Author has written 6 stories for Sookie Stackhouse/Southern Vampire Mysteries, Twilight, and Gone with the Wind.
April 23, 2022 update—Hello lovelies! I am working on another teaser for Chapter 42 of The Force. Chapter 41 is still giving me a fit but I'm plugging along, almost to that ‘sweet spot’ where I know I can land the plane, so to speak. I am so sorry for the delay, please let me explain.
I have lost all my care providers for my daughter with autism. Because I live in a state that refuses federal Medicaid expansion, these trained and certified individuals make more money gathering carts at Target now.
When I learned that my last one quit several weeks ago my back clenched up and went pretty much out later that day. I started walking funny and tore a ligament in my knee a few days later. This is disastrous because it's a knee replacement, which then became loosened. There's a slim chance it will heal and not have to be revised if I baby it with rest, ice, compression and elevation.
I did take a couple of days off work, but did not write much due to the pain and anxiety, quite frankly, because with no caretakers it’s all on me. This is beyond bad timing. My eldest daughter is getting married in two months. I am supposed to take my youngest to the beach in May. Bad knees run in my family, and these replacements are only three and a half years old. I can’t have surgery right now. I just can’t.
I am one year from retirement. One. Year. After which I intend to write full-time. But I have to make it through this. And I certainly don’t plan to make you good folks wait another year for this story.
It is not the end of the world. I can work a half-day one day a week, and bring my daughter to work one day. One of my caretakers from way back has agreed to come back a couple days a week if I pay her cash until she finds another job. I ordered a custom lightweight brace that was developed for athletes and is supposed to allow me to swim and walk on sand. It should be ready in a week. I can hire a girl to clean my house and a guy to work in my yard. Things will get better.
So yeah. Onto the teaser. It’s another fun one, and I expect to post it tonight or tomorrow. See you in a week or so with Chapter 41, fingers crossed :)
April 1. 2022 update - There's a big fat 850 word teaser at the top of Chapter 40! A reward for your patience. See you soon!
March 30, 2022 update - I've posted this note several places. I hope to have a fun teaser posted in the next couple of days. Never fear, I am working on this story, but the problem is my tricky muse delivered material for Chapter 42, not 41, which slows down posting, but not progression.
Still hoping to finish the entire thing in the next couple of months, but who knows? We know MM loved the Bard, and all of Shakespeare's plays are divided into tragedies, comedies, or histories. I suppose GWTW falls under historical tragedy. If there’s anything about it that’s a comedy, it’s how two people could be in the same relationship and view its downfall so differently. And now you know the theme of the coming chapters … see you soon, misscyn
August 3, 2021 Chapter 30 teaser:
The next morning Scarlett and her children met Will with his wagon at the depot in Jonesboro. Just the sight calmed her for some reason. Will being Will, a constant. He filled the wagon with the paintings, draperies, odd pieces of furniture and outgrown clothes and toys she'd packed for her nieces in the storage car.
Ella and Wade chatted animatedly on the way. Scarlett felt herself getting excited the nearer they came to Tara. The hills soon gave way to flat land and she gave herself into the sounds of the bird songs and the heady spring scents, the honeysuckle and peach blossoms, the smell of the earth, the pulse of it, a primal, primeval beast.
Will allowed that he and Suellen had been doing fine when Scarlett politely inquired, and the children also.
"Well," he adjusted the reins so they could avoid a pothole. "Mammy's fine. She's mostly retired now so she's been living in the old field hand cabins down near the river for the last month or so."
"In those old cabins?" Why, they'd fallen nearly to pieces after the war. A couple of paid farm hands lived in the cabins closer to the fields, but those cabins were newer and in much better shape than the ones by the river.
"We patched up a couple for her," he said. "She stays in one and—entertains—the children in the other."
She frowned. Mammy's getting on in age, and Scarlett found the thought of her living down at the river in some rickety old falling down shack by herself unsettling.
