Writing books is an absolute pain in the ass sometimes. Or at least it is when I make it be that way.
I gave out beta copies last month and promised myself I wouldn’t touch this draft until I get the copies back (which will be by the time this post goes live). That way, I could do one last run-through of the story from beginning to end before getting it ready to send off to agents and seeing where it sticks–if anywhere.
I. Promised.
Instead, the hell do I do? I add another almost 5k words in the name of fleshing things out further.
To be clear, I’m not one of those people who writes way too much and has to cut it down. I am guilty of writing too little, so that it’s barely even a draft and not just an outline, and then expanding from there so I can get all my thoughts down before they float away into the abyss. And to be even more fair, I went from having one stupidly long dark romance to wanting to break it up into three decent-sized books–namely so I would have the ability to expand enough to make it the story I want it to be.
I could have spent my time working on drafting the second book (which I have definitely done some of), but the ridiculous amount of sense of sheer wrongness won’t let me dive head first until book one is 100% good to go. Basically I don’t want my notes to mix in my notebook, and I don’t want to use a different notebook until this one is full. I don’t know, man, it’s a lot of excuses, but it’s fine.
So anyway, I guess my point is that the copy I sent out for beta is not the most current. Whoops.
I guess I just wanted to check in to say that work is being done, and I am nervous to send it out, namely because dark romance is more niche than I would have thought. There’s a billion agents taking romance, but like five who might maybe consider dark romance. At least ones I’m finding on QT.
Anyway, I’m a failure, but I’m also feeling pretty good about being a failure. 🙂
Well hello there, Void I Scream Into Sometimes. Just wanted to give a small update that as of yesterday evening, the first draft of my next project is complete. Now comes the fun part: fleshing out plot points and editing what’s already there. Basic structure is there; it just needs brought to life!
This whole story is out of my comfort zone for what I’ve written most recently, but it’s right up high school fanfiction me’s alley. Dark romance is the only romance worth reading or writing in my ever so humble opinion. And also in my ever so humble opinion, this will be the best thing I’ve written to date. It’s also the most ambitious. I made the executive decision to split up this story into three separate books. There’s just too much going on to have it all in one novel.
Where to go from here? I’ll write up a second draft of this first section with a tentative deadline of March 31st, where I’ll hand it off to someone to beta. Another polish, and I’ll employ an editor to polish it better. I want to shoot to get this one published traditionally, but the backup plan as always is to self pub through the company we all love to hate.
While I’ve been drafting this, I’ve been reading a lot more romance than I ever have in my life. I tried out some dark romances, but they weren’t the flavor I wanted to read. I guess they were more erotica between Person A and Person B, but that’s all they really gave me. I couldn’t find chemistry in any of them that lasted more than a couple pages. So I moved on to fantasy romance, since it’s more likely to touch on the dark themes that keep it interesting for me. ACOTAR was a good one. I’ve reviewed those books before, but the series ended, or at very least I reached the end of what’s published for now, so I delved into From Blood And Ash, fell in love, and then jumped into Shadow in the Ember, and now I’m a fan for life. Sera and Nyktos are just…ah, chef’s kiss.
What I’m trying to get at without getting too long winded is that I am striving to have that same captivating dynamic for Vincent and Vivian as Jennifer Armentrout created for her characters.
Reading this genre started as research and now I’m emotionally invested. It’s a fun time. 🙂
In the meantime, as I rewrite this baby, do you have any recommendations for dark romances that I should read? I crave dark themes, character introspection, and morally grey to villainous leads. Sexual tension and rocky moments where you aren’t sure if they will ever forgive each other are a must. Gothic vampire aesthetic is a bonus.
Okay, so long story short, because I have like, eh, five minutes. I did one press release thing with a newsletter that gets sent to a BUNCH of people and was a little miffed because they cut out the link to the book (what is the point of advertising if there’s no link to the think you are advertising asdfghjkl; don’t get me started on this). Anyway, I took another look at it after I calmed down and decided it didn’t work anyway because it was essentially just the back blurb with a few less sentences for length.
So I wrote up another one.
This one I’m going to use to (hopefully) try to get Zemblanity into a local bookstore. And maybe sweet talk them into letting me do a signing. Or sweet talk them into not letting me do a signing because I am nervous and awkward af and the thought of speaking to people ESPECIALLY if it’s something revolving around me or my work just makes me that much more nervous and awkward af. It’s a vicious cycle. You get it.
Anyway, point: Imma paste it below, and I would love some feedback.
Hold Onto Your Teeth…
Itsy Bitsy author and NPHS alumni, Manda Kay, released her first novel length horror, Zemblanity.
From an early age all the way into adulthood, Allyson Alexander has never been like most other people. She’s quiet, withdrawn, and does her best not to cry acid that summons monsters from another dimension to wreak havoc on those that have wronged her. She thinks she has them under control, but the body count keeps rising, the pile of teeth keeps getting bigger, and she’s running out of excuses. Unless this loaner at heart can learn to accept the help of a stranger who’s been following her every move, everything she knows and loves will be destroyed.
One reviewer said Zemblanity was “one of the best horror books I’ve ever read… If you look at it from different perspectives, sometimes it’s hard to tell who the villain is and who the hero is. I was surprised that the book had anxiety and negative aspects to life as well! Manda described everything in great detail, which I really loved! All in all, it’s a really good horror/fantasy and I think you should read it!”
