Doodling On Youtube

I’ve taken up doodling again recently. I don’t know why but its soothing to me. Lines on the pages are much like words, telling a story that’s incomplete without the next. I will be documenting my doodles on youtube in hopes that I may look back on them and exclaim at how much they suck.


Join me if you wish. It’s not a thing.

Chapter One For Nanowrimo

Chapter One
“So what now?”
“This is the part where you give me the money.” Gemma smiled reassuringly at him. He was sweating nervously in the pressed tuxedo he had poured himself into. The collar was too tight and the waist of the pants was about to pop at any moment. Gemma stood back out of the line of fire.
Standing in a private sitting room, Gemma couldn’t look more out of place. Everything was coated in a fine layer of gold and glitter and Gemma was covered in a fine layer of dirt. She looked grungy and underslept but here she was, standing in a room of gold and glass.
“Oh right.” He ruffled around in his breast pockets until he found the small wad of money tucked away in there. “Should be all here.” He handed it to Gemma.
She took it quickly. “Relax Frankie. This is not a drug deal, it’s just two people exchanging money.”
“For services that could end my marriage.” He tacked on.
“Right, but you don’t have to worry about that because after tonight, I’m out of your life for good.”
Gemma counted the money quickly, counting two thousand and shoving it into her own breast pocket, “Alright, so we’re done here.” She turned to leave the small sitting room but Frankie held up his hand.
“Oh! I have another job for you.” He ruffled in his pockets again and pulled a business card. He stretched his suit to hand it to Gemma who just stared at it. “It’s a friend of mine…in a similar position. I told him about you.”
“I appreciate that but I don’t make calls. I get them.” Gemma said, “If your friend wants to get in touch with me, you know where to find me.”
She turned from him and the card and made her way towards the exit.
Outside the music from the ballroom below swam up and around her heels. The stairs spiraled down into a sea of people with a man waiting just at the bottom in his own tuxedo. Unlike Frankie’s, he wasn’t bursting at the seams. His suit was well tailored and his shoes were expertly shined.
Gemma made her way down the stairs and slid in next to him.
The man held up his glass of champagne. The curls in his hair shined in the glittering lights of the room and the champagne matched his impossible eye color. He was a vision. But Gemma had no interest. And neither did he.
“How do you feel?” Gemma leaned in to whisper.
“Like bond waiting to pull off a heist.” He smiled, sipping his sparkling amber champagne.
“Did bond pull off heists?” Gemma narrowed her eyes at him.
“He was a secret service man, an unstoppable anonymous force to be reckoned with.” He said.
“You don’t know.”
“No, I don’t but it doesn’t matter when you look this fabulous.”
Gemma laughed out loud and stepped out in front of him, turning to face him. “Come on, let’s blow this joint.”
“What? No way. I wanna soak this in. How often do we get to hang with the elites?” He said. “Let’s just stay a little bit longer.
“Gemma,” He echoed.
Gemma let her eyes roam the room and a butler with champagne on his tray circled back around through the crowd. Gemma reached for one, grabbing it cleanly from the tray and drinking it down in one movement.
“Yeah, you just keep drinking those and let’s have us some fun.” Samir grabs her hand and leads her through the dance floor over to the bar.
Gemma groans. “We don’t belong here, Sammy. And I don’t feel like faking it tonight. Can’t we just go home and watch tv or something. Come on, I’ll let you pop popcorn.” Gemma pulls back on his hold and Samir gaze snaps back on her.
“What?” He asked.
Gemma furrows her brow, “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, but check out that hottie over there.” He nods to a guy standing across the room nodding with some other socialites. His dark hair was slicked and his jaw line was impeccable. He looked over at the two briefly and smiles before going back to his conversation. Samir smiled widely. “Oh yeah, he wants it.”
“He’s not even looking at you.”
“He doesn’t have to. I can feel it.” Samir smiled, looking back at Gemma and seeing the non-believing look on her face. “Oh come on, live a little. Everything can’t be work work work.”
“Fine.” Gemma finally conceded, grabbing another drink from a passing by tray. “But not everyone is gay. Don’t get us beat up or worse…kicked out of here.”
“How is that worse than getting beat up?”
“I pick up most of my clients at these things,” It’s be a shame if they saw me getting thrown out into the street. No clients. No money. No money. No place to stay. No place to stay. No place for you to bring your johns back to.”
“Are you saying I’m a whore?” Samir feigned hurt. Gemma laughed, not saying anything. “Okay, we’re gonna talk about this later. I’m gonna go over here and see if I can get my freak on. I suggest you do the same.”
Samir lets go of Gemma hand and heads towards the guy, leaving her to fend for herself. “Don’t leave without me.” He yells back.
