So literally minutes before the month of January ended I hit a snag during the publishing process. The book is ready for release, but I may not be going with the aggregator Smashwords in the end. I'm still going with my original plan of releasing on Kindle and sharing coupon codes on this site, however, I'm back to working through the details on this. At the moment, this site has simply been prepared for the release, including having a small art update (but I won't tell you what images I added!) and two additional Realm Archives pages.
The Repleting Papers
A collection of scattered, disorganized papers, for all of those random teasers, ideas, theories, and other miscellaneous things.
So a while back I mentioned that my first book (to ever be published) was pretty much done. Well, it is done, but I underestimated how long it takes for it to be copywritten and given a nice cover. It can take months for it to actually be shelf-worthy. So for now I'm working on my second book while thinking of ways to improve the site.
Something I should also mention is that, while the book's release will be updated on this site, it won't be sold through this site. Instead, I'll give out the book's metadata as well as some sample writing so people can peek at it and see if it's something they're interested in reading! The actual book will be sold at the ebook publisher Smashwords. The reason I chose to go through this site is because it offers ease of purchasing and reading ebooks in multiple formats, as well as physical printing for libraries. It's more convenient for me and my new readers (because let's face it, I'm still learning how to manage a website). Also, I'll give anyone visiting Shadow's Library any coupon codes I have! In the future I may set up a store on here so you guys can purchase my ebooks directly, and I do plan on eventually distributing on Kindle as well, but I'm just taking it one step at a time. You know what I just realized? I've been remembering bits of mental and physical health advice, like everyone else, and whether it's intentional or coincidence, they always seem to recommend stints in 20s. One piece of advice said that for every 20 minutes of studying you do, you take a short break, and that will help you learn faster without burning out too fast and boost your morale. An optometrist recommendation is that if you're spending a lot of time in front of a screen, looking up every 20 minutes and staring out at least 20 feet for 20 seconds will help prevent eye strain. Another recommendation says it's good for your digestive track if you chew your food for 20 seconds before swallowing, and it takes upwards of 15-20 minutes for your stomach to tell your brain it's full. There's even a rumored good exercise practice where, while walking, you occasionally run for about 20 minutes and then go back to walking; it's supposed to help keep your heart rate up without exhausting you.
I just thought that was interesting. Everything seems to be in parts of 20. I wonder if the sleep cycle has parts of 20 too... The first part of The Interview left my creativity going, so here's a Part 2! I tried to wrap up the teaser nicely for you guys; any further writing for this concept will be going into a book called The Door With No Key. Once I'm done with my current project I might start working on it next, so if you like the teaser keep an eye out for the title! -Part 2- Silence. The room was assuredly vacant. Our tea was still there, but the kettle looked a thousand years older, and flies sat on the rims of our cups. The chairs were rotted. The couch had holes. Curtains were torn and shredded up in pieces, many of them missing entirely. The carpet, walls, and even the ceiling were stained and filthy, and the windows were obscured by dirt and rain splatter. It was eerily silent, more silent than it was before, and despite the light flooding into the room, it felt cold... unreal.
I took a step forward in utter disbelief, looking around. I blinked a couple of times, then pinched myself to make sure I was awake, and winced at the very real pain. I strained my ears to pick up any sign of the woman, but it was so quiet that my own breathing seemed to fill the room. I thought I must be hallucinating. Maybe Ms. Harrier put something in the tea; but no, I didn't drink my tea. She only took a few sips. I didn't eat or drink anything unusual before driving up here. Was it my contacts? Except, even if they had anything to do with it, contacts don't affect your nose or ears, and this was definitely different... musty, and somehow grim. "Ms. Harrier?" I tried to call out, but it came out much quieter than I intended, yet still my words echoed in the room, unanswered. I walked out into the center of the room, careful not to touch the coffee table that was now infested by black mold. "Ms. Harrier?? Are... are you in the kitchen?" I called a bit louder, but again, there was no response. I felt cold, and looked around, bemused and, quite honestly, a little bit scared. I peered out into the entry, which had now transformed to peeling, cracked linoleum, trampled carpet, and dirty walls. The beautiful dark stain that decorated the front door was now faded and scraped off in large, unusual stripes. I took a few steps toward it, intending to go outside and see if Ms. Harrier had left the house, but I stopped in my tracks as my eyes traveled up the wall beside the stairs. Huge gouges tore it up, following the stairs, as if someone with impossibly-large knives had cut it open while going up. Mold littered the exposed edges of the drywall. I felt another cold blast of air, and shivered, but dismissed it as simply a breeze in this completely bizarre place. Maybe I really had eaten something... maybe I was narcoleptic and didn't know, and now I was dreaming... no matter what, it didn't make sense that it was real, so it must be safe. I just had to find Ms. Harrier and ask her what she