For bonus chapters and updates on what Manda Kay is working on next, follow her on Facebook @lovealwaysmandakay or visit her website at mandakaywrote.wordpress.com.
Good? Bad?? I’m going to try and stop in later this week to do this, so if you have any suggestions, lay it on me.
Well, hey there, precious Void of mine. I am here to give you a bitty break from book reviews and throw some sweet, sweet life at you. By that, I mean I wanna take a second to tell you about something I hold near and dear to my heart. And no, I’m not going to go on another You tangent.
Date night. I want to talk about date night.
I am one of those introverts that craves human interaction from specific people. Specifically, my fiancé. Pre-Covid, whenever we would do a date night, it would always involve the same thing. Routine. It was routine date night. Dinner. Movie. Bam. Done-zo. In a word: boring. It cost a shit ton more money than what either of us wanted to spend, and while the predictability was comforting, it was also the complete opposite of exciting.
You get the picture.
Romance isn’t always romantic — Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com
Pre-Covid we didn’t get to do a whole lot because while we live in a sizable town, it’s run by a council of rich white dudes who want things to stay the same as they were back in the fifties, but lamer.
Then Covid happened, and everyone had to stay inside. Our date nights were now homecooked meals and Netflix. Cheaper, but still grossly routine.
Most introverts find peace in the same old same old. I, unlike them, get horrendously anxious. However, there wasn’t a choice, so what can you do.
Fast forward a bit, we get the Rona and are stuck inside for two weeks unable to smell or eat or do much of anything but lay around and wait for it to run its course. I plenty of unhealthy phone time scrolling endlessly through Facebook, waiting for something to happen. I’d seen ads before for mystery puzzle boxes, but one called Hunt-a-Killer would show up most often. I’d seen their Blair Witch box before, but I was bored, so I decided to do something I never like to do (why? so I can feel like I’m outsmarting the system?) and clicked on the fucking ad.
Void. I’m glad I did.
Hunt-a-Killer is your typical mystery box, but the Blair Witch edition is special because 1) it deals with horror tropes and 2) it’s episodic. That means multiple boxes on the same mystery, babyyy. The Blair Witch has six episodes, which means six whole months of date nights that don’t involve watching a screen and letting our brain rot away (also for someone who talks about tv rotting your brain as much as I do, I sure do love to sit in front of the tv for binge sessions).
In The Blair Witch, you are a detective helping Rosemary Kent find her son, Liam, who went missing in the woods. What starts out as a simple case though soon evolves into something more sinister, more supernatural, than she would have ever believed.
This box not only follows the lore for The Blair Witch; it expands it tenfold. In each box you receive pamphlets and maps and pictures and books and more. It’s much more involved than I would have ever imagined. My favorite piece so far has been a creepy carving of a tall figure. I opened it up and literally said, “Nope,” and promptly zipped it back up. Damn thing gives me the creeps. Not only do you receive the box every month, but you also periodically get emails from Rosemary with new information, like pictures or links to podcasts. At the end of each episode, you are given a website to a tip line where you answer the question that came with the box, and when you answer correctly, you get to listen to a clip from Rosemary with clues as to what will be included in the next box.
Anyone who’s followed the movies and the game will recognize the easter eggs scattered throughout the documents you receive. I, for one, ADORE the first movie. I watched it well after its release, but even though technology has advanced since its making, it still gave me chills. I think I’m right in saying that it is the pioneer of the found footage horror genre, and nothing made since has ever succeeded in capturing the charm and terror that those film students caught on their camera.
We are currently on box four and have box five on standby since our work schedules have been all over the place. The Hunt-a-Killer boxes have something we both enjoy: Andrew likes the puzzles, and I am here for the lore. We have had to use their spoiler-free hint site twice for puzzles in episode three because we just weren’t grasping what they wanted, but even though we cheated (or at least what I consider cheating), it still was a rewarding experience when we came to the answer.
I think if I could change one thing about the monthly boxes, it would be to have the option to slow down shipments. I say this because there is an option to receive the next box early if you solve the puzzle and want to move on. I like getting the emails from Rosemary in the small batches, and I feel like when I get the next box before I have solved the one I’m on, it takes away from the experience. It’s like Rosemary, baby, cut it the fuck out and slow down, let me solve your son’s disappearance on my own time. 😉
If this sounds like a fun time to you, you should definitely check them out. I’m not being sponsored to write this or anything like that; I just know when I’ve found a good thing and this is a good thing. There’s options for monthly episodes or all-in-one kits for a fun dinner-party style experience where you want to solve the whole thing in one go. You can find them at http://www.huntakiller.com. These boxes are soooo worth the money spent!
Get that happy however you can — Photo by Polina Kovaleva on Pexels.com
Self-care isn’t pretty. Or at least that’s what a post said that made the rounds on social media. It’s not always bubble baths and soft music. Sometimes it’s learning boundaries and telling people no. Sometimes it’s coming to terms that your actions are toxic to yourself and others and dealing with the aftermath.
I’d like to expand on this, and I would go so far as to say that sometimes, self-care doesn’t make sense. And you know what, Void I scream into sometimes? I think that it doesn’t have to. So long as it helps ground you and keep you here on this wildly spinning, ever-changing planet, that’s all that matters.
So, Void, I present to you my arbitrary list of things I have to stay alive for. Here we go:
I need to see Final Fantasy VII Remake in its entirety. I’ve waited almost my whole life for it.
