Jenna Moquin's Blog
January 8, 2026
Re-reading the story
Years ago, a friend of mine asked me to read and critique a novel she’d written, and I happily agreed. About a year later, the same friend approached me and asked for another critique of the same story that she had revised, and I was hesitant.
Would I be able to give her a proper critique for a story I’d already read? I was worried, but agreed to do it. And it was a strange experience, re-reading a story that had changed.
Between certain characters dying and new plot points, and a different ending, she had changed a lot in the story. The characters weren’t doing the things I expected, and changing course made everything change for the story, and it just felt… wrong, somehow. It was like I kept waiting for the original story to surface, and it never did. That experience made me realize that re-reading a revised story isn’t really re-reading at all—it’s encountering a different version of something that already lived rent-free inside of me.
I’ve re-read books before; some of my favorite re-reads were The House on Haunted Hill by Shirley Jackson and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I’ve also technically read Stephen King’s The Stand twice, having read the originally released version and the unabridged one years later. Aside from the additions in The Stand, these stories hadn’t changed, so re-reading them was like binge-watching a favorite show. Reading the unabridged version of The Stand was like watching the extended cuts in movies. Even with the expanded scenes, epilogue, and additional characters, the gist of the story was basically the same.
Re-reading a favorite book years later, a book that hasn’t been revised or changed, is actually a great experience. You catch things you didn’t notice on the first read; knowing the ending makes it easier to find the Easter eggs the author left in the pages, and it’s a lot of fun.
But re-reading a story that’s been revised is a strange experience. It’s interesting to notice the changes made, although sometimes you don’t like them, and it effectively changes your experience with the story. It was tough to admit to my friend that I didn’t really enjoy the revisions she’d made, but I stressed that it was only because the original story had a place in my heart, and the changes were much like the changes made in a movie adaptation. The first time you experience a story is sublime, only to you, and trying to morph it in some way makes a dent in the sacred place the tale holds in your heart. Any changes to it can feel somewhat wrong, even if the changes make sense for the big screen, and they typically do.
Perhaps this is why, when I read the book before seeing the movie, I prefer the book, but if I happen to see a movie that was adapted from a novel, and then read it afterward, I tend to prefer the movie. Because it’s the first time I’ve experienced the story.
I think asking someone for a second critique after multiple revisions can give the writer a mixed bag of suggestions, and it’s not always a great way to get an impartial critique. A fresh set of eyes on the revised manuscript can produce better results.
However, it is a great way to get a comparison on whether the changes made were the right way to go. Sometimes, as authors, we over-write our novels, which can be a mistake if we end up changing something that worked really well before. So, there are advantages to having someone re-critique a story after revisions, because the changes may not be the best course. Sometimes the hardest revision lesson is learning which parts of the story never needed changing at all.
Would I be able to give her a proper critique for a story I’d already read? I was worried, but agreed to do it. And it was a strange experience, re-reading a story that had changed.
Between certain characters dying and new plot points, and a different ending, she had changed a lot in the story. The characters weren’t doing the things I expected, and changing course made everything change for the story, and it just felt… wrong, somehow. It was like I kept waiting for the original story to surface, and it never did. That experience made me realize that re-reading a revised story isn’t really re-reading at all—it’s encountering a different version of something that already lived rent-free inside of me.
I’ve re-read books before; some of my favorite re-reads were The House on Haunted Hill by Shirley Jackson and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I’ve also technically read Stephen King’s The Stand twice, having read the originally released version and the unabridged one years later. Aside from the additions in The Stand, these stories hadn’t changed, so re-reading them was like binge-watching a favorite show. Reading the unabridged version of The Stand was like watching the extended cuts in movies. Even with the expanded scenes, epilogue, and additional characters, the gist of the story was basically the same.
Re-reading a favorite book years later, a book that hasn’t been revised or changed, is actually a great experience. You catch things you didn’t notice on the first read; knowing the ending makes it easier to find the Easter eggs the author left in the pages, and it’s a lot of fun.
But re-reading a story that’s been revised is a strange experience. It’s interesting to notice the changes made, although sometimes you don’t like them, and it effectively changes your experience with the story. It was tough to admit to my friend that I didn’t really enjoy the revisions she’d made, but I stressed that it was only because the original story had a place in my heart, and the changes were much like the changes made in a movie adaptation. The first time you experience a story is sublime, only to you, and trying to morph it in some way makes a dent in the sacred place the tale holds in your heart. Any changes to it can feel somewhat wrong, even if the changes make sense for the big screen, and they typically do.
Perhaps this is why, when I read the book before seeing the movie, I prefer the book, but if I happen to see a movie that was adapted from a novel, and then read it afterward, I tend to prefer the movie. Because it’s the first time I’ve experienced the story.
I think asking someone for a second critique after multiple revisions can give the writer a mixed bag of suggestions, and it’s not always a great way to get an impartial critique. A fresh set of eyes on the revised manuscript can produce better results.
