May. 30th, 2016 10:47 am
angela_n_hunt: (Default)

Originally published at Curse & Quanta. Please leave any comments there.


I gave her my card. She’s leaning up against war rig #2 and even if I don’t use this one for the Magician, I am definitely hoping to use both of them in one of the other cards. She was nearly six feet tall. QUEEN.

* * *

Memorial Day.

I sat outside with Colette and yelled at her for going all predator on the squirrels and birds. Her prey drive is insane. Pain in the ass dog.

Line edit on Strange Weather continues. Man, I’ve clearly leveled up as a writer.

In other news, I am angry with the world, which points to the irritability/anger version of my clinical depression. Not so much being in the hole as wanting to set the hole on fire while I sit in it. I don’t recommend it. But saying it out loud seems to help. So. Another rest day. Tomorrow should be better. *knocks wood*

* * *

You know the drill. Tell everyone! 🙂

angela_n_hunt: (Default)

Originally published at Curse & Quanta. Please leave any comments there.

As my long term readers know, January 27th is traditionally Rabbit Hole Day. It’s a day that I have a soft spot in my heart for, because if not for it, Alice Assassin would not exist. What started out as a small series of flash fiction pieces over several years, turned into a photo series, which then turned into…a novel.

So I’m late, so very late, as the Rabbit would say, this year, but, Alice is back, and this time part of a much larger story…

I give to you, a piece from the next Curse & Quanta novel I’m getting ready to release.

The Apocalypse Bell
Curse & Quanta: The Armaggedon Bringers

Washington, District of Columbia

Alice Vexin stood in a little girl’s room in a big white house and her hand kept going to her hip for a holster and a weapon that were not there. Behind her, Thomas Eames crawled around the floor and the walls, latex gloves covering his hands, and radiated just as much fury as Alice did.

“It’s a waste of time, Tommy,” Alice said, her voice hard and angry. With him, she would allow herself to sound like herself. With him, she’d be herself. Something her husband was very proud of, since he knew how hard it had been for her to get to that level of acting human.

“I… I just have to.”

“It’s been a month, Tommy. Any trace is long gone or degraded beyond use,” and Alice didn’t bother to hide the break in her voice. “Whoever has her has killed her by now.”

She was just repeating the received wisdom, but even so, Eames was up in her face in an instant, barely nose to nose with her, because Alice was nearly six foot tall, edging him out by a couple inches.

“We’d know.” His head tilted towards the large closet mirrors. “They’d know. Do they say that she is dead?”

And he waited and Alice blinked stinging eyes, not wanting to hope, but feeling the traitorous emotion rise up and nearly choke her.

“No,” Alice whispered.

“Then you will get your head in the game, Vixen. We will find her,” and he bit out the last four words, as if the use of her codename weren’t enough of a prod, and Alice felt them and her traitor hope steel up her spine some. She gave him a jerk of a nod.

“Now can you read the mirror?”

“I’ve never tried from this side,” Alice said.

“For me?” he asked and suddenly his voice was soft, the one he used for the little girl they were hunting for, and this time, Alice nodded more naturally and went over to the closet mirror.

Because here or in Wonderland, mirrors did Alice’s bidding.

Laying her hand against the mirror’s frame, the glass rippled like mercury and Alice breathed on the glass. The glass clouded the second her breath touched it and she allowed more of the hope to crawl up her spine.

“Show me,” she whispered and for a long, aching minute, the glass stayed dark and gray.

And then it cleared. Eames stood by her shoulder, every line of him tight with tension, but Alice ignored him, keeping her concentration on the glass, her will bending it to her desire.

It showed Girl Alice stepping out of the mirror. It showed the two men arriving wearing suits just like Alice’s and Eames’, the same earbuds tucked in their ears. Alice heard Eames suck in a breath, but she kept her focus. She watched Alice walk away with the men willingly, heard their words asking her to go with them. And then the mirror just showed an empty room and Alice let her hand drop from the frame.

“This is in house,” Alice said, vicious and cold.

“Yes, it is,” a woman said from the bedroom door.

Neither Alice nor Eames jumped. Just turned, both of them controlled and ready to move, until they both realized in the same instant who it was.

“Mrs. Bartlett,” Eames began and the woman shook her head, cutting him off. A beautiful blond in a structured, designer black suit, the force of her presence and natural charisma filled the room. And right then, so did her grief.

