Tess Adair's Blog

Here it is: the first chapter of Choronzon Chronicles Book 4: Shadow in a Strange Land. It’s not available for pre-order just yet, but I wanted to get this preview out there anyway.

If you’d like some background on the writing of book 4, you can check out my last blog post here.

So, without further ado…here’s Chapter One.

SHADOW IN A STRANGE LAND

by Tess Adair

ONE 

The first thing she felt was cold. A cold, wet wind on her skin, and the sound of waves. The next thing she felt was the sand beneath her. It was cold, too.

            Wake up.

            With a start, H.C. Logan opened her eyes. The sky above was dark and gray, but it wasn't a nighttime sky. She was sure it had been night only a moment ago. Somehow, she had traveled from night to day. Her hands were empty, which struck her as wrong, but she couldn't articulate why. With a soft grunt of effort, she sat straight up, her empty hands pressing against the cold, damp sand.

            She was on a beach, facing what appeared to be an ocean. In the distance, a few miles out, she could see a rocky island holding its own against the turbulent waves. She stared at it for several seconds, willing it to anchor her as she got her bearings. Everything here felt wrong. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

            Volkov was nowhere to be seen. In fact, there was no one, anywhere, to be seen. She was alone. But how could she be alone?

            What did she remember?

            There was a fight. She'd been fighting—demons, the Bound men, Casimir Volkov. But it was a trap. He was trying to activate the Choronzon Key—the arcane artifact with untold power that had melted into her skin years ago, forming a giant tattoo on her back. And he'd succeeded, in a way. He had activated it. But she'd taken control of what happened after that.

            Or had she? Was she really in control, if she didn't know where she was? And where was Volkov, anyway?

            She scrambled to her feet, half expecting some unknown demon to come lunging at her at any moment. But as her boots settled unsteadily in the soft sand, she saw no other living creatures at all. No demons, no Volkov. She didn't even see any birds in the sky. On one side of her there was ocean, extending as far as the eye could see. On the other side stood a sheer cliff face several hundred feet high, and it stretched in both directions, disappearing only with the curve of the land. And between the sea and the cliff, there was only sand.

            Volkov was nowhere. And neither was anyone else.

            What was this place? For a moment, she wanted to entertain the possibility that somehow they'd been thrown clear to the other side of Fort Worden, where Volkov's ritual had begun. But she knew that didn't make any sense. It had been night there. And these cliffs...this didn't look like the other side of the Fort, which should have been dunes and smooth gray rocks and a small beach. She knew enough to know that.

            Besides, though she didn't want to admit it, she had this sinking feeling that she knew exactly what had happened. This place felt so wrong, so eerie to her. There were no animals anywhere. And had she ever seen a place that looked just like this, with a perfect black cliff face running all the way around, and nothing but clear gray sea and sky and a single solitary rock island to keep it company? It looked more like a doctored photograph than a real place.

            No, they hadn't been thrown down to some beach on the peninsula. They hadn't been thrown anywhere on Earth. That wasn't what the Key could do.

            She reached back, like she had so many times before, and touched the Choronzon Key where it lay on her back. She couldn't see it, but she knew what it looked like: a labyrinth set in the shape of a teardrop, deep red on her back. Even through her leather jacket, she could feel its warmth. Volkov had figured out a way to activate the Key. He'd gotten it to do something she'd had no idea it could do.

            In front of her, over the water, the gray clouds began to part. She stared at them absentmindedly, her mind reeling with a million other things. After a moment, she gave herself a small shake and narrowed her eyes at the scene before her, at the light now peaking through the gray. She didn't want to believe it, but she already knew it was true.

            There were two suns in the sky.

            If she'd had any lingering doubts, they were gone now. She wasn't on Earth. Not anymore.

            Her knees began to wobble, and after a moment, she let them give. She fell back down to the sand, wet and cold as it was, and she stared at the two suns. They emitted a faintly bluish light, and they didn't hurt her eyes the way her own sun would. She stayed that way until the clouds shifted again, obscuring the suns, one after another. At long last, she blinked and looked away, belatedly wondering if she'd done damage to her retinas.

            As her gaze drifted off to the right, she saw something glinting in the dim light. Scrambling to her feet again, she went right for it—and let out a small sigh of relief. It was her ax, slightly buried in the sand. It had made it with her to this new world after all. She pulled it out and wiped the blade on her pants, and then stored it in the sheath on her back.

            Okay. Let's think this through. I'm on another world. I don't know where, and I don't know how to get home. And I've been fighting, so, when my adrenaline fades, I'll be tired. Maybe hungry. So, what do I do next?

            A voice in the back of her head told her she should look for Volkov. He had to be here, somewhere. But she didn't know if she wanted to find him. After all, she was only here because he'd kidnapped Jude Li from her own backyard in order to lure her into his plans.

            Surely if he managed all that, he'll be fine by himself for a while. She took a short breath. Better to look for shelter, I think.

            She surveyed the area around her again, and this time her eyes lingered on the cliff face—on a spot some ways down the beach that looked darker than the rest. Stepping carefully, she headed for it. The sand here was relatively compact, but it was still sand, and she was still wearing heavy boots. Walking took a little more effort than normal.

            It took a few minutes for her to get close enough to make out the spot in greater detail in the low light. Sure enough, it was a small cave. It was short and relatively shallow, not quite tall enough for her to stand at full height, about five feet wide and ten feet deep. Just like everything else on the beach, it was damp. And it would have to do.

            Glancing around again, she realized she could see almost no vegetation around. There was, however, plenty of driftwood, including a few whole uprooted trees, their shallow roots long since bleached white. She jogged a little away from the cliff so she could look up at it, where she observed, at the top, a whole forest. That explains the trees on the beach, she thought.

            The driftwood would have to suffice for her primary resource for now. She went over to the nearest fallen tree and, bracing herself for the effort, grabbed the root end and pulled as hard as she could. It took longer than she would have liked, but eventually, she'd dragged it over to the front of the cave and dropped it, letting it form an informal doorway to her new camp site. After that, she snapped off a few medium-sized branches and moved down the beach, to about halfway between the sea and the cliff, and started shoving the sticks into the ground in a haphazard pattern. Eventually they formed a little pyramid.

            It's not much, but it will have to do.

            She walked a few feet down the beach in the direction from which she'd come and studied the loose tableau she'd made. She had no idea how much time she had left until sundown in this world, but she knew she needed to get a lay of the land. So she started walking.

            Apart from the constant sound of the waves lapping against the shore, this world was uncomfortably quiet. She kept glancing up at the top of the cliff, thinking she would see movement indicative of an animal running through the underbrush, or maybe even a bird. But she didn't. The trees swayed with the wind, but nothing else. No calls traveled down to her, no footsteps sounded anywhere. It was like she was absolutely alone in the world.

            Would be nice to be alone with drinkable water, she thought, glancing forlornly at the saltwater ocean. Yet almost as soon as she'd had the thought, she heard a change in the water sounds. Just around the next corner, she could hear the crescendo rush of a waterfall.

            Her pace picked up automatically, and she practically ran to meet the sound. Sure enough, just around the slight curve of the cliff face, there was a waterfall. It was only six or seven feet wide, and it let out into a creek that bled directly down the beach and into the ocean.

            As relief washed over her, Logan stepped right up to the creek and knelt down, plunging her hands into the water and splashing it all over her face. The water was ice-cold, but she didn't care. She placed her hands on slippery rocks to brace herself, then dunked her face right in, drinking as deeply as she could. It was several seconds before she came up for air again. When she finally did, she sat back on her heels and laughed quietly at herself.

            I'm on an alien world. In a whole different universe, most likely. Why would I assume that a creek in an alien world would be freshwater? Hell, why would it even be water?

            She sat that way for a full minute, waiting to see if she was about to keel over from some kind of poisoning. Nothing happened. And the longer she sat, the more she thought about how perfectly fresh it had tasted...