"Is that safe?"
He gave her a quick sidelong glance. "We wouldn't let Mammy stay somewhere that wasn't safe or let our children play there. She still has her room at the big house.
"Now, she's taken to keeping company with a wolf and a vixen in the evenings and early mornings when the children aren't down there, and I don't know exactly how I feel about that, but it's her choice."
"A wolf and a vixen!" Scarlett nearly shouted. It sounded like the title of a nursery story. "Has she grown addled in her old age?"
Will shook his head in that laconic manner of his.
"Well, the wolf will eat the vixen pretty soon, and that will be the end of that."
"Mammy says no," Will turned the cart down the side path toward the plantation. "She says the wolf growls a lot, but the vixen is the boss."
He gave her another sideways glance. "But she says that don't make no never mind because they're both too stupid to see it."
He snapped the reins again. "She's named the wolf Captain and the vixen Miss Scarlett I believe."
Scarlett's eyes narrowed as Will studiously avoided her gaze, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
I'm working, folks. Stay with me.
June 27 Teaser for Chapter 29:
Just then Prissy wandered in the front door from her dinner break. Scarlett gestured her into the office.
“I’m telling Mr. Wilkes about class Wednesday night,” she explained. “He will be conducting it for you and Phoebe and Miss Izzy.”
“Oh,” Prissy said. “I just saw Phoebe and she won’t be at class Wednesday, I don’t think. She hurt her foot going home last night.”
“How'd she hurt it going home?”
Prissy shrugged. “Said Miz Wat—er—Miz Izzy let her ride just a couple of blocks and then told her she had to run an errand, for Phoebe to get out and walk the rest of the way, and then had her driver take off. Just left her there in the road. She stumbled and fell in the dark and cut her foot on a broken brick.”
What an odd thing to do. Scarlett frowned slightly, then mentally shrugged. Far be it from her to understand the workings of that woman’s world.
“But Phoebe gave me this, from Miz Izzy,” Prissy took a small brown-paper wrapped package from her otherwise empty lunch pail. “Said it was a thank you.”
Ashley looked at the package, and then at Scarlett, obviously waiting for her to open it. By the heavy weight of it she could tell it wasn’t more drawings, and her curiosity got the better of her.
She pulled the paper away to reveal an oblong leather sheath of fine craftsmanship, stained dark wine in color. She pulled on the handle to reveal a knife.
Not just any knife, but a weapon of deadly beauty, with a hilt of polished ivory, inset with mother of pearl and silver filigree above the steel, so apparently razor sharp Scarlett inadvertently pressed her teeth together as she laid it across the palm of her hand.
Actually more of a dagger than a knife, it fit, perfectly, obviously designed to do so.
“Miz Izzy said you should think about keeping it with you at all times. The clip on the side is so you can tuck it in your boot or,” Prissy glanced at Ashley and her eyes flitted away. “Other places.”
Scarlett stood momentarily speechless. The town madam just gifted her an object for a prostitute’s defense, if a very fine one. She didn’t know whether to be insulted or strangely touched. And why did Belle think she needed a knife?
Of course, it wasn’t a common whore’s weapon, she told herself, it was of far too fine construction. Then again, Belle wasn’t common, as far as harlots go. Neither were her customers. Or at least, one particular customer.
Quickly she turned the dagger over and inspected it for engravings, examining the sheath also, noting it was lined in a thin sheet of protective metal. Nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief. If there had been a certain set of initials, she wasn’t sure who’d she’d throw that knife at first.
Well, all righty, then. She’d have to think about all that later, she was much too busy at the moment. Scarlett slid the questionable ‘gift’ into the box of files she’d been packing before Prissy walked in.
Ashley cleared his throat. She started, almost forgetting he’d been standing there.
“Scarlett,” he said gently, “What is going on?”