Gemma circles the bar for a little while longer, avoiding the eye contact of men she recognized and raising her glass to those she didn’t. She sighed. Maybe a party is what she needed to loosen up. She made her way to the large French doors of the balcony.
The night was breezy and chilled as Gemma stepped out on the balcony. She inhaled the night deeply, finally able to relax.
But that was short lived when a bottle came barreling for her head at record speeds. She was barely able to dodge out the way still getting caught in the ricochet as a piece of shattering glass caught her cheek.
“Oh my god.” The dark haired woman behind the throw grabs her cheeks in horror, seeing the little red line on Gemma cheek. “I am so sorry. I thought you were…” She stops. She stepped into the light coming from the french doors and shined. With dark hair and flawless olive skin. The strapless, purple cocktail dress she wore swept the ground. Gemma struggled to find her words.
“Who the hell was that for?” Gemma dabs at the cut with her fingertips feeling the familiar sting.
“My mother.” The woman confessed running over to Gemma and examining the cut further. “There’s no glass in it. You should be fine.”
“Should be fine? I was almost killed.” Gemma screeched. “Why were you gonna throw a glass bottle at your mother?”
The woman narrowed her eyes and backed up, “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“Like hell you don’t.”
“Who even are you?” The woman asked. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“I uh,” Gemma stumbles over words. “I’m a plus one.”
“Besides, you nearly disfigured me, I think I deserve a bit of your party.” Gemma jabbed at the woman. She watched the woman’s face go from relaxed to angry in two seconds. She reeled from the sudden change.
“Hey! No one told you to come out here.”
“So this is my fault?” Gemma said surprised, “You’re making this my fault?”
The woman sighed, lowering her green eyes to the concrete of the balcony floor. “Just leave me alone.”
“Gladly, I have no interest in sharing a high platform with a psychopath.” Gemma spat.
“Fuck you!” She yelled giving Gemma a stiff push towards the french doors. Gemma stumbled back unsteady, narrowing her eyes at the dark haired woman before turning and walking back into the party. She closed the french doors behind her hearing the thud of a shoe hit the glass behind her.
“What the hell was that?” Samir asked, walking over to Gemma. He noticed the small cut on her cheek and dabbed it with his cocktail napkin. There wasn’t much blood anymore just pink exposed skin that marred Gemma’s brown complexion and added to her overall grungy look.
“I walked out there and the craziest chick threw a bottle at my head.” Gemma complained, hiking her thumb over her shoulder.
“Thank goodness for catlike reflexes.” Samir smiled. Gemma grumbled at him, not sharing his humor. “Oh come on, you know these rich brats. Just tripping because the wine isn’t chilled enough.”
“And what’s worse this is her party.” Gemma said.
“Yeah this whole thing is for her. Like the lights and the champagne and the bar. Everything.” Gemma said.
“Whoa. That’s some swanky girl.” Samir chuckled.
“Yeah with a mean arm.” Gemma groan still dabbing at her cheek.
Samir grabbed Gemma’s hand and led her back to the bar. The bar top was mirrored and Gemma leaned into surveying the cut on her cheek.
“How’d it turn out with your guy?” She asked Samir.
Samir sighed. “It was a bust. He wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“Seriously? I’ve had enough of these rich pricks. Can we go now?” Gemma looked to Samir who was sharing a lustful look with the bartender. “Sammy!”
“What?” He snapped to attention.
The tapping of glass pulled both of their attentions to the front of the room. The same man that Samir was eying earlier stepped onto a raised stage at the front of the ballroom and held his glass up to the crowd.
“I wanna thank you all for coming this evening. It really means a lot to us.” He started. “But it would all mean nothing without my beautiful girlfriend…fiance…Matilda. Come on up here, darling.”
The crowd clapped as the woman in the purple cocktail dress made her way onto the stage with a smile. She cranes up on her tip toes and kisses him quickly on the cheek.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Gemma said underneath her breath.
“Isn’t this romantic?” Samir cooed.
“Oh please, this guy is so full of it. Look at that jitter in his hand. He can’t even keep still. It’s pulling you away from his lying face.” Gemma explained. “Classic distraction mechanism.”
“Would you stop?” Samir hissed. “He’s just nervous. Like a normal person should be.”
Samir sighed longingly. “Happily ever after. Don’t you just love love?” He said. “And I was so sure he was gay.”
“Can we just go now?”
“Yes, we can go now.” Samir finally concedes and leads them out of the dining hall and outside where their taxi is waiting.
They both hopped inside, feeling exhausted from the evening. Gemma leans her head against Samir’s shoulder and closes her eyes.
“Aw, you poor thing.” Samir smooths her hair. “Do you want me to sing you lullaby?”