“This is why there’s been nothing in the news cycle. Why no one’s made any moves to recover her,” Alice said, reining in her anger, because this woman was not the source of this evil. She could read that in an instant. And it explained so much. How she and her husband had looked like walking wounded for the last month. How no one had said anything. Why it had been so hard for her and Eames to even get in the goddamn room.

“Yes,” Mrs. Bartlett said and crossed the room to stand in front of Alice. “But I don’t think that will stop you, will it, Captain Vexin?”

And Alice felt her spine reflexively snap to attention. Because, she made no mistake, this was her commanding officer, even if Alice was no longer an active-duty Marine.

“No, ma’am. It will not stop me,” Alice said, her voice growing even colder. The voice her husband had said frightened most other people. Because it was her true voice. The one that proclaimed her a trained killer.

And Eleanor Bartlett smiled a bitter, vicious smile that warmed Alice’s heart.

“That’s my girl,” Mrs. Bartlett said. “You will find my daughter, Captain Vexin. You will find her and you will mete out justice to whoever has taken her. Whoever they are. That is an order.”

Alice felt Eames freeze at her shoulder. But Alice didn’t. Alice let her shark smile out for the first time in two years. Because the First Lady had not said “bring to justice.” She had just said to mete it out.

And Alice had only one way of doing that and it was made by Remington and deployed from a thousand yards away.

“Get on the clock, Captain,” Mrs. Bartlett said and Alice saluted on auto-pilot.

“Yes, ma’am.”

angela_n_hunt: (Me 2014)
Queen of Swords II

A bunch more of this particular series will be following over the next few days. They came out really really nice, though a couple need some tweaking as far as retouching. There's all sorts of stuff still stuck in my head.

* * *

Tax Season is in full swing for me, but I've been taking frequent breaks to do stuff that's just for me and to work on the art so I don't feel like I'm only a good dog if I'm working for other people. So far, so good.

I've also started writing again.

It is...fraught.

Which actually reminds me. I should start uploading Draft 0 chapters to the patrons. Gah. Didn't even think of that. Oopsie. *makes note* Once it hits Draft 1, I will be serializing it here.

So. That's the thin update because I am working my ass off.

Hope you are all well.
angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)


Even here in La La Land, the heat is finally starting to go. It gives us whiplash weather. 50s at night and forecast for 90 today. Soon, even that will be gone and it’ll be time to work more seriously in my garden. Pulling out the blown flowers and vegetable plants. Start thinking about winter cover crops and mulching and fertilizing. It’s the time of year where the garden goes into Dreaming mode, rather than Growing mode and I find I’m just as fond of it as I am of the Spring explosion that is planting and sowing.

* * *

Training miles started this week and I am fucking slow. I keep reminding myself that miles are what matters now, not speed, but oh, it’s hard. I hate feeling like I’m just crawling through the miles, but whatever. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m on the road. It’s also sorting out my Bad Broken Brain, as usual, so for that alone, it’s worth it. I just want a consistent ten-minute mile…

* * *

In belated birthday news for me, my new book, Kilroy is out today too. So happy birthday to me! You can find it here:

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

Desert Bunny III

The thing that amused me the most about the bunnies on the ranch were the absolute fearlessness. They cared not a whit that I was there or that I stalked them around the grounds, taking pictures. They’d bail if I got too close, but for the most part, I got pretty close and they were very much, “Whatever.”

* * *

Bunch of different updates…

As of today and for the next three days, my latest book, Unformed, is available for *free* for the Kindle and for the Kindle app. It’s DRM free, because we don’t believe in that stuff, and in my humble opinion, a good, light, fun read. If you like spies and assassins and death demons. You know. Light reading. You can find it here!

And the campaign holds steady at 18% with 12 days to go. Last night, I bagged and sealed the most damaged and rare of the negatives that I could for the amount that it’s raised so far, which came out to only 18 rolls of color negative, 4 rolls of black and white (it’s more expensive to process), and 10 boxes of slides, which comes to approximately 1000 images, give or take. About .7% of what’s here. Yeah. But something is something! And that’s all that matters.

A lot can happen in 12 days. And in the meantime, I have made the first plans for my next shoot for Last of the Wild Horses. As Uncle Walt said: “Keep moving forward.”

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

The Tanglewood

* * *

Had to resort to the heavy decongestant today. Just can’t breathe well, which is never a good thing. I just hate the way the heavier meds make me feel like I took a hammer to my head.

