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Emmi Lawrence

~ MM Fantasy Romance Writer

Emmi  Lawrence

Tag Archives: Publication

New Release: Rise of the Snowmen!

15 Tuesday Dec 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Publication

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adventure fantasy, Author's Notes, Erotica, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Novel, prose, Publication, reading, Romance, Series, Short Fiction, Writing

RISE OF THE SNOWMEN
A Deadly Holidays Novel

Dec 15th 2020
(gay romance/fantasy adventure)
55k words
Amazon Link

As is my tradition, here are a few interesting tidbits about working on this novel!

1) This novel was supposed to be a novella. (Angry writer face!) It was supposed to be only around 37k in order to match up with Those Bloody Christmas Elves. But, as you can see, this novel decided it was not satisfied with 37k words. Which, honestly, I’m still not sure why. WHY?!

So there I am, telling everyone I’m working on a novella and they kept saying: “Still?? How long is this novella??”

Me: *mumble, mumble* “almost 55k” *mumble*

2) The character of Mandy was originally modeled after the children collectively in my daughter’s kindergarten class because that’s how old she was when I was writing Those Bloody Christmas Elves. My intention was to age her one year each year so I had a clear research path to knowing exactly how children that age would act.

Whelp, that didn’t work, because here we are nearly three years later and Mandy has only grown one year in that time. If I keep this up, by the time I publish Christmas is Cancelled, my daughter will be in college or something.

3) Like Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, I wrote this novel in two parts, broken up by a few years. If you can guess exactly where I stopped and then restarted, I’ll give you fake internet points as a reward :) (Hint: I don’t write linearly XD)

4) Perie Wolford, who did the cover for Those Bloody Christmas Elves, has also done the cover for Rise of the Snowmen. He’s absolutely amazing! And I adore how he managed to capture all the different tonal elements of the stories–the actual danger/adventure; the ridiculous Christmas elements that are still portrayed in a serious manner throughout; the characters themselves.

5) I always choose a different notebook for each project. With certain connected stories, that notebook carries through to each of the stories. For my Christmas series with Greg and Taylor I have this floppy, teal notebook that has gold balls across it. I originally chose it because it was greenish and reminded me of ornaments.

It now has the completed outline for Christmas is Cancelled in it, which may or may not be longer than Rise of the Snowmen, given it’s got a planned 17 sections/chapters.

Also, it’s really, really hard to write about snow when it’s summer.

I hope you give Rise of the Snowmen a chance this holiday season! It’s a bit dark; it’s a bit dangerous; but there’s still holiday spirit and Christmas presents and a lovely romance that just keeps figuring itself out!

~Emmi

Announcing Rise of the Snowmen

20 Friday Nov 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Announcement

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adventure, Christmas, Fantasy, Fiction, gay romance, Holiday, LGBT, M/M, Novel, Publication, reading, release date, Writing

Announcing a new short novel, sequel to Those Bloody Christmas Elves!

RISE OF THE SNOWMEN
50k
dark holiday adventure/gay romance

Coming Dec 15 2020

Where the angels creep and the snowmen feed…none survive.

It’s Christmas once again and Taylor Yeristan is on the prowl, searching for any devilish elves who might be infiltrating his town with their child-thieving intentions. Only, Christmas seems to be peaceful this year, with no indication the elves have returned.

At least not to this town.

He begins to think he should have left, chased the elves to their new hunting ground instead of remaining with Greg Westmill and his half-pint daughter, Mandy, for the selfish reason of desiring a permanent relationship. He can’t shake the guilt that he has condemned other children all for the sake of his own comfort.

Then an angel flexes her powdery wings. The snowmen begin to gather. For a white Christmas is on its way with all its deadly beauty.

This is a gay fantasy romance, sequel to Those Bloody Christmas Elves.


If you are already a part of my ARC team you will be seeing a email in the coming weeks. If you would like to become a part of my ARC team, you can go here to join my Newsletter.

Chapter One will be posted next week!

~Emmi

Canvas Blues – XIV: Present

29 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

XIV: Present

“I had a friend,” Brendon began.

Mr. Livesey sipped his stout unconcernedly, blue eyes sparkling and his manner attentive, giving Brendon the impression the man waited to pounce.

“Casey Mattingly. We grew up together. One of the first paintings I crafted on my own stretched canvas was a gift to him. A car—a Le Mans—with fire roaring out the exhaust and under the tires like he was tearing up the devil.”

There’d been no future in that picture. The road blending into the black background, sky and land a void. Casey had loved it, claimed the world was just as dark and mysterious, waiting to be discovered by anyone brave enough to floor it down the drag.