            In the end, she bent to drink again. She was fairly certain the last liquid she'd consumed had been on the ferry out to Bainbridge Island, and that had been hours and another world ago. She drank a third time, then went on her way. One good jump got her clear over the creek with ease.

            As it turned out, the waterfall was the most excitement the beach had to offer. She walked for hours, her eyes peeled for anything and everything. As she went, she gathered a small pile of driftwood. She could feel and see the beach curving slightly to the left at all times, and before long, she was convinced that the body of land she traversed was an island.

            The final dregs of her adrenaline wore out soon after she passed the waterfall. In less than half an hour from the start of her journey, her body began to feel all the aches and pains from the injuries she'd sustained during the fight. She knew her demon traits would gift her a much faster healing process than most humans got, but she was still in for an uncomfortable night.

            And yet, on she walked. She wasn't always sure what she hoped to find. Perhaps it was Volkov. Or signs of civilization. Or maybe she simply hoped to see some animal life.

            In that last case, at least, she was successful, after a fashion. The ocean was clear enough that she could eventually see shadows moving just beneath its surface. How close any of them looked to the kind of fish she knew was anyone's guess.

            Still, on she walked. She walked for hours and saw no sign of Volkov, nor any intelligent life. The sky eventually began to lose its limited bluish-gray light, and she started to worry that she'd made a mistake. Maybe she hadn't been travelling a circular route around an island after all...

            But just as her aching limbs threatened to give way, she at last saw one thing that she knew she'd been looking for. It was the pyramid made of sticks. She'd been travelling for hours, and she'd finally come back to where she started.

            With a small jolt, she realized that not only had she seen no other people, but she'd seen no other landmasses, either. As far as she could tell, this island and the small rock island was all there was.

            So it is, she thought.

            She brought the driftwood she'd been collecting over to the cave and placed it inside in a neat little pile. She picked up the pyramid sticks and added them to the pile, too.

            Every muscle in her body hurt. She'd come all that way, and there had been no break in the cliff. No significant change in the beach, except eventually a second waterfall on the other side of the island. There had been no land animals, no birds. There were creatures in the water, yes, but she had no idea what they were. And by the time she'd realized that sea life might be her only viable source of food here, it was already too dark to chance a first foray into the waves.

            Besides all that, she was exhausted. For a moment, she'd thought she would build a fire at the edge of her cave and sleep by it, but now she realized there was no way she could force enough motion out of her body to get it done. Instead, she picked the spot where the cave wall met the end of the dead tree and settled into it. It wasn't particularly soft, but it was relatively protected. That would have to be enough for now.

            Before she could let herself fall asleep, however, there was one last thing she had to try. She closed her eyes and got ready to reach out—then paused.

            Hours ago, when she had first woken up here, she'd had the odd feeling that here was familiar. Suddenly, she realized why. This island, this beach, was almost an exact replica of the quiet place she held in her mind. It was the place she went to whenever she wanted to connect psychically with someone using eira. Jude's quiet place was a field in a forest. Logan's was a cold beach surrounded by cliffs. It was this place.

            What that meant, she could not say. So, she set it aside for the moment.

            With a sigh, she closed her eyes again and cleared her mind. She went to her quiet place, which looked quite similar to where she was, and she reached deep into her connection with eira. She had done it a million times before. Her strongest psychic connection recently had been with Jude, and so it was to Jude that she called. She called once, then twice. A third time. A fourth.

            Something felt...off. She was doing the same thing she always had—clearing her mind, reaching deep within herself. And yet...she felt nothing. She couldn't feel Jude, for starters. But that wasn't enough to bother her. It was always possible that Jude simply wasn't in a state where she could be reached. No, this went deeper than that.

            It was eira she couldn't feel. It was as if...it was simply gone. There was no eira in this world. There was nothing for her to connect to. Perhaps there was no magic here at all.

After several minutes, she gave up. Her brain had grown as tired as every aching muscle in her body. She suspected she would still be sore the next day, but perhaps she'd have a little more energy. With a sigh of resignation, she settled into her chosen corner with her back against the cave wall. Within moments, she was sound asleep.

So there it is! Hope you enjoyed. There isn’t yet a final cover for Shadow in a Strange Land, but I’ll let you know as soon as there is. There will also probably be a few more previews in the lead up to launch, so keep an eye out here for more of that!

-TESS

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then click below to sign up for my email list!

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Hey there, Summoners.

I’m sitting here at my desk in the full heat of summer, drinking carbonated coffee, and wondering how to start talking about the last book I wrote--the fourth installment in the Choronzon Chronicles series. It does have a title, but I’m not releasing that out into the world just yet, so for now, we’ll call it book 4.

The process of writing book 4 was dramatically different from the three books that led up to it. For starters, the majority of it was written while the pandemic was still in full swing. And while that certainly took a toll on my mental well-being, just as it did for everyone else, my writing process was much more affected by something else: in March, I quit my day job.

After I quit, I took a few days to burn off some steam--and then I dove right back into writing and steamrolled my way to the finish line. Mind you, the finish line took some getting to; book 4 currently stands as the longest installment yet at well over 160,000 words. Even so, it only took about six months to write, which is the least amount of time I’ve taken on a book since the first one. Turns out being able to devote yourself to something full-time occasionally means you finish it sooner. Who knew?

The process of writing book 4 was also a joyous one. I’ve had the idea for this book in my head for so long, it felt like a dream come true to finally write it. When I started work on the Choronzon Chronicles series, there were a few specific moments that I was looking forward to the most, and the whole concept of book 4 was right at the top of that list.

Warning: there will be some minor spoilers after the break for the end of book 3 and the very beginning of book 4. Stop now if you aren’t caught up or don’t want to see it. Either way, you’ll get another email from me in a few days--and that one will include the very first chapter of book 4.

Ready? Let’s go.

I always knew that I wanted Logan to travel to other worlds. I wasn’t sure exactly how that would work, or how it would fit into her larger story, but I knew almost from the very beginning that I wanted it to be one of the powers of the Choronzon Key. After all, what does a key do? It opens a door. So I figured a magic key might as well open a door into another world.

As for what this other world might be like...well, check back here in a few days and you just might find out.

-TESS

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then click below to sign up for my email list!

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Thank you!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner.

Greetings, fellow humans.

This is going to be an understatement, but I don’t know how else to put it: it’s been a hell of a year, hasn’t it?

I’ve been at a loss for words when it comes to writing about the current moment in time for...well, at least a year. Mind you, I’m not sure I totally knew what I was doing last year, or the year before that, but at least then I could fake it. I even managed to write year-end blogs the past few years. But not this time. This time, the New Year came around, and...I just had nothing. Everything I could think to say felt fake or forced, or trite before its time. I felt hollowed out, in more ways than one. What’s the point of making a joke about how time has no meaning anymore, when we’ve all heard it so many times it’s no longer worth the energy of typing it out?

I don’t think those feelings have entirely gone away. But I think I may have turned a corner. I can feel something of my old sense of purpose returning to me. I almost feel motivated. It’s not exactly like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s more like I’ve been running in the dark so long, I no longer need a light to see the new strength in my legs.

And on that note...I have, in fact, been writing all this time. The one strange solace I’ve found the past few months has been indulging myself in a genre I had never really written in before, even though I’ve long been drawn to it: post apocalyptic fiction.

Somehow it feels at once like the most and the least obvious choice. We’re living through a pandemic, don’t you want to escape for a little while and think about something else? But also...we’re living through a pandemic, how could I possibly think about anything else?

Mind you, the apocalypses I’ve chosen to write about have little or nothing to do with viral outbreaks. As is my tendency, I drifted to a more action-oriented kind of world-ending. The ones with monsters and stoic cowboy types on dirt bikes. So I suppose, in a way, I’m having my cake and eating it, too: I’m writing about the feelings I can’t escape and I’m writing escapism at the same time.