put in the tea... ah, yes, it must have been a drug in the aroma, disguised by the lavender. That makes sense. I walked up to the stairs, stiff and nervous. My dress shoes sounded incredibly loud against the linoleum. I grabbed the banister - what part of it I could distinguish as not being rotted - and peered up the stairs, the prickling sensation on my skin returning. The stairs ascended up into an indiscernible blackness. "Ms. Harrier?" I heard a rustling sound penetrate the silence, and quickly I put a foot up on the first step, suspecting it was her, but the step screamed out an objecting creak. I pulled back my weight, instantly regretting the decision, and listened for the rustling... but no, it was silent again. I scolded myself under my breath about not checking the step first, and peered up into the darkness. I couldn't see anything... but I could hear something. Not the rustling, but a breathing, so faint I wouldn't have caught it without the thick silence. An animal?... No. Not Ms. Harrier, either. It was too loud, too... big, but it might be a man, someone else in the house. The prickling sensation was growing, and I couldn't make sense of why a man would be in this place, nor whatever place this was, but if there was a person here then he might be able to tell me. So I called up the stairs, "Hello? Who are you? Do you know where we are?" The breathing stopped, and I strained to listen for an answer. I leaned over the landing, hoping I could see the person. Instead, I was surprised by abrupt footsteps! They raced away from me, further into the blackness. "Wait!" I called, running up the stairs, "I'm with Farfield Weekly! I can't hurt you! Please, I just want to know..." I grimaced, my words dying in my throat, and I slowed to a stop halfway up the stairs. I knew I had already lost the person. "Darn it, Flora! How did this happen? How could you not only lose your client, but your potential help, too?" I shook my head, thoroughly annoyed with myself, and turned around to descend the stairs, wanting to go to the kitchen next to find Ms. Harrier. Except I stopped right away. My eyes widened with confusion, then fear. The landing was gone. The light was gone. I was standing on a step in unknown darkness. Somehow, I was lost. The Repleting Papers has been launched! As the title says, I will be posting little things here when I think of them, anything that isn't full enough to be its own thing stored elsewhere on the site. Things like short stories, snippets of story ideas, maybe some world- or character-building information, sometimes theories, sometimes just stuff I know, and even logs of dreams! It's largely miscellaneous. At the moment my intention is to make some kind of post each week (even if it's an apology post for being absent for a clarified reason), but when and what I'll post with is something I'm still working on. I can't be too dedicated to this yet. To start this very first blog post, I would like to tell the few people who visited the site for artwork why I haven't been updating it much lately. I've been working on a very important project for the past couple of years, and what art I have been making during that time has been either left unfinished or pertains to this project. Now, I did make a foolish mistake by expecting the project to only take around six months to complete... so my intended art hiatus has gone on for far too long now... but you live and learn. This project is still near the top of my priority list, so hopefully I'll have a big update for you all soon! Secondly, I would like to kick off the blog with its first Story Teaser! Dreams make up a significant portion of my creative process, and while the Dream Log will try to tell them in their rawest form, for the sake of your entertainment (and my impulsive need to make my writing as eloquent as possible), many of these dreams may come out as either Short Stories or Story Teasers instead: more polished, thought-out versions of the dreams with extra content that make them better reads, while keeping the more mystical elements intact. Who knows, maybe some of these ideas will form proper stories someday...! Story Teaser 1: The Interview I stepped up onto the landing of a quaint craftsman home and knocked on the tired, wooden door. I was in a rather unremarkable part of the inner city: old, but not polished up to modern standards. Huge elm and oak trees lined the quiet street, most of their leaves gone from autumn, and many of the houses were dilapidated or simply worn out, with peeling paint and chipped siding, many with yards infested by weeds or tall with grass. A couple of the houses were like this one - in marginally better condition, just enough to not be an eyesore - but the age on it painfully showed. I looked sadly at the turned spindles of the porch railing, their white gloss now a faded antique yellow, the finish rubbed off in many places revealing a dark wood. One spindle had even broken off and, for some reason, the broken end was sanded down to a smooth stump. The rest of the porch wasn't in much better condition, nor was the siding or the trim, and the shutters had been pulled off at one point and leaned against the wall.
I tried not to stare too much at the home's state and turned my attention back to the door, waiting for someone to answer. A couple of minutes passed where I heard nothing, and I brought my journal out of my handbag in preparation of noting how long it was taking, but just then I heard a stirring. Quickly I dropped the journal back in and put on my most cordial smile. Click, click, click click - shink, click, click... The smile disappeared at the excessive amount of locks being undone from the other side, and I shot a look back at my car, second-guessing leaving the windows open. Was this really that dangerous of a neighborhood? Everyone did have closed curtains and doors... |
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