However, it is a great way to get a comparison on whether the changes made were the right way to go. Sometimes, as authors, we over-write our novels, which can be a mistake if we end up changing something that worked really well before. So, there are advantages to having someone re-critique a story after revisions, because the changes may not be the best course. Sometimes the hardest revision lesson is learning which parts of the story never needed changing at all.
December 26, 2025
The Cruelest Christmas
I wrote a little holiday novella called The Cruelest Christmas. It was somewhat inspired by The Help, as the worst character in that book, Miss Hilly Holbrook, reminded me of someone I used to work for. She had a lot of power in that company, and made my life miserable. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people with power who shouldn't have it because they're terrible people.
Her management style toward the high-volume team I was on, was akin to someone sitting on a lifeboat watching people drown, and instead of jumping in to help them swim, tells us how badly we're doing the breaststroke. And if you dared point out any errors on her part (which were vast), you were speaking to her disrespectfully, and there would be hell to pay in terms of project workload and hyper-criticism.
This woman, like Hilly Holbrook, was a narcissist. I know them all too well. My ex-husband was a narcissist, who also had a habit of gaslighting and manipulating me. It worked for a while because love is blind, but once the veil lifted, I saw what he was doing and it stopped working.
I think the reason there was friction between me and this woman is because I saw right through her. Someone who remembers every little thing, and can't be manipulated, is a toxic boss's worst nightmare.
The day I left that job I deleted her as a contact from my phone, and it's felt cleaner since. Writing this novella was a cathartic experience for me, and I can put that chapter of my life behind me.
Her management style toward the high-volume team I was on, was akin to someone sitting on a lifeboat watching people drown, and instead of jumping in to help them swim, tells us how badly we're doing the breaststroke. And if you dared point out any errors on her part (which were vast), you were speaking to her disrespectfully, and there would be hell to pay in terms of project workload and hyper-criticism.
This woman, like Hilly Holbrook, was a narcissist. I know them all too well. My ex-husband was a narcissist, who also had a habit of gaslighting and manipulating me. It worked for a while because love is blind, but once the veil lifted, I saw what he was doing and it stopped working.
I think the reason there was friction between me and this woman is because I saw right through her. Someone who remembers every little thing, and can't be manipulated, is a toxic boss's worst nightmare.
The day I left that job I deleted her as a contact from my phone, and it's felt cleaner since. Writing this novella was a cathartic experience for me, and I can put that chapter of my life behind me.
December 24, 2025
The Holidays
When I was younger, I loved Christmas. It was my second favorite holiday (Halloween being the first), and I looked forward to the holiday season every year starting with Halloween.
The reason Christmas was so magical for me, the same reason it is for most kids, is that my parents made it magical. They decorated the house beautifully, and made it festive throughout the season. They hosted Thanksgiving with delicious food, and our tradition was to put up the Christmas tree and start decorating the house the day after Thanksgiving. We had candle lights in every window, to make sure Santa Claus would find our house, and I got excited to turn them on every night, just like my siblings. My brother, sister, and I would take turns (sometimes fighting) over who got to move the little mouse in our Advent calendar every day, counting down the days til Christmas.
My parents (mostly my mother, as it usually is) went all out on Christmas mornings. I held onto the belief that there was a real Santa Claus for as long as I could; I think I knew, in the back of my mind around age 7 or 8, that it couldn’t possibly be true. The apartment we lived in until I was 9 didn’t have a fireplace, so how could Santa get inside?
Having younger siblings helped me keep up the façade, since having children around you will always aid in believing in magic. But it was still fun, even when all three of us gave in and admitted we knew there was no such thing as Santa, and that it had been Mum and Dad all along.
Christmas began to lose its magic when I reached my mid-twenties, and I spent my first Christmas away from home in the apartment I rented with my boyfriend. We had just moved in together, and for our first Christmas, he got me a 3-foot bong.... A gift that was for him, not me. I felt very much like Marge on The Simpsons when Homer bought her a bowling ball, with his name on it.
I couldn’t tell my parents what he really bought me for Christmas, but of course, they wanted to know what my boyfriend got me, and I made something up. I think I said he got me a bunch of CDs or DVDs or something. But the fight we got into after that definitely made its mark, as he did much better for Christmases after. We even spent the night at my parents’ house on Christmas Eve a couple of times during our relationship, which eventually turned into a marriage that didn’t last.
My sister moved south and my brother followed soon after, and my parents flew down every year to spend Christmas with their grandchildren. The first Christmas I spent alone was the year after my husband and I divorced. And I didn’t mind it at all. I slept in, something I never got to do as a kid since my brother always woke us up at the crack of dawn. I ate delicious carbs and sweets and got drunk on wine watching holiday movies. I had fun opening the presents my mother stockpiled for me before flying south.