And one of these stories is actually available to read right now! If you’d like to read a a small, sub-2000 word-count story about two buddies scraping a living together by blowing up giant bugs in the post-apocalypse, you can head here to check out How Thin the Membrane.

Of course, H.C. Logan hasn’t escaped my grasp just yet. Fresh off the heels of the third book in the Choronzon Chronicles, Shadow of the Wolf, I took a short break before diving right back in--and I’ve been going ever since. As a matter of fact, I would estimate that the first draft of Book 4, which is hovering around 90,000 words, is about two thirds of the way complete. If all goes as planned, I’ll be able to send out a teaser chapter in the next month! Mind you, Logan isn’t exactly living in a bug-fueled post apocalypse, but there’s a certain chaotic energy in the air that may or may not be exerting undue influence on the arc of Book 4. Nothing has outright changed from the plan I’ve had for this book for years now, but I will say that something about the last year has helped me feel completely free to commit to the more extreme plot elements I wanted to introduce. Can’t wait to share some of it with you all, very soon!

Finally, I do have a third project I’ve been working on--this one is also a post apocalypse story, but it’s more in the novella range of length. Right now, the title is The Night Driver, but I honestly don’t know if I’ll keep that. I have a full first draft done, completed back in December during my break right after Shadow of the Wolf. But I decided to put edits on hold until I have a draft of Choronzon Chronicles 4, so I haven’t gone back to it. And because it’s a novella, I’m not certain I know the best way of disseminating it. I think I’d like to find somewhere to submit it, but it needs to be the right fit, and I don’t yet know what that is. Whatever I decide, I’ll be sure to update you here!

And that’s just about everything. Keep an eye out for your next free teaser chapter in the Choronzon Chronicles, which I hope to be pushing out soon. And apart from that, if you’d like to read another story for free right now, just head right here.

And have a good rest of your week. Ciao!

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then click below to sign up for my email list!

Subscribe

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Email Address Sign Up

We respect your privacy.

Thank you!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner.

Hey there, Summoners! Thanks for sticking with me through this whole long process. As a thank you for your continued support, I wanted to give you guys an exclusive look at the opening pages of Shadow of the Wolf. Check it out below!

-Tess

Seven Years Earlier

Down in the dark, labyrinthine bowels beneath his familial estate, in a lab that had never once seen the light of day, Charles Logan was having a less than perfect day. He always knew when the day was about to be a bad one, because it would be heralded early in the morning by some household accident that always resulted in a tiny, unnecessary cut on one of his fingers. He wasn’t normally a superstitious man, but this pattern had happened often enough that he’d long since taken notice. Today, he had cut himself no less than three separate times.

      If anyone had been around to ask him, they might have ascertained that some of his unpleasant day had originated in a fight he’d had with his business partner the day before. The fight amounted to his own request for a certain piece of information, and his partner’s point-blank refusal to give it to him. This rejection flustered him in a way he didn’t fully understand. It confounded him that he had even needed to ask; since when did Hugh Knatt hold the greater mastery of any subject, let alone this particular one?

      And yet, the truth of the matter was undeniable: Hugh knew things that Charles didn’t. And he refused to share.

      So, it was in this spirit of vexation and uncertainty that Charles Logan had begun his day. The first cut had come during his breakfast when, absent the usual help from his partner, Charles had cut into a loaf of bread using a knife that had absolutely no business being as sharp as it was. After that, Charles decided that eggs were likely too ambitious a project for a morning like this, so he contented himself with a single (somewhat bloody) piece of toast and a cup of black coffee.

      The second cut happened in the lab. He’d been holding a beaker full of dark blue liquid when his hand had simply slipped. The beaker crashed to the ground, spilling its contents all over his shoes. Fortunately, this liquid wasn’t particularly acidic, so the only tragedy in dropping it was the loss of material. After he believed he’d swept up all the broken pieces, he spotted one last piece on the ground. As soon as his hand made contact with it, he felt the sharp sting of a seam opening in the flesh of his thumb.

      The third happened more than an hour later. By then, he’d already grown quite sick of all the tiny mistakes and inconveniences the day had already offered him. He knew that when one was attempting to do something that had never been accomplished before, one had to accept a certain number of challenges and setbacks as a matter of course. But he hadn’t expected as many as had befallen him. He’d hoped to be much farther along than this by now.

      He adjusted the flame beneath his concoction and added in an extra hunk of sage. His next catalyst test was nearly ready. He put a few more drops of blue liquid in, then waited for the bubbles to subside.

      The words he knew by heart, perhaps to his own detriment. He readied his hand.

      “Capere tutto,” he commanded as he struck the match. “Capere null.”

      With a shake of his hand, he let the potion spill out over the flame. Together, the two acted as the catalyst for his cast. The power they ignited reverberated through the room, shaking its very foundation.

      The demon let out a short scream.

      He’d had it trapped in the cell before, but now it was chained up in the lab so he could do his tests. Its mouth still hanging open, it tipped back its head, then rocked it forward, letting something loose from its mouth as it did so. Charles attempted to dodge out of the way, but he couldn’t quite move his hand fast enough. The same hand that had already borne the brunt of the morning’s assault now took a third hit, as a strange, spiny spike grazed past it, slicing open the back of his forefinger.

      Fortunately for him, that seemed to be all the fight the demon had left in it. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that the look the demon gave him now was one of resentment. But perhaps he was merely projecting.

      Nevertheless, he recognized the slack hang of the demon’s limbs, the way it no longer strained against its chains. In fact, it looked like it might slump to the floor at any moment. At last, his experiment could begin in earnest.

      He checked the gun at his hip first, letting his set of keys clang into clear view. He had barely taken his first step when he heard a chime ring on the opposite wall.

      It was the doorbell. He’d set it up so he could hear it all the way down here, just in case someone from the Order showed up unannounced one day. Experiments like his were best done in the dark, without interference from the outside world.

      Were it not for the events of the previous night, he would have left the door to Hugh instead of allowing an interruption to his work at this crucial stage. As it was, he knew Hugh wouldn’t answer anytime soon. He didn’t even know if Hugh had come back home yet. So, with a sigh, he left the demon’s chains in place and dropped his cast. Immediately, the beast’s growling resumed, as did its attempts to strain at the restraints keeping him in place.

      Charles locked his lab behind him as he went, just in case. It was best if nobody else went in, and certainly best if nobody else came out.

      A few minutes later, he had traded out his lab coat for a sweater and made his way up the stairs, making sure to lock the door at the top, as well. One could never be too careful.

      He stopped in front of a mirror before opening the door, just to make sure nothing looked amiss. Apart from the three cuts that now peppered his fingers, he looked just like any other man.

      The doorbell rang again as he cut through the kitchen to get to it. At long last, he pulled it open. On the other side stood a young man with pale blond hair and a somewhat sickly look about him. The young man smiled broadly.

      “Mr. Logan, I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time,” he said. His voice had an accent, but Charles found he couldn’t quite identify it. The man straightened his black tie, which sat neatly over a black shirt. “We spoke on the phone about a week ago—I’m following up on my father’s research. You told me I might pay you a visit today. Does that sound familiar?”

      “Ah, yes,” said Charles, a vague memory emerging through the mist of time. “I’m sorry, I must be having an off morning. Could you remind me of your name again?”

      “It’s Casimir Volkov, sir.”

      “Ah, Volkov, yes. Come in, come in.”

      Volkov smiled broadly at him.

      Then he stepped inside.

Chapter OneA Hint of Smoke

They didn’t have much time, all things considered. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the Wolf came looking, or sent someone in his stead. She’d told Knatt they needed to collect Charles Logan as soon as she could, but she couldn’t tell him why while there was any chance someone from the Order could overhear.

      It was bad enough that Volkov had said the words out loud in Order territory: I know you’re a half-demon.

      There’s never been anyone in the world like you.

