Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000032_00033]
Words from the author
Writing Process
My dream has never been to write the next great American novel. Funny, right? Most authors say the opposite. Me? I just want to tell a good story. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. So when I was between jobs, my now husband asked what I’d do if money wasn’t an issue, and without hestitation I said, “Write.” and he said, “So do it.” I haven’t looked back.
I’m sure my process isn’t much different than most authors. An idea forms in my head, usually I know the gist of the story, but it doesn’t come full circle until I hear that stories song. I just set my computer to shuffle on my entire playlist while I work on other things and before I know it a song plays and the story flashes like a movie preview through my head. Then I storyboard it, yes I’m an “outliner”. After that I write the rough draft, then edit, edit, edit.
Book Summary:
 Dovie Grant has just lost her daughter and husband in a car accident causing her to live alone with her father, James, on their farm, Quail Crossings. On a trip into town James discovers a young 18 year old boy, Bill, taking care of his three younger siblings since their parents abandoned them for California. James knows these kids need help, so he hires Bill and agrees to take in the kids. This does not make Dovie happy. She’s already trying to deal with her grief and wants nothing to do with three kids running under foot reminding her every day of her own lost child. It doesn’t help that 14 year old Evalyn doesn’t want to be there either and goes to great lengths to get Bill fired. The family must come together to brave the notorious Black Sunday dust storm or risk losing everything, including their lives.
About Jennifer
Having a great deal of wanderlust, Jennifer McMurrain traveled the countryside working odd jobs before giving into her muse and becoming a full time writer. She’s been everything from a “Potty Princess” in the wilds of Yellowstone National Park to a Bear Researcher in the mountains of New Mexico. After finally settling down, she received a Bachelor’s degree in Applied Arts and Science from Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls, TX.  She has won numerous awards for her short stories and novels. She lives in Bartlesville, Oklahoma with her husband, daughter, two spoiled cats, and two goofy dogs.  Quail Crossings is her first novel. You can read more of her work at
Sample chapter
Chapter Fifteen
Alice skipped along the trail to the orchard with her apple bucket. She knew it was too late to find fresh apples, but there were other treasures to be found along the way. She sang You Are My Sunshine to Norman as they walked.
Norman softly honked out of tune with the song. Approaching the orchard, Alice spotted something shiny in the dirt. Kneeling into the dirt, she began digging at the object with a stick.
“It could be a gold coin that will lead us to other gold coins,” she explained to Norman. “I’m sure there’s some outlaw’s treasure out here. One he had to bury before the law got him.”
 Noticing her feathered friend had gone unnaturally quiet, Alice looked up. There, just a few feet away, stood the biggest dog Alice had ever seen. Holding onto the stick and bucket, she slowly stood up. The dog growled and bared its teeth, letting drool drip from its curled lip. Alice watched the saliva drop to the ground and noticed its ribs protruding from its belly. Hair had begun to come out in spots, giving the dog a mangy look.
She spoke in a low, calm voice. “You look awfully hungry, but I guarantee me and Mr. Norman don’t taste no good.”
Alice weighed her options. If she ran, the wild dog would catch her in no time, but she could scream and pray the mutt got spooked. She looked at Norman who was staring down the dog. Raising his wings he positioned himself between Alice and the beast.
“OK, Mr. Norman, on the count of three we make all kinds of ruckus. Maybe Bill will hear.” The goose lowered his neck and hissed. “One… two… THREE!”
Alice started screaming and beating the bucket with her digging stick. The dog leapt in the air, but was met with a face full of feathers.
“Norman!” screamed Alice. “Bill! Elmer! Help! Mr. Murphy! Somebody help!”
All Alice could see was a mess of white, grey and brown. She wanted to run for help, but was afraid to leave her friend alone. The winter air filled with honks and snarls. A loud yelp echoed through the trees as the dog retreated, chased by Norman honking on his heels.