Over the next few years, I would occasionally spend this holiday alone. After my parents retired, they moved south and now live around the corner from my sister and not far from my brother. I’ve flown south a few times myself and it’s always nice to see my nieces and nephews; though now that they’ve grown older, they seem a bit less interested in hanging out with their auntie, and that’s okay.
Christmas is, in so many ways, a kid’s holiday, and once you lose the magic of being a child, Christmas can lose its magic, too.
Last Christmas was the worst one of my life. I flew down south, and was so excited to see my family. But the mood in the car when they picked me up was somber, and I couldn’t figure out why. Once we reached my sister’s house, my mother gave me the terrible news that my cousin Brian, only 47 years old, was found dead in his apartment. He was post-double-bypass, and the physician suspected it was a clot that took him.
I felt the world drop underneath me when she told me he died. I crumpled to a ball on the floor in tears, but didn’t want to upset my niece and locked myself into the bathroom, and took a shower, trying to wash the guilt away.
The guilt I felt over not checking in on him more, not calling or texting him more, not telling him enough how much I loved him, and how important he was to me. Why do we never appreciate something we have until it’s gone?
Grief is one of the worst emotions to deal with because it’s so unpredictable. The up and down feelings, the desperate need to go back to feeling like you felt before the terrible news and everything changed. We not only grieve the person we lost, but we grieve the person we were before this. Because I am not the same. There’s this austere seriousness in me that wasn’t there before December 22, 2024. Certain things that used to make me happy, silly, mundane things, just don’t do it for me anymore. The heavy feeling in my heart when it broke last year is still there, it’s just a bit dulled, easier to deal with every day.
So, this Christmas, I decided to stay put and lay low, not fly south and find myself getting triggered, reliving the darkest moment in my life when I stepped inside my sister’s kitchen and got the news about Brian. My family has been wonderful in understanding, and my mother and sister have shipped me a stockpile of gifts to open on Christmas.
I really do envy the people who love Christmas. I miss the magic it used to have—the kind that felt effortless and guaranteed.
But this year, I’m learning that it doesn’t have to look the same to still be meaningful. It can be quiet. It can be low-key. Maybe the magic comes back one day in a different form. Or maybe it doesn’t, and that’s okay, too. For now, I’m allowing myself to meet this Christmas where I am, not where I wish I were. And maybe that, in its own small way, is enough.
And maybe, just maybe, 2026 will be the greatest year of my life.
The reason Christmas was so magical for me, the same reason it is for most kids, is that my parents made it magical. They decorated the house beautifully, and made it festive throughout the season. They hosted Thanksgiving with delicious food, and our tradition was to put up the Christmas tree and start decorating the house the day after Thanksgiving. We had candle lights in every window, to make sure Santa Claus would find our house, and I got excited to turn them on every night, just like my siblings. My brother, sister, and I would take turns (sometimes fighting) over who got to move the little mouse in our Advent calendar every day, counting down the days til Christmas.
My parents (mostly my mother, as it usually is) went all out on Christmas mornings. I held onto the belief that there was a real Santa Claus for as long as I could; I think I knew, in the back of my mind around age 7 or 8, that it couldn’t possibly be true. The apartment we lived in until I was 9 didn’t have a fireplace, so how could Santa get inside?
Having younger siblings helped me keep up the façade, since having children around you will always aid in believing in magic. But it was still fun, even when all three of us gave in and admitted we knew there was no such thing as Santa, and that it had been Mum and Dad all along.
Christmas began to lose its magic when I reached my mid-twenties, and I spent my first Christmas away from home in the apartment I rented with my boyfriend. We had just moved in together, and for our first Christmas, he got me a 3-foot bong.... A gift that was for him, not me. I felt very much like Marge on The Simpsons when Homer bought her a bowling ball, with his name on it.
I couldn’t tell my parents what he really bought me for Christmas, but of course, they wanted to know what my boyfriend got me, and I made something up. I think I said he got me a bunch of CDs or DVDs or something. But the fight we got into after that definitely made its mark, as he did much better for Christmases after. We even spent the night at my parents’ house on Christmas Eve a couple of times during our relationship, which eventually turned into a marriage that didn’t last.
My sister moved south and my brother followed soon after, and my parents flew down every year to spend Christmas with their grandchildren. The first Christmas I spent alone was the year after my husband and I divorced. And I didn’t mind it at all. I slept in, something I never got to do as a kid since my brother always woke us up at the crack of dawn. I ate delicious carbs and sweets and got drunk on wine watching holiday movies. I had fun opening the presents my mother stockpiled for me before flying south.
Over the next few years, I would occasionally spend this holiday alone. After my parents retired, they moved south and now live around the corner from my sister and not far from my brother. I’ve flown south a few times myself and it’s always nice to see my nieces and nephews; though now that they’ve grown older, they seem a bit less interested in hanging out with their auntie, and that’s okay.
Christmas is, in so many ways, a kid’s holiday, and once you lose the magic of being a child, Christmas can lose its magic, too.