Phantom of the Opera in New York for the second time needs to happen.
Giant pretzels in Vegas.
There’s still a book or two left in me before I go.
Gotta live or my mama would be sad.
Getting married is important to me.
I think my fiancé would forget to feed the dogs. Not all the time, but definitely sometimes. Plus, he’d get engrossed with something and not notice when they have to pee and that just makes the carpet smell nasty.
There’s still concerts I need to go to.
I want to ask Joe Hill a question the next time he does a book tour because last time I was too afraid.
I want to meet Caroline Kepnes because she seems pretty cool.
I don’t know what I want done to my body when I die yet.
There are still so many more books I want to read.
Tea and thunderstorms go so good together and I would miss it.
I’d miss the strong feeling that happens after I work out.
Being dead means no more blanket forts and I’m not about that life.
It would probably take a long while for them to replace me at work.
Can’t watch an endless stream of YouTube videos if I’m dead.
I still need to prove the fuckers wrong who roll their eyes when I tell them I write.
Good horror movies aren’t a thing when you die.
Lifeless fingers can’t reach out and grab things in stores that look soft.
The code to happiness — Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com
I could keep going, but I think you get the picture. It doesn’t matter why you continue to wake up day after day. Your motivation to keep pressing on can be as big as a religious need or as small as finishing your favorite anime. At the end of the day, it’s your reason for living, and anyone who tries to make you feel bad about that is a fucking piece.
Self-care doesn’t have to be pretty or productive or make sense. Self-care just has to ground you for a hot minute and remind you that there’s a reason to keep on keeping on, even if that reason is selfish—hell, ESPECIALLY if that reason is selfish. You’re allowed to be selfish every once in a while, you know. No one needs to give you permission to put yourself before others.
That’s all I really have to say this time around. I’m in a weird spot, but I’ll stay here. If not for you, then for my mama, or for thunderstorms, or for blankets (does it really matter why?).
I want to start out by saying that I enjoy Tim Burton’s projects. His art touches me in a way no other entertainer does. He’s all sharp angles and dark whimsy. You know who he is; you know what I mean. He’s someone that speaks to all those who, like me, have a weird little heart.
However, like the Wizard chilling behind a curtain in his castle in Oz, not everything is quite as it seems. Or so it would seem. The mirrors crack, the smoke fades, and we’re left with just a man.
Let’s reminisce a little first, though.
The Appeal
I can still remember the first time I watched Nightmare before Christmas. I was young, staying with my siblings at my cousin’s house. Our parents went out for the night (probably gambling, let’s be real), and they had left us to our own devices. There were eight of us in the house, four kids on each side, each pair almost the exact same age as the other. It’s like our mom’s were on a mission and their biological whatnots were in sync. Kinda crazy if you think about it.
Anyway, I was with my cousin in the den, and our parents had either rented or bought the movie for us to watch so we would stay out of everyone else’s hair. I remember it was scary in some spots, but not so bad I got nightmares. After we watched it all the way through, we rewound it to the part where Jack first goes to Christmas Town, after he sings his iconic What’s This song, and he runs into the pole. We laughed a lot. I also remember wanting to eat the snow. I remember falling in love with Jack Skellington, and all the spooky things involved with him. I don’t know if that movie completely molded who I am today as a person, but it definitely set some things in motion.
I watched that movie for years to come, sometimes multiple viewings in a row because I didn’t feel like I appreciated it enough the first run through. I still bust it out to this day, devouring it piece by piece, falling in love with a walking, talking, singing skeleton over and over again. I grew with it up to the age when I realized it’s not just about Halloween and Christmas, but about a guy stuck in a rut and depressed and searching for something to make life exciting again. It’s about trying to run from your problems and having to come back and face them head on. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, but where you water it.
Nightmare before Christmas had some very grown-up themes for a kid’s movie. I think that’s a big reason why I still consider it a part of my life as a 31-year-old. It’s a masterpiece, in my humble opinion.
Fast forward several years later. I was in college when Burton’s take on Alice in Wonderland came out. This was not the film of the century. It’s not as influential as Nightmare was by any means, but it’s a favorite of mine. Any version of Alice has a special place in my heart. I love the story of it. The whimsy. The implied drug use (even though that’s just a theory everyone clung onto and is in no way the real deal).
I remember seeing this film as well. It must have been a break of some sort because I was at home. A simple Google search could answer this for me in a second, but the exact time frame isn’t important. I was at work, and my sister text me to see if I wanted to go with her. I, of course, did, but the movie started about a half hour before the end of my shift. We decided I could still make it, that I’d only miss the previews. I clocked out at ten til, because that was legal for Walmart standards at the time, and made a mad dash over there. She’d bought my ticket despite me telling her not to, we ran into a half empty (or half full??) theater, and I was blown away enough to buy the DVD when it came out. We repeated the process almost word for word when the sequel came out. The theater was our happy place.
Again, this wasn’t a masterpiece. The plot won’t stick with me the same way as Nightmare. I will grow older, and it will stay very much the same. And the important thing to get out of this is that’s okay. Not everything you consume has the obligation to be a mindfuck. Entertainment does not always need to have layers upon layers of deeper meaning. Alice in Wonderland was a feel-good movie with enough bizarre imagery to make it undeniably Burton. That was enough for me.
