Time for a new podcast episode of Writing In Suburbia! This episode is all about taking care of your body, as well as your mind, because pro writing is a marathon, people, not a sprint.
I also go off a little about how sick I am of bigots on Facebook. They suck.
Time for another episode of Writing In Suburbia. This week’s episode is about the importance of paying attention to your taxes. Seriously.
Of course, I make the topic fun. No, I don’t. That’s a lie. Taxes are never fun. But they are important. Have a listen. It could save you some heartbreak and headaches.
Also, I mock John Green for being in Paris. Not really. Good for John Green being in Paris. I envy that bastard some days.
And, since this is about everyday life, I explain the importance of mowing my lawn. Good times.
Feel free to comment or send in questions via email or tweet. Word!
[Edit: Apparently the funding site Tamiko used does not allow legal defense funds. I am waiting to hear what the new site will be. I’ll keep y’all posted and change the links as soon as I know.]
Okay, so before I dive into the free drabble, which there will be one, I need everyone to take a look at something. I’m serious. This is no BS, people. Each week I give you free fiction, asking nothing in return, all for the enjoyment of you, my readers.
Now I’m asking for something back.
This is real world shit. I’m not asking you to buy my books or asking you to do anything for me. I’m asking you to give a little to help fight a severe injustice that has occurred.
Please read this and then give what you can. I have known Tamiko for years and she is one of the kindest, most generous people in Asheville. She has helped this community so much that to even think of anyone treating her with anything other than complete respect is just mind boggling. This is another example of law enforcement in our country believing they can get away with anything they want. This can’t stand.
Now, on to the free fiction.
All At Fault
“What am I accused of?” the young man asked, but the guards refused to respond.
They dragged him down the dark corridor, his feet skidding and scuffing as he tried to fight them; their steel-toed boots clomping and echoing as they continued their progress, unfazed by his weak protestations.
“What am I accused of?” the young man yelled as he was thrown into the room. The door slammed without an answer. “I’m innocent!”
“There are no innocent,” a voice said from the far corner. The room smelled of feces and piss. “We are all at fault. All of us.”
Disclaimer: Help Tamiko!
I have started a new podcast. It’s just me chatting in front of a mic, talking about being a pro writer and all the stuffs that goes with that. I touch on my writing routine, life with the Fam, and all the everyday things that go on when you write full time in suburbia. No New York publishing fantasy here, folks!
Have a listen and feel free to comment and let me know what you think. You can also subscribe on iTunes soon. I’m in the middle of transitioning the podcast from my old Jake Bible Audio Fiction podcast to Writing In Suburbia, so I’ll post the link when the title changes on iTunes. [Edit: here’s the iTunes link https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/writing-in-suburbia/id334464270?mt=2 ]
Friday! Night! Drabble! Party!
Once again, I present you with some most excellent micro-fiction!
But, before you have a read, maybe you’d like to check out the post I dropped yesterday about all my recent, current, and upcoming releases? Mmmmm? You would? Excellent!
Now, enjoy the drabble!
A kick to the nuts and Walker is down, his hands instinctively going for his crotch, wanting to comfort and protect the already swelling testicles. But the second kick, the one to his ribs, stops everything.
Except for the vomiting. No way for that to stop. Nothing on God’s green earth could stop that. Vomit gonna happen.
When he’s done expelling his sick across the concrete, his body shuddering from the last convulsion before curling into a fetal position, that’s when Monica kneels down and grabs him by the hair.
“Should have run, little rabbit,” she sneers. “Should have run.”
Disclaimer: VOMIT GONNA HAPPEN!