Randitty

Queen Vanuva thought she had been defeated. After she escaped, they called her a slut and a pig, worthless. But when King Vael’Kellen demonized his woman before the entire country, he only provoked her to rise again, as a vengeful demoness.

Vanuva armed herself and an unstoppable legion of Hog Riders to fight against King Vael’Kellen. She reveled in her new name, the Cull Sow Queen— King Vael’s brand for his traitor wife. When husband and wife are fighting over an increasingly divided kingdom, who will the loyal Knights of the Red Nexus support?

“Queen Vanuva got back up. Queen Vanuva, the Cull Sow Queen, she armed herself.” Now, Glory almost screamed it, “Queen Vanuva traded in her horse for a war hog! She traded in her husband, for a destiny. And if you think she doesn’t still do her righteous duty by him, you are wrong. For she still rides his sorry ass today!”

I started this story long before the 2016 presidential campaign, but when I resumed work on it that fall, it was clear to me how a punk fantasy tale about a heroic woman, once called a “pig” and worse, is more than relevant today. The Hichrisom empire I first imagined features people of color. And now, it has expanded to include characters of different gender identities, sexual orientations and beliefs, all fighting for a world free of oppression. So, here I am, a Black fantasy fiction writer, creating a very American story that resonates with all of us.

Please read on and see how Queen Vanuva survives to ‘make a way out of no way’ for others like her, pushed to the brink in an intolerant world.

Read “The Cull Sow Queen”

Welcome back to Kylo Ren-inspired fanfiction-writing time! Okay, I lied about the “emo” part. Eventhough the Twitter handle Emo Kylo Ren is pretty entertaining, your first fan-inspired story does not, I repeat, does not have to be at quite that level of annoying… Mainly, because the genre already lends itself to annoying fangirl/boy tendencies. (Don’t believe me? Oh, you’ll see…)

So, how do you write your own fanfiction story, sans said emo-ness?

In the previous post, I talked about planning your first fanfiction story for a favorite movie, television show, video game, etc.: motivate yourself; pick a place to start from in your favorite series; stick to the actual events in the series (at least to begin with); and as you plan how to write it, avoid alienating your readers. All important tips for being successful in the fanfiction universe—and these are also good tips for planning any story. Where you don’t want to alienate fanfiction readers by avoiding the actual events and characters in the series they are familiar with, you don’t want to alienate readers of normal stories by having places and people appear in ways that don’t synch with reality either, because you’ll cause your readers to ‘pop out’ of the reading experience and lose interest.

Now, some things to keep in mind as you draft those first few chapters… Read More

So, how do you break you off a piece of that hotline fanfiction bling?

Inspired by Emo Kylo Ren’s popular Twitter feed, I’ve decided to share some tips on how to write your own fun parody story about your favorite television show, movie, video game or book series. Or, a freakishly relevant combination of the two. For my examples, I decided to go with the anime Dragon Ball Z and tv series Downton Abbey.

Once again, I don my Maggie Smith dowager-countess-esque tiara of novice writer empowerment and go into super saiyan mode to encourage anyone who would like a little push to start telling their own special story. I may not be a published novelist yet, but I’ve written lots of fanfiction, so I can at least guide you that far… Read More

*approaches you at party* *clears throat* has anyone ever told you your eyes are the color of Darth Vader’s helmet glinting in the moonlight

— Emo Kylo Ren (@KyloR3n) January 1, 2016

What do the twitter feed “Emo Kylo Ren,” Kassandra Claire’s “Very Secret Diaries,” and the entire Twlight series have in common?

Together, they share:

• Love for a great story.
• Irony, parody, or homage to an existing series.
• Awareness of the canon (more on “canon” later).
• Loyalty to the fanbase.
• It also looks like all of these writers are millennials! *squee*

It seems that Twitter handle @KyloR3n is a fan of the “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” movie, which is, by the way, pretty awesome. (Take it from me, a cynic who was such a hardcore George Lucas fan that she considered avoiding the movie altogether. Also, I am a very weird, stubborn creative-type.) I blogged a good while ago that Cassandra Claire was a huge Lord of the Rings (LOTR) fan when all those movies chock-full of Orlando Bloomy goodness came out in the 2000s. That rah-rah, fighting fangirl spirit inspired her to write a very successful series of LOTR parodies that only the best inner-circles of LOTR geeks tend to know about.

And then, far more people are familiar with the Twilight series of books and movies, and this also started out as a fanfiction homage to the popular 50 Shades of Gray series. Art becomes life, becomes art. It’s nice that we’re no longer living on a planet where fanfiction is a dirty, seedy underground writhing wormish artform that no one dare slip up and tell their coworkers about during a coffee break.