Fast forward again. It’s November of 2019, and I’m in Vegas with my soon to be fiancé. I had just been to Vegas a few months prior for my coworker’s birthday trip, but I chose to go back. On one hand, I was doing the good girlfriend thing: My fiancé got the go ahead to hit up SEMA, a personal goal of his. I’ll be real with you. Cars interest me not in the slightest but seeing him happy makes me happy. Yanno, that lovey-dovey bullshit. I had my own reasons for joining him to Vegas for the second time in a year.
The Tim Burton exhibit.
Lost Vegas.
Words don’t do it justice, so I’ll just share some of my favorite pictures with you.
This was truly a once in a lifetime experience. It’s one I will never forget, and I’m so grateful to have gone.
The Bad
What celebrity hasn’t had a controversy or two during the life of their career? If you name one, I’ll tell you to just wait. At the end of the day, no one is perfect. We are all human. We all have skeletons in our closet and demons under our skin. It’s a fact of life. It’s what makes us real.
In the past, I had heard of Burton being in hot water with social justice warriors everywhere because of the type of characters he chose to portray. Yup, I’m going there. The white-washing whatnots. This article gives a pretty good summary of it.
TL;DR: He was confronted about his lack of diversity in his films, and he responded with “Thing’s either call for things, or they don’t.”
Here’s the thing. When this was making headlines, I was standing off in the corner. Quiet. Mostly because I don’t like to go along with movements, but also because I don’t like to start shit.
(And now here I am. It’s whatever. It’s cool. Please don’t hate me.)
Diversity is a fine thing. It’s a wonderful thing. It’s what makes life worth living. I like seeing differences come together. It’s beautiful.
But I get what he’s saying. Having a black character or an Asian or Hispanic or whatever it may be, simply to say that you have one, is insulting. Throwing someone in just to meet a quota is wrong. You make a token character. There is a reason that the black kid in South Park’s name is Token. It takes away part of the creativity.
This is not a popular opinion, and I guarantee that my stance will be twisted into something that it’s absolutely not. Do I think that there should be more representation for people of different races and beliefs and sexual orientations or lack thereof? Yes. Absolutely. Do I think that every movie from here on out needs to have a cookie cutter cast list to appease every person to make sure they are accurately portrayed? Absolutely not. I feel like doing so is a form of censorship, and as I have stated in posts past, I hate censorship. Even when I disagree with the subject material. Hell, even when the subject material is so far out there and wrong and what I consider to be immoral. I don’t think art should be censored.
I think that if Burton wants to have characters with skin tones ranging from alabaster to porcelain, that is his deal. Will I look down on him for it? Not necessarily. Will I continue to support his and other’s movies that have a cast of all one race? Not necessarily, because I don’t watch movies to fill an agenda. I watch to escape, and if it’s a good movie, I don’t care who’s acting in it. If Burton continues to create films starring his best friend and ex-wife, good on him. At the end of the day, he’s creating, and I’m not going to shit on anyone for creating.
His creative choices (though poorly worded, I’ll admit) are not a comment on his character. Primarily white characters are not enough to make me stop consuming.
However…
The Ugly
Over the holidays, I was stuck in quarantine. This led to a lot of show binging and random documentaries. One of them that struck my fancy on Netflix was a series called “Holiday Movies that Made Us.” There was only two episodes available, and low and behold, one of them was all about Nightmare Before Christmas.
Now, first I want to say that I did not enjoy the episode. The editing and cuts that were in it reminded me of a special on Bravo. The awkward repeats and upbeat, snarky narrator didn’t tickle my fancy. It felt like it was trying too hard to be funny and edgy and it fell flat. At least for me. My mom would probably like it. You might like it. I did not. That’s not the important part, though.
Here’s the thing: I could have at any time stopped watching. I could have added some arbitrary statistic that someone either at Netflix or otherwise deems as too scary to finish, when in fact, it is lame. That’s a conversation for a different day. I could have stopped. But I did not. And the reason for that was something I wasn’t expecting.
I, who had grown up watching Tim Burton and stood in his corner when others attacked him, was horribly, utterly, terribly disappointed.
Let me explain.
Spoiler alert if you want to watch the episode.
Tim Burton was hardly involved in the making of one of my favorite childhood movies.
No freaking way!! – Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Okay, so I’ve asked around since I learned this, and apparently this was common knowledge for a good amount of people. I was not in on it. I had no idea. I was 31 years old when this little tidbit of information was thrown my way, hitting me in the face like one of those rubber dodgeballs, and splaying me out on the floor.
So then, why is it considered Tim Burton’s Nightmare before Christmas? The simple answer is big business trying to distance itself from the little guy. Disney gave Burton the go ahead to make the film, but after a tense preview, they decided they didn’t want to be associated with it. It was dark, it was scary in some parts, and it didn’t fit their brand.
For the life of me, I don’t understand why. 😉
Ultimately, they let the filming continue, but when it came time for it to be released to the world, they gave it to their sister company and slapped Burton’s name on the title, gracefully bowing out to watch from the shadows.
Of course, they changed their minds years later when Nightmare made a comeback, and rereleased it, letting everyone know that the cult classic was, indeed, a Disney masterpiece.
Corporations are dumb sometimes.
Truth be told, the shock shouldn’t have hit me so hard. It wasn’t a secret. The truth was in the credits the whole time. I just never cared enough to look, and there’s probably others out there who are the same way.