June 27, 2021 update - I can use screens again, hooray! Just get a little dizzy now and again but definitely on the mend. Thinking about visiting one of those Hydration/Hangover places for the oxygen therapy, good for the brain, right? I am writing, peeps, slow going, but started back today. Have faith! See you soon, misscyn
June 23, 2021 update - Folks, you're probably not gonna believe it, but, life imitating art, and vice-versa—in short, I fell out of my tallish bed at three in the morning a couple days ago, badly bruised my knee, chest and leg, the last thing being my head. So, yeah. Just like our Rhett, I now have a mild concussion, and I've been sworn off screens for the week. I shouldn't even be on here now really but wanted to let folks know. Something about the way the page refreshes is not good for brain healing so I'm typing fast. I have lots of notes and material, but scenes and dialogue, not so much. It will be another week or two at least. So sorry. I'm a clumsy person, what can I say? But it's helping me get in Mr. B's character! That's the silver lining to this crappy cloud. Take care and see you soon, misscyn
While you are waiting for the next chappie please google 'The Charleston Mermaid Incident' and you'll find this crazy story about how a hoo-doo priestess and an apothecary got into a competition in 1867. It's hilarious. Now some accounts said it's a Gullah-Geechee priestess, which fits in more with Charleston, but anyway, it's interesting as all get-out to me. Since I've already mentioned hoo-doo I'm gonna use it in the story somehow, not sure exactly how though.
See you soon, sweet readers. And take care of yourselves! Peace, misscyn
Just to make it clear, I approach writing a story like decorating a Christmas tree, which is purely coincidental to our current season. I have the tree up, and the lights strung. It's the decorations - the little special touches that make the magic - that I struggle with. I may have a chapter finished for all intents and purposes, the structure outlined and in place, the major happenings and conversations written - but I refuse to post it without the finishing touches, the words that, in my mind at least, let pleasure edify.
So, in short, I will be posting a chapter before Christmas - it may be small, or it may be large, depending on how the week goes. But you'll get one - because you are all on the very nice list :)
I don't feed trolls.
Hello to all my readers, old and new. If my followers from DEAC are somewhat confused about me returning after ten years with a Gone With The Wind fic, blame the pandemic. I became so morose during the months of plague misery and confused about the state of the world that I turned to the books I read when I first started loving reading. I read GWTW when I was nine years old. Charlaine Harris refers to it a few times in then SVM books, and I think Sookie and Scarlett have a lot in common. They are strong, stubborn, often selfish women, (Scarlett is much more of course) who are devoted to their social peers, whether they should be or not, and, like many Southern women, worry way too much about what people think, and not to mention, behaving like a lady. This new story will be off-canon to a point, because plenty of canon has been written, and besides, I think things have to change for Scarlett to be able to grow up and heal.
I've already received some hate mail about my Scarlett, less than a thousand words into the fic. I'm used to it, I got a lot regarding my Sookie over the years, still do from time to time. To anyone who isn't sure how I feel, I am Sookie and Scarlett sympathetic, a shipper all the way. It's not easy being a strong woman, and it certainly was harder in the 1800s. They are deeply flawed women, but survivors, and courageous, much more so than the men they love.
Peace and love to all,
Hello, cracker crunchers. It's been a minute, eh?
I will be taking Death Eatin' a Cracker down sometime around the new year. I'm on to new projects. Thank you for your support over the past five years. It truly means the world to me. I appreciate every reader and writer on this site. Keep doing what makes you happy. In the words of George Eliot, it's never too late to become what you might have been.
As a side note, until I take this story down I will not be accepting any guest reviews. Some apparent 14-year-old virgin with no sense of humor left me ten negative, judgmental reviews in the last 24 hours and it really bummed me out. It did not appear that she had read the books, nor did she have any understanding of vampire romances or even alpha males. I shouldn't have let it bother me, but she just kept doing it, and I was tired and stressed and didn't need that shit. So. No guest reviews will be allowed. Thanks for understanding.
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