Emerald City Comic Con


I’m going to to Emerald City Comic Con, hehe! I’m going to ECCC, haha! I’m going to…WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST WALK IN TO?

After falling head over heals in love with cosplay because it is like a very long Halloween (Batman fans see what I did there?) I needed to go to a con. After Geek Girl Con I knew I was ready. Oh, young padawan how little you know. 

I was excited. Over the moon and in full Raven gear.


The Good:

  1. ECCC is huge.
  2. Really huge.

The Bad:

  1. There are lots of people. The jury is still out on how I feel about people but this was more people then I can normally handle and my meds were not handling my anxiety well. 
  2. Employees had no clue were anything was and each had the vision of a mystical escalator somewhere that would whisk us off to where we were trying to go.
  3. Said escalator did not exist.

The Ugly:

  • My family got locked in a stairwell with an exhausted and hungry six year old. How did that happen? See the statements above.

The Verdict:


ECCC was HOLYGOODGODAMAZING. The cosplay was off the charts. People were generally friendly and welcoming with the exception of the one person who was a little to overexcited about my cosplay and I suspect that he thought I really was Raven. I can’t blame him. Often I get mistaken for a half demon inter dimensional being who can fly. It’s cool.


That isn’t ECCC incase you were wondering. This was my house after a battle with Baby Blood, Brother Blood’s younger sibling.

The best part was watching my daughter, Squirt, get into the action. As we were walking outside she came across a fairy being chased by a large man with a hammer and promptly asked if she could play. How could you say no to kid dressed as Starfire? They ran all over and Squirt was shooting fire bolts out of her hands. At one point the guy broke character to laugh over “Starfire is pewing me.” It’s on my instagram. Check it out. 


ECCC was just a blast. Now I’m looking forward my next. Maybe PAX? 

What was your first con?


Flash Back Friday: Cape Town, South Africa


“When are we going to climb it?” The words leave my mouth before my brain processes what I said.

“You are really serious?”

I’m in the back of a taxi before I know what is happening being dropped off at the bottom of the trailhead leading up Table Mountain. What was I thinking? This is a mountain. It’s in the freaking name of this heap of rocks and I some how thought I could climb it. Who do I think I am? Super Sam?

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Push forward. Keep going.  Legs arch. Move forward. Back soar. Push on. Lungs so tight . Breath. Why are their birds circling? Wait, are those things vultures? That’s it. I’m going to die here. I turn around to sit and for the first time notice the view. Below me Cape Town sprawls out. Just hours ago I was down there looking up oblivious to what was happening on the mountain. Now I’m here, looking down, certain of death.Only 1/3rd of the way to go. Death is looking better. I’ve always wanted a sky burial.

Flash Back Friday: Terror on Mount Avila, Venezuela


Halfway down Mount Avila the cars started swinging. The four of us inside looked at each other. This wasn’t the normal, gentle swaying of a tram car that you would expect. It was violent. I looked out the window to the ground below. El Avila National Park spread below us. The tram at the top of the mountain had disappeared behind us and the city sat in the distance, but there was nothing but trees as far as I could see.


I looked over at my friends. One was looking up at something. I followed his gaze and saw red lights on the ceiling were flashing. By now everyone in the car was looking at the flashing light. I turned to look out the window to see other cable cars being thrashed around by the wind.

“What does that mean?” Someone asked.

No one answered. The lights on the other cars were flashing too. There was no way to call for help. Nothing that could be down. One person started to cry. We sat there no knowing what to do. This was out of our hands.

A gust of wind hit the car hard nearly knocking us to the floor. I wished I was more religious. This was a time for prayers, but I knew none.

Several minutes passed and the car started to slow down. The cableway station appeared in the distance.

The tram pulled into the station, doors opened, and we jumped out. “What happened?” someone asked in Spanish. The station operator just smiled at us.  We were off the tram. That was all that mattered.


Crash and Burn

So that excitement that I had the other day about my writing came to a crashing halt last night at 9:04 pm when I found myself on the couch mentally yelling how it was all crap. Can someone send the other feeling back please?

Writing Is Coffee For The Brain

Let me just get this out there. I’m a pretty lazy person. If I don’t have to move I wont. Well, that’s not fair. I Jedi train on the tredmill at the gym a few times a week and I have a 4 year old. I like to converse my energy to keep up with her.

Now the real point of this post.

Writing is a pretty lazy sport. You sit at a computer and write, except when you aren’t sitting and are running around like a lunatic staging a scene. (Everyone does that right?). The thing is I have never felt so alive since I started writing my manuscript. There is a bolt of energy through me. I want to jump, and run, and sing, and do cartwheels. This has never happened to me before. Is this normal? Should I see a doctor.

My Brain Is Tripping The Light Fantastic But In A Word Sort Of Way

Today I’m a freaking writing God. The genius coming out of my fingers and appearing on the screen is like mana from heaven. Ideas are attacking my brain. Seriously this morning while doing what I can only describe as an electric Charleston with my daughter another idea for a manuscript popped into my mind.

I reread the first few chapters and made some adjustments, but keep thinking this is a book I would read!

God I want this feeling to last past this cup of coffee because the other 364 days 23 hours and 30 minutes of the year I’m bashing my head against the table pleading for my brain to work. Maybe I should have my coffee tested. Chances are my husband snuck something into them after last nights “why am I even writing this I’m a failure breakdown.”

Keeping this short. My coffee is calling and so is my unfinished chapter. I like these days. Please tell me these days happen often. Or just lie to me. It’s okay. No really, lie.

Lesson For Writing A Manuscript.

1. Keep it all in one place like in a word file or in a notebook. Not in several notebooks, loose leaf papers, napkins or the backs of receipts. They got lost or mixed in with the other manuscript you set aside.

2. Organization isn’t stuffing said papers, receipts, and napkins into a book bag. That is how chapter 1 gets lost.

3. You can’t have enough ice cream and coffee.

4. While deep in thought don’t accidentally pour the coffee into your water cup.

5. Don’t blog when you should be writing, wait. Got to go.

Dead On The Floor

It’s naptime. The story that has been building up in me all day just made its way onto a word document. I. Am. Drained. It was only 640 words, but those words took a toll on me. When I read that Lisa See writes 1,000 words I was astonished. It seems so few for a person who makes a career from writing. What do I know? I’m a noob. Those 640 unpolished words that I have vomited onto the page have left me empty.

Right now I’m recharging. Don’t Stop Believin’ is slightly blaring (don’t want to wake the sick toddler), I’ve just brewed a fresh cup of coffee, chowing down on some bacon jam (never heard of it, what?!) and I’m burning some Nag Champa incense on my alter (Hey now, I’m Buddhist get your mind out of where ever it just went). Life is flowing back into my body. I’ve written articles before, but never had such an energy draining feeling. Please tell me this doesn’t always happen?

Hello World, Let’s Get Rid Of The Chewed Gum

The last few months of my life have been like one big purge. Old dreams have been dropped, ideas set a side, and the person I thought I was has vanished. The whole process was exhausting. It felt like I was ripping apart; desperately holding on to the idea of who I was and falling into a void of the unknown.

So what do I do? Start writing. It’s been a relief for me. Honestly, truly freeing.

I pulled out a manuscript I had been working on for a few years and quickly decided I needed something new and fresh to work on. Not that it wasn’t a fun idea to write, but I had work on it until it became like a piece of well chewed gum. You know, tough, flavorless, and a not so awesome. Luckily a new idea struck. Something fun, and exciting. Best of all I realized it is a Y.A. novel.

So now I’m not a professional writer, but in my daydreams I’m already at book signings so does that count 😉