In other news, my next book, Unformed, is due out any day now, gods willing. It’s the closest thing I’ve ever come to writing that’s a romance, which isn’t very, but it’s probably my current favorite thing, after Alice Assassin.

And other than that, I have minimal brain so I’ll leave you with that news and the pretty picture. Whee!

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

Lantern Tree III

And another of the desert’s lantern tree.

To give you an idea of how taken I was with this tree, I am currently working on turning on of the trees in our backyard into something similar. It was just that amazing.

* * *

Had an amazing visit this past weekend with my dear friend, Greta, who is an amazing painter. She was in a show here in LA and had asked if she could couch surf and I jumped at the chance to have her visit. You can see her piece here: Valentina The photo does not do the piece justice.

Over the two and a half days she was here (which was too damn short a visit) we talked and drank and talked and drank and talked some more, but one thing did come up more than once.

The need to get out of one’s own way. The need to just make the art we are here to make and fuck where it lands. Fuck the market. Fuck the world even. Just. Make. The. Damn. Art. And then my professional media credentials arrived in the mail from APA and the context was about other things, but after Greta left and I had time to really think about it, I realized…

I need to get out of my own way. The move cratered me a bit, that’s true, but we’re moved now. I need to just make the art I’m here to make. Fuck where it lands. Fuck who gets it. Fuck that it scares me. I just need to make the damn art.

So. That’s what I’ve been doing.

I’ll be honest, I’m a wee bit scared. Some of what wants to get written in the new novel is taking me to a dark place. Some of the art I want to paint and photograph feels completely beyond my grasp. I’ve got enough of an audience now and done enough to be out there that I was apparently actively worrying about how the next work would be received. Whether people would get it. Or like it. Worried about fucking it up.

But better to reach…and fail. Than never reach at all.

I was letting the worrying hamstring me. It wasn’t blatant, but it was there.



Here we go.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

Pegasus Rising

So, Judith Tarr (author of: King’s Blood and Rite of Conquest, you should read them!) owns a Lippizan horse farm and also runs a camp for writers where not only can you go to write and not worry about the world, you can hang with and ride one of the glories. And in my case… she has graciously agreed to let me take photos of the horses, including her amazing Pooka.

No. Really. Her nickname for her horse when around photographers is Zoolander. I can’t WAIT to take pictures of him.

Anyway, am as horse mad as they come. Been that way since I was five years old and discovered the concept and glory that is Horse. More importantly, horses figure prominently in my new quartet, the next cycle in the Curse & Quanta universe.

Here is an opportunity for me to once more spend time with animals that I love above all others (sorry, cats), write accurately about my four Horses of the Sun, and best of all, take photographs of some of the most perfect horses on the face of the Earth.

This is the sort of experience that makes the difference between a good set of books, and a great set of books. It’s also the sort of thing that I like to think makes the world a more beautiful place. In the Middle-East, they say that the Horse is the child of the Wind, a gift from the gods to humanity. I say that without the Horse, we don’t have Civilization. Horses are Power animals. We still rate engines horse power. Recording and memorializing them makes the World a better place.

But y’know. I would say that. I am certifiably Horse Mad.

And frankly, everything I’ve done in the last six years that’s mattered? Is all because of the support of people like you. In return, I will send you gorgeous metallic prints of some of the most beautiful horses on the Earth, along with weird postcards and tchotchkes from the road, the weirder I can find, the better. I’ll also be keeping a supporter only blog for the trip where I’ll share works in progress and whatever’s going through my head being in the desert with the glories.

No. Really. I’ve got plans for weird side of the road knick knacks to send folks.

Can’t contribute? No problem! Spread the word! Every little bit helps! Use the buttons on the page here and let folks know what I’m trying to doing. It really helps.

And as always, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU!

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)


Guess what?! My memoir, Running with the Moon: a Woman, a Dog, and 24 Weeks of Nights to the LA Marathon is out today!!!


Lookie lookie lookie! Isn’t it gorgeous??? Check it out!

Running with the Moon cover
$17.95 + S/H
Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

*hugs and squeezes it and calls it George*

I love this book (and this cover) more than I can possibly say. I am so happy that it’s out.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.


Nov. 16th, 2012 06:35 pm
angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)


At the beginning of October, my dear friend, Holly, in the grips of anger and despair over the current political climate in the country was struck by a vision of something better. In chat, she told me about it, and Professional Enabler that I am, I got out my shovel and started shoving coal in it as fast as I could to help stoke the Fire.