But have you ever wondered what would happen if you secretly started to write your own fanfiction? Dun, dun dunnnn! Read More

Look, I know it’s from 2003. Just play the damned song, listen, then read me. 😉 Cause it’s time to be angry for a moment.

It’s NaNoWriMo, ya’ll…

So, we’re about halfway through November, the month where a lot of would-be writers buckle down, ignore their friends and try, every night, and even every weekend, to try finishing their novels. The novel writing may actually turn into blogging, and then a stream of consciousness that, hopefully, helps someone else out there who struggles the way I do…

Once upon a time, I had a writer friend who was pretty successful at NaNoWriMo-ing… each year, it was another novel.

I, very realistically, did not sit down November 2015 and say ‘this is the month!’ Read More

I love what Wellesley College is saying in their admissions video. I’d like to take the concept a step further. Obviously, you do not need to be a Wellesley student or alum to choose to make such a place–a positive, empowering mindset within yourself; a set of core values you always fall back on, however you get knocked around in life; a view of the world that includes women succeeding on their own terms, regardless of what other negative messages we get from society or our peers; in other words, a shrine within yourself, as a woman, where no one can violate your dreams.

I’m celebrating my tenth anniversary as a Wellesley alum this year, and this message is one I carried around on campus and still hold close under my steel breastplate as I go out in the world. I do remember someone getting in front of the microphone at a campus event, even way back then, and saying, “every woman should have a little Wellesley space in her heart.” Why? Because life is hard, because other things in life can get in the way and feel like they’re grinding you down to a nub. But you can still remember who you are, why you care so much, and stay focused on that self-love. I never forgot that, and the message is still so pervasive now. Read More

Of course, the rest of Baruther’s pack helped with the findings. Wasn’t it scraggly red little Baruther himself all that time ago, bringing up the fossils and the other proof from the Great Red Den?

Turim stopped for a drink, but she feared to really go near the creek into her neighbor’s territory…

The back of her scaled neck tensed at all she had to figure now, just for a sip of water, but then the memory of Baruther returned and she spread open her jowls and laughed at the memory. Her misty breath froze in the air and little dots of ice glittered then fell. Veins of silver glittered as she shook her head and the sun caught this and that patch of freezing dirt in her dancing shadow.

Baruther, from a family of thinkers… and the Great Red Pack at that, the poor thing. But, fire-minded Wyldehounds were prone to be. They got the most restless while underground. Disrupted their own hibernation most often with foolish schemes and pranks, she heard.

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When blue envelops, it tightens around your chest. Winds tight around your throat and you can’t breathe. You remember that time… you said exactly the wrong thing to him, sweet him finally opening up to you, then he sneered, then he left you. And he was right to.

You were being a bitch and that broke his heart. The men, they don’t cry. The males, they try not to. They push you away, really hard, as if they want to resist hitting you back, when you’ve hit them first. They run and they duck their heads as if they’ve been struck.

Your waist, cinched. Cobalt, going purple, seizes around your wrists too, tight. Throwing your elbows, twisting against the ribbons, being pulled. Rope burns across your breasts, you’d fight so hard to get out of there, the choking blue. This thick ink you’ve got for blood… and now the night world is so dark, you’re drowning in it. You open your eyes and it’s pressing into the corneas. Blinking hard, quickly, again and again. Get it out. But the ink is getting in, still. The oil slipping up your thighs, and in, under your arms.

Karen kicks out, takes a breath, and gags on so much blue.

Her sheets are blue.

No, those are her scales, as she stands up on the violet plain. As she snuffs the morning air and sees the gold mist escape from her pointed nose. Her nose, her scales, those are blue…

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That one time, with Brandon… she was so tight but he adored her for it. He said that he loved her, even. Karen never had sex like that before. She completely released and relaxed. Everything fit, everything went well. She used to make herself laugh when she wanted to cry, say that she was just destined to be with the right person. Made for only one man, perfect fit.

Karen thought about Brandon’s eyes, and slipped the navy nighty up over her arms and ponytail. One slow breath out. No, it wasn’t going to be painful. She would get better at it. If no one loving was around to relax her and give her the chance… Karen lay down. She was sweating and hooked slippery black hair behind an ear. Yes. Oh, yes… Master Baruther with his golden eyes, he was with her now…

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(Part Two)

Karen Jung had a routine, a secret routine, a super secret special little routine involving her favorite Hello Kitty toy… sorry to say, yes, she knew she was one of those weird girls… Hello Kitty everywhere. And it happened every night after she made herself shut off the iPhone. Made herself shut her eyes. Let herself lay still, cheat… think of him, one of her exes… anyone, just pick one… Well, you always do pick him, don’t you? With the spikey hair, who could kiss so well on the train. In front of everybody on the Metro.