      H.C. Logan didn’t need any more incriminating information floating around in Order-controlled airspace.

      When they were finally in the car, heading north to collect Charles, she felt herself let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. They didn’t have any answers yet, but at least they were doing something. It felt good to do something. Even better that Knatt had let her drive, which meant she was free to skate above the speed limit as much as she wanted, her sharper demon senses on the lookout for signs of trouble—for once, of the mundane cop variety.

      “Well,” said Knatt, when they’d been driving silently for nearly 15 minutes, “do you suppose you’re going to explain what we’re doing any time soon?”

      If she’d been in less of a tense mood, she might have rolled her eyes.

      “The Wolf has been visiting Charles,” she said simply, her tone so neutral it surprised even her. Didn’t she feel angry about this?

      Or was the feeling closer to disgust?

      “Are you certain?”

      Logan nodded, her eyes never straying from the road ahead. “He knows I’m half-demon. And before this past summer, there were only, what, five people in the world who knew? Two of whom are untouchable eira Masters, and two of whom are you and me. So unless you’re about to confess something pretty huge…Charles Logan is the weakest link.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod as he mulled this over.

      “And if he was visiting Charles…who knows what else he might have asked him?”

      “Exactly.” She shook her head, barely keeping in a growl. “It’s not like Charles is exactly practiced in the art of putting others’ needs before his own. We need to get to him before the Wolf comes back for more…if there’s anything left he hasn’t already said, that is.”

      “Agreed.”

      Logan stared out at the road ahead. She supposed she ought to be grateful there was so little traffic. The road was slick with rain, the trees drooping overhead…as she slowed her speed in anticipation of the car that would soon pass in the other direction, a thought occurred. There was something familiar about all of this. Granted, that went without saying—she could no longer count the number of road trips she’d been on in her life. Plenty of them had gone exactly like this: her in the driver seat, Knatt in the passenger’s side, both of them contemplating what parts of their upcoming case they might be missing. It had been a few years since Knatt had come with her into the field, but the memory of it remained intact.

      And yet…she was sure that wasn’t it. She was remembering something else entirely. The ambient sounds of the car lulled a piece of her mind into passivity, and she could just about make out another car, another arrangement.

      She was a child, and her father was driving the car.

      She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten there. She’d simply woken up already in the car, fully strapped in, her father at the wheel beside her, while miles and miles of evergreen trees zoomed past.

      “Where are we going?” she asked groggily.

      “Somewhere very special,” he answered—authoritatively, not quite reassuringly. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get there.”

      The memory faded out after that. She was sure it was real, but…she had no idea how it concluded. In fact, she had half a dozen memories just like that: road trips with her father that seemed to have no conclusion, no destination. They just stopped.

      She glanced over at Knatt, who looked like he was deep in contemplation. It wasn’t a rare look on him, and yet…she felt somewhat reluctant to interrupt. For some reason she couldn’t name, she wasn’t sure whether she actually wanted to ask him.

      But she had to.

      “Hey.” Her voice seemed to catch in her throat until she coughed to clear it. “Do you remember those road trips he used to take me on?”

      Knatt’s eyebrows knitted together in concern.

      “You mean when he would take off with you in the middle of the night with no warning, and no indication of where he’d gone, or when he would bring you back? Yes, I remember.”

      “Did you ever find out where he took me?”

      “Well, I never got him to tell me anything,” said Knatt, his expression suddenly furtive, even guilty. “But I looked through his receipts whenever I could. Bank statements, as well.”

      “And?”

      “He took you all over. California a few times. New Mexico, Alabama, Louisiana. And a number of times, he didn’t even leave the state. He took you to the peninsula at least four or five times. Is there a reason you’re asking about this now?”

      “Not sure,” said Logan, shaking her head. “Something made me think of it, is all. Road trip memories, I guess. Or, I don’t know, maybe it’s just…”

      She felt herself trailing off, felt her mind automatically changing course, veering away from the subject it never wanted to broach.

      “Just what?” asked Knatt, gently, and not gently, at the same time.

      It was important to take a deep breath before falling far under the surface of the water. So she readied the jump.

      “Every time I go to see him, I have to think about the things he took away from me. And since he’s, well, not even himself anymore…I have to think about the fact that I’ll probably never get them back.”

      She glanced automatically to the right, just in time to watch a sudden and unwanted thought dance its way across Knatt’s face.

      “What?” Her voice sounded louder, harder than she meant it to.

      “Hm? Oh, nothing, I just—I wonder…”

      “You wonder what?”

      Knatt’s mouth formed into a deep frown.

      “I was just thinking what a particular irony it was, that your father’s illness took his memories away, after what he did to you. How strangely poetic.”

      Logan didn’t know what to say to that. She’d had a similar thought herself, more than once, but it had never seemed appropriate to say it out loud. She supposed that, despite everything he’d done to her, she still felt a sliver of pity for her father, and what had become of him. Pity enough to try to save his life, even.

      She had to wonder if it would turn out to be worth it.

 

It was raining in northern Washington state. Savino Rossi had never been this far west in America, and as yet, he couldn’t say whether he liked it much. All he had seen of it was rain.

      That wasn’t to say the countryside wasn’t beautiful, of course. He stood under the cover of a line of trees at the moment, staring out at a lush, rolling green before him. These were the manicured grounds of a home for the wealthy elderly, but as far as he could see, they stood as a fair example of the rest of the province. The grass before him was still a deep green, and the tall coniferous trees stood green as well.

      But beneath all that green lay an ever-thickening mud—and it was a mud he needed to get across. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his big, bulky frame working against him as the heels of his shoes sank into mushy earth.

      The rain would make visibility harder for normal human eyes, but he knew he was far from invisible. He hunched as low to the ground as he could before setting off toward the sprawling, spiraling complex in front of him. His feet threatened to slide with every step, but with the help of his new, inhuman grace, he managed to keep himself upright and moving. Despite the difficulty, he made good time. He took cover against the red brick exterior in under a minute.

      Another 20 feet, then a left. His Master had shown him the plans for the building, then had him recite his route over and over again, until they were both certain he had it memorized. There would be no second chances today.

      He moved down one side of the building, then another, ducking beneath every window he passed. Thanks to their plan, there would be no further risk of exposure until he reached his target…which wouldn’t take long at all.

      There it is. Wiping the rain from his face, he peered around the last corner, right through the sliding glass door and into the room beyond. The first thing he could see was a roaring fire on the hearth, throwing long shadows against the other walls. After that, his eyes landed on the overstuffed armchair—and the figure inside it, pathetically huddled under a blanket.

      That’s him, thought Rossi, triumphantly. Despite the Master’s fears, the girl is as stupid as the rest. Today will be an easy day.

      In one quick motion, he crossed the small cement patio and pressed his palm against the groove in the door. It slid open without resistance. It was unlocked.

      Victory swelled his chest, and a smile crested his lips. The air inside the room had warmed pleasantly in the presence of the fire. He stepped forward, sliding the door shut behind him.

      “At last, we meet, Mr. Logan,” he said. He stepped forward, sliding a knife out of his waistband. He doubted he’d even need the full extent of his brand-new power for this. “It is a pity I cannot stay long.”

      “There’s only one Logan here,” said a voice behind him. Unbidden, his blood turned hot. “And I prefer no prefix, thanks.”

      “Shadow summoner,” he growled. Anticipation and delight flooded him: he would get his fight after all. “My master sends his greetings.”

      He whipped around, knife held aloft, expecting to see the cold eyes of the shadow summoner, his master’s strange obsession, staring back at him.

      Instead, he saw nothing.

      “Where are you?”

      Something seemed to waver at the right side of his vision, but when he looked for it, it was gone.

      “Show yourself!” He whipped his knife back and forth, hoping he might catch her if she was too slow. “Come out and fight me!”

      She did as he commanded. As soon as she crashed into him, he could see her. She sent him sprawling to the ground with the force of her blow, while she danced away and adopted a loose boxer’s stance.