A middle-aged woman, with a flour-spattered apron and a soft-spoken voice, arrived then. She set down a panini for Brendon and a simple BLT sub for Mr. Livesey, a small complementary crab dip and crackers going between them both.

Once she had disappeared and Brendon had something other than calculating blue eyes on which to focus, he went on. “We’d thought it a bad dream he had.”

“You and this Casey?”

And Robbie. Robbie especially, a pragmatic mind to calm Casey’s hysterics and Brendon’s imagination.

Brendon nodded. “He said he found himself on a long, dark road, tarmac hot from the day.”

Beastly hot, Bren. Clawing at your skin hot. Like the devil lived underneath.

“There’d been the roaring of an engine.”

A beautiful Le Mans, popping now and then, a tiny misfire fudging up the rhythm. Exhaust stuttering like that boy in Compass who always joined our pickup basketball games during recess.

“And he saw a light. A fire.”

Like eyes at first, Bren. Burning into my soul. Maybe the devil wasn’t too fond of those things I said to my sister the day I found her with that damn teacher, whats-his-name, Mr. Tallir.

“It came toward him down the road, roaring, the light turning into a streak.”

He fell into an introspective silence that Mr. Livesey didn’t break.

Another couple, a man dressed in khakis and a button-down with a base pass tapping against his buttons, the woman in navy pumps and a cream blouse, sat down at a nearby table, breaking the silence as iron chair legs screeched against pavers. Casey would have thrown them a caustic glare. Robbie would have wondered why, given he’d have been wearing khakis and a button-down as well.

“Brendon.” Mr. Livesey’s voice had gentled, become soft, soothing. “Brendon, how many original painting have you sold over the years?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too many. The sign of a success. An artist reaching toward his prime.”

Something in Mr. Livesey’s tone made Brendon lift his eyes from the picked at label of his ale. Mr. Livesey tapped knuckles lightly against the table. Absently. His BLT only half-finished, tomato leaking out of the bread like a red light of warning.

“How many that might cause grief?”

Brendon swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just…don’t know.”

Mr. Livesey’s hand, warm from the sun and the wrought iron, settled over Brendon’s. “Don’t you think you should find out?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – XI: Present

08 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

XI: Present

Brendon skipped past the absurd and went straight to what truly mattered. “Which painting?”

Mr. Livesey smiled, but it was a faint, painted-on thing without much merit. Brendon got the impression he was meant to appreciate Livesey’s attempt rather than the result.

“I believe you titled it ‘Interstellar Hopscotch,’ though your client called it his ‘Space Walk Perspective.’”

A pause. The metal of the table digging into Brendon’s forearms. The finches in the nearby street hopping under the neat row of parked cars. A distant hum of a lawn mower from the neighborhood beyond the courthouse.

Brendon took a breath. Then another. “David Erikson. He wanted to feel what the astronauts felt.”

“And he did. Quite viscerally.”

“How did he die?”

“The cause of death, at least listed on his certificate, was asphyxiation. In reality, the air in his lungs expanded. Then burst. The comment from the officer in charge of the scene said it looked as if he’d hopped a rocket and taken a trip in orbit.”

Brendon licked dry lips. “That’s impossible. What you’re proposing is beyond impossible.”

“And yet, Mr. Erikson isn’t the only person to have succumbed to Interstellar Hopscotch. A young man, low twenties, still in school, died only a few days later. Different room in the house, same strange effect on his body. He’d been helping to begin the clean-up of the estate and taken a few pictures down. He’d been packaging and labeling them according to Mr. Erikson’s will.”

When Brendon couldn’t find any words, Mr. Livesey continued, “You don’t seem surprised. Shocked, yes. Surprised, no. You knew this was possible.” His voice had become clipped, an angry well barely disguised.

“It never occurred to me,” corrected Brendon. “But… There’d been a picture before.”

“Tell me.” And it was not a request.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – X: Yesteryears

01 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

X: Yesteryears

The Frey family moved in the subsequent autumn. The desks disappeared, the footpath received a layer of sod and a fence rocked the world of every youngster who had ever taken that short cut through to the park. A new path formed within the forest within the first months of next spring and the kickball pickup games moved to the cul-de-sac two streets over.

But it was before that when Brendon first met Robbie.

Down at the docks, where a cheap restaurant smelled of blue crab and old bay and the brine made the air taste salty, Brendon would take a stub of a pencil and work on adding depth and light to waves with only black and white. Both parents worked now and Casey played recs soccer near all year round so there were days of solitude filled with nothing but the lapping of waves, tinging of the metal flagpoles and the scratching of his pencil.