Last Christmas was the worst one of my life. I flew down south, and was so excited to see my family. But the mood in the car when they picked me up was somber, and I couldn’t figure out why. Once we reached my sister’s house, my mother gave me the terrible news that my cousin Brian, only 47 years old, was found dead in his apartment. He was post-double-bypass, and the physician suspected it was a clot that took him.
I felt the world drop underneath me when she told me he died. I crumpled to a ball on the floor in tears, but didn’t want to upset my niece and locked myself into the bathroom, and took a shower, trying to wash the guilt away.
The guilt I felt over not checking in on him more, not calling or texting him more, not telling him enough how much I loved him, and how important he was to me. Why do we never appreciate something we have until it’s gone?
Grief is one of the worst emotions to deal with because it’s so unpredictable. The up and down feelings, the desperate need to go back to feeling like you felt before the terrible news and everything changed. We not only grieve the person we lost, but we grieve the person we were before this. Because I am not the same. There’s this austere seriousness in me that wasn’t there before December 22, 2024. Certain things that used to make me happy, silly, mundane things, just don’t do it for me anymore. The heavy feeling in my heart when it broke last year is still there, it’s just a bit dulled, easier to deal with every day.
So, this Christmas, I decided to stay put and lay low, not fly south and find myself getting triggered, reliving the darkest moment in my life when I stepped inside my sister’s kitchen and got the news about Brian. My family has been wonderful in understanding, and my mother and sister have shipped me a stockpile of gifts to open on Christmas.
I really do envy the people who love Christmas. I miss the magic it used to have—the kind that felt effortless and guaranteed.
But this year, I’m learning that it doesn’t have to look the same to still be meaningful. It can be quiet. It can be low-key. Maybe the magic comes back one day in a different form. Or maybe it doesn’t, and that’s okay, too. For now, I’m allowing myself to meet this Christmas where I am, not where I wish I were. And maybe that, in its own small way, is enough.
And maybe, just maybe, 2026 will be the greatest year of my life.
October 9, 2025
Author Book Signing Event!
The Cemetery Spot
Join me on October 25th from 3-6PM at Mad Red Books in Las Vegas, I'll be with fellow local authors signing books!
Mad Red Books
9480 S Eastern Ave #105
Las Vegas, NV
Jenna Moquin’s short stories and poetry have appeared in The Literary Hatchet, Asylum Ink, Heater, 34 Orchard, PARABNORMAL Magazine, Das Gift, and Wicked Sick: An Anthology of the New England Horror Writers. In 2016 she released a collection of dark tales, Safe: New and Selected Stories. In 2021, she compiled a charity anthology featuring 1980s-themed horror stories, Totally Tubular Terrors. In 2024, her debut thriller STALKS was released, and her follow-up thriller THE CEMETERY SPOT was published 6 months later. She has 6 nieces and nephews she adores, and currently resides in Las Vegas while working on her latest story.
Join me on October 25th from 3-6PM at Mad Red Books in Las Vegas, I'll be with fellow local authors signing books!
Mad Red Books
9480 S Eastern Ave #105
Las Vegas, NV
Jenna Moquin’s short stories and poetry have appeared in The Literary Hatchet, Asylum Ink, Heater, 34 Orchard, PARABNORMAL Magazine, Das Gift, and Wicked Sick: An Anthology of the New England Horror Writers. In 2016 she released a collection of dark tales, Safe: New and Selected Stories. In 2021, she compiled a charity anthology featuring 1980s-themed horror stories, Totally Tubular Terrors. In 2024, her debut thriller STALKS was released, and her follow-up thriller THE CEMETERY SPOT was published 6 months later. She has 6 nieces and nephews she adores, and currently resides in Las Vegas while working on her latest story.
July 27, 2025
Devil in the White City sent me down a rabbit hole
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik LarsonMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book had been on my TBR for some time, and my mom was kind enough to give me her copy to read. I was excited to read it, because I'd heard such great things about it and have always been interested in H.H. Holmes lore (one of the most fascinating and devious serial killers of all time).
The book was very well-written, and heavily researched, but it wasn't as suspenseful as I'd hoped it would be. It was akin to reading a textbook for school, which is why it took me so long to read it. There was a lot of factual information about the history of the World's fair, the architecture and the structures built for it, such as the first Ferris Wheel, but I was far more interested in reading about the architecture of H.H. Holmes' Murder Castle.
The book noted a piece of H.H. Holmes lore that I wasn't that familiar with, and found chilling: multiple people connected to his case died suspicious deaths soon after Holmes was hanged for his crimes, making one wonder about the claims that he had been the Devil himself.
-One of the coroner’s physicians who had testified against Holmes at his trial suddenly dropped dead from blood poisoning.
-The trial judge and lead coroner both died suddenly from previously un-diagnosed illness.
-The prison superintendent at Moyamensing Prison, where Holmes was held and executed, committed suicide.
