Matt King and The Tria

All right, so I recently read a little short story called THE TRIA by Matt King (@kingmatte on Twitter). It is a delightfully dark look at the origin of several badass super villains in King’s Circle War Universe. Because the story is so short, I can’t really give much of a summary other than it was awesome, terrifyingly gory in a short amount of time, and really leaves you wanting more.

King’s debut book, called GODSEND, is still languishing in publishing limbo. Now, my hearts, I want you to send all the good vibes you can to the publishing industry so we can get this thing of the ground. It sounds epic.

The basis for the Circle War Universe is a civil war between immortal beings who are too powerful to fight for themselves, and thus must choose champions–from our modern-day earth. Champions, as in, superheroes.

It’s a series about superheroes, cats and kittens. Real talk: it’s a nerdgasm waiting to happen, I can feel it.

You can meet the main character, August Dillon, here. Once you’ve been acquainted, go ahead and click the link King provides so you can read the first chapter of GODSEND.

Then after that, go read THE TRIA. Immediately, if not sooner.

BOUND Publication

The time has come, my hearts! BOUND is ready for publication.

I will be publishing as an ebook exclusively, available through Amazon Kindle, and I’m really excited about it! Now I just have to figure out how to get my pretty little manuscript into the correct format. Wish me luck.

I expect to release the book in June 2015.

That’s right, this summer. June. As in, two months from now. Hold on to your butts, people, my historical dark fantasy is incoming.

Over the next few weeks, you can expect: 1) A preview of BOUND. I will post a one-page excerpt (spoiler free) right here on this blog, next week. Keep you eyes peeled. 2) A cover reveal! I will reveal the cover image for BOUND the first full week in May.

Keep posted on when these posts are live via my Twitter feed, @JackieHames.

Mark your calendars. June 2015.

Poetry Month: “Weight”

In honor of National Poetry Month, I’ve decided to post this poem. Remember, poetry is for everyone.


I carry it with me.

It’s in my shoulders,

The knotted muscles that pull the s  p  i  n  e,

In my face, clenched jaw and deep fine lines.

I carry it with me in my hair,

Brittle, dull and undefined.

I carry it with me everywhere.

This burden only I can bear.

It hangs heavy—

This constant weight.

I carry it with me.

It’s in my guts.

The twisting pain that leaves you ragged,

In my chest, stiff ribs and shallow breath.

I carry it with me in my arms.

How small it looks, but oh, what heft!

This burden only I can bear.

I carry it with me everywhere.

It leaves me empty—

A   c  h  a  s  m   wide.

I carry it with me.

It’s in my hands.

The tension that makes fi-nge-rs hesitate,

In my legs, crampedcalves and aching knees.

I carry it with me in my heart.

Hollow as the rotting trees.

This burden only I can bear.

We can never be apart.

It drags me down.

It knows my name.

Anywhere else and I could be free.

But it’s in my soul.

I carry it.

I carry it with me.

Smart Girls Can’t Date: The Remix

My doves! Do you remember a couple of years ago when I wrote my blog on how intelligent women can’t seem to find a date because men are intimidated by them? This one here is the one I’m talking about. I cited several different sources to support my theory.

Well, Elite Daily’s Lauren Martin posted an article with the same thesis on July, here, and it’s been making the rounds on Facebook.

This is a real thing that happens to overtly intelligent women. It’s a real double standard in society that smart men are desirable while smart women are not. Women are told (me, I have been told) to “dumb it down” in order to get a date–and have him stick around.

To that I say fuck society. Fuck society right up the ass with a chainsaw.

I will not play dumb to appease a man, or other women, for that matter. I’m smart, and I like it. I may even like that it makes some people scared, because it’s an excellent way to separate the wheat from the chaff, both in the dating pool and the pool of friendship.

Ladies, please, never dumb down your intelligence. Society will not change if we bend, so be smart. Flaunt it if you’ve got it. You’re smart (yes, you right there) and you should love that about yourself. I love that about you.

Gents, do not fear us. We come in peace.

Writer’s instinct in action!

A weird thing happened to me last night while I was working on my new manuscript.

After slapping together a basic outline for the first book in what I hope will be a trilogy, I had trouble outlining the second and third. So, I decided to just start writing the first one in hopes the ideas would congeal a little better.

I started hating all two thousand words that I’d written over the last week, but I thought all first drafts are shitty—I can fix it later. So I kept on writing the next scene.

Here’s the weird part.

I’m in the process of writing this scene, and I’m hating on every word I type out. It’s not flowing, the dialogue is dragging, and my descriptions of the scene leave almost everything to be desired. I’m bitching and moaning in my head for 650 words. Then, I stop to take a break and I reread the scene.

It’s not pretty or well executed, but again, I can fix that later. What surprised me was that the whole time I was muttering to myself about how awful it was, I was also writing an important plot point into the scene.

A plot point I had not thought about. A plot point I was thinking of setting up later in the chapter.

And this plot point worked. It will serve to reinforce things that happen later in the story, and serves as a point of conflict in the scene.

It just appeared. Instinctively. Organically. Without me having to think about it once, and while I was actively thinking about something completely different.

I am amazed and disturbed at the same time. Amazed that my instinct for this story is so strong that it overcame negative self-talk. Disturbed that my negative self-talk is so strong that I didn’t realize what I was writing was actually okay, in terms of the greater narrative.

I hope that my story telling instinct stays strong in the future. I could write a whole book on instinct and finesse it later, and that would be all right.

Has anyone every experienced that kind of moment, where instinct takes over while you’re writing? Tell me about it in the comments.