“What are you doing?”

Brendon looked up into pale brown eyes and a paler face. The expression there he attributed to confidence, though he would later come to realize was merely competence and bravery mixing in a pleasant, but not outstanding, way.

“Drawing.”

The other boy sat down beside him and propped his chin in his hand. “I’ve seen you before. You drew that picture of the school that won the yearbook award last year. The one hanging in the display case.”

“That’s me,” mumbled Brendon, and he bent harder over his sketchbook.

“You’re an artist.”

“I want to be.”

“Nah. You are. Mom says you are what you are, you are what you do. You draw, so you’re an artist.”

Brendon paused and gave the boy a considering look. “My mom says I could be an artist one day.”

The boy smiled. “Do you draw comic book heroes?”

He didn’t. He shrugged.

“I’d love to see them if you do.”

And so Brendon went home, mind ablaze with the word artist, and set to work on using his newfound facial nuance behind masks of spandex.

~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – IX: Yesteryears

25 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

IX: Yesteryears

The house Robbie moved into had a yard the size of a baseball field. While that yard had stood empty, but for an occasional mowing by the realtors, neighborhood kids played pickup games or used the space as a shortcut to access the playground. A path, trudged out by hundreds of small sneakers with light-up heels and swishes and Velcro, grew harder packed and dirt heavy, grass trampled until blades dared not poke free their heads.

Middle schoolers claimed the bulk of the yard, right where the trees began to dot, but before the forest took over. They used a towering oak as first base, those at the plate using one hand to press against the bark, the other tossing acorns at the pitcher. Second base was an old stump, forcibly used as a table, muffin and gummy snack packages wedged between the splintering wood. Third base sat almost outside the foliage-heavy property line; a pair of old desks, one right-handed, one left. The left-handed one was third base since it sat closer in, where the other had branches that hung low, low enough to scrape the head of anyone who sat inside it.

Brendon thought the desks were only used as third base, up until one summer afternoon sent long shadows across the path. Casey had been left back somewhere at the playground, no curfew for dinner calling him home.

The girl made strange sounds. The boy stranger still. Heavy breathing, slight creaking of the rusted metal, leaves shivering, yet not masking a squelching sound.

Brendon held his breath. Held it tight in his chest, lungs closing around the air, refusing to let it rush free.

He drew what he’d seen later. A girl with her head thrown back, short orange-blonde hair hanging so her ear was visible. Boy with his face hidden, but his hand up grasping her shoulder, his dark head bobbing. Under the back of the desks there were slits where bundles of clothing piled, the boy’s jeaned knee making the right-handed desk rock and creak in unharmonious time.

For some reason, Brendon hid the drawing from his parents and showed it to Casey first, along with the tale of what he’d seen. Casey listened wide-eyed and rapt, his tongue still. Then he traced a finger over where the boy’s knee had pressed, then up to the girl’s unflattering neckline because Brendon had yet to understand shading well enough to make two-dimensions appear as three. That didn’t seem to matter to Casey.

“She’s got a mad face.”

“That’s not a mad face. That’s a…focused face.” Like when girls at school bent over projects.

Casey shook his head. “Mad.”

“I drew it,” snapped Brendon, tugging at the paper. “She’s not mad. She wasn’t mad. I watched.”

Casey grabbed the edge of the paper and jabbed a finger at her face. “She looks mad.”

“You’re a horrible drawer. How would you know?” And Brendon yanked. The paper tore at the side where Casey held it, cutting through the desk and the girl, but leaving the boy whole, though his face remained invisible, turned away, his expression unable to reveal his own secrets.

“That was your fault.” Casey crinkled the paper and threw it at Brendon, but it just fluttered in the other direction.

After Casey left, Brendon quietly threw the paper away and pulled out a stub of a pencil to practice faces. He drew the girl’s face over and over, until she showed up in his dreams, her expression morphing from mad to focused, to sorrowful to giddy, her eyes the catalyst for his learning of nuance.

What he didn’t learn that day, what took him much, much longer to learn, was why Casey had been so insistent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – VIII: Present

18 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

VIII: Present

Mr. Livesey and Brendon lunched at a quiet outdoor table at La Vie Simple, a café that specialized in nothing, yet did it all quite well. That was how Brendon had described the restaurant and it had been between the café or the pizza diner since the pub wasn’t open yet. They both ordered a beer—a stout for Mr. Livesey and a pale ale for Brendon who then took his time peeling at the condensation-wet label as small talk frittered away into comfortable silence for a gentle while.

