Thanksgiving birthday 😊


Grateful. Thankful. Blessed. Here’s looking at you 27. 😊🎂🎊



They say you have to practice your signature until it becomes an autograph…and apparently that is exactly what happened today. Thanks to my boss I had signed my first autograph for my book!! If you haven’t checked out Rejected For Content 6: Workplace Relations featuring my story Decency Defiled yet well….you’s pretty gnarly. I’m honestly humbled that this has happened, thank you so much for your support and I can promise that this is only the beginning :).

Link to book is here:

Rejected For Content: Decency Defiled


I’m pleased to announce that my story “Decency Defiled” has been featured in a pretty popular series called Rejected For Content Vol. 6! I’m super excited to share this story with everyone and couldn’t be more excited to be among some awesome writers also. I will announce more details soon in terms of purchasing the book. Thank you guys so much for your support! Now off to writing more stories with cup of coffee #3 in the late afternoon..don’t judge me.


With most mornings starting with coffee, Erica started hers with shots of tequila, a gallon of ice cream, and six cheeseburgers. There was no time to waste, she wanted to achieve her goal no matter what the cost was.  Afterwards in the mirror, she would see the look of overindulgence, gluttony, and disgust. With no time to ingest, her smooth fingers went down her throat in an attempt to get the look she had always wanted. As warm bile and blood escaped from her lips, eventually oozing from her nostrils and watering up her eyes, she quickly felt a slight sharp pain in her chest. If I could only lose ten more pounds, I would be perfect. She was 110 but 70 was the perfect weight. Her personal goal, the look of perfection. The overindulgence in food had always made her feel better but it wasn’t enough. Along with the food, Erica filled and took her 5th shot of tequila in an attempt to almost burn the memories of her youth away, silencing the remarks and rebuttals from her mother about her weight. It was only a mere five years and twenty pounds ago, but to Erica it felt like yesterday.

The look was there, staring in the face in all its decayed glory but she couldn’t see it; only the look of anger, disappointment, and failure. No matter how much Erica lost, she could never see nothing more than a grotesque, repulsive image that wouldn’t go away. The scale and her body became a continuous battle she felt that she couldn’t win, until now. As the last bit of forced bile escaped from her chapped lips and irritated throat, she proceeded into her bedroom where she began to feel a tightness in her chest. The more steps she took, the more tighter it became, and with a sudden fall to the floor Erica’s chest finally stopped. No more binging, no more purging, no more pain. Erica wanted nothing more but to achieve her goal. Despite concerned advice from loved ones, her ideal look of beauty took on a different meaning with cries for help, love, and acceptance.  To her, 70 was the perfect weight. The look of perfection.

5 Tips to Make You a Better Writer Instantly

A Writer's Path

by Felicity Annora

Hey guys! I’m back again with my self-help posts, and this time I’m going to tell you you how to become a better writer instantly. I know it sounds like one of those bad “get-rich-quick” gimmicks that you find in commercials- and you’d absolutely right. But this time, the tips and tricks are real and they truly are things that help you improve  your writing quickly.

So without further ado, here they are:

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Struggling authors, please read.

Author Kyle Perkins

By Kyle Perkins.

So lately I have heard from a few people that they feel like they should just give up on writing because for whatever reason, they are feeling like it just isn’t worth it anymore. Whether they feel like they aren’t getting enough attention, don’t have enough fans, or whatever the case may be, they are wrong, and here’s why.

Writers and authors have a gift, and because we have that gift, we have an obligation, a responsibility to use it. We may “just” arrange words in such a fashion that people enjoy reading them, but a heart surgeon “just” transplants hearts, and astronauts “just” go to space. We need to stop treating writing like it is simply a hobby that “anyone” can do, because that’s not the case. We “just” take people to places they can’t go on their own, and give them a form of escapism…

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He couldn’t see them but he could feel them. He could feel their presence surrounding him as he laid in his hospital bed. The uncomfortable sound of silence soon followed, immediately feeling a sense of dread as he wondered why they were there.

But instead of opening his eyes to the usual nurses, family and IV drip, feeling a sense of comfort and safety; this time when he opened his eyes there was an off putting feeling. A sense of dread, a sense of fear, a sense that he was now on borrowed time as he heard the clock above his head tick louder than before while in the company of these two new nurses. But before he could gather his thoughts and ask, he was quickly interrupted. “Why did you let us die?” A loud voice from the foot of his bed shouted, rattling his eardrums, leaving a slight ring. “Wha…” He was still disoriented as he replied, wondering if the chemotherapy drugs that he was given were somehow stronger than before. “You heard her. Why? It’s been thirty long years Stephen. All this time you had opportunities you could’ve pursued and even excelled at, but you decided to cast us aside for accounting and cigarettes. Now you’re here dying, not just physically but spiritually. You could’ve done so much more for yourself…” Another voice bellowed, this time from the right side of the bed.

Six months ago, Stephen and his family had gotten the news that there wasn’t much else the doctors could for his terminal lung cancer that was worsening by the day so he was forced to check in a hospice for his final days. He wasn’t really that surprised about the news after all, he had spent the past 30 years chain smoking, so it was only a matter of time before the cigarettes would catch up to him. Stephen smirked at their remarks. He had no idea who these women were, who just appeared out of nowhere telling him who he is and how he lived his life. “Ladies no disrespect, but I’ve lived my life to the fullest. Sure I was ok at certain things like drawing but it was never a career for me, just a silly dream and nothing more. Trust me, I was content at my job as an accountant, it was what I wanted to do for my family.” Stephen replied confidently

“Ok. But was it what you wanted to do for yourself? Pursuing something that you were good at and could’ve improved on were silly dreams to you? Admit it, it wasn’t a priority to you. You were scared to make it one. Tell me Stephen. Is this what you really wanted?” “Once again yes it is. Of course except for the cancer that this is what I want for my life.” He sounded uneasy responding the second time, secretly hoping that they wouldn’t notice. “Are you sure? Because it’s easy to just work, pay bills, have a family, and then just die. It sounds a lot like your life right now Stephen.” The other nurse responded. The nurse who was standing at the foot of the bed walked over to his left side, and if Stephen didn’t know better he swore that her eyes were seeing through his soul. “This is who we are. We are the ambitions, dreams, and goals that you had left behind. For thirty years we stood in the background while you lived your life smoking and crunching numbers, it’s such a pity that we must come with you. Look at the life that you’ve never lived, all because you listened to the lies you told yourself about being a failure if you took any type of risk.”

It was then for the very first time in his life that he started to cry, not for anyone but for himself. He realized that they were right as much as he didn’t want to admit it, everything that he did in life was safe, didn’t bother to take a risk in anything and stayed behind his desk. Behind his desk he was lying to himself, thinking that accounting and his family was all he needed to live a fulfilling life but in reality, he was just existing. Once he saw the pale, lifeless nurse’s hand come towards him, his breathing suddenly grew shorter, feeling his lungs grasp for every bit of air. The closer her hand went near him, the weaker he became, as if she was draining the life out of him. “It’s time Stephen. You chose a life of ordinary based on safety and fear rather than a life of extraordinary based on risk and chance,” She said with a cold stare and tone. “There’s no turning back now and as a result we must die with you forever leaving your obituary to only say that you were a loving husband, father, and an accountant.” Stephen tried to scream for help, he wasn’t ready to leave but didn’t have enough air to breathe, leaving his cries to fall on empty walls and deaf ears. He prayed that this was all a part of a horrific nightmare but it wasn’t. His room grew dark, and as the clock above his head suddenly stop ticking, so did his heart. Soon after, he walked out of the room with the nurses hand in hand, leaving behind a sick, gaunt body followed by a pension and a will, all the while taking his true potential to the grave.