In the space of what felt like hours, but was really days, we suddenly were talking about a communal art project, a project to reimagine a quintessentially American Goddess, and what we could do to not just reimagine Her, but reclaim Her, rebirth Her… bring Her back and in the process, bring ourselves back.

In Holly’s own words:

We used to revere the Statue of Liberty as a symbol of our country and our ideals. And before her, did you know we used to poetically refer to our nation as “Columbia?” A goddess modeled after the honorable figures of Greek and Roman democratic virtues, Columbia was the feminine incarnation of America for her first hundred years, until she fell under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty in the 20th century. …

What would happen if we re-imagined Columbia for ourselves… for America’s future? What would she look like? What would her symbols be, and how would she be embodied in our modern culture? How could she stand for us as a guide, a protectress, and a democratic ideal that we could collectively strive for?

I am possessed by the desire to sculpt a new Columbia out of the mud.[emphasis: Anji's]

To reanimate her in our time of need, beautiful, righteous, and powerful. I want to give form to this power I know we all possess, a power that represents Equality, Justice, Compassion, and UNITY.

I don’t know about you, but this set my head on FIRE.

As Witch and Priestess, to be Called to reclaim a Goddess so long abandoned, I couldn’t help but respond. I joyously pledged my support to the project and together, Holly and I will be co-curating Columbia Rising Together, (she as Creative Director and I as Producer), our vision is an Open Call for Art to eventually be exhibited in a commercial gallery, after which the exhibition will go on tour, while simultaneously living on the internet as an interactive exhibit.

Our joint vision is that this will grow into a movement. While Holly has pledged to hold and build the temple, I have pledged to stoke the Fire.

To that end, here is my own first contribution. Oh, and by the way, this is why I was asking for raptor wranglers. I really really need an eagle…

It’s an enormous project.

But I, for one, know that it can do amazing things. I hope you’ll join us.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

World and Feather

The object here is a tiny silver plate that I keep on my altar. It’s maybe five inches across. And again, this is not the 35 mm. This is just the first telephoto I slapped on Mrs. Peel.


* * *

I am sick today. Not horrifically so, but enough to require DayQuil and it sucks ass. I have lunch with an old friend from high school today and too much to do and a run to get in the bag tonight, so it’s basically all willpower to get through the day today.


Some days it’s like that.

Novel continues to churn and burn, which is good and I *finally* got the PDF software to work on the current gigantor book for the press. Now I just have to get through the rest of everything.

Some day I’ll get to sleep.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

Sword and Dragon

This is from the first batch of photos I took.

Still gobsmacked at the difference good glass makes.

* * *

Veterans Day is behind us and I find myself looking down the barrel of the holidays and bracing for impact. So much is happening in the next 48 days and I hardly know what to do with myself.

Wordcount is going well on the new novel, which is a comfort, because everything else is just a painful slog right now.

I’m also processing a lot of internal crap too right now, which makes it hard to function, because while it isn’t full on SAD/Bad Broken Brain, it’s borderline and all I want to do is sleep. Time to take more vitamins and run more.

Otherwise, things are golden. I just wish I wasn’t so damn tired all the time.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (Sabine)

*looks at calendar*

*rubs eyes*

It is Friday, yes?


I am eyes deep in everything. Like so deep in things to do that I am deliberately going to crawl out from under this mountain and grill and drink with friends tomorrow and pretend that I am not about to be mugged by work.

Until then, I make All the Lists. And I do mean, all of them.

Script adaptation of Strange Weather is going really well, but I still need to condense 99 pages into 40. WHEE. Adaptation is its own art, because you have to have the whole arc of the story in your head, and in the case of a trilogy, the arc of the whole trilogy as well. There are things that if you lose them now and they show up later, you will be fucked. And other things where there are scenes you love, but in a book you can be chitty chatty a little. In a film, you motherfucking cannot. Every second must support your arc, your story, and your structure. As a result, my brain feels like it’s about to split at the seams from holding this all in.

And I’m doing this while pushing this giant rock that is the press right now, because I bit off more than I can chew, but I’m not done chewing. It’s epic and awesome, but holy cats, I’ve got a fuck ton of work to do in the fourth quarter here. Publishing is not for the weak, I’m just sayin’.

Someone send cabana boys and tequila, stat.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (Sabine)

No pic today. I have to bond with the Behemoth at home and get some new stuff up or at least dig through all the stuff I’ve been scanning. There’s a lot of it.