Bill charged up the hill on his horse followed by James and Elmer. Sliding down, Bill embraced Alice. “Are you ok? What happened?”
Alice began to sob. “There was a dog. He looked sick, Bill. He was ‘bout to attack me, but Mr. Norman stopped him.” She looked around. “You gotta help Mr. Norman! He’s out there somewhere and he might be hurt!”
“It’s ok, Alice. We’ll find him,” said Bill, as he mounted his horse. “Elm, take Alice back to the house. Mr. Murphy, I believe we have a goose to find.”
“And a dog to kill,” said James, untying the strap to his rifle.
“I’m not going anywhere without Mr. Norman,” Alice cried.
“Be reasonable,” said Bill. “You can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous. You’ll be safe at the house. Elm, get her home.”
Elmer jumped down to wrestle his little sister into the saddle when Norman came waddling back down the trail.
“Mr. Norman!” yelled Alice, as she ran towards her friend. “Oh, he’s bleedin’! Mr. Murphy, do somethin’.”
James got off his horse and walked to the goose. Norman had a bite on his left wing several inches long. Alice hugged her friend as James cleaned the bite with his handkerchief.
 “He’s gonna be fine, Alice. Looks worse than it is.” James looked at Elmer. “I’ll take them both home and put some ointment on Norman’s wing. You go with your brother.”
“You’re still goin’?” Alice’s lips quivered.
“Yes, honey,” answered Bill. “We’ve gotta go get that dog. If he’s sick, he needs to be put down so he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
Alice nodded, and James offered to give her a boost onto his horse.
“I’m walkin’ with Mr. Norman,” she said with her head held high. “I owe him my life, so if he’s walkin’, I’m walkin’.”
James shrugged and walked behind her, leading Tex back to the house.
After returning to the farm, Alice watched James apply the thick, grey ointment to Norman’s cut.
“Is Mr. Norman gonna be ok?” she asked, patting the bird on the head.
“He’s a tough ol’ bird. He’ll be fine,” said James, placing the cap back on the medicine.
“Since the dog was sick, does that mean Mr. Norman is gonna get sick, too?” Alice glanced down at her feathered friend with wet eyes.
“Nah, I’ve never seen a bird with rabies,” reassured James.
“Mr. Murphy?” Alice paused. James looked up to see fresh tears building in her emerald eyes.
“What’s wrong, Alice?” His eyes fell soft as Alice hugged herself.
“Would I’ve gotten sick if the dog had bit me?” she asked.
James shook his head. “Yes, you would’ve gotten very sick. But the good Lord made sure Norman was there to protect you. For that I am very thankful.”
Alice sat by Norman and picked dead grass off his wing. “Mr. Murphy, why did God take Mrs. Grant’s little girl and husband?”
James wiped the ointment off his hands with his handkerchief and sat on his knees. “We don’t always understand the plans God has for us.”
“Does that mean you don’t know?” she asked.
“No, I really don’t know. But I have faith that God loves us, and He knows best. Even though it can be hard at times, we have to have faith. Without faith there is no hope. Nobody is meant to stay on this earth forever. Some people just get to visit Jesus sooner than others.”
“Don’t you miss ‘em?” asked Alice, eyes wide.
“Every day. But I know I’ll get to see ‘em again in Heaven. I just pray for peace, for me and for Dovie,” explained James.
“Then I’ll pray for that, too,” said Alice.
James stood, groaning a little as his knees popped. Alice patted Norman on the head and also stood. Walking towards the house, Alice grabbed James’s hand, sending a buzz of both joy and sorrow through his heart.
Evalyn stopped them before they reached the back door. “What happened to the goose? Did the mean ol’ thing finally meet his match?”
Alice scowled at her sister. “You should be nice to him. Mr. Norman saved my life. Just ask Mr. Murphy.”
Alice stomped into the house.
 “What happened?” Evalyn rolled her eyes. “Another one of her stories?”
“Alice and Norman met up with a rabid dog. Norman fought it off before it could bite her.” James rubbed his hands through his hair. “Alice isn’t known for tellin’ fibs, especially about somethin’ like this.”
“It’s just… I never…” Evalyn’s hand flew to her mouth as Alice and Dovie came back outside.
“Was it really rabid, Dad?” asked Dovie, standing in the doorway watching the sisters embrace.
“I believe so, but everyone’s ok,” said James.
“Thanks to Mr. Norman,” Alice beamed.
“No more goin’ to the orchard alone, you hear,” Evalyn scolded, squeezing her sister’s shoulders.