“How long have you been working?” asked Mr. Livesey. He sat back in his chair, one hand resting on the wrought iron table.

“In the studio? About six years.”

“And before that? Do any freelance work then?”

Brendon smiled briefly. “That’s the way of it, isn’t it? Yes. Used to sell sketches for a quarter back in middle school. Mostly anime girls, sometimes boys. Then it switched to pets after a friend’s dog died and I gave her a canvas with a little painting of it.” He paused. “Did a lot of cars too.”

“And after school?” prompted Mr. Livesey.

Brendon sat back with a sigh. “A few vendor fairs, here and there. Had a stall up in a quiet downtown street a few towns over three days a week. Had a second evening job that kept me going.”

“But not anymore.” Again, with those not-a-question statements Brendon wasn’t sure how to answer.

They remained quiet for a time, the gentle purring of slow-moving cars on this mellow day mostly drowning out the clinking of plates inside the café. Brendon cleared his throat and left off picking at the label, now a pile of discarded paper threatening to blow away in the light breeze.

“My painting—”

“Yes, your painting. There’s no need for refunds. My client isn’t looking for monetary compensation and she wasn’t close enough to this victim to warrant a need for revenge,” said Mr. Livesey fluidly, becoming even more businesslike and forthcoming. “Rather, Ms. Arpsol is concerned that she has no way of dismantling this threat appropriately.”

Brendon mouthed the words “victim” and “threat,” testing them out, knowing his shock must have been etched into his face as if he’d painted it there. “It’s a painting.”

Mr. Livesey cocked his head. “So it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – VII: Yesteryears

11 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, Love, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

VII: Yesteryears

Brendon’s first true art lesson came from Aunt Laurel, pink and purple threads inside her braids and a tattoo of a unicorn along her forearm, its horn twirling about her middle finger. Even at nine, Brendon knew the significance of that particular finger and he told Casey later in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Casey made a decision right then, that he too would have tattoos, but around his middle finger would roam a dust cloud, blown up by a strong set of wheels and an impossibly long dirt road.

“I’ll hold it up! Like this! And this!” But he didn’t quite say to whom.

They jumped about Brendon’s room, atop his bed, doing somersaults into scattered toys until Brendon’s mom called for them to calm down or go outside. Outside it was, into the wilds of overgrown weeds that hid the ditches with black-eyed Susans and Queen Anne’s lace, into unsealed streets where cracks made their bikes bounce and rusted chains clicked in protest every few revolutions.

The humidity soared, but the wind whipped too fast for them to care.

They crash-landed at the dead-end of Grant’s Lorry Rd, where beer cans and red solo cups lay like treasures just under the trees. There Casey prattled on about tearing back down Lorry Road, where the straightaway would give him the speed before the slight bump.

“We’d fly across that thing! Bellies tickling.”

Brendon listened with one ear and a cocked head, but his attention remained on the trash high schoolers had left behind in their drunken haze. He picked at a bit of cloth, lacy pink around its navy edges. Then crinkled his nose when he realized what he held.

“Ewww.”

Casey came to investigate. “She lost her briefs. Dad says anyone who can’t keep a hold of her briefs is an easy cow and deserves a right good tipping.”

“What’s tipping?”

“I don’t know.” Casey thought hard, then answered. “Probably mooing at her. Dad said something about a guy mooing a girl where he works once.”

Brendon nodded like that made all the sense in the world, and in his mind there came a woman who looked like his Aunt Laurel, pink and purple threads in her dark braids, a man in the vague shape of Casey’s dad mooing at her. The image made him laugh.

Later, he’d draw a picture of the story, but didn’t really understand the hurt look in his aunt’s eyes. After all, he’d listened to her, hadn’t he? He’d shown her the places he’d pressed harder to make a color darker and lighter to make a color paler. But though she smiled and told him he’d done a good job, the hurt didn’t go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – VI: Yesteryears

04 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, gay romance, LGBT, long-reads, Love, M/M, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

VI: Yesteryears

Most of Brendon’s early work depicted dinosaurs. Stick-legs and fat heads with lolling eyes and tongues sometimes longer than the creature’s body. When eight, during a spring break from elementary school, Casey came over. Still young enough to not know the difference between a Camaro and a Firebird, yet old enough to mimic the revving of the engine and boasting a nose that could identify brands of beer by scent alone, Casey came with uncut hair and khaki shorts to spread himself across Brendon’s bed, sweaty skin an irrelevance in those short-lived days.