Working synopsis for my children’s book, Raylee and The Dark.

Hope you guys like it. If you do, leave me a comment. I’m always happy to take any suggestions.

Raylee is a four year old girl who is afraid of the dark. Night after night, she sits up in her bed, watching the darkness fill the corners of her room. One night the dark calls to her. Scared, she calls her mama and is reluctantly put back to bed. The next night, Raylee is ready for the dark, armed with a flashlight and nerves of steel, she shines a light on the dark. Finding something she never expected.

My Road To Minimalism

Today I started my road to becoming a minimalist. It won’t be easy. I have a lot of crap that I’m either giving away, garage selling, or just flat out throwing in the garbage. I never knew how much of a hoarder I was until it came time to sort through my crap.

I’ll be blogging my journey and vlogging over on youtube.

I’m so ready! Let’s do this.

Any questions?



I stood right on the edge. Toeing the packed mud and grass of the Further, daring myself to take just one step more. One more step into the trees and thick brush of the unknown. One more step to adventure.

I’m just not that kind of brave.

“Antoinette!” Mother’s voice rang loudly in my ears. I rolled my eyes at her shrill, turning to face back down the narrow street I had called home for the last sixteen years. A street of gold and glass.

Mother’s body hung half out of the front window to our house, the second one on the right.

“Yes mother?” I tried not to be too cross.

“Come away from there. And why aren’t you ready for tonight?” All her questions made my head swim.

“It’s only half day.” I whined, stomping back down the street to our house. I entered the front door with a huff and kicked the mud off of my leather boots.

“Half day. “ Mother laughed. “Half day she says. It’ll take me half week to do something with that mane of yours.” She walked over to me and finger raked my hair. I pulled away from her.

“I like my hair the way it is.”

“Yes. But the boys can’t see your pretty face with such a distraction.” She turned me to the parlor mirror, starting to braid my hair. She hummed a soft melody. A melody she used to rock me to sleep to. Even now, I could feel my eyelids weighing down.

“Mother?” I started lowly.


“What if, what if I don’t want to go to the dance tonight? Would you be angry?” I asked.

She stopped humming, meeting my amber eyes in the mirror. I saw concern in her baby blues not anger.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

I smiled to put her mind at ease. “No, nothing. I just…” I paused. How could I tell my mother that her only daughter doesn’t enjoy the company of boys? Not the way she should, not the way mother would’ve wanted me to. I couldn’t dare to tell her that. “…I’m just being silly. Forget I said anything.”

She narrowed her eyes into the mirror. “Is it that Andre? Did he…did he try something?”

“What? Andy? No. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I’m not talking about flies, Antoinette. I know how boys his age think. What they do.” She hissed.

“He didn’t do anything, mother.”


“I swear.”

“Fine. Well then, I spent way too much time on that dress of yours for all this talk of not going.” Mother began to braid my hair again. “You’ll go, you’ll wear the dress, and you’ll have a good time. End of discussion.”

“Fine.” I conceded. I just wanted the conversation to end.

She finished braiding my hair then rushed me up the stairs to my room to finish getting dressed. I stood in my doorway, eyeing the emerald dress draped across my bed so casually. As if it belonged. I ran my hands down its sequin covered corset and back up its silk sleeves.

There is nothing in this world or the next that would get me into that thing. Well, nothing besides mother.

The thump of a tiny pebble snapped my from my hateful stare. I looked up at my window just as another one struck, then another. I walked over and looked down to see the smiling face of Andre.

Lifting my window, I smiled down at him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, motioning to the buckets of ice he was carrying. “I was just passing through. Wanna help?”

“Uh…” I hesitated, turning to listen for my mother. The dishes in the kitchen clacked loudly together and the hum of her voice traveled up the stairs to meet me. “I really should be getting dressed.”