“I wasn’t alone. I was with Mr. Norman, and I like the orchard,” Alice whined.
“There’s no need for that, anyway,” said James. “Your brothers are out there now takin’ care of the situation. She’s perfectly fine to run around anywhere on the homestead alone.”
Evalyn’s eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised you can be so careless with my sister’s life. You of all people…”
“Well, come in and get some lunch,” Dovie interrupted. “With all this excitement, I’m sure y’all must be hungry.”
“You go on in, Alice,” said James. “I’m gonna check on the boys. I’ll be back in a minute.”
James turned back down the orchard path. As soon as he was around the corner, he dropped to his knees and looked to the sky. “Oh, Lord, thank you for protectin’ our little Alice today.”
His heart ached as he thought about the day he lost his granddaughter. Losing Alice would have been unbearable for everyone, especially Dovie.
Elmer and Bill continued the search for the dog. It didn’t take them long to spot the mangy creature. Pulling out his shotgun, Bill shot the animal dead with one shell. Approaching the downed dog, he holstered his weapon.
“Definitely rabid. I don’t want to think of what might’ve happened if Norman hadn’t been with Alice.” Bill shook the thought away.
Elmer examined the dog. “I think this is Jelly.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. “What’s jelly?”
“The dog,” said Elmer shaking his head. “I think its Tiny’s dog Jelly. She went missin’ a few months ago during one of the dust storms. It’s got a red rope collar just like Tiny said.”
Elmer slid off his horse and approached the deceased dog.
“You shouldn’t touch it,” Bill said, reaching out to his brother.
“I know, but I’ve got to give Tiny something so she knows what happened to her dog.” Elmer put on his gloves before delicately cutting the red collar off the dog’s neck.
Bill sighed. “We should bury it then. Some place nice, so Tiny has a place to come if she wants to.”
“Just north of the orchard,” said Elmer. “There’s a place where the sun shines through the trees. It always feels warm there.”
After burying Jelly, Elmer left Bill at Quail Crossings and took off towards the Clark’s farm. He chose to ride the road to Tiny’s house instead of using the backcountry path. He used the time to think. He’d never had to tell someone their dog had to be put down due to rabies. He fingered the red collar. Knowing Tiny, she’d probably talk his ear off about how good Jelly was. She’d be ok.
Riding into the drive to the Clark’s house, he was met by Bud. “Hey Elmer, was Tiny expecting you for dinner? She didn’t say anything to her ma.”
“No, sir,” Elmer looked down at the collar.
Bud noticed the collar and inhaled deeply. “Looks like you found Jelly.”
“I’m afraid so. Is Tiny around?” Elmer asked.
“I’ll go get her,” answered Bud. “She’s helping her Ma. She really did love that dog. This won’t be easy on her. Are you sure you don’t want me to tell her?”
Elmer stepped off his horse. “No, sir. We had to put Jelly down. It’s only right I explain what happened.”
Bud nodded and went to retrieve his daughter. A few minutes later Tiny barreled out of the house. “Jeepers, Elmer, I can’t believe you rode all the way to my house. It’s almost dark. My pa never lets me ride after dark…”
“Tiny,” Elmer interrupted, “we found Jelly. There’s no easy way to say this, but she was rabid. She went after Alice. We had to put her down.” He handed her the collar. “I’m really sorry. If only I would’ve helped you find her that day of the duster.” He trailed off.
Tiny stared the collar. “Is Alice alright?”
“Thanks to Norman. He fought off Jelly so Alice didn’t get bit. I really am sorry, Tiny.”
“It ain’t your fault,” Tiny whispered. “You had to do what you had to do. I’m just glad Alice is ok and that nobody got hurt.”
Elmer could see her bottom lip start to quiver. Before he could stop himself he reached out and hugged his friend. “I’d bring her back if I could. We buried her just north of the orchard. I can take you there tomorrow to pay your respects if you’d like.”
Tiny stepped back from the hug. “I’d like that. I better go inside now and help Ma finish up dinner.”
Elmer watched her shuffle into the house before mounting back up. Riding home he felt as if his own dog had died. The look on Tiny’s face when he handed her the collar had spoke volumes – she was devastated. Elmer heeled his horse into a trot, he had to get home. He had a dog to train, Tiny’s dog.