The other big truth bomb that went off while watching the reality-tv-style documentary was something I never would have dreamed was real. If it didn’t come from the mouths of the people who worked with him (or, rather, under him), I wouldn’t believe it.
Tim Burton is kind of a dick.
Dick might be a strong word. He is eccentric, which is not inherently a bad thing, but he takes that quirk to diva territory. I’m talking all-out temper tantrums. The man would scream when others would come to him with different ideas for the story. He kicked a hole in the wall once during one of his rare visits because he got upset over creative differences.
Okay, so dick is just the right word.
For someone relying on a crew to essentially ghostwrite and create his vision from the ground up, including modeling, set builds, script, music, lyrics, and voice acting, he sure liked to throw what little weight he had around. It’s not a good look.
Tim Burton: The Legend
So what does all this mean for people who, like me, loved everything about the man up to this point? It’s like a crossroads. One side is all the good memories associated with his works, or at least the ones with his name plastered on them. The other side is ideas built upon with lies, whether intentional or otherwise.
Here’s where I stand.
Have my feelings about him changed? Definitely. It’s embarrassing to admit this aloud, but I held him on a pedestal. It’s the same pedestal I put all celebrities or influencers I admire. Hell, it’s the same damn pedestal I put close friend and family on. When they are up there, they can do no wrong. Everything they do has a good reason, and any bad they do is forgivable, and with a flick of the wrist, their wrongdoing is gone, forgotten.
If I may continue on that idea, I am a paradox. I believe so hard in good that I refuse to see the bad. At the same time, when there is bad, I force myself to recognize that anyone can do it, that no one is evil, that we are only as bad as our choices, and that everyone has some good.
That came out confusing. Simplified: Good=can be generalized. Bad=can never be generalized.
If you’re still confused, shoot me a message and I’ll give you my Hitler talk to illustrate it better.
The point is Tim Burton is no longer on a pedestal. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the dickishness. I am a pacifist at heart. I care possibly too much about how I make people feel in all situations. I don’t like it when people raise their voice at me, and I definitely will not raise my voice at them. Anything can be solved with kindness. I’ll stand by that fact until the day I die. No matter what was going on, nothing excuses screaming at your crew or damaging the wall. It’s a gross quality to have. Explosive anger does nothing for anyone.
After I watched that film, I thought that my opinion would be forever changed about him. I wasn’t going to denounce my childhood, but I wasn’t going to immerse myself into anything he does in the future. This was all purely out of spite. I thought I lost my love for him.
Then Christmas came. My fiancé and I were still locked in quarantine. I was finally experiencing the joys of Covid, and my fiancé was starting to get better. His family brought over our gifts and some food so we would feel a little bit of normalcy during an otherwise shitty holiday season.
Lo and behold, his family got me a signed print. The print: Nightmare before Christmas. The signature? You guessed it.
When I opened it, I just stared at it for a long time. It came with a certificate saying the signature was legit. It was in an absolutely beautiful—and fitting—frame. We opened up other gifts, and I kept coming back to this one. When gifts were done and we were getting the living room back in order, I kept coming back to it. Even now, as I write this, I keep glancing over at it, just staring, willing this office to be done so I can hang it on the wall above my desk so I can look straight ahead instead of off to the right.
I treasure this. I treasure this as much as the signed Stephen King and Joe Hill books I own. Maybe, dare I say, even a little more than those.
Void, I can’t stay mad.
Here’s what it all boils down to. I love Tim Burton’s work. Whether or not he was directly involved with all of it, he breathed life into it. He made his mark on it. I love his aesthetic. He takes death and makes it beautiful.
That being said, I don’t know if I would ever want to meet him in person.
Let me backtrack that statement in case future Manda has an opportunity that today Manda doesn’t see. If I had the opportunity to meet Tim Burton, I would take it. But if I died without ever having breathed the same air as him, I would be okay with it. At the end of the day, I am content with consuming what he delivers; my compliments to the chef without the chef having to come out from the kitchen and make the whole exchange awkward.
I recall in the film The Fault in Our Stars (total chick flick by the way, not the type of movie I would ever choose to watch, but I’m generally overruled when it comes to picking those kinds of things out), the girl has an author that she absolutely adores. Closer to the end of the movie, the love interest of said girl finds out where this author lives, and they go to meet him. They get there, and he is nothing at all like she imagined. He’s just plain mean. A dick, if you will. I remember watching that and thinking, oh god, I never want that to happen to me.
Luckily for me thus far in life, all the people I admire whom I have had the pleasure of meeting have been coolly pleasant to outright friendly. But I dread the day where the one I meet is a dumpster fire of a person, forcing me to have a whole new outlook on the world.
Now what?
I want to end this off first by saying that the negative information about Burton all came from a Netflix special that was poorly edited (in my shitty opinion) and featured old coworkers with a chip on their shoulder. It never once interviewed the man himself to get his side of the story. Was he asked to be a part of it and he declined? Did they have their own narrative they wanted to push and decide not to involve him themselves? I don’t know, but either way, the end result was one-sided. I understand the point of the episode was not about Burton at all; they wanted to show a fun behind the scenes of Nightmare. But at the same time, they sure did leave some road rash when they passed by. (Is that even a phrase? Whatever. It is now.)
Secondly, there are testimonies from others who have worked with him who claim he’s a great guy. I don’t doubt that, mostly because I don’t want to doubt that. At the end of the day, you can’t make everyone happy, no matter how hard you try.