-The jury foreman was electrocuted.
-Marion Hedgepeth, who had informed on Holmes’ insurance scam, was shot and killed during a holdup.
-The father of one of Holmes’ victims was horrifically burned in a gas explosion.
-The office of the claims manager for the insurance company Holmes had cheated caught fire and burned. Apparently the only untouched items inside were a framed copy of Holmes’ arrest warrant and two portraits of Holmes.
WHAT?!?! That's insane... and Devil in the White City effectively ended with this bit of knowledge, sending me straight to the podcasts to fall down a rabbit hole.
View all my reviews
July 17, 2025
The dueling mindsets of my dueling careers
Having two careers is tough, especially when they have opposing ideologies with regard to a certain new technology.
Being an author with a day job means that most of my free time is spent living the modern author’s life. Which, as every indie author knows, doesn’t just entail writing, revising and plot outlining. There’s marketing your work, networking, promoting other authors, making book covers and cover art, keeping your socials active, etc.
And now we have to compete with a whole generation of new writers who are using AI, which is a nice transition into the main point of this piece.
AI is here, and it’s not going anywhere. If anything, it’s going to get even worse depending on which angle you look at it from.
CEOs around the world are warning us that AI is Coming for Your Jobs https://www.yahoo.com/news/bosses-wan... and that workers need to embrace this technology, or get left behind. This is definitely the mindset at my day job in healthcare, a field that has been utilizing AI since it started. It’s revolutionized electronic health records, helping doctors complete their notes more easily so they can have more face to face time with their patients. I’ve been using ChatGPT for work emails, project layouts, action items, updating my resume. It really is a great tool.
But in my other career, the one I’m more passionate about, using AI is not acceptable, and not just for moral reasons—have you read the fiction AI produces?? I thought I’d give it a shot, and asked ChatGPT to write me a scene. I prompted it exactly what was needed in a scene where I was blocked, and what it produced was absolute crap. A regurgitated amalgam of the cheesiest pulp fiction thriller material I’ve ever seen. No bueno.
Some people think that AI fiction just isn’t there yet, and I firmly believe it will never be there because it is not human. Every writer’s work, simply due to the craft itself, is an amalgam of every lived experience the writer has had up to that point in their life. And that’s why we revise so much, because the writer you are today is completely different than the writer you were yesterday. Every day brings a new experience, a new thought, a new way of looking at life. This is probably why an English professor of mine once joked that no author should ever publish their work, because they’ll want to change everything years after it’s been published.
Should authors use AI to write their books? That’s a big HELL NO. Use AI for the thing we hate doing the most: marketing.
Being an author with a day job means that most of my free time is spent living the modern author’s life. Which, as every indie author knows, doesn’t just entail writing, revising and plot outlining. There’s marketing your work, networking, promoting other authors, making book covers and cover art, keeping your socials active, etc.
And now we have to compete with a whole generation of new writers who are using AI, which is a nice transition into the main point of this piece.
AI is here, and it’s not going anywhere. If anything, it’s going to get even worse depending on which angle you look at it from.
CEOs around the world are warning us that AI is Coming for Your Jobs https://www.yahoo.com/news/bosses-wan... and that workers need to embrace this technology, or get left behind. This is definitely the mindset at my day job in healthcare, a field that has been utilizing AI since it started. It’s revolutionized electronic health records, helping doctors complete their notes more easily so they can have more face to face time with their patients. I’ve been using ChatGPT for work emails, project layouts, action items, updating my resume. It really is a great tool.
But in my other career, the one I’m more passionate about, using AI is not acceptable, and not just for moral reasons—have you read the fiction AI produces?? I thought I’d give it a shot, and asked ChatGPT to write me a scene. I prompted it exactly what was needed in a scene where I was blocked, and what it produced was absolute crap. A regurgitated amalgam of the cheesiest pulp fiction thriller material I’ve ever seen. No bueno.
Some people think that AI fiction just isn’t there yet, and I firmly believe it will never be there because it is not human. Every writer’s work, simply due to the craft itself, is an amalgam of every lived experience the writer has had up to that point in their life. And that’s why we revise so much, because the writer you are today is completely different than the writer you were yesterday. Every day brings a new experience, a new thought, a new way of looking at life. This is probably why an English professor of mine once joked that no author should ever publish their work, because they’ll want to change everything years after it’s been published.
Should authors use AI to write their books? That’s a big HELL NO. Use AI for the thing we hate doing the most: marketing.
May 21, 2025
La Vie Boheme
When I was in my mid-20s, I worked as an assistant at a residential property management company. They were starting to groom me to become a property manager, when I began having misgivings about the field. I observed the seasoned property managers, and noticed how stressed out they all were, pretty much all the time. Chewing on antacids daily, working well into the night, not seeing their families on holidays. It didn’t seem like the type of career I would want, and looking back on the company, I don’t think this was a common trend in the field—I think they were being managed by someone who was a bit toxic.
