we like to dress love up in to make it appear truer than it is. Because let’s be honest, most love is conditional. Parental, familial, romantic. We give and take love depending on what it does for us. But the idea that we’re connected to someone, loved by someone simply because we exist. You can’t take that away. You can’t alter it. It lives with you, in you, from the moment you discover it, until you are no longer in this life. Even then I’d like to hope it endures.

Isaac gives to Senna something far more valuable than anything I’ve ever experienced. Truth in love. Despite the bad, he pushes forward and shows that the ugliness inside of us can be touched. It can be altered and shaped into something beautiful, just through the sheer will of someone who thinks you’re worth more than you believe yourself to be.

I’m thankful for that. I’d like to think that authors speak from experiences, whether their own or others. It gives me hope.

I’ve buried two mothers in this life, respectively at 5 and 29. Both suffered through cancer. My biological, cancer of the lymph nodes, leading to a hysterectomy, which inevitably led to her suicide. My stepmother, from breast cancer that metastasized into her brain and lungs, which she eventually succumbed to. The first woman left of her own volition, leaving me with a father who was ill-equipped to deal, which in turn pretty much left me on my own, to be easily preyed upon by the world. The second was an ever present light on the harbor, which I could always return to, only to be snuffed out, leaving me blind and floating along. The abandonment that shapes Senna, I identify with it so much it hurts my heart. I wish it didn’t exist, but I know it to be all too true.

As I sit here, tears streaming down my face, I can’t decide whether I’d like to go back and read through Senna and Isaac’s story again. I know I’ll uncover more layers, more truths, but I’m scared. Fearful that I’ll recognize more of myself; fearful that I won’t. I might be a different kind of ugly. A whole different kind of dark. Who knows.

What I do know, is that I pray there is an Isaac out there for everyone. Someone who’ll reach into you and hold on for dear life. All because a force greater than fear, hurt, pain, loss or ego, decided long ago that this is your person and you don’t have a choice. That you don’t get a chance to regret their presence because you know that without them, good or bad, you’ll miss out on something; anything; everything. Leaving you floating helplessly along until nothing is left of you. I pray that whoever your person(s) is, they’re strong enough, aware enough, and selfless enough to recognize the tie that binds.

“And when I die, I know there will be an invisible red thread connecting me to my soulmate. It can tangle, and it can stretch, but it can never break. When I die, I’ll be in the light. And someday Isaac will find me, because that’s what he is.”

(2014-04-05). Mud Vein (Kindle Locations 3486-3488). . Kindle Edition.

View all my reviews

 

about Tarryn

I am a real life villain, truly. I drink sick amounts of Starbucks. Most of the time my hair smells like coffee. I was born in South Africa, and lived there for most of my childhood. I moved to Seattle just for the rain. Rome is my favorite place in the world so far, Paris comes in at a close second. I read and write more than I sleep. When I was eleven, I wrote an entire novel about runaway orphans, using only purple ink. I am addicted to Florence and the Machine and will travel to see concerts. I love scary movies and giraffes. I spend way too much time on Facebook. Meet you there?…