Thirdly, despite all this, I still like him. His movies are still some of my favorites. His gothic whimsy makes so much serotonin in my brain. If he made a billion more movies with a pale cast list and the same three people in lead roles, I wouldn’t be mad one bit.
This is all I know, and the only thing I want you to take away from this. It’s not that you should hate him, nor should you adore him. You need to make up your own mind on that.
No, what you need to take away from all this rambling is this: Kicking holes in walls is a dick move. Just don’t do it.
Whew. Hey Void, did you make it through all that? Okay, sweet. Now’s the time I turn things over to you. I want to know your thoughts on Tim Burton. Good, bad, don’t matter. Is obscure involvement in things and dealing damage to literally anything the end of the world? Or does none of that really matter? Do famous people get a pass for being a dickbag? Am I reading too much into the whole thing?? Let me know!
Yes, January is almost over, but I wanted to make a post about it anyway. Here are the highlights of an otherwise shitty year. It was a productive one, despite everything.
Good God I’d kill for some cake right about now — Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com
January:
Wrote lots of letters to my nephew in basic, including sending him some of my first draft work for Itsy Bitsy.
Started making time to workout. It was irregular because my work schedule was irregular.
February:
Had a marathon drafting session for Itsy Bitsy and finished it in a week. Found out I can get a lot done under pressure.
Tried to make plans for an engagement party. It was going to be either laid back barbeque or like a ritzy masquerade with close friends and family. Then Covid happen the following month. It didn’t happen.
Paid off my car. Paying things off is like winning the lottery.
Did Breaking Benjamin’s VIP. Held Ben’s hand during a song. Almost cried.
March:
Packed up the rest of our life and closed on a house.
Cleaned boogers and possible shit from the walls of said house. It was really nasty.
Covid officially started in Nebraska. Lots of things cancelled.
My job cut back hours dramatically, so I was shipped off into the store. I worked mostly in online grocery pickup. I had awesome managers. It was fun.
April:
Every moment not at work was spent unpacking and cleaning.
Work was boring half the time. My coworkers and I had to take temperatures and stand around. Eight hours doing nothing goes by slow.
May:
Finally started writing again. Spent a lot of time editing Itsy Bitsy.
Made a tough decision between more pay and consistent morning hours. In the end, I decided I didn’t want to work for Walmart forever, and the only way to reach my goals was if I had a job with less stress and more consistency. I stepped down to write.
Worked out significantly less than before, but my job had me walking around 6 miles a day, so I was cool with it.
We built a privacy fence. By ‘we’ I mean my fiancé and my dad.
June
Finished editing Itsy Bitsy. Started the second draft.
Started listening to a writing podcast in my free time. I did this for a sense of community. I kept it up for several months but ultimately stopped. I just wasn’t getting what I wanted out of it.
I have something in my planner that says SPOOKY TACOS. I’m not sure what the context of that is. All I know is I want them again, but this time, more spooky.
July
Finished the second draft of Itsy Bitsy. Sent it to my beta (my mama) for a read through.
My fiancé got a new job with much better pay. My worries of if I made the right financial decision by leaving my old job subsided just a little.
Did family pictures with everyone on my side. It was hectic. But it was nice to see everyone.
August
Finished Itsy Bitsy and uploaded it to the world. Also ordered paperback copies. My first physical book!
Started tracking my writing differently. Set out short term goals as a sort of business plan, and journaled any thoughts relating to them.
Got together with my mama to talk about wedding stuff. Finally got a vision in mind.
Wrote a little story for my best friend’s birthday Zoom party.
Gave my website some TLC. It still needs more.
Put down deposit for wedding venue. It’s non-refundable. I guess it’s for real.
September
Spent time in Tennessee. Wasn’t ready to come back.
Mailed copies of Itsy Bitsy to people I knew and a few I didn’t.
Submitted a silly little entry to a horror cookbook contest.
Sold six copies of Itsy Bitsy to a local bookstore. I need to go in sometime and see how it did.
Made a plan to contact another bookstore to do a signing once Covid subsides. It looks like it’ll be a while before that happens.
Became a member of HWA and NWG.
Submitted several pieces to another contest, including a few chapters of Zemblanity.
October
Started a newsletter.
Submitted a flash fiction piece to a contest. It didn’t place, but I wasn’t in love with it. Might expand on it later.
Left town to do engagement pictures. My best friend and maid of honor dressed up as Pennywise for them. It was fun.
Started to work on a piece for a contest, then stopped. Decided it’s best not to stress over something I don’t have a solid plan for. No more half ass stories.
Applied for a job outside of Walmart. Interviewed. Decided against it. Too many red flags, and I don’t want to be married to a job. I wasn’t willing to give what they were asking.
November
Serious work on Zemblanity. It’s still a work in progress, but it’s been coming along nicely.
Submitted a short essay to a magazine to feel it out. Working on a longer essay while I wait for a decision on it.
Got the news that the Zemblanity excerpt I submitted was accepted for Voices of the Plains. It’s due to come out soon.
Made a solid business plan for the entirety of next year.
Bought a new laptop. It was much needed.
Experienced the season finale of Unus Annus. Might have felt feelings and bought merch because of said feelings.
Found a sense of purpose/direction/will to live after months in a slump.
Missed family on Thanksgiving due to Covid.
December
Covid. So much Covid.
Missed Christmas with the family and a lot of work.