“Already? It’s only half day.” He whined.

“That’s what I said but you know my mother.” I said.

“Come on Toni. I’m going just up the road. She won’t even notice you’re gone.” He pouted, sticking his bottom lip out. “Please?”

“Fine. Step back.” I ran over to my bedroom door and closed it softly, locking it and then running back to my window. Thick vines climbed the side of my house, making climbing up and down fairly easy. Fairly. My foot slipped and I plummeted to the ground landing back first on the cobblestone path. I winced in pain, dusting myself off as I stood.

“Are you alright?” Andre dared to ask.

“Fine.” I said, holding my hand out for one of his ice buckets. He handed it to me wordlessly and we started up the path towards the school’s grand hall where the dance was being held.

After a few more seconds of silence, he finally spoke. “So…who’re you taking to the dance?”

“Myself.” I said.

“What? You cannot show up without a date.”

“What?” I groaned at the heaviness of the bucket, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Crumbly making her way across my path. I waved to her and she narrowed her eyes at me. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll be laughed out. And by consequence, I’ll be laughed out.” Andre’s voice sounded panicky.

“No one’s gonna laugh me out.” I said. “No one even cares.”

“Hope you’re right.”

“Wait, hang on.” I stepped out in front of him, stopping him from walking. “Does… does that mean you have a date?”

“Of course I have a date, I’m not a ogre.”

“Since when?”

“Since puberty, I hope.” Andre faked hurt, even hissing a bit. He stepped around me and started walking again. I followed.

“No, since when are you dating someone?” I asked.

“Since…yesterday when I asked Gabby to be my date.”

“Gabby? As in Gabriella? As in Gabriella the fella?”

“Don’t do that.” He said, huffing. “Don’t lash out because you’re hurt. It’s unattractive.”

He did have a point. I was hurt. How could he choose such a chicken head over me? He never even bothered asking if I wanted to go with him. Of course I don’t, but not being asked is a completely different type of brush off.

“I’m not hurt.” I lied. “I’m just…why didn’t you ask me?”

“Maybe because he didn’t want to dance with a boy.” I stopped walking and turned to the voice behind me. Seeing who it was I lowered my eyes to the ground.  Andre turned back as well and narrowed his eyes.

Tristin. My soon to be stepbrother, Tristin. Our parents hooked up at the last dance and ever since we’ve been at each other’s throats. Or more appropriately, he’s been at mine.

“Get lost Tristin, before I beat your face in.” Andre threatened.

“Oh, I’m so scared. You know, my father can have you and your family kicked out of town for that.” Tristin sneered at us.

“For what? Taking out the trash?” Andre quipped. I smiled, lifting my gaze to him. He looked over at me and winked.

“Ha ha.” Tristin nodded to the shadows of a small alleyway and two more boys walked over to him. They surrounded us on all sides. “What if we take out a little trash ourselves?”

“Come on, Tris. We don’t want any trouble.” I finally raked up the nerve to say something.

“Don’t call me that.” Tristin hissed at me. He stepped back a bit and placed his hand on his chin. He was thinking. “Okay, I’ll let you be if…” He paused, cracking his face to smile a surly smile. “…if you take ten paces into the Further.”

I gulped. “But there’s a curse on that place.”

“Oh, bull. There’s a curse on everyplace no one knows. It’s just trees.” Tristin said.

Andre wasn’t buying it. “Then how come you’ve never gone?”

“Never had to.” Tristin didn’t bother looking at him. He kept his eyes intensely focused on me. Daring me to say no. To coward out and run away back to my mother so he could show everyone what I was made of. A yellow bellied little girl.

“Fine. Name the time.” Andre conceded, puffing his chest out to the other boys to show he wasn’t afraid.

“Early moon. Just before the dance.”

“Andy.” I said lowly.  “No.”

“Fine.” He agreed without my consent.

Tristin smiled, motioning for his boys to follow him before leaving us standing in the path alone.

Andre started to laugh to himself and with my free hand I hit him across the chest. “What the hell, Andy?”

“What?” He faked hurt.

“You just agreed that we would go into a cursed forest at night. I can’t even go in the daytime. With people around.”

“Relax. That forest isn’t cursed. It’s all just a myth to keep the kids out of it.” Andre said, turning to walk to the school. I strained to catch up to him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. I’ve been in it myself.”