      She grinned down at him, a naked taunt.

      “Aw, gee, did you fall down?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “Should I call for a nurse?”

      The heat in his blood had turned into a boil, and he let it take him over. By the time he had leapt to his feet, he could feel every single one of his muscles bulging outward, surging with inhuman power. Now his time had come.

      “I will tear you to pieces, you little bitch.”

      “Are you sure your Wolf daddy would be happy about that?” Her eyes were alight with glee. “I get the impression he wants me around a little longer.”

      “Accidents happen,” he responded, a calculating smile spreading over his face. “Sometimes, one must take a risk.”

      With that, he launched himself at her, propelling his bulk forward with all the strength he had. Unfortunately for him, he sacrificed speed for strength. She slipped out of his grasp just as he thought he had her.

      But she didn’t go far. Whipping around at the last moment, she aimed a flying kick and hit him square in the ribs, sending him backward. He worked to regain his balance and glared at her.

      “Perhaps you are stronger than you look,” he muttered. “It will not matter, in the end.”

      He lunged at her again, and again, he missed. This time, she delivered several hard jabs straight to his solar plexus, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Before he had time to recover, she whipped around behind him and kicked out both of his knees, sending him down.

      She grabbed hold of his hair and pulled back, exposing his neck. One forearm settled behind while the other wrapped around the front of his throat, pressing into his windpipe and locking him down. Just like that, she’d overpowered him.

      “You are a short thing, to be so strong,” he grumbled, forcing the words out around strangled gasps for air.

      “Not sure those two correlate the way you think they do,” she answered, tightening her grip. He placed his hands on her arm and started to tug, though he could feel his strength waning rapidly.

      “Will you kill me, shadow summoner? I can feel how much you want to.”

      “You don’t know what I feel. You don’t know anything about me.”

      “But the Wolf does,” he muttered, barely pushing the words past his lips. “He sees your potential…for violence. He knows how…far you could go. Why…why don’t you give in…as you have before?”

      He felt her grip tighten. Good. Perhaps his Master would prove right about her, after all.

      “Do it,” he hissed. His own fingers were beginning to slacken. “I know you want to.”

      To his surprise, he felt her arm begin to release. Was she letting him go?

      Before he had the chance to answer himself, he saw the bundle in the armchair, several feet in front of him, get to its feet and throw off the blanket.

      “That’s quite enough, I think,” said the figure. It raised a funny-looking gun at him and pulled the trigger.

      He had just enough time to recognize his sense of disappointment before the world went black.

Find out what happens next in Shadow of the Wolf.

Book 3 in the Choronzon Chronicles is finally ready!

*insert overwrought voice-over*

It’s been a long road...getting from there to here.

It’s been a long road. It’s been a journey. Things have changed, things are happening.

But Book 3 is finally here. (And as long as we’re celebrating: I’ve also got over 15,000 words in the outline for book 4!) Honestly, it’s been a pretty surreal experience to spend my last few weeks with my head forcibly buried in the sand as I focused on getting everything ready for this book’s release (final edits, reviewing cover art, contacting formatters, grabbing some new Instagram-images and lining up ads, etc.) while the country still feels like it’s deep in the throes of apocalypse. I mean, all our private plans have been put on indefinite hold. My partner and I originally had 3 different weddings to go to this year before that got thrown out the window. A few friends held remote birthday parties over zoom, but I declined to do anything for my own. As it turned out, my birthday fell right in the middle of the smoke period of apocalypse--I do live on the west coast, so my birthday was literally spent entirely indoors, afraid to open the windows and ruin my lungs. And we haven’t seen most of our friends in weeks, if not months.

In general, it just feels like the future has been put on hold. But not for the book.

As the release date gets closer, I’ve just been focusing in more and more. Which means that it feels like I spend half my time keeping track of the apocalypse, and half of it pretending it’s not happening as I try to ramp up my instagram posts and get everything else ready for the upcoming day-of-commerce.

And then a minor catastrophe happened this past week. My formatter missed their due date. When I contacted them, they did manage to get me the ebook format right away--but not the print version. One day passed, then another. I started emailing them every day, my internal anxiety chronometer slowly rising as the announcement email I’d already put in place crept closer. Eventually I pushed the email back by a day, took a breath and reminded myself that at least the ebook was (mostly) ready. Then after 3 unanswered emails and ten days past the original due date, I decided I needed a backup plan and stayed up until 1:30am testing out different software and website options to format it myself. I actually *had* to try all the different options out, as one thing or another kept eliminating the option I was looking at. But, to my great relief, I finally found one that seemed to work. It had some issues, though. For starters, its knowledge base was dense, and there were no video tutorials available on the site. Still, after one semi-successful attempt, followed by 3 failed ones, I finally got myself a mostly workable version--apart from the fact that the indents at the beginning of every paragraph were way, way too wide on the page. Still, I did manage to figure out how to fix that issue, and I tested that fix on the first chapter, and it worked! But by then, it was 1:30am and implementing the entire fix was going to take some time. So, I decided to go to sleep and finish it all up in the morning, when I’d have a little more energy and would probably be better at catching mistakes.

The next day, I woke up to an email from my formatters. They’d finally sent me the print version.

It me.

Oh, the trials and tribulations of indie publishing. Honestly, I must be having a high-mood month because I’m not even bothered. I’m just glad I’ve got the print version, now. And because my cover artist is amazing, the wrap-around print version of the cover is already here, which means the print version is fully on schedule for the release this week.

And book 4 is already in the works, too! I’ve still got a lot to do to get ready for the release, but once that’s all good to go, I might re-start my writing blog. Or maybe I’ll do a video blog instead? I haven’t quite decided. I might try out both and see which is easier. We shall see! Either way, I’ll announce it here. Even if it is a video blog, I might still post blog links with the video embedded. Again, it depends on the workload involved.

Anyway, that’s pretty much all I’ve got for now. Book 3 of the Choronzon Chronicles is on its way! And now, here’s your teaser:

Choronzon Chronicles Book 3:

Shadow of the Wolf

A potent artifact. A diabolical nemesis. Will a half-demon detective’s determined pursuit usher in the apocalypse?

H.C. Logan is still haunted by the pain of her abuse-riddled childhood. And the powerful relic embedded in her back won’t let her rest, as it drives her to chase down threats striking at the innocent. But she recklessly ignores its persistent visions when she uncovers an opportunity to ambush her bitter enemy.

Lured by an unrelenting premonition, Logan’s ploy backfires spectacularly, unleashing mayhem. And as the minutes melt away, the hunter has become the hunted…

Can Logan break free of her foe’s deadly clutches, or will she burn in the flames of the Abyss?

Shadow of the Wolf is the third book in the electrifying Choronzon Chronicles dark urban fantasy series. If you like kick-butt heroines, original lore, and diverse sexualities, then you’ll love Tess Adair’s fast-paced adventure.

Pre-order Shadow of the Wolf to strike down evil today!

I don’t really know how to start writing about the last few months. I guess a lot of people feel that way. There’s an urge to try to be universal, but I don’t think that’s something I can do. I have to start with the personal. Which, for me, means I have to start a little bit earlier than quarantine.

Well, if you’ve been following this blog, you know this part: over a year ago, I started keeping a blog chronicling the process of writing book 3 in my series the Choronzon Chronicles. I tried to update the actual log every day, but it was usually more like once a week. At the end of every week, I would sit down and write a summary of each day that week. And then I’d post the summaries a few weeks in arrears. I kept this up with decent consistency through January, when...my life just sorta turned upside down for a while.

I wish I could explain it in more detail, but doing that would involve airing other people’s dirty laundry, which I don’t think is the right thing to do in this case. Instead, I’ll summarize: there have been some very serious health issues in my immediate family, as well as some attendant trauma and, for lack of a better term, dramatics. I am...dealing with it, but it has been exhausting.