I ended up turning down the opportunity, and then found a new administrative job that paid a bit better and wasn’t nearly as stressful. Looking back, I sometimes wonder how much different my life would’ve been had I taken this opportunity for a new career. I would have a lot more money in my 401k for sure, and would probably have purchased property of my own at some point. But I also would’ve been stuck living in that property, instead of getting to experience what life is like in different states in the U.S. I doubt I would have had the time, or the energy, to write my first novel at the age of 28, which got me addicted to storytelling, and I’ve written 7 novels since then.
For this reason, I have no regrets over declining that career opportunity with money and job security, even though I’m not doing great financially. My life experience was the road less traveled, and like Robert Frost said, that has made all the difference. The starving artists’ life was for me, Viva La Vie Boheme! Money will always come and go, but time, it just goes.
I ended up turning down the opportunity, and then found a new administrative job that paid a bit better and wasn’t nearly as stressful. Looking back, I sometimes wonder how much different my life would’ve been had I taken this opportunity for a new career. I would have a lot more money in my 401k for sure, and would probably have purchased property of my own at some point. But I also would’ve been stuck living in that property, instead of getting to experience what life is like in different states in the U.S. I doubt I would have had the time, or the energy, to write my first novel at the age of 28, which got me addicted to storytelling, and I’ve written 7 novels since then.
For this reason, I have no regrets over declining that career opportunity with money and job security, even though I’m not doing great financially. My life experience was the road less traveled, and like Robert Frost said, that has made all the difference. The starving artists’ life was for me, Viva La Vie Boheme! Money will always come and go, but time, it just goes.
April 26, 2025
My Favorite Indie Bookstores
In honor of Independent Bookstore Day, I thought I would list my top 10 indie bookshops across the country!
1) All She Wrote Books, Somerville, MA
2) Wicked Good Books, Salem, MA
3) Copper Dog Books, Beverly, MA
4) Trident Booksellers & Café, Newbury Street, Boston, MA*
5) Unabridged Bookstore, Chicago, IL
6) The Bookstore Bar, Seattle, WA
7) Tattered Cover Bookstore & Café, Denver, CO
8) MacDonald’s Book Shop, Estes Park, CO
9) Copper Cat Books, Henderson, NV
10) The Writer’s Block, Las Vegas, NV
* Trident is not only a great bookshop, but the food at the café is amazing. They also host great events, open mike poetry nights, trivia nights, author events. Trident is one of the things I miss most about living in the Boston area… I even featured this place in my novel, Stalks, as a meeting ground for two characters. So, if you’re on Newbury Street anytime, check out Trident, and always support independent bookshops everywhere.
1) All She Wrote Books, Somerville, MA
2) Wicked Good Books, Salem, MA
3) Copper Dog Books, Beverly, MA
4) Trident Booksellers & Café, Newbury Street, Boston, MA*
5) Unabridged Bookstore, Chicago, IL
6) The Bookstore Bar, Seattle, WA
7) Tattered Cover Bookstore & Café, Denver, CO
8) MacDonald’s Book Shop, Estes Park, CO
9) Copper Cat Books, Henderson, NV
10) The Writer’s Block, Las Vegas, NV
* Trident is not only a great bookshop, but the food at the café is amazing. They also host great events, open mike poetry nights, trivia nights, author events. Trident is one of the things I miss most about living in the Boston area… I even featured this place in my novel, Stalks, as a meeting ground for two characters. So, if you’re on Newbury Street anytime, check out Trident, and always support independent bookshops everywhere.
March 24, 2025
Thoughts on Pirating
Way back in the day, I used to pirate music. That’s right. I’m guilty of making mix tapes of songs I bought and owned copies of, and sharing it with my friends, which was basically the same thing as pirating. I remember defending the Napster guy since I felt he was doing a hi-tech equivalent of making mix tapes, like I had.
I dated a guy who used to illegally download movies and TV shows and it always bothered me. Not badly enough to not watch the things he wanted to watch, but I used to tell him how I felt about it, and I think at one point I did get through to him especially with regards to pirating books. He said he didn’t feel badly about pirating movies because the actors already got paid, and the only people he was really screwing over were the executives who got residuals (or whatever BS he was slinging). But when it came to books, I think I got to him, because he realized it could take years for an author to write a book but only days for someone to read it, and that authors still got royalties well after publication and it was wrong to steal the hard work of someone who put their blood, sweat and tears into a novel. Hopefully he no longer pirates anything, especially books.
There is a fine line to walk here, as I’m guilty of pirating music and partaking in the enjoyment of pirated television. But as someone who’s recently discovered that her books have been listed on pirate sites, I’m feeling the sting. I don’t knowing that someone took a copy of my book, that was either given to them as an ARC or made available through an ebook promo, and posted it on pirate websites so that other people can read it for free.