“Why do you have a T-Rex on your ceiling?”

“It’s a giganotosaurus.”

“What’s the difference?”

Brendon rolled his eyes with casual affront. “Everything.”

But Casey wasn’t interested in those differences. In fact, Casey wasn’t interested in anything but the bin of knock-off metal cars that had an occasional marker tucked within.

“You have a fire truck! And this car… My dad says those ’83 ‘vette motors are crap to work on, like picking around at bones and hoping for muscle to grow.” He tossed the shiny black car over his shoulder dismissively.

Brendon didn’t know what that meant, but he didn’t want Casey to know that. So cars became the rule of conversation. They’d play racing, shoving cars across the shaggy carpet that their little wheels could not withstand. They’d lay tracks out of old blocks and mountains out of clothes to drive straight up, switchbacks a thing of the nonsensical adult world and not logical child-thinking. The dinosaurs came out, here…and there. In an apocalyptic land where Mad Max roamed or in an epic superhero time travel episode.

The dinosaur drawings on Brendon’s wall slowly swapped out for intricately detailed cars that Casey would critique in loving detail, his eyes alight and his words a tumble. At the time, Brendon just enjoyed the warmth that spawned from the appreciation of his art.

Eight years later, Casey first kissed Brendon in the front seat of a cheap, run-ragged Mustang with the engine purring and an indie rock band Casey loved playing from the small speaker of his iPod. No dinosaurs to speak of, unless one counted the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

Canvas Blues – V: Present

26 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by Emmi Lawrence in Contemporary, Fantasy, M/M, Serial

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adventure fantasy, Fantasy, fantasy romance, Fiction, LGBT, long-reads, Love, Mystery, Novel, prose, Publication, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

V: Present

“Is there something wrong with my painting?” asked Brendon. Another might have asked “Who are you?” or “What are you doing in my studio?” and been right to do so, but Brendon’s attention zeroed in on that package, the bubble wrap an annoyance, blocking what it protected.

Could it be the garden scene, the Alice and company, complete with teapots and cookies and the recipient’s grandchildren seated between Carroll’s creations? Or possibly the cemetery that had morphed into a galactic battle cruiser, the man’s soul a stretching thing reaching beyond the solar system? It could not possibly be the starry nightscape, the one with equatorial constellations he’d spent weeks researching for a homesick immigrant.

The man’s expression did not change, his grimness potentially painted on. He had pleasant angles, the sort that made him interesting, for the shadows cut across his face rather sharply.

“My name is Orion Livesey. I work for Wendy Arpsol.”

Brendon mouthed the name, though his mind lingered on Mr. Livesey’s angles. He glanced at his open sketchbook. “I’ve never done work for a Wendy Arpsol.”

“No. You wouldn’t have. The painting was a gift of sorts.”

Now Brendon dismissed him with a wave though he’d already drawn five lines, ghosts of angles on the page. “I don’t do refunds through third parties. You’ll have to take this up directly with my client.”

“I can’t. He’s dead.”

Brendon sagged slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that, but the painting then would belong to his estate.”

“You don’t understand.” Mr. Livesey strode closer, his steps purposeful, one hand going into the pocket of his suit jacket. “The painting is dangerous. It needs to be kept somewhere it can do no more harm.”

Brendon looked between Mr. Livesey and the nondescript package. His eyebrows rose slowly as he contemplated what he might possibly say in response.

Mr. Livesey sighed, his grimness replaced with a sense of foreboding reluctance. He took in Brendon’s entire workspace with a practiced eye, his gaze never lingering on any one thing, but not missing the stale sandwich and plethora of half-finished water bottles. Then the corner of his mouth tugged like it wanted to remember how to smile.

“May I buy you some real lunch?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter!

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CANVAS BLUES
Vignettes Regarding the Artwork of Brendon Kotes

A serialized novel begun Jan 29th 2020. Here you can find links to the beginning and the most recent additions.

I: Prologue
II: Present
III: Yesteryears
IV: Yesteryears
V: Present

……….

L: Present
LI: Yesteryears
LII: Yesteryears
LIII: Present
LIV: Yesteryears

New chapters published every Wednesday!
Next up: Jul 7th 2021

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  • Canvas Blues – XCV: Present
  • Canvas Blues – XCIV: Present
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to keep your plots/stories from being repetitive?
  • Canvas Blues – XCIII: Yesteryears
  • Coffee & Conversation: How to critique someone else’s work?
  • Canvas Blues – XCII: Present

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