And, uh, I don’t even have to say the next part, do I? The whole damn country I live in fell apart shortly after that. (Note: obviously the whole world is struggling, but it’s an undeniable fact that the United States’ federal government has absolutely failed its people during this crisis.) And my family drama did not end--it still hasn’t (though it seems to be on pause for the moment--which even as I type this, I have no fucking idea how long that’s gonna last.)

In short, I’ve been exhausted for a very, very long time. In short, the novel that I thought I’d be wrapping up in March or April is still not quite done. In short, I feel like I’m behind on everything.

The good news: the first draft of the novel is long done, as well as my own two rounds of editing. This week, I finished addressing the notes from my beta reader, aka my partner, and I sent the manuscript along to my final editor. I’m hopeful for a fall release...which is not a summer release like I’d once planned, but at least it’s still a 2020 release.

So, where does that leave this blog? Honestly, I’m not sure. The past few months, I decided to forgo updating the blog in favor of putting what little energy I have into the actual book. I wish I could say that all the terrible things are behind me, and now I can get back to regularly updating this blog...but I can’t. The terrible things are not behind us. While many countries around the world are either reopening or on the verge of it, mine is starting to shut back down in the wake of a catastrophic rise in cases. And my family’s struggles are only momentarily muted; I am in a constant state of waiting for the next shoe to drop. Maintaining any amount of mental or physical energy is difficult right now, and at best, I’m doing it inconsistently.

My partner and I did attend a BLM protest march a few weeks ago, and I’ve been trying to use my limited Instagram reach to support the protest movement as much as I can. We happen to live in a city that offered free Covid tests for protestors, so we both got tested, and our results came back negative. Of course, no sooner had we gotten those results than a new wave started in our city (due to a frat party, not a protest.) So...back into lockdown we went. (Honestly, we hadn’t really left.)

What I am doing is trying to maintain a fairly regular exercise schedule. Along with my indoor workouts, I’m trying to go on a walk (wearing a mask) at least once a week...which is largely because I had a day where I realized I had not stepped outside in two weeks. I’ve started an incredibly feeble attempt at gardening, too--again, to increase my time outdoors in a socially distant way. And I’m starting, in bits and pieces, to get ready for book 3’s release. She’s been sent to the editor and the cover artist has been contacted. Next up are the copy writers. After that, the ramp-up campaign.

What I feel is anxious. And tired. And uncertain. And for all that, privileged. I’m privileged to have a place to live. Privileged to live with a wonderful, caring partner, and privileged that we haven’t tried each other’s patience too much. Privileged to have a beautiful cat to entertain and annoy me. Privileged to have the expendable income that’s allowed me to pursue a new creative outlet in drip-pour art. And privileged to have enough mental health to finish book 3, however slowly it happened.

And on that note, I can’t wait to see this book’s cover art and share it with all of you! In the meantime, I’ll have to be content to share the photos from my regular daily walks.

Sassy therapy kitty.

Quick Update: in the week it took me to finalize this post, a tree fell on my dad’s house! His car and the back deck were destroyed, but fortunately, no one was hurt. Gratitude for the small things.

There’s an art in my neighborhood.

I moved! New bedroom!

New workspace!

Baked brie and veggie bacon brunch.

New living room!

No comment.

My model, helping me experiment with lighting.

Hope in bits and pieces, maybe.

There’s a gorgeous pagoda roof in my neighborhood, too.

Flowers on my walk.

Perhaps the prettiest tiny library I’ve ever seen.

I made the whipped coffee of the interwebs.

Emptied freeways.

Me and my arrow.

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then go ahead and click RIGHT HERE to sign up for my email list!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner. 

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION: Hello there! I’m Tess, a writer of dark urban fantasy stories, and you’re about to read an experiment of mine. The experiment is to see how long I can keep a decent log of my writing life as I write the first draft of my third book--and to see whether that log has any entertainment value. You could think of it like a captain’s log...but it’s almost definitely less exciting. Hope you enjoy!

11/25/2019

982

Sunday was, expectedly, a family day. My mom made us a lovely brunch, then my partner took a nap while I went to visit with my dad, and one of his friends whom I hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was nice to see him again, especially since, given how infrequently I come back here, I wasn’t sure I ever would. And I’ve always felt he was a really good influence on my dad. My dad is one of those guys who’s pretty self-assured of his intelligence and superiority--and this particular friend has always been ready and willing to challenge him, which I think brings out the best in both of them.

Then I closed out the day with mom, my partner, my brother, and his partner. We all went to Garden Glow at the Missouri Botanical Gardens--which is an absolutely wonderful light show at one of the coolest places in St. Louis. PICTURES HERE!

After that, we got Imo’s Pizza for dinner, which is the best pizza in the whole world DO NOT AT ME.

Then at 3am my dad woke me up to tell me he’s going back to the hospital. The extra bummer here is that I was going to take my dad to renew his license this week--it expired in June and he only had until December 12 to renew it without having to take all the tests over again.

So, since I wasn’t taking Dad in to renew his license anymore...I did some writing. And watched some TV with my mom, of course.

11/27/2019

717

On Tuesday, went on a walk with Mom and partner and did some yoga. I had some odd soreness in my pectoral muscles--possibly from the plane, or sleeping on a different bed, or possibly from using my mom’s leaf blower in the yard without stretching. So anyway, did a bunch of yoga and felt better. Then had my mom watch the ENTIRE series of Fleabag, because I think it’s one of the best shows I’ve ever seen.

Then the partner and I drove way down south to visit with one of my high school buddies--one of the few still here in St. Louis. We try to do some kind of reunion every once in a while, but it’s tough with so many of us spread all over the country--so this year, it was just the two of us. And we had a good time! Got some Mexican food and watched Cabin in the Woods--shockingly, the first time I’ve re-watched that movie since my very first viewing, which is mainly shocking because I loved that movie when I saw it and I’ve always meant to watch it again but just never have.

(vague spoilers for Cabin in the Woods ahead)

In case I have somehow avoided making this clear in this log...I love Joss Whedon, problematic fave-ness and all. I just love his writing, always have and always will. Buffy is pretty much my very favorite thing. And Cabin in the Woods, written by Whedon, is no exception. Damn, that is a well-written movie. But I can also maybe see why I didn’t go back to it--it’s a satire of horror movies, but it’s also itself a horror movie. And in typical Whedon style, he really makes you love the characters before they get brutally murdered--so even though the movie is both fun and funny, it can be a bit of a tough watch. Every time, I know I’m gonna fall in love with these smart, funny characters...only to watch them die. But that is, of course, the point. Whedon partly wrote the story because he hates the idea of “disposable” people, which is an idea that crops up in a lot of horror movies. He doesn’t want you to see these characters as disposable. He wants their deaths to hurt you. And, for me, he succeeds.

I have thought about trying to make myself write some outright horror, if for no other reason than to get myself more accustomed to writing character deaths. It’s a necessary skill for a writer, and it’s something I still struggle with. Of course, like Whedon, I don’t think anyone should feel disposable. But it makes it so hard to kill them off, doesn’t it?

So, anyway, that was yesterday. And today I worked on the finale some more! I think it’s coming along rather nicely, though I did have to go back and clean up some details.

Finales are fun.

End of Thanksgiving week. Not sure I really want to punish myself by adding the sad week total. It wasn’t really a work week, anyway.

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then go ahead and click RIGHT HERE to sign up for my email list!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner. 

This is my mom, taking a picture of me, taking a picture of her.

By Tess Adair

I realize this has been an overused meme/truism for at least four years running, but it is my *TRUTH* and I must say it: 2019 was a trash fucking year for me.

Now, to be clear, when I say this, I don’t mean that ALL of 2019 was bad. A lot of it was good to pretty good. It’s just that the bad of 2019 was so astronomically bad that I will be eking out my life in the Fallout-like remains of it for years to come.

