I came upon an unexpected discovery while furthering my medieval research! It turns out that Edinburgh Castle in Scotland was built on top of an extinct volcano! This gave me an idea for my next fantasy volume by featuring a castle or a series of castles that are built on top of extinct volcanos. That way I can better connect with my Scottish heritage.


“As they turned a corner, Numen and company were greeted by an unexpected sight. Locked in the pillory was the local thief, Joe Karly. Joe was slightly older than Numen with rough features and brown teeth while wearing nothing but rags. The pillory had dried vegetables sticking to it while Joe snarled like an animal. Joe came from an impoverished family from outside of the castle and always tried to climb the walls and steal something. Every time he was caught, Joe was put in the pillory for three days and nights. Some barons considered Numen’s father to be too lenient towards criminals like Joe, but he ignored their disapproval. Numen could not restrain a chuckle at seeing Joe get caught again.

In front of the pillory was Clovis Virtus, the blacksmith’s apprentice. Clovis was three years older than Numen and was as big and strong as a grass-fed ox. His complexion was constantly covered is soot and burns from working the forge. Clovis’s hair was jet-black and his eyes were as blue as crystals. Clovis possessed a great passion for forging yet always dreamed of becoming a knight one day. He even forged his own armor and weapons during his free time in preparation for the day he became a knight.

Next to Clovis was Margaret, the stablemaster’s daughter. Like Lucille, Margaret’s father wanted a son to succeed him, but when his wife failed to give him one, he raised Margaret like a son. As a result, Margaret did not dress like a girl, but dressed in the standard attire of a stableboy. She was willowy yet muscular from years of hard labor. Her brown hair was as long and coarse as a horse’s mane and her face was also long with high cheekbones. Margaret was the same age as Clovis and they became lovers after years of helping one another shoe the horses. To practice being a knight, Clovis and Margaret shared a chivalrous relationship.”



I had an interesting idea for a potential story and it involves a zombie apocalypse. When my friends and I were in high school, we watched Shaun of the Dead and wondered what it would be like if we endured a zombie apocalypse. Some of the ideas we came up with were extreme, unusual, and utterly insane. I already wrote books based on our fantasy of becoming superheroes so I may write a book based on our fantasy of surviving a zombie apocalypse. What would you do if you came face-to-face with legions of undead and the world as you know it collapses instantly? Let me know what you think.



Most people are afraid of either wolves or wolfdogs, but not me or my pit bulls. In fact, we have two wolfdogs at the dog park who are our BFFs. One is a large female who was bigger than either of my pit bulls. She was an unnaturally beautiful German Shepherd mix with a graceful walk and serene demeanor. Her owners named her after Arya Stark from Game of Thrones. My pit bulls were head-over-heels in love with her and flirted with her obsessively. They even ran together from one side of the park to the other, but she always left my pit bulls in the dust. The other wolfdog we see more often and he was just as beautiful as Arya. His name is Odin after the Viking god and All-Father. Odin is just as big as Arya except he is white as snow with golden amber eyes that are filled with ancient wisdom and spirit. Odin loves getting attention and he wrestles with my pit bulls all the time while also being a referee when other dogs are playing. One time I was sweet talking Odin while hugging him and he got so excited that he jumped up to kiss me and ended up squishing his nose against mine. I got into a sneezing fit for an hour. Overall, my pit bulls and I love wolfdogs with complete passion and we look forward to seeing our BFFs on our next visit to the park.


For two decades I stood with pride.

With time by my side I grew towards the heavens.

Now I tower over my master’s home.

My roots reach deep into the earth’s womb

for one day this spot will be my grave.


I might live a century or more

with only the ground’s flesh as my door.

Looking up, I become enthralled by the sun’s light,

which I will cherish until my time is done.


The wind howls and birds sing through my branches.

My roots can taste the moistness of the soil.

As I loom over the house, I can see the vast world.

I can barely feel the elements while coated in my thick bark.


Because I am trapped in one place

I am lonely and without a companion.

The larger I grow, the more I tire

I cannot wait for when I retire.

For two decades I stood with pride.


Once upon a midnight dreary, I flew into

a madman’s chamber and perched on top

of his door like an ancient statue.

I found the stranger to be a tedious little man

with a broken mind and shaky will.


Over and over this lunatic ranted to my face

and every time, my answer was “Nevermore.”

I grew bored of listening to the idiot’s irritating

voice and repeatedly said “Nevermore” to silence

him, but to no avail.


As the scent of the air grew denser, I could feel my

dark feathers ruffled while the strange man shrieked

at apparitions that were not there. While watching

the unfortunate soul rave, I could still taste the

blood of my last meal in my sharpened beak.


Finally, the madman collapsed limply before me

and my all-consuming shadow washed over him

like an angel of death. With my essence devouring

the wretch’s soul, his spirit would remain restless

and be lifted . . . Nevermore!


From the ore of the earth was I born.

The fires of the forge shaped me.

I was crafted by the hands of an artist.

I began as a weapon of war and death.

Now, I was presented as art for others to admire.


My master looked at me with deep attachment.

For I was a symbol of his rich heritage.

His ancestors used me to unite kingdoms and defy empires.

Perhaps my master sees me as a window into the past.


I existed in many forms across many centuries.

For every nation gave me a variety of names.

An obsidian blade glistened like a mirror in the light.

Ruby eyes adorned my gilded crossguard.

A beast’s polished ivory shaped my hilt.

My golden pommel had a single crimson star.


Now, I rested in my master’s garage.

Free am I from the horrors of war.

The atmosphere was peaceful and time was my friend.

Years eroded my shell as my soul was slowly liberated.

That was the life of the blade forged by man.

From the ore of the earth was I born.