Pepper Winters

I wasn’t going to write this today.

In fact, I had no plans of writing most of this to be honest, but I’ve always done my best to follow my intuition and when I sat down at my manuscript today, I found the undeniable urge to set my decision in stone.

(Please ignore typos in this, it won’t be perfect.)

You see, for the past few months (year or so to be honest), I’ve been wrestling with some pretty big choices. I’m going to do my best to explain myself, so if anyone else is feeling this way, you’ll know you’re not alone. This is also to make an irrefutable promise to myself and the universe that I’m in. That I’m done not listening. That I’m ready to let go after struggling so hard to hold on to the path I thought I should follow.

I’ve done quite a few very honest blog posts over the past decade of my career. And this won’t be any different. Like I said, I had no intention of writing this and actually had full intentions to sort of ‘fly under the radar’ this time as I’m still wary of what this decision will mean BUT I’ve always found that I cannot move forward half-assed. I can’t take the leap of faith while still clinging to the shore of safety and so…this is basically me cutting those strings and forcing myself to start this next journey because I know in myself, I’m ready…all while ego and fear are trying to tell me that I’m not.

First, I want to say thank you. To every reader who has ever read me, to every laptop that recorded my stories, and every nudge and guidance that enabled me to turn my dream into reality.

And don’t worry, this isn’t a ‘I’m retiring from writing’ post. Even though it might sound like it. I will never NOT be able to write. Even when I do ‘retire’ from social media and marketing, I will still be writing as it’s who I am. I was born a storyteller, and this new direction is partly to preserve that reality and also to honour that things change. I’ve always maintained that the day I stop writing for ‘work’ is the day I write what is in my heart.

But…I don’t want to keep waiting for that day. I want that day to be now. And so…I have a story to tell.

Firstly, I’d like to begin by going back to 2013 when I first started publishing so you can see how much value I put into following intuition. Sometimes, it’s easy and a no-brainer. Other times, it’s so hard and is easy to convince yourself that it isn’t intuition at all, but just wishful thinking or procrastination or any number of other rationalities you can come up with to avoid doing what keeps slapping you around the head to do.

I’ve written my entire life. I have very fond memories of writing stories back in Hong Kong full of fairies and talking animals. I used to write stories for my grandparents in lieu of birthday cards and spent more time in my imagination than I ever did in reality.

I think that was always my first clue.

The second clue was…I was born in Asia. I was always different because of that fact. I have English parents but my heart and soul?  I’m very much Chinese. My first words were in Chinese. I ran half-naked in rice paddy fields. Played with the local wild dogs. Attended every Chinese Opera that would come rolling into our tiny village on the border of ShenZhen and Sheng Shui. I’ve helped make Moon Cakes with ancient medicine women. Polished the bones of my friend’s ancestor’s on death anniversaries (it’s tradition to speak to their passed-on family members about their lives and clean the bones that are placed in large pots in temples and forest shrines). Sat fascinated when the elders gathered us dirty children around their feet and shared ancient fables about gods and goddesses, demons and dragons. I often went missing and could be found learning how to cluck at the buffalo to pull the plough when it came time to harvest rice and preferred to be barefoot than shoed.

In all honesty, I was a little wild.

I was free to soak up the vibrancy of hard work, community, and history. And even though I was a little blonde girl, I felt such connection and belonging to every part of Chinese tradition and lifestyle. I was lucky enough to live a childhood surrounded in that magic and grew up addicted to learning about the prior dynasties, emperors, empresses, reincarnation, qi, magical abilities for mortals as well as immortals, the importance of karma, and the truth of right and wrong. Nothing made me happier than wearing the Hanfu traditional dress complete with gorgeous fazan (hair pins), beads, jewelry, and gemstones or acting out some fable that we’d learned the night before.

I was brought up on the mystery and divination of I Ching, was gifted a jade bangle to protect and cleanse my aura when I was ten, and still to this day have never taken it off. (They say the jade absorbs your energy as you grow and as long as it never breaks, it will continue to protect your primordial spirit in this life).

To say I have a deep love and gratitude toward the way of living  that I was lucky enough to enjoy is an understatement, and when we moved because of the handover in 1997, I felt displaced, homesick, and completely at a loss for many, many years. My ultimate dream was to always go back. That was my home. It still is. Always will be. I even flew back the moment I was legal to try and get a job, desperate to return to my ‘roots’. I will admit I was heavily bullied when we moved to a Western country as I might have looked like the other white girls, but I was certainly not in my heart.