Made awesome progress with Zemblanity.
As for this year, I don’t have anything concrete planned out to make me a better human. I do know that I want to get back into yoga and pilates again, and I got a new mat for Christmas so I may as well put it to good use. And, of course, as I told you before, I have a solid business plan for writing this year. Let’s hope things work out. Not to mention a few other little ideas I want to take the time to try out. It might work out. It might not work out. I’ll keep you updated if anything cool happens, and I’ll expect you to forgive me if I don’t tell you. Namely because if I don’t tell you, it means I made an absolute fool of myself, and while I am totally onboard with the whole idea of ditching the false narrative of constant happiness and optimism that social media drives into us, I don’t like to feel stupid, yo. You get it. 😉
Question time: Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear more about or see more of? Book reviews? Wedding shiz? My own personal writing things? Blog style whatnots? Lemme know! I’d love for this website to be more interactive. More people with conversation. Less bots that click like without even reading what was written.
Well, Void, here’s to a great 2021! Happy fucking New Year!!
Unus annus. One year. The low down, if you aren’t in the know, is a couple of YouTube personalities got together to make a video every day for one year, then at the end of the year, deleted the channel. Think of it as nothing lasts forever/live in the moment type of thing.
I was super into it.
I didn’t come here to gush about the series itself (even though I watched it faithfully and pulled an all nighter after working a full shift to be there for when they pressed delete). Instead, I want to talk about what happened after the screen went black, and something that had been there for me every day was suddenly dead and gone forever.
You wouldn’t think that a show ending would evoke such emotion in me. I definitely didn’t think it would. But when you do something every day for a whole year, it becomes a part of you, whether you like it or not.
Dude. I bawled.
Alone in my living room. Bottle of wine in hand. Face in other hand. Bawling at a blank screen.
To be fair, it was a long day, and I had been awake for almost 24 hours, and I’m old and don’t handle no sleep as well as I used to. But that feeling of loss, of empty, remained with me through the night, up until the next day, then ebbing and flowing back and forth from there randomly over the next several days. It was like I lost a friend.
It sucked. But in a good way. Like the friend had some terrible disease that made them live through pain every single day, and their passing means no more pain. Make sense?
What I took away from Unus Annus was that you can do anything you want to. It just takes commitment and a whole lot of work.
So, in true Manda fashion, I went to work on my planner. I made an actual business plan for the entirety of next year, and I’m going to do my very best to keep to my deadlines. So no more winging it. I want to have the final draft of Zemblanity completed and sent off to agents by February/March, and I want to have another short story written up and sent to magazines by the end of the year. I want to give essay writing an honest try, and plan to have two articles written over the course of the year. Textbroker will hopefully be a weekly thing (even though the pay isn’t the greatest), at least until I can get a handle on another route. And those occasional freelancing gigs I’ve done in the past? I plan on searching job sites once a month to see if there’s anything that would be a good fit for me.
Most of all, more than anything, is I want to stir the same feeling in others as Unus Annus stirred in me. I want to mean something to someone: if not me myself, then the words I write. I’ll admit that a lot of what I do here is word vomit with no real feeling behind it. It’s half assed is what it is. It’s book reviews and fiction—which, to be fair, is the majority of my life. The importance of all that, though, is lost in translation, and I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I haven’t been trying hard enough. Even this post could have some more to it, honestly. It feels generic. It feels like anyone could have written it. There is very little of myself in it, and those little glimpses come out in occasional curse words. That’s not enough.
What does this mean for you? Not a whole lot, probably. You will either notice a change over here or on one of my socials or the stories I write, or you won’t.
What does this mean for me? A whole lot of work. But if a couple of guys can throw their all into something that is just going to disappear, then I think I can manage to put in more effort to do something that’s been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.
I want to write. I want people to care about what I write. I want to create characters from nothing and make them feel just as real as your family, your friend, your lover. I want you to feel that same stir of emotion and inspiration that I feel so often.
So, as you all probably know, I got engaged to my guy of eleven years over the holidays. And, if you know me personally, you know that I’ve been waiting for that moment for the past seven of those eleven. I’ve had a lot of time to plan things out, and now that it’s happened, I couldn’t be more unprepared. You see, the thing is, when you spend a good chunk of your life planning, you get too many ideas, then you end up in my situation. Absolutely no idea where to go from here.
I did know one thing I wanted to do for sure right from the beginning, though. Two words: Bridesmaid Proposal. When I first found the idea on Pinterest, I thought it was just about the cutest thing, and knew right away it was something I wanted to do. Small problem with that, though. Everything I found was super cutesy and nice for normal bride-to-be’s to give to their buddies.
I don’t know if you’ve caught on by now on this, and I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m not exactly what you would call normal.
So, the challenge: find a way to ask a small handful of girls to help a sister out when the sister is dark and a touch eccentric?
I started my journey in Hobby Lobby: a store not necessarily up to the task of fulfilling my gothic needs. I had my sister join me in this adventure, a woman whom I love dearly even though she thinks I’m a little weird. We wandered around for the extent of her lunch hour while trying to figure out just how we’re going to do this. We picked up a lot of things, and ended up putting everything back. Reason: I’m bad at coming up with ideas under pressure. Who was putting me under pressure? Myself. Naturally. I’m an anxious mess 99% of the time.
