Active Projects
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The Drop
“I was eleven years old when the world went to shit. Literally. It just started falling away, chunk by horrifying chunk.”
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In the year 2065, with the Earth disappearing and humanity descended into anarchy, a young woman’s fight for survival sets her on a collision course toward a shocking truth and unimaginable power.
Before the Drop, Jonah lived a quiet suburban life with her family, where she was like any other 6th grade girl. Her biggest concerns were impressing the popular kids at school and finding ways to deal with Cal, her annoying little brother. But, the Drop tore through Jonah’s life and family the same way it did the entire world.Ten years into the Drop, and there’s still no explanation and no way to predict when or where it happens. Jonah’s lost both of her parents and has been trying to keep herself and Cal alive for so long that she hardly knows why anymore. Then, one night changes everything and challenges all she thought she knew about herself and the world.
The Drop is at once a bold post-apocalyptic thriller and a searing allegory for growing up in a household with addiction.
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Oops! We're Alive...
Set 950 years in the future, OWA follows the last humans in the universe - none of whom signed up for the job, by the way - as they come to terms with the biggest mistake of their privileged lives: surviving extinction. They were prepared to die when XF-Macurion-72 (a.k.a. Big Mac, the Maneater) hit Earth at a speed of 72x lightspeed and blew it to bits then ate everything in the surrounding space-vicinity, but something went horribly wrong: they lived.
Now, the 86 passengers on the luxurious and highly impractical Axist must figure out where to go, what to do next and how to live when everything in their lives has always been handed to them on a 3D-printed silver platter.A sex-addicted captain, a charismatic stowaway and a wannabe terrorist posing as a janitor make things even more complicated for the reluctant survivors as they contemplate the vastness of space and what to do next in this character-driven space comedy.
Will they rise to the occasion? Who will emerge as leader of what little humanity remains? And where can a girl get a decent bottle of whiskey on this godforsaken ship?
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BirthRight
On her 19th birthday, Zaira Mace Jones gets the surprise of a lifetime when she stumbles upon the ghost of her unborn granddaughter crying in the park. As it turns out, it’s not a ghost - or even a hallucination - but a very real portal that allows Zaira to observe the life of this girl and the world surrounding her.
Zaira soon learns that this ability extends to every woman in her bloodline - past, present, and future. The more she practices, the farther from present-day she can see and the deeper into their worlds she can go.
But curious excitement turns into obsession when Zaira reaches 7 generations into the future and is unable to accept what she finds there. Toying with the fabric of time is a dangerous game, especially with a future glimpsed only in pieces. More dangerous yet, unbeknownst to Zaira, with every step, a vicious enemy draws closer - one that has been looking for this power for lifetimes.
BirthRight follows Zaira as she steps into the worlds of women in her family’s past and future, ultimately finding herself.
Featured Poem of the Month
The Things We Lack
There are pieces missing.
A giant gaping hole of lost letters
As tears wet the spread of my décolletage.
I was a wreck long before the mirage
that was you.
What I am owed is a why,
But all I’m left with is alphabet s
o u
P.
Letters and symbols and symbolic things,
Qs and As and all that lies in between.
It is nothing and everything at once.
You left me uncovered, unwanted, undone.
But what of me now?
Hands full of Ls…
Is this hell, or the way out?
X it.
Existing to remit and beget safe passage.
I want to live.
But to forgive?
That is another matter entirely.
Now, you want to cry to me?
No. You lied to me.
Am I damned to be the sand you leave when the tides erase your face?
It is the things we lack that tend to take up the most space.
See, there are pieces missing,
Such a wretched, blessed thing.
There are pieces missing
Yet, you dare to pull the string.
Yes, there are pieces missing.
I can weigh them by the gram.
But what if these missing pieces
Are the only thing I am?
For additional poetry, head over to my Medium.