Dear friends,

Let me introduce you to a great writer and a very good friend! She writes good literature, new, fresh, deep and funny, and I hope you all will agree she’s one of a kind!

So, world, here’s Livia Ellis and her novel series, The Memoirs of a Gigolo


Were I to write a personal ad about myself it would read as follows:

Blond. Blue. 5’6”. A lady never discloses her weight, but I’ve never had any complaints. I only run if I’m being chased by a gun wielding maniac, but I do love yoga. Bit of a shoe hound. Have had issues passing up handbags. Trying to learn to play the Irish harp. Enjoy both theater and concerts. Love to read fantasy and science fiction. Am not ashamed to admit I adore Star Trek. Have a picture of myself (dressed as a nun) and the late Patrick Swayze (dressed as a medieval warrior) in a frame (Yes – I did cry when he died). Perpetual student with advanced degrees that are mostly useless when seeking job opportunities outside academia. Vivid imagination. Sexually adventurous only on paper. I never know what to say when people end a conversation with ‘god bless’. Occasionally play the lottery – but generally only when I’m feeling really poor. Love to travel. Fluent French speaker. Seeks readers whom enjoy what I write.

Information About Memoirs of a Gigolo:

Memoirs of a Gigolo is a twelve part serialized book written by Livia Ellis. The twelve volumes will be distributed over a year. The plan is to release one a month, every month, for a year. Volume One was released on October 1st, 2012. In addition to the twelve volumes in the main story arc, there will be a minimum of six stand alone volumes. Each will have a holiday theme and be told from a different POV.

The story is written in the first person POV from the perspective of the main protagonist, Oliver Adair. Memoirs of a Gigolo is written as a heroic journey. From the call to the adventure, to the trials, and finally the reward.


Oliver Adair enjoys a life of women (sometimes men), travel, and sex. Unfortunately these things cost money – something he doesn’t have a lot of. After a personal scandal lands him on the cover of just about every newsstand tabloid and celebrity magazine the proverbial party of his life comes to an end.

He’s lost most of his money, his family has pretty well disowned him, and the woman he loves has returned to her husband. He’s come to the conclusion that the most expeditious way to get his life back is to find a wealthy wife. To this end, he engages the service of a matchmaker. While she’s searching for a wife for him, he’s working for her as an escort. When he’s offered an opportunity to get paid for doing what he loves, he happily signs on to become a male escort. Oliver quickly discovers that in this

world of high priced sex, not only is being a mans man still desirable, but expected. By embracing his masculine sexuality, he makes a name for himself in the world of escorts.


What sparked the idea for your novel?

I was on a flight and ended up stuck on the tarmac. As one does, I got to talking to the man sitting next to me. He was impossibly beautiful. Blond, but spoke with a Spanish accent. I guessed correctly that he was Argentinian, which kicked off a conversation. After a ten hour flight followed by two hours of sitting motionless, I learned that he was an escort. I thought about him for a long time. Then one day I was stuck in an airport (these ideas always come to me in airports or airplanes for some reason) and as I

trolled through the magazines and read about scandals and downfalls, Oliver appeared to me. I had my story.


What was the hardest part to write in the book?

Writing from the first person POV of a man. I’m not a man. I had to put myself into the mind of a man. Not easy to do.

What is your favorite part of the book?

Any part that has to do with subtly revealing Oliver’s character. I like the challenge of slowly showing rather than telling. I’m hoping this comes across in the scene with Elon and Oliver. I want the readers to see that they have a very deep connection, that they love each other, but that Elon is in love with Oliver in a way that Oliver can never reciprocate. Although Oliver engages in M/M sex as an escort, he is heterosexual.

How did you come up with the title?

I was playing around with a few ideas that had to do with autobiographies, biographies, journals, diaries, etc., etc… Then there it was Memoirs of a Gigolo.

What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author? What has been the best compliment?

Worst: You suck. Best: Style-wise it’s really excellent. Makes me smile. It’s well-written, good pace, good dialogue (which a lot of people cannot do), and I am very interested in it. (I just received that bit of feedback on my Irish Harry Potter – fingers crossed it gets picked up.)

What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer?

Writing is a hard job that requires an extraordinary amount of time, mental energy, effort, and dedication. There is a part of me that feels so deeply sorry for these people that just started writing and think they are somehow due success because their mother/aunt/sister/boyfriend think their writing is fantastic. I’ve been at this for years and I’ve devoted hours and hours to dedicated practice. Writing is a craft that has to be learned. That’s not to say there aren’t people that get lucky and fall into success, but

for the rest of us it’s a lot of heartbreaking work. My advice: If you think you might rather do something else, then do it. If you know you can only be a writer, then that’s what you are.

What project are you working on now?

Memoirs of a Gigolo is going to take up the better part of the next year. I am also about to start releasing another serial: The Secret World of Juniper Grace. I started writing about Juniper when I was in college. My friends that have been reading Juniper all along have been prodding me to publish. Now that I’ve taken the plunge into self-publishing and found the water both warm and pleasant, I’m going to start putting more work that is lingering on my laptop out there. I am also working on a YA dystopian, a few other erotic stories, and a story I like to call my Irish Harry Potter (Can I call something an Irish Harry Potter? Will J.K. Rowling’s cabal of lawyers come after me? I guess we’ll find out!).