Let me be clear: I have no problem with people reading my books for free. In fact, I encourage it all the time when I’m running promotions, or gifting copies to reviewers, or ordering copies for my local library. But the difference is, I am the one consenting to the free distribution of my book. I did not consent to have my book posted on pirate sites, breaching copyright laws, that makes it completely immoral and downright despicable. I’ve sent DMCA letters to these sites but to no avail; it’s sort of a useless effort, much like signing petitions seems to be as well.
It’s not as if readers can’t obtain books for free—this is why libraries exist. If the book you want to read isn’t on the library shelf, simply order it (which, by the way, also helps libraries). It’s free to sign up with NetGalley to obtain ebooks before publication. Bookfunnel is a great platform where indie authors share downloads of their books for free to promote their writing. You can also write directly to authors asking for a free copy to review.
Most indie authors sell their books at reasonable prices too, typically between $0.99-3.99, much lower than traditionally published books, which is why pirating indie author books is especially egregious, since the only person getting screwed is the author. You’re not “sticking it to the man” when you pirate independently published works. I don’t understand why people will balk at paying $2.99 to read a book with 75,000-90,000 words, an entire world you can fall into and escape from everyday life for a few hours, with characters who stay with you and bring you to a happy place whenever you like, but will have no problem spending $5.99 on a birthday card with 10 words in it that you read in under a minute and smile, and forget about.
Believe me, I know how expensive it is to be an avid reader. I’m always browsing used bookstores, or using the library, or borrowing books from friends. My book club is reading a book for April that I don’t have a copy of, so I went online to see how much it is. $17.99 for the paper copy, and $13.99 for the ebook, which I thought was a bit much so I went on Google shopping to see if someone was selling a used copy somewhere and lo and behold, I was able to purchase a paper copy on Pango for $5 with $5 shipping, a total of $10. This entire effort took me less than 5 minutes to do.
Pirating isn’t ever going to go away, but it’s something I certainly won’t be partaking in anymore.
I dated a guy who used to illegally download movies and TV shows and it always bothered me. Not badly enough to not watch the things he wanted to watch, but I used to tell him how I felt about it, and I think at one point I did get through to him especially with regards to pirating books. He said he didn’t feel badly about pirating movies because the actors already got paid, and the only people he was really screwing over were the executives who got residuals (or whatever BS he was slinging). But when it came to books, I think I got to him, because he realized it could take years for an author to write a book but only days for someone to read it, and that authors still got royalties well after publication and it was wrong to steal the hard work of someone who put their blood, sweat and tears into a novel. Hopefully he no longer pirates anything, especially books.
There is a fine line to walk here, as I’m guilty of pirating music and partaking in the enjoyment of pirated television. But as someone who’s recently discovered that her books have been listed on pirate sites, I’m feeling the sting. I don’t knowing that someone took a copy of my book, that was either given to them as an ARC or made available through an ebook promo, and posted it on pirate websites so that other people can read it for free.
Let me be clear: I have no problem with people reading my books for free. In fact, I encourage it all the time when I’m running promotions, or gifting copies to reviewers, or ordering copies for my local library. But the difference is, I am the one consenting to the free distribution of my book. I did not consent to have my book posted on pirate sites, breaching copyright laws, that makes it completely immoral and downright despicable. I’ve sent DMCA letters to these sites but to no avail; it’s sort of a useless effort, much like signing petitions seems to be as well.
It’s not as if readers can’t obtain books for free—this is why libraries exist. If the book you want to read isn’t on the library shelf, simply order it (which, by the way, also helps libraries). It’s free to sign up with NetGalley to obtain ebooks before publication. Bookfunnel is a great platform where indie authors share downloads of their books for free to promote their writing. You can also write directly to authors asking for a free copy to review.
Most indie authors sell their books at reasonable prices too, typically between $0.99-3.99, much lower than traditionally published books, which is why pirating indie author books is especially egregious, since the only person getting screwed is the author. You’re not “sticking it to the man” when you pirate independently published works. I don’t understand why people will balk at paying $2.99 to read a book with 75,000-90,000 words, an entire world you can fall into and escape from everyday life for a few hours, with characters who stay with you and bring you to a happy place whenever you like, but will have no problem spending $5.99 on a birthday card with 10 words in it that you read in under a minute and smile, and forget about.
Believe me, I know how expensive it is to be an avid reader. I’m always browsing used bookstores, or using the library, or borrowing books from friends. My book club is reading a book for April that I don’t have a copy of, so I went online to see how much it is. $17.99 for the paper copy, and $13.99 for the ebook, which I thought was a bit much so I went on Google shopping to see if someone was selling a used copy somewhere and lo and behold, I was able to purchase a paper copy on Pango for $5 with $5 shipping, a total of $10. This entire effort took me less than 5 minutes to do.
Pirating isn’t ever going to go away, but it’s something I certainly won’t be partaking in anymore.