That being said, I actually don’t love spending my time being over-the-top negative. As I am no longer 19, I have moved past the obligatory Ayn Rand-ian hyper selfishness and cynicism of adolescence, and I want to direct my energies elsewhere. (Ok, in reality, my big teenage phase was definitely communism and I WILL NEVER GROW OUT OF IT but you get my point.)

So, 2019, trash that it is, is about to get some love from me. It’s good to remind yourself of what you’re thankful for, in the same way that it’s good to meditate--these are positive practices for our brains that help us develop the tools to create happiness and balance within ourselves. And besides that, the bad does not cancel out the good, and it’s the good that deserves to be preserved and remembered--preferably in list form on some rando’s blog somewhere. In that vein, the following is a list of things that helped me survive this past year, for which and to whom I am eternally grateful.

This list is mostly about Lizzo.

#1 - Truth Hurts by Lizzo

I don’t think this was the first Lizzo song I heard, but I do think it was the first Lizzo music video I saw. And it blew me away and changed my life. If you haven’t seen it, here it is:

It’s hard to put into words what I felt the first time I saw this music video. To borrow a phrase, here was a woman owning her own power in such a genuine, free-spirited way that was at once relatable and inspirational, and damn clever and entertaining to boot. This song is such a fist-pump of triumph over everyone who has ever failed to respect or appreciate you. It’s that moment when someone wrongs you or pisses you off that one FINAL time, and you are just DONE with it. Done, and happy, at last, to be done. It is the song of victory that plays during the moment you realize that you are so better off without them, they may no longer even be a footnote in the history of your life.

The crazy thing about how much I related to this song is...I’m currently in a happy, stable relationship with the love of my life, so I’m not really feeling terribly vengeful about any exes or anything. But, like...this song is kind of how I feel about 2019? Like, I knew early on that this was going to be a crap year, and this song was sort of my reminder that all I had to do was get through it, and then I’d get to move on and forget all about it.

Just like I’ve already done with all my exes, and everyone else I’ve ever had to push out of my life. Bling bling then I solve ‘em, that’s the goddess in me.

Also, just, the aesthetic of this video is GORGEOUS. It briefly convinced me that I should get married in lingerie, until I remembered that one is typically expected to invite one’s parents to the wedding.

#2 - Cardio, baby

Cardio is that ride-or-die bitch who’s with me through it all. Cardio is there when I’m happy and ready to move because the spirit moves me to move, and cardio is there when all I want to do is crawl back into my shell and wait for the apocalypse.

And you KNOW cardio is better with Lizzo in your ears. Do I even have to say it?

#3 - Water Me by Lizzo

I came to ‘Water Me’ late in the year, when the Lizzo infection in me blossomed into an epidemic. And now the sound of my triumph is: “I don’t get dehydrated, I moisturize a-daily, I am my inspiration, I AM MY INSPIRATION!” You can hear me singing it to myself on the rare days I wake up in a good mood, or if I’m refilling the water bowl for the cat or for myself, or when I apply lotion or oil to my face or body, or when I’m in the shower.

It’s also perfect for that halfway point in the cardio, when you feel like you’re about ready to give up--and then BOOM this song gives you a second wind. RUN FASTER, BE YOUR INSPIRATION!

#4 - Tempo by Lizzo

THIS was the song that really got me on my feet. FUCK IT UP TO THE TEMPO. When I heard this one, I finally knew for sure that Lizzo was speaking for me.

I did say that this list would be *mostly* about Lizzo, not *entirely* about Lizzo, and in that vein, we will switch gears for a brief moment here and talk about...

#5 - Contrapoints (by Lizz...oh, wait)

So, recognizing that I may be about to call down the Twitter Horde to come beat me to death in the street...I love Natalie Wynn and her youtube channel, Contrapoints. Did I discover her channel in 2019? No. But did her channel come to mean even more to me than ever before in 2019? Absolutely.

If you’ve never heard of Contrapoints before, I’ll just give you a brief summary of the channel and the woman who runs it. Natalie Wynn is a former Philosophy PHD student who left academia after becoming disillusioned with it, and eventually brought her considerable education and thoughtful commentary to youtube, where she makes videos about topics ranging from free speech to incels, from beauty to gender dysphoria. Her takes are always nuanced and thoughtful, and her videos frequently run over half an hour long in order to incorporate as much relevant information as possible, which usually includes summarizing opposing viewpoints on a given issue (often a controversial issue, often controversial views) and interrogating them.

I’m already politically aligned with Wynn and her content, but she has a pretty serious reputation for being someone who “de-radicalizes” young men who’ve been lured in by the false promises of the alt-right. This Vice video does a pretty good job summarizing her well-earned rep.

I. LOVE. HER. SHIT. Of course, I have to go ahead and say it...I also love her aesthetic. So, I’m gonna link the video where I love her aesthetic the MOST. It’s called ‘The Darkness’ because of COURSE it is:

#6 - My Mom and my Partner

I love my mommy. It’s been a pretty tough year for my family, but my mom has been this unbreakable rock working to keep all our heads above water, all while trying to prepare for her own retirement (which, as of this writing, has finally begun!) She is strong, she is smart, she is my role model. I can never repay her for everything she has done for me, and lucky for me, she would never ask me to. Love you, Mommy.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my other rock here: my partner, Dozie. Don’t wanna get too mushy, so I’ll just say that my standards are pretty high, and he leaps over all of them. He supports me in everything, he makes me laugh, and he makes my life both easier and better. He is my shelter from the storm. Love.

#7 - True Bud(s)

First of all, this is a weed joke. Please clap.

Second, I’m almost full-up on mush but I should say: I love my buds! This year featured a FANTASTIC trip to Miami for one of my best friend’s birthdays--financed entirely by her super gracious parents, this essentially served as a mini high school reunion, as they flew out both me and our other BFF from high school. And since exactly NONE of the three of us live in St. Louis anymore (and I’m the only one whose parents still live there) this was kinda extra-great because it is increasingly difficult to get the 3 of us in the same place. Plus, it was an unexpected throw-back--the three of us went on a cruise right after high school graduation that took off from Miami, which is literally the only other time I’ve ever been to Miami.

Aaaand since I am desperately trying to keep this post as light as possible, I’m just going to briefly shout out to far too many of my friends who had a shit time this year: I love you, and I am looking forward to a brighter future for all of us.

May we all meet in the remains of Miami 10 years into the apocalypse and wonder how there was ever a city there at all.

#8 - Boys

BOYYYYYYS!

Here is my face every time Lizzo sings “boyyyys”

And here’s the video. Nuff said.

#9 - Lizzo, by Lizzo

Other Lizzo highlights of my year include, but are not limited to: her tiny desk concert on youtube, an ear-blastingly awesome Laser Lizzo show at the Pacific Science Center, and the following (cut for time, REALLY?) clip from Saturday Night Live:

I just really appreciate SNL, with MVP Lizzo, trying desperately to save the game that was 2019 in the final hour, little knowing that it was already lost. RIP, 2019.

So here’s to a 2020 of embracing our collective raw sexual power. And always remember: don’t burn the ass at both ends!

Oh nooooo I shot the moon editing this, Lizzo no longer sounds like a name or a word or even human speech to me. Dammit SHE WAS ALL I HAD.

HAPPY 2020!!

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then go ahead and click RIGHT HERE to sign up for my email list!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner. 

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION: Hello there! I’m Tess, a writer of dark urban fantasy stories, and you’re about to read an experiment of mine. The experiment is to see how long I can keep a decent log of my writing life as I write the first draft of my third book--and to see whether that log has any entertainment value. You could think of it like a captain’s log...but it’s almost definitely less exciting. Hope you enjoy!

11/19/2019

903

Well, this wasn’t a good day for a while there. But I’m doing important edits again. Shaping up the ending a little better. Who knew writing a torture scene could be torturous? The irony.