Available on youtube

Information about Promo days on Amazon:

In order to promote Memoirs of a Gigolo, build up some readership and hopefully to build up the number of reviews and likes it has, I will be offering Volume Two for free on Friday November 16th and Saturday November 17th. The buy links are below. I’m available to answer questions or write blog posts. Just let me know what you would like. I included a few answers to questions I received when interviewed for the Tarashphere and Pankhearst.

Author Links

Livia Ellis Facebook Author page



Livia Ellis Amazon Author page


Livia Ellis on WordPress


Other Links


Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume One on Amazon


Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume Two on Amazon


Memoirs of a Gigolo Happy Halloween Oliver on Amazon


Memoirs of a Gigolo Facebook Fan page

Au avut dreptate. Se intampla sfarsitul lumii anul asta. Dar nu cade pamantul de pe axa. Nu vin extraterestrii. Nu se crapa cerul sub greutatea asteroidului menit sa ne puna capat agoniei. Ar fi prea simplu. Prea usor. Sa ai privilegiul ca intre doua batai de gene sa te trezesti ca te indrepti spre lumina… nu…

Sfarsitul asta vine individual, personalizat cu numele nostru pe plic, custom-made, cu dedicatie chiar. Sa ne sfarame in cioburi dar sa supravietuim. Sa il simtim, sa il privim in fata, sa nu care cumva sa ne scape constientizarea ficarei picaturi de sange care ni se scurge din ochi.

Muribund si cu anticipatia dezastrului care urmeaza dupa acest preludiu, nu ai decat doua solutii simple: sa-I dai satisfactie sinucigasului din tine si sa accepti invitatia la un vals etern cu intunericul sau sa intampini valul de ura si lacrimi cu increderea unui ucigas in serie convins ca nu-l va prinde nimeni.

Sfarsitul de capitol vine cu tot cu un vid din care ne priveste inapoi chipul ranjit al nebuniei. Si noptile pe care stii ca nu le vei mai dormi, pernele din care o sa musti urland, peretii de care te vei da cu capul, tentatia de a ingenunchia zdrobit de magnitudinea apocalipsei, neputinta, sufocarea, jalea, dezintegrarea sufletului de pe trup, toate te fac sa iti doresti cu pasiune sa fi venit asteroidul ala. Dar nu ti-e dat.

Vomitand fiere si fum de tigara intelegi ca in fata inevitabilului, nu iti mai ramane de ales decat sa iti masori din ochi crucea si sa speri ca macar au croit-o pe masurile tale. Sa nu fie totusi PREA mare ca sa nu ti se potriveasca cuiele in palme. Nu-i nimic, ce daca ti le-au batut direct in creier, in coaste si-n genunchi, o poti duce si asa.

  • It all started some days back, when a company called Allwrite Advertising & Publishing (who’s a Facebook friend of us), launched a Following Contest on the above-mentioned social network, on YouTube and on Twitter, the winner being promised a free book analysis. They’re from Atlanta, Georgia, and have a pretty impressive portfolio in the publishing business.
  • So, like the panther I am, I jumped my accounts within seconds and finished the contest first!
  • Then, I let All Writers know I participated and they congratulated me for being the winner. Sent the book (with my heart pumping in my chest) to them and we got back the results in no time!
  • And I’d say they are EXCELLENT considering this is a first novel written by an author who doesn’t have English as native language (but who owns in nonetheless: D).
  • Next in line, All Writers offered us a very affordable fee for stepping to the second stage of the process, the book review. I wrote them telling that we agree and now we’re just waiting for their feed-back regarding the money transaction (seeing that Andrei is currently in Tampa Bay, Florida)
  • As I said, I’m so proud of him and the book, you’d think I was the one who wrote it!
  • Hope to come back soon with even more good news!
  • PS. I’d like to thank a very special friend named Oly Saldinger, the drummer of Raizing Hell Band, (Bucharest, Romania), who offered me some moments of his time to calculate the means for every sub-chapter analyze and to give me back the overall results. He did that because I was too tired and busy to calculate, but mostly because he’s a great, great pal!
  • So, (in order not to keep you any more in suspense), things look like this
  • On a scale from 1 (which is very bad I guess) to 5 (very good) CRUX was rated as follows:
Commonly confused words


Parts of speech




Clear writing


Consistent writing


Concise writing


Writing process




Interest and appeal





There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer. … When asked to define “Great” he said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”

He got his wish.