I’ve been knocking Strange Weather into script format and only just hit a hole that needs specific re-writing for the form, because I lost a scene that just didn’t seem worth shooting. Thus is adaptation its own art. Things you can do in book form don’t always work for screen form and vice versa. For the most part, Strange Weather breaks pretty cleanly for the screen.

Except when it doesn’t. So I’m hydrating and taking a break, because my head hurts and lunch is over.

Oh, and if anyone has $40 million laying around, let me know. I know I can get the movie in the can for that.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

By the Shore of the Blood Sea III

Would you believe that this shot was taken almost two years ago?

Time flies when you’re having fun.

It’s also hugely appropriate, since as of earlier this week, Alice Assassin is officially out in the world in print, in eBook, in photobook, and in calendar form.

I know. Crazy wonderful.

Have some links!

In print:
Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

In eBook (it’s DRM free, even if you don’t have a Kindle, you can still read it on your computer or eReader of choice, just convert):
Alice Assassin

The photography book:
Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

The calendar:
Support independent publishing: Buy this calendar on Lulu.

I think that’s everybody. *checks* *falls down ded*

That’s a lotta book there for you. Only now, looking at it stacked up does it seem like a lot of work. Holy crap, we did a lot.

There you go, folks. Enjoy!

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (blue eyes)

Crane II

And it’s not always naked women. Sometimes it’s a volunteer crane showing up during a shoot and you’re an idiot to ignore a gift like that. I love taking photographs of birds. It’s not something I get to do very often.

* * *

Life is overwhelming right now. I nearly was late to my chiropractor today. I forgot family stuff yesterday. And I’ve got too many things going on. But that’s nothing new.

The editing is not going well on the new novel, though notes on the sequel are. So that’s something.

And this week, the Mouse turns 8. As of the 14th, I will be Momma to a third-grader.

Holy crap.

The years just burn by.

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (Default)

In the Big Chair

Multiple reasons why this is a good choice for today.

There’s actually a lot of post-processing work here. The sepia was a definite choice and there’s other Photoshop voodoo going on to get the look. At the time, it was looking over and seeing that the light had decided to do something very interesting through the skylight of the studio I was renting.

The final effect is one that isn’t the standard nude, which is why I love it.

I’m also off to see Tears for Fears tonight and Songs From the Big Chair is still one of my all time favorite albums. So consider this the Tears for Fears appreciation photo too, because it is.

* * *

In other news, I finished Unformed last week, so post novel ennui has set in on schedule and I am drained and grumpy and feel out of sorts with the Universe. This part of the writing life? Not so much fun.

It’s looking like I’ll be working on The Night is an Adder for NaNoWriMo this year, but that implies I’ll be able to resist writing until November. Yeah. Like that’s going to happen. Writing is the thing I do to keep my sanity.

Only problem is, my brain has not regrown enough to write anything coherent.

In the meantime, I’ve started editing Kilroy and I don’t hate it, so that’s something, but gods know what anyone else is going to think about it. I have no objective sense of anything about my work right now. Thank the gods I don’t have to. That’s what you folks are for. :)

I’m going to be shooting with the Amazing A in October for my birthday weekend, because I’d rather take pictures than plan something for my birthday. I may end up going out for dinner that night, but who knows? All my focus is really for later in that month with our tenth wedding anniversary coming on.

Mostly I want to go back to bed.

We won’t speak of the Vaudeville budget. *shudder*

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.

angela_n_hunt: (Default)

Or so the Bean thinks, and really, I can’t argue with her much.

As you can see, giant baby is giant and not really a baby anymore. I swear she grows right in front of your eyes. It’s like time lapse without the time lapse.

* * *

*blink blink*

I know I have a lot going on right now, but my brain is gapping so hard on talking about it, it’s almost comedy. Except I’d like to be able to think, y’know?

It’s not fatigue. I’ve been getting enough sleep. It’s overwhelm. The husband is in Crunch for E3 right now, which means that the household responsibilities all fall squarely on me.

Okay, let’s just go through the usual list and hope I don’t bore you to tears.

New novel (Unformed) is almost at 10K words, and will probably hit that today, at which point, I will start actively breaking it and imposing some structure on it. I still need to do research, but I’m getting to the point where research matters less than plotting. The worldbuilding involved is a little weirder (for me) as I’m venturing into areas that I don’t know much about and will probably screw up righteously. Lovely thing about fiction though. I can make shit up to fit my thesis.

It’s also interesting in that I’ve never written an atheist before and she’s a lot of fun to write.

I’m also gearing up for the next photo shoot and have been pleasantly and delightedly overwhelmed with the influx of people willing to model for me and my particular brand of photographic madness. At this rate, I will actively have to solicit an assistant, because there’s so much going on in my head. I’m also going to have to save for a babysitter and a studio, because some of it is only possible in a controlled setting and I need my make up artist, who also happens to be the Ant.

Lots of moving parts. It is not unlike juggling flaming chainsaws.

And then there’s Vaudeville Goes to Hell, which is starting to scare the crap out of me, which is a good sign. If it didn’t scare me, it wouldn’t be worth doing.

There’s more going on than that.

And under it all, working on making my exit from the dayjob, because every day it becomes more and more untenable. Not because it’s a bad job. Because it is so out of alignment with who I really am.

Pro-tip for those of you starting out in the world: if you are an artist, DO NOT GET A FUCKING ADMIN JOB. EVER. It will fuck you up. I have wasted too much of my life being someone else’s bitch. I wish I’d been brave enough to go to LA when I was in my 20s and slept on someone’s couch and taken that job at Paramount when it was offered.

Be brave. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Whatever you do, do not fucking play it safe.

Or you’ll end up like me in your 40s with too many regrets.

The flipside is, it’s never too late to be whatever you wanted to be when you were a kid. But who wants a consolation prize?

Fucking carpe diem. And don’t let anyone talk you out of it.

*terrorist fist bump*

Originally published at ANGELA N. HUNT. You can comment here or there.


Apr. 17th, 2012 05:07 pm
angela_n_hunt: (Default)

This got named Legos by my buddy and fellow photographer, Brian C. Janes, which I deemed very apt.

* * *

Will be doing an update on Alice shortly.

In other news, the Bean turned 3 yesterday and had a rager of a birthday weekend, as these things are noted, even for the toddler set. The pediatrician deems her healthy as the proverbial ox and exactly on track for being her. She also took extreme exception to her vax shots, but Momma managed to distract her with the Lollipop of Orange.

It’s been rough on the Mouse though. Used to being the center of her universe, the attention spent on her younger sibling was not something she particularly liked. Ah well. Such is siblinghood.

* * *

And I have found myself again where I found myself after I wrote The Citadel, a bazillion years ago.

Lo, back at the dawn of time, before I threw in the towel and said “Screw it,” I wrote a straight up thriller. No magick, no nothing, straight up techno thriller. When I finished it… I was empty. I mean just completely hollow. I had poured everything I had at the time into it and when I finished, I didn’t know what to write next.

It’s taken longer to hit empty this time. The trilogy didn’t do it. Neither did Kilroy. Apparently, finishing Alice Assassin finally did it.

On the upside, I am not as freaked out as I was the first time. I know I need to refill the well. Because here’s the kicker.

Strange Weather came after The Citadel.

But it only showed up after I was willing to go and fill my well with all of Europe.

Time for me to get my ass to the desert.

Originally published at Angela N. Hunt. You can comment here or there.

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Dollhouse size bouquet

This week’s flowers for the tiny vase on my desk. I had forgotten how much having fresh flowers in my immediate environment is instant joy. I buy them for the house. I don’t know what took me so long to do it for work. Cheaper than a mocha.

* * *

Oof. It is the last week of Tax Season, and yea verily, I do battle the Tax Beast for my clients. Next week I will get to breathe for all of five seconds before jumping on the next thing.

That being said, even with the huge schedule, I went running last night and oh my dear sweet gods, it felt so good. Running = instant good night’s sleep. And no back pain. *hugs running* It’s weird though. With the days getting longer, the sun is still up when I’m out and after so long running at night, it feels weird. I miss the Moon, though the setting Sun is a beauty in His own right. Just been a long time since I communed with Apollo and not Artemis.

In other news, I bought a copy of Lightroom finally for the Beast and holy fuck, but that’s been an enormous time saver. Next purchase is for the OnOne filter set and then I’ll be good to go.

Still no headway on the painting. Reference sits on the chair in front of the canvas. Obviously this one scares me and I think it’s because it’s a stretch for me. Birds are not easy to paint. But whatever. Only way out is through.

And that’s me. How’s your world?

Originally published at Angela N. Hunt. You can comment here or there.


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