But then I pulled another 300 words out of who-knows-where. Das fine with me.

In other news...this has been another difficult week due to family drama. I’m so stressed out, I’ve been clenching my fist in my sleep...or occasionally crushing my hand beneath my face, somehow, resulting in arthritis-like pain in my left (and dominant) hand. Which is just *great* in the lead-up to Thanksgiving. Next week, I’ll get to deal with all the drama in-person! Won’t that be fun?

For serious, though, we gotta fix this country’s medical system. I swear it’s got more problems than solutions.

An unusual house in winter.

11/21/2019

703

Spent an hour and a half on the phone with my dad today, trying to help him through his medical issues, and a few other things. There’s been an increasing amount of tension between him and my brother lately. And he’s pretty depressed over his continuing illnesses, which include needing to spend 4 hours a day 3 times a week in a chair for dialysis. It’s a bummer for him, because now that he’s finally retired, he really wanted to be able to do something with his time...but then he had to go on dialysis, and now that sucks up a lot of time and energy from him. And, like I mentioned in my Tuesday log, this country’s medical system sucks. It has been RIDICULOUSLY hard to get clear answers on some of his issues, and even harder to try to get him in to see new doctors. And living half a country away doesn’t make it easy for me to help him.

So, anyway...got a pretty late start on writing. Since I’m going on a plane on Saturday, I wanted to make sure I got a really good workout in today, to give my body the best chance possible at avoiding some plane-related soreness. And I think I achieved the best workout I could! Also stretched out my semi-injured left hand a bunch.

And then I stayed up until like 12:30 to get a word count in. And I’m glad I did it. SLEEP BE DAMNED.

11/22/2019

634

Damn straight for a Friday! The partner and I are leaving for St. Louis tomorrow, and I have a few reasons (see above) to suspect that our time there will be less than restful, so I definitely want to see my buddies before we go. So, now we’re headed over to their place for some breakfast for dinner! Waffles and eggy casserole, wahoo!

Edit: and we watched The Mighty Boosh. I really enjoy weird as fuck television.

11/23/2019

1264

A study in blue.

All done on the plane! And then I got very, very tired. Our flight wasn’t until 6pm, so we had a lovely slow day and stopped by our favorite neighborhood cafe on the way to the Link, which is Seattle’s subway system and our preferred method of getting to the airport (generally no traffic to deal with on the train.) Picked up dinner in the airport since we won’t get into St. Louis until midnight: a shared tomato and mozzarella sandwich from Starbucks, and a shared fried fish sandwich from the Seatac fish place right next to Starbucks.

I’ve never had much luck writing on planes, though I’m not sure why. In the past, it may have been because my laptops have been so bulky that it was difficult to use them on the teeny tiny table you have (if you don’t travel first class, which I don’t. #fuckclassism.) But my current laptop, though annoyingly slow, is actually small enough to use on one of those tables. So I deliberately under-packed my entertainment, and I gave it a shot.

Well, I can easily say this is the most successful I’ve ever been at writing on a plane. And I’m actually writing the climax now! I’m pretty excited about it--even though I have realized that there’s a really early scene I need to go back and finish. But that’s okay! Climax AWAY!!!

Weekly total: 4546

Surplus: 546

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then go ahead and click RIGHT HERE to sign up for my email list!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner. 

This is my brother and his girlfriend. And some lights.

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION: Hello there! I’m Tess, a writer of dark urban fantasy stories, and you’re about to read an experiment of mine. The experiment is to see how long I can keep a decent log of my writing life as I write the first draft of my third book--and to see whether that log has any entertainment value. You could think of it like a captain’s log...but it’s almost definitely less exciting. Hope you enjoy!

11/10/2019

1326

Decent Sunday, all things considered. I wasn’t sure I’d pull a second big word count day, but here we are. Probably not gonna reach for another 5K week this week though, because I do have some cleaning/editing/re-working to do so I can make my finale work. And, of course, I’m having the usual complete-existential-break-down worrying about whether I should just go back and change everything because everything I’ve written so far is terrible and my finale will be terrible and I should probably just quit now.

It’ll pass. And then it’ll come again. And then it’ll pass again. On and on until world’s end.

11/12/2019

I’m not recording a word count for today, mainly because my actual word count does not accurately represent the work I did. I spent today editing/re-writing a pivotal scene in a pivotal way, and though the work was intensive and involved the writing of many new words...it also involved the deleting of many words, which Scrivener subtracts from your recorded total. And that’s okay. I knew I’d have to re-write this scene sooner or later, and that would mean a low-count day. So, that day is today.

Don’t want to bring anybody down, but I do want to be candid, so...dealing with some depression today. Not world-ending, but...just a little shitty. That’s all. I feel like it’s important to remember that everything comes and goes, including low moods.

Getting in our outside time…even though it’s kinda raining.

11/14/2019

1047

I finished up the re-write today, and I gotta say, I think it’s great. A millions times an improvement over my first pass at it. It’s crazy what an affect changing a few little things can have. I basically started by re-arranging the scene, and the rest of the changes flowed naturally from there--but they genuinely amp up the tension and release of the scene, and it just makes everything so much more impactful and emotionally resonant--or, at least, so I hope. Maybe it won’t translate for anybody in the world but me. Who knows?

Actually got a word count out of it today, too. And I did a touch of cleanup on an additional scene, and set up a part of another one. I can feel it all coming together at last! THE SHAPE OF MY DREAMS IS MADE MANIFEST.

Why, yes, sometimes I do imagine myself as a Frankenstein-esque mad scientist, working to bend the world to my will. Why do you ask?

Winter is coming! Not pictured: winter in Seattle.

11/16/2019

537

Ehhhh it’s fine. It’s fine. This is fine. No, really, it’s fine. Not the number count I wanted for the week, but...that’s what happens when you lose a day to revisions sometimes. Plus, I didn’t get ANY word count on Friday, because I went with my roommate to the gym for 2 hours instead. So, no word count, but DAMN my body felt good about that. Naturally, I followed it up with pizza, because YOU GOTTA LIVE SOMETIMES.

Today, had a friend over to watch the documentary “The Queens,” which follows drag queens Jynx Monsoon, Sharon Needles, Katya, and Alaska Thunderfuck. Overall, it was a pretty good documentary...although I don’t entirely understand why it focused solely on white drag queens, when traditionally the drag scene is actually pretty racially diverse (edit: and the 80s ballroom drag scene was predominantly powered by POC, etc.) Still, it was a fun watch. I love me some Katya. She’s the exact kind of human dump truck who’s finally lost contact with reality who really speaks for ME, ya know?

Sad, sad weekly total: 2,910

Damn, if I’d written 90 more words, I coulda cracked 3K. Ah well. With the surplus from last week, we’re still keeping an average of 4K a week, so not too bad.

11/17/2019

1042

So, Thanksgiving is in a week, and the partner and I went shopping down in Pike’s Place today to bring some treats back to Saint Louis for my mommy. It was a...shockingly quick and easy experience, apart from some rough moments on the bus ride down...which made me insist we Lyft back. There’s only so much public drunkenness from rude strangers that I can take in one day.

Also, ate part of a donut after having almost no sugar all week thanks to my current inflammation-conscious diet. And I was so overwhelmed by it that I gave the rest of it to my roommate...and went into a 15-minute coma. Guys, I don’t think sugar is good for us.

Then I went and wrote 1000 words. We’re almost in the end-zone here. Well...if I’m right about what “end-zone” means. Sports are dumb.

-Tess

Hey, thanks for reading! If you’re new here, and you’d like to hear updates on my writing, including these blog posts and my ongoing novel series, The Choronzon Chronicles, then go ahead and click RIGHT HERE to sign up for my email list!

Alternately, if you’ve never heard of The Choronzon Chronicles before, but you think you might check it out, you can find the first book right here: Shadow Summoner. 

This is technically a preview of next week. Because I didn’t have enough pics for this week again!