March 6, 2025
Review of The Substance
I finally watched The Substance, one of the most talked about horror films of 2024. First off, I’m so glad to see Demi Moore back on screen. She’s such a fantastic actor and hasn’t done much in a few years. I hope this is her comeback and we’ll see her in more in years to come.
I thought The Substance was a unique idea for a horror film. The practical effects were great. But overall, I thought the film was more style than substance, ironically (although if that was intentional, then good job, Coralie Fargeat). There wasn’t much of a plot, or character development, and I thought Elisabeth Sparkle fell into “the substance” a bit too quickly.
The themes of the film were an important topic to bring up—the way women’s bodies are objectified, and the disdain society feels toward aging women. But for a movie that brings up these issues, there sure was a hell of a lot of T&A in it, with much of the cinematography reminiscent of 1980s Def Leppard videos. Was the director trying to be ironic? I’m not sure… as my friend and I watched it last night, we were under the assumption that it was directed by a man based on the camera angles and gratuitous shots of women’s naked bodies. We were both a bit shocked to learn it was directed by a woman. I could tell that the director was influenced by Dario Argento in many aspects, who was the master at making horrifying images look aesthetically pleasing on film. He was also a fan of blood-soaked boobs.
There were some continuity errors (Elisabeth sits in a coffee shop, orders a mocha latte, and suddenly she’s stirring it without the waitress bringing it over; the beginning shows her Hollywood star being installed, and the “over the years” montage depicts snow covering it at one point… since when does it snow in Hollywood?). The close-up wide angle camera shots reminded me of a film student’s final thesis, as well as the carpet that looked like the carpet from The Shining being shown in many scenes throughout the film.
Demi Moore was phenomenal in this role. Every stage of her metamorphosis was brilliantly played by her, which didn’t surprise me. She has always been an advocate for women’s transformation between her pregnant Vanity Fair cover to shaving her head and bulking up for G.I. Jane. And it’s impressive how fit she is for someone who’s birthed three children. I’ve also heard a rumor that she washes her hair with Evian instead of tap water and that’s why it looks so good, but who knows if that’s true?
Do I recommend The Substance to horror fans? Absolutely. It’s a must-watch for the genre. Would I rewatch it? Probably not. Perhaps if it was shorter than 140 minutes, and had more substance to the plot and characters, than just style and flashy lights. In many ways this experience reminded me of reading House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski—great concept, unique execution, and also a must for horror fans (reading House of Leaves is a rite of passage!) but it was mostly bells and whistles and lacked the substance a good story needs for it to really be impactful, and lasting. I want my characters to come off the page (or screen), and come to life; I don’t want them to be mere ciphers.
I thought The Substance was a unique idea for a horror film. The practical effects were great. But overall, I thought the film was more style than substance, ironically (although if that was intentional, then good job, Coralie Fargeat). There wasn’t much of a plot, or character development, and I thought Elisabeth Sparkle fell into “the substance” a bit too quickly.
The themes of the film were an important topic to bring up—the way women’s bodies are objectified, and the disdain society feels toward aging women. But for a movie that brings up these issues, there sure was a hell of a lot of T&A in it, with much of the cinematography reminiscent of 1980s Def Leppard videos. Was the director trying to be ironic? I’m not sure… as my friend and I watched it last night, we were under the assumption that it was directed by a man based on the camera angles and gratuitous shots of women’s naked bodies. We were both a bit shocked to learn it was directed by a woman. I could tell that the director was influenced by Dario Argento in many aspects, who was the master at making horrifying images look aesthetically pleasing on film. He was also a fan of blood-soaked boobs.
There were some continuity errors (Elisabeth sits in a coffee shop, orders a mocha latte, and suddenly she’s stirring it without the waitress bringing it over; the beginning shows her Hollywood star being installed, and the “over the years” montage depicts snow covering it at one point… since when does it snow in Hollywood?). The close-up wide angle camera shots reminded me of a film student’s final thesis, as well as the carpet that looked like the carpet from The Shining being shown in many scenes throughout the film.
Demi Moore was phenomenal in this role. Every stage of her metamorphosis was brilliantly played by her, which didn’t surprise me. She has always been an advocate for women’s transformation between her pregnant Vanity Fair cover to shaving her head and bulking up for G.I. Jane. And it’s impressive how fit she is for someone who’s birthed three children. I’ve also heard a rumor that she washes her hair with Evian instead of tap water and that’s why it looks so good, but who knows if that’s true?
Do I recommend The Substance to horror fans? Absolutely. It’s a must-watch for the genre. Would I rewatch it? Probably not. Perhaps if it was shorter than 140 minutes, and had more substance to the plot and characters, than just style and flashy lights. In many ways this experience reminded me of reading House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski—great concept, unique execution, and also a must for horror fans (reading House of Leaves is a rite of passage!) but it was mostly bells and whistles and lacked the substance a good story needs for it to really be impactful, and lasting. I want my characters to come off the page (or screen), and come to life; I don’t want them to be mere ciphers.