“He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages”

A few days later, nobody guessed that, but everybody had some fun! So, a big round of applause for our guests:

D. b. Harrop

Vladimir Belciug

Andrea Heltai

Oly Saldinger


Kim McPherson

And now, for this week’s Angellove Society Exercise, we have another riddle!


Anybody can leave the answer in a comment on the Page.


This used to be my personal space. My hide-out, my napkin to wipe my tears away. It was about my writing, my feelings and my non-sense.  A hide-out if you please and a playing ground for ideas, thoughts, dreams and memories. I forgot when I wrote something of some quality last time, as well as I can’t remember somebody telling me I still have some talent.

All of this happened because mostly, I hate this template, the colors, the fact that it looks sad, boring and totally devoided of the humor that used to be my sweetest touch on writing. It depresses me only to come here.

Furthermore, this precious universe of mine turned into a total mess, with posts both in Romanian and in English, a mix-up of my literature (or whatever the hell I was writing some time ago), my business of promoting “Crux” and many other small stuff I can’t even begin to label.

So. The moment I have some free time, I will break this space into little pieces and hopefully, I’ll put them back together in a more attractive, logical, reasonable structure. It will take some time, because basically I hate the WP platform but I’ll do it. Even if I get to write once a year, I need to have my place back. This used to be a blog many people loved and many people visited and now it just looks like an abandoned post-war bombed building.

I write this down only not to forget. I’ll have my home fixed sometime. And I’ll write again too.

Bad agent. If I say this one more time, I’ll get myself fired. But Andrei is right. I’m like this puzzle, 10.000 pieces spread all over the living-room floor.
After the ups and downs and the bumps in the road and the exhaustion and the lack of sleep (or perspective, or hope, but that’s another scary story), I managed to do something. Well, half of something.
Yes! We have THE FACEBOOK PAGE! I repeat: WE HAVE THE FACEBOOK PAGE! Check it out:
The Page is new born. After only 24 hours of life, it already has 65 likes and counting. Thank you all the beautiful people out there who actually cared enough not just to push the button, but also leave a comment, a feed-back or some greetings from the planets they’re living on.
Oh, just let me tell you about ADD. Sometimes it scares the sh… out of me. And ashames me beyond reason. And makes me look stupid and incompetent to my writer.
See? I’m doing it again. Start on a straight path and end up in some twisted Wonderland with no compass.
So I started to build the page. Then I suddenly fled to another dimension following a lead, in the obsessive manner of my dear Sherlock and I ended up ignoring a simple fact: the looks of the page. I said it before and I’ll say it again. God bless the ones who have the patience and the reason to deal with an ADD child.
I wanted to surprise Andrei and have the page up and running before he woke up, with at least 30 likes on it. Imagine his surprise when he opened the Early-Christmas Gift and found ugliness running havoc around there. If I’m still employed, it’s just because he has the above-mentioned patience.
So he’s behind the great cover photo, the profile picture and the many many other cool stuff you can find on the page, after 6 hours of work. Not fair to him, but let me tell you something in my defense: I could’ve picked a thousand photos for the cover, he would have still picked the best one.
But I made ammends. I kicked my ADD ass so hard, it focused on only two tasks today. Promote the page. Hunt for publishers. No, I WILL NOT FALL INTO THAT TRAP! No word about it yet.
Tired as if digging the whole damn Danube Channel by myself. Not enough sleep. Way too many cigs a day and waaaaaay too many ideas colliding in my head. Which hurts daily. Never felt more alive though.
I’ll keep doing what I’m doing even if I’ll end up bleeding on the floor. Nothing new here, anyway.
So keep in touch guys and make the Page spread like Ebola!
Love, me.

Mai sunt si zile ciudate, in care Universul conspira ca sa te simti tu mizerabil.

Si apoi, dai de asta


Citindu-i cartea, povestile, blogul, rolurile de pe Darkness Forum, aproape ca am uitat cat e de bun ca jurnalist, de fapt.

Asa ca pare sa fie adevarat ca the Universe has a way of course-correcting its trajectory…

Mai rar gasesti jurnalism atat de pur si de dur si de drept.

Nu am altceva de facut decat sa ma inclin.