Brandon Moreno and her hadn’t lasted long. They said they were just going to have coffee, but after, she twined their pinky fingers and pulled him running down Columbia Road. Her apartment was nice, he said. But then they were fucking, and yelling. He howled.

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You try the last of it out as you fish around for your toothpaste in the cabinet and the faucet runs,

“Master Baruther… Master Baruther… Oh, Master Baruther…”

That must be it. Life isn’t so good… nor, easy.

I should be ashamed of myself, for not knowing exactly where she is from… or if she was born here? Or her family… I’m being so stupid to assume she wouldn’t have been born here, aren’t I? Brandon, you are an idiot. And it was wrong to have gone and bought that damned tea, and thought of her… Can’t you do better than that? She deserves so much better than that. I’m such an ignorant, sorry fuck. She would never look at me… tu e yo…

Maybe I’m a racist, then.

Beautiful woman… lychee-loving woman… I can’t do anything for you. Have a beautiful day.

On the train home that night, Karen Jung angrily sheathed her phone and walked on her black high heels almost straight down the crowded aisle. Nearly almost. She squeezed herself through all the people on the train, winced with embarrassment at her big ass that kept forcing people to press into the plastic seats and onto one another, or release the metal poles to fit her through. But when she did get there, flushed and breathless… Read More

The red is smoking now and it rescinds. Turim whines at you pitifully. Her scales are a deep bloody red, looking so soft, but if you touch them, they burn. Cold burning… she is nearby in the bed. She creeps in close and whines at you through her pointed nose. She loves you so much that she wishes she was you.

And she always misses you, even though you are in the same city.

You awaken and the disgusting glare of so many colors oozes round your eyes, washing them in thick, foul discordant nonsense. Your eyes are stinging and you throw the covers off, rush out of your bed to wash your face.

But that is worse. Even water has color. So many morninglights in one liquid. Grays, whites, silvers, the overpowering quicksilver of the faucet screaming at you to wake the hell up. Too bright.

The red rescinds, into twin blood drops on your fingertips. Maybe it was that you scratched your face? Read More

We go on twos when we have to do. We argue over things like mayonnaise on meat—what are they? Sandwiches? Sand-witch-is? This helps us to fit in. We puppet ourselves while we stalk the shadows of this world, half-aware of our enemies. We are down in the town, going in and out of the stone temples, pulling our paws long into crooked fingers (the fleshy claws humans think and make with instead) meanwhile, our lupine spirits are soaring down the roadways, off the highways, racing alongside the car windows, carrrs… garrrrs… grrrrs… and children swear that they can see us running as their parents drive on, yes they can. But we see only red and black, like real animals. So they are either meat or dead to us. Mostly, they are dead, so we leave the young ones alone. We turn into the trees, we try to get in as deep a forest as we can, my love, and we mate, and sniff around, and mate again, and wag our tails and wonder how long we have before the bell calls us back, and we have to return our human bodies to their homes. Then we must perch on the puppets’ shoulders, pretend we weren’t very naughty, and not be too wild while the humans are out drinking, or dancing, no longer drones. They fuck each other and we watch. We wait, wait, wait-wait-wait… now, yes… Until they slumber again. The, we have another chance to float and live out our true lives, my love. Read More

Finally done, so I deserve a drink! Welcome to Randitty’s new home on the interwebs. WordPress is facilitating this shiny new look which makes it far easier to find all my fiction stories. As always, there is a feature story each month. In September, I will be updating the bi-weekly bedtime story “When Red Expands.” On Saturdays in September, I’ll be featuring my new webcomic Cat City.

And there are tons–trust me–tons of other stories on this blog that I have divided into sections on the left side of the page:

• Bad Romance – Yeah, a lot like Lady Gaga’s songs, these are pretty crazed.
• Bedtime Stories – Visit the blog on Tuesday and Thursday nights to read the current bedtime story series: “When Red Expands.”
• Epic Spiritual Journeys – Cymen Ruecross, a talking unicorn, Aisha the baby elephant and more.
• Five Minute Stories – Odd laugh-out-loud stories perfect for your lunch break.
• Reckless Adventure – A sea priestess and a pirate-king walk into a bar… seriously, this is the premise for one of the full-length novellas, “Mi’Raah.” You can imagine how those other adventure stories go…

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Ink is a sphinx who became the blog’s mascot after I needed to draw something that would reflect how I feel about myself and writing, but also be simple enough to suit as cover art.

Long-time readers of Randitty might have noticed that the blog background has sometimes been, um, insane? Like, me re-drawing something new every month, akin to some unholy instinct to re-paint one’s nails, times a hundred… I’ve gleefully crafted everything from a plaid photoshopped wolf to tiny cobalt losenge menu buttons for a sheer, icy wintertime theme.

But now, for practical purposes, including keeping my sanity, there is just one background. A Black woman with a lion’s paw… Read More