I spent the next several weeks browsing Amazon and Pinterest trying to figure out my life. I’d take screenshots and send them to my sister, anything from box setup to creepy little ditties, and she would likewise tell me it was cute or reject my brilliant ideas in the most brutal way possible. I always take her advice with a grain of salt, though, because she’s normal and I’m my own person. Grown independent woman don’t need no normie.
Ultimately, I did what I wanted anyway. I work like that. I have to face rejection to really know what it is I want. Otherwise I do what other people want just to make the process easier. Eh, not one of my best traits. Follower and all that nonsense.
Anyway, that’s not the point. You didn’t come here to hear about my shitty decision making skills. You came here to see my sick ass bridesmaid proposal boxes!
First thing I did was decide on a theme. I am having my wedding in the fall, and I want it to be dark but not cheesy. Gothic romance. Think Phantom of the Opera. The Andrew Lloyd Webber one. Classy shit (said in the most unclassy way possible). I want Halloween, but not Halloween. Light Halloween.
I settled on buying little stress dolls on Amazon that look like voodoo dolls. They are absolutely adorable and I would recommend them to anyone who wants a cute, inexpensive gift. Plus, they smell like cookies. They feel nice in your hand. They are just all-around a great little gift. Just a little touch of fun for an otherwise super serious proposal. Or something like that. 😉
So. Damn. Cute.
Nextly, I knew I wanted to add something in there a little bit more…I don’t know…nice? I wanted to give my girls something they could keep that wasn’t just a cheap novelty item. Here, Hobby Lobby was exactly what I needed. I took a stroll through there, intending on just getting a box and some filler, and lo and behold, they had some of their fall decor out.
Sick ass pumpkins!
And my ring…is a hat!
I found some baby ones that were a hollow scrolly fancy type, and called it a win. Then I snagged a few fold up boxes and shredded filler paper (the stuff my sister picked out, no less), and some scrapbooking paper and got the hell out of there. I never much cared for shopping before, but I care for it even less now that the rona has taken over. Pandemics suck.
I knew I wanted to ask them in a unique way, and nothing on Pinterest or elsewhere on the wide wide world of the interwebs satisfied me. I had to turn to the one thing that never let me down. My one ace. Alright, I’ll cut the bullshit; I had to figure it out on my own. I ended up taking inspiration from Phantom of the Opera and my own mother who used to take existing songs and write alternative lyrics for them for plays. I spun Notes into a proposal. Why Notes? Because I have a thing with my best friend and the word ‘publicity.’ I couldn’t miss out on an opportunity for the inside joke. Originally, I was going to use it just for hers, but the thing as a whole really came out nicely, inside joke aside, so I used it for the other two as well.
Look at all that cool stuff!!
I added a card for them to take a selfie with for their answer, an information card for what little parts I do know such as the date and the overall theme I’m shooting for, and a couple quotes from Stephen King that I really like. Threw it all together, and off in the mail they went!
Off they go!
By now, they all have received their respective boxes. I’ve gotten one answer back with the selfie, one just a text (poor sport, what can I say?), and one I’m still waiting on a definite answer. All of them seemed to really like the contents inside at very least. I sent pictures of them all to my mom and my sister, and they both said the same thing: It’s cute, and it’s very you. I take that as a compliment, and therefore, a win.
So, that’s it. That’s as far in the wedding thing as I’ve gotten so far, and there’s a lot of time to figure it out, but just because it’s not for a couple years doesn’t mean that I can slack off. There’s a lot left to do. So. Much. Planning.
Hey, void. You look cute today. Also, did you ever do a bridesmaid proposal? Or, if you haven’t gotten married, what do you think of them? Obviously, I think they are adorable. My sister thought they were a little out of the ordinary. What say you?
Planning out a wedding is a lot to take on, yo. I used to be so sure of what I wanted. And then as soon as I got engaged, it’s like my mind was wiped clean and I don’t even remember how to do words good to talk about what want. What. Want. Who am I marrying? What day is it?? When am I??? Sheesh.
So then, here’s a roundabout update as to where I’m at on that.
I’m a planner-person. As in I like planners. A lot. Too much, one might say. It’s normal for me to have three separate ones for three separate things that could easily be combined into one but damnit, there are too many cute ones that come out every year and it’s so hard to choose.
But that’s not the point.
The point is I wanted a wedding planner. But the harsh reality is that I couldn’t find one that I liked. Every single one I picked up wasn’t me. They all had inspiration pages that would appeal to the average bride, I’m sure, but let’s face it: I’m not average. I am one of the ones who is kinda into the whole black dress thing. Those planners didn’t scream alternative. They screamed nice and expensive or cute and country and nothing at all inbetween.
No thanks.
So, void, I did what I do best. I gave up my search (even though I had it narrowed down to about three that I could try to make work) and decided that if you want it done right, you have to do it yourself.
It’s like pastel goth.
I started making my own planner in this cute notebook I got from Barnes and Noble a while back. Now, I haven’t gotten far in it due to moving and cleaning and getting caught back up with writing, but I have a general plan of how it’s going to play out. And that’s half the battle, I think. That and getting the lettering right… Seriously, how do people make interesting handwriting look so easy??
Fancyyyyy
Like this, for instance. Wanna know how I decided to do the little frilly lines? This book right here:
Hell to the yeah
Nothing like a good butchering to get your inspiration on.
I’ll check in every once in a while when something interesting pops up. Wish me luck.
Manda Kay Writes 