But then…like time always does, it adds a veneer to everything you miss and crave, and I slowly accepted that life had changed and it was time to embrace other parts of existing. I embraced the other sides of myself and like to think I have evolved into a fairly rational, open-minded, multi-cultural human who is always striving to be better.

I’ve had unbelievable success in writing stories that I have loved. I’ve followed instinct and intuition and will forever be grateful where it guided me.

However, I have never forgotten my origins and as life likes to do…it finally decided the time had come to wake up that part of me that’s been slumbering. And it didn’t do it with a gentle reminder and nudge that I could ignore. Oh no, I got hit over the head (multiple times) and have been trying to fight against it ever since.

It all began about six months ago when I was browsing Netflix (as you do). I couldn’t find anything decent to watch and was feeling very disillusioned and struggling to find a decent fantasy romance that isn’t cheesy or lacking in the richness that I’d grown up with. I will be the first to admit, I’m fussy when it comes to fantasy thanks to the vast tales and mythology I dined on as a child. Each culture has its own rich diversity of myths but the Chinese mythology has always seemed so intricate with celestial artifacts, quests, spirit beasts, the karmic wheel, reincarnation, and countless other levels of realms, abilities, and deities.

I wanted something like I used to devour as a child. I wanted to feel that magic of back then when I swatted at mosquitoes biting my legs in the dark all while listening utterly rapt to the fable the village elder shared.

And so…the universe finally decided to take matters into its own hands and clicked on The Princess Royal (Honest to god, I didn’t click on it. Not even sure how it ended up on my Netflix feed). Within a few seconds, I felt a deep sense of home coming and that feeling of something missing just relaxed into a feeling of peace. From the language, the wardrobe, the dynasty-court intrigues, the familiarity of other stories I’d been told, and the delicious romance, everything woke me back up to all the parts of me that have been quietly waiting in the background.

Ever since that fateful day, I have since DEVOURED countless (and I do mean countless) Xianxia and Wuxia romances. Xian means Immortal. Xia means Hero. Wu means martial art. So basically they’re immortal hero and martial art (set in reality) stories that ache with romance, blinding gorgeous with visual splendour, and are completely untouchable in terms of storytelling (in my humble opinion). (If you’re interested, please watch The Love Between Fairy and Devil, Til the End of the Moon, Story of Kunning Palace, Ashes of Love, Love and Redemption…I could go on and on…)

It refilled my creative well that has been feeling decidedly low. Reinvigorated who I was at heart. And slapped me around the head with the knowledge that this is part of my past and I miss it. This is what made me want to tell stories in the first place. Listening to all these tales and myths as a child is what formed me into the writer I am and…I’m not able to ignore that part of myself anymore.

Which leads me to a cross-roads.

A fork in my path that I’ve been fighting against for over six months.

And this is where more honesty comes in.

Although I’m well used to following my intuition, on this topic, I’ve been rather stubborn. To go forward, I have to go back a little bit. (Forgive me for the length of this). When my husband and I first met almost 20 years ago, we were living in Sydney. Within 3 months we’d moved in together and 5 months later started our own business (he was a tradie and I ran the books, advertising etc). With the small down time I had between running that business and dropping off stock at building sites, dreams of writing my own stories returned from my childhood, and I clearly remember telling hubby one day when he came home from a long day that I wanted to write books.

Now, I’m fortunate to have the most supportive man in the world. I was at such a vulnerable stage of hope that if he’d said (with good intentions) that writing would never eventuate to a profitable career or that we were too busy with the new business etc (valid responses really) then I would’ve given up on that dream there and then. Purely because…although every instinct and atom inside me wanted to do it, I do have a tendency of disbelieving in those nudges and trying to do ‘the right thing’. It’s hard to explain. I suppose (and I’m sure a lot of people can relate) I feel guilty for having lofty dreams sometimes. I feel silly for thinking the ‘grass might be greener’ on the other side, and start to doubt that the idea that came with such emotion and inspiration might just be me believing in the fantastical rather than the probable.

Anyway, not only did hubby not say anything to crush my very fragile dream but he took me laptop shopping that very evening (even though we were self-employed and funds were tight). I still remember that tiny 10inch ePC that I bought. It became my pride and joy, and I wrote quite a few books on that thing before the battery turned faulty and almost blew up.

Fast forward a few years, I had a few titles I’d written but yet to publish. Doubt started creeping in. You know, the typical doom and gloom thoughts like ‘I’m wasting my time’ and ‘I’m not good enough’.

And this is where intuition blasted through me with a wrecking ball. It was so loud, I couldn’t mishear or misconstrue its advice. I CLEARLY remember how that insistent urge felt and that very evening, I closed out of the manuscript I was currently writing and instantly started writing another. Within 30 minutes, I rebranded, opened social media accounts, bought a premade cover that was identical to what my character was wearing in my mind, and the rest, as they say, is history.

That night, if I hadn’t listened to that crash of knowingness, who knows where I would be today. The story that changed my life and allowed me to follow on this journey was Tears of Tess and to this day, I will ALWAYS be incredibly grateful that I had such a supportive husband who has NEVER made me doubt my intuition (and in fact, constantly reminds me to listen to it as it’s proven to be right). He’s always been my biggest cheerleader when I’ve lost steam and faith.

Writing Tears of Tess was one of the happiest moments of my life. I embodied that story—every dark, spicy part—and when it released, I opened my arms to the universe and said ‘I wrote what you wanted me to write, now it’s your turn’. Within a few days, the book found top 60 on Amazon and stayed there for six weeks, literally changing our entire life.

And from there on, I’ve always done my best to write the books that talk to me. Sometimes I have plans to write a certain story and have to pause it in order to write another, purely thanks to characters popping into my head with far stronger voices. I’ve ALWAYS been a slave to the muse and not the other way around. My life would be far easier if I could write books that suit the current tropes/market trends. If I could write seasonal books like Christmas reads and valentine tales or stick to the same genre, there is without a doubt that my catalogue of work would be far more concise instead of all over the place.

I look back on the forty plus books I’ve written and sometimes wish I’d been better at staying in a lane. I feel as if I’ve become messy. That some books I’ve said I’d write have never happened and others that I had high hopes for didn’t hit the mark. I don’t like my body of work because it seems…chaotic.

Sometimes, I’d like to do a spring clean and tidy up the back matter in my books to remove mention of titles that (at this point) I won’t write purely because it is a mess and I don’t like letting down people who might be waiting for a story that no longer fills my heart with fire to write.

Which almost leads me to my main point.

Over the past year, I’ve been feeling that same insidious nudge that a change was coming. That eventually I would have to face it in order to find my happy place again but I’ve been rather stubborn.

Unlike 11 years ago when I dropped everything I was working on and wrote Tears of Tess, I have things to lose now. I had nothing to lose a decade ago. It wasn’t a hardship to pivot, tell the universe to hold my beer, and jump in with both feet because there was no fear or doubt or what if.

Now, there is.

Now I have a career. A slightly messy one. But still a career that tends to stick to darker themes, angsty themes, with the occasional random thing thrown in. The thought of adding yet MORE mess to the mix honestly terrifies me.

There are so many fears and doubts and what ifs because I’m SO INCREDIBLY LUCKY to have been able to write the books I have. To have readers who have been so loyal, regardless of what genre I skip into, and the thought of adding yet more chaos to my already chaotic catalogue does fill me with dread. I had full intentions of choosing a lane and sticking to it this year but…life has a way of pushing you in direction that you might not necessarily be ready for.

But this direction, I should probably have seen coming since I was a little girl.

Now…before I get to the main point of this ramble, I just want to mention a few other things.

Over the past four months, I’ve been super busy in the background, even though I haven’t been online much.

I’m going to be completely open and frank here so others can see that sometimes, doing less can sometimes be doing more, especially if you don’t have the capabilities to do what others are doing.

What I mean by that is…I live in New Zealand currently which means I’m rather handicapped when it comes to offering signed editions, swag, attending signings, and most things related to the online book world. A lot of the ebook selling platforms didn’t even have access to authors outside of USA until recently (had to use third parties). Audible still won’t let anyone outside of the US or UK have an account. I can’t do TikTok Ads as I can’t target outside my country and NZ is far too small to promote books to. My socials have limits on them compared to other friends. For example, the features on Instagram that all my friends have in the states are not available for me overseas, and VPN’s don’t seem to work.

I’ve never let these little hurdles bother me. I accept that I can’t travel for signings (with having a special needs pet) and can’t offer gorgeous signed editions. As the world got more and more focused on the packaging of a book instead of the content, I knew it wouldn’t be feasible for me to join in the fun so sat back.

However, then Asian printers joined in and I got offered the ability to print my own books that could be signed at the source. So…I felt pressure to join. I wanted to have a pretty edition that I could sell directly. FOMO is real lol .

So…for all of August, I designed, crafted, formatted, and printed a special edition for The Jewelry Box. I absolutely adore the finished product and love that entire series but the thought of doing it again? I have to be honest…I don’t think I have it in me.

I’ve always been a one-woman band. I do have the help of an amazing friend (Danielle) in the USA to help ship those editions and she has helped me with graphics and ARC distribution but I’ve never been good at delegation. And unfortunately, formatting books isn’t nearly as much fun as writing them, so unless I can find someone to do all the nitty-gritty work, I’m unsure if I can do more because it took me a full MONTH to do one edition and it just isn’t feasible to do more. Especially if I want to write.

Anyway, that’s kind of off topic but leads me back to what I’ve been doing over the past four months. August, I did the special edition which also bled into September. We had some family staying and then I started writing ONE STALKER NIGHT which was the next book I’d promised in the spicy, dirty world of Spectacle of Secrets.

However, here is where the cracks started to appear.

Not only was I addicted to my c-dramas (Chinese dramas) (To this date I haven’t watched an English tv since lol), but all those longings and homesickness to return to the epic fantasy romance world of my past just kept getting stronger and stronger. It got so bad, I had to set aside One Stalker Night for a week just to get a few chapters out of my system for the book I’m about to mention called WATER DUST.

The entire time I was struggling with writing One Stalker Night, my intuition was whispering that I was about to be pulled in a very different direction all while fear and logical thought argued against it.

I didn’t trust my intuition this time.

I flat out said it was wrong.

The last time I did fantasy, I flopped.

Who am I to think I can write another one?

I can’t afford to take the risk on yet another genre.

Writing another fantasy book is a HUGE time investment, not to mention a mental pretzel with world building.

I’ve already jumped into too many genres and it’s time for me to pick a lane.

All these thoughts and more have been running through my head, driving me crazy, but unfortunately, life finds a way to keep bludgeoning you until you give in.

Case in point…ONE STALKER NIGHT was supposed to be approx 80,000 words and be a simple sexy book to stay in the world of the spicy circus world of Hunter Dixon (introduced in ONE DIRTY NIGHT; released last October). But of course…nothing is simple and my characters flatly refused to do that.

I had to do a 34,000 word rewrite. Remove the circus aspect. Rename it. And accept that despite ALL my attempts NOT TO WRITE ANOTHER GENRE, I did it anyway.

One Stalker Night has now been renamed to TEXTING DR STALKER and is a ‘Green flag hero stalking romance standalone with a Clark Kent personality who turns into a dark Superman when he puts on his mask’. It is unlike ANYTHING I have ever written. It completely ignored me on what I wanted to do and…of course, I love it.

It’s finished, almost edited, and will be releasing in January 2025. But that is all to say…despite ALL MY ATEMPTS to behave, I failed.

Which leads me, FINALLY, to my point.

(First, here is the blurb and preorder links for Texting Dr Stalker if you’re interested)

I have a stalker.

A masked man who watches me from the shadows. A guardian who says he’s there to protect me—to help me heal from almost dying at the hands of another man.

He says he’s willing to do anything to help me move on. That I needn’t be afraid of him.

I agree to keep him my secret and share how much I’m truly struggling.

In return, he guards me. Even if it means guarding me from himself.

****

I’ve known her my entire life.

She’s the girl next door who I share a childhood betrothal with thanks to our two grandmothers wishing to turn their lifelong friendship into family.

I’m also the doctor who tended to her in the ER after her ex tried to kill her. I want to help her in any way I can, but I also know she’ll never accept my help because I’m the reason he tried to kill her in the first place.

But I can’t stand by and see her suffer, so…I come up with a plan. A highly illegal plan that ends with me breaking laws, rules, and my own heart.

I stalked her for all the right reasons but somehow, everything went ever so wrong…

TEXTING DR STALKER

Amazon: Live Release – Date to be Advised

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3CV6fBj

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/texting-dr-stalker

Google Play:  Coming

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/texting-dr-stalker-pepper-winters/1146614604

So…I’m almost done. I promise.

What I really want to say is…there comes a point where you can’t ignore life anymore. I’ve tried. I wish I could tell it to shut up but…I can’t. And it all came to a head a few days ago when I dragged hubby out to lunch for him to talk me off the ledge.

A ledge that looks a lot like: I WANT TO RETURN TO MY ROOTS AND WRITE AN EPIC XIANXIA ROMANCE FULL OF MAGIC, MYTH, & PASSION. I WANT SPIRIT BEASTS, CELESTIAL DRAMA, MORTALS, IMMORTALS, DEMONS, AND DIFFERENT REALMS. I WANT TO WRITE MY OWN VERSION OF EVERYTHING THAT I ADORE. I WANT TO WRITE THE STORY I STARTED WRITING AS A GIRL SITTING IN ANCIENT CHINA SURROUNDED BY MYTH.

Which leads me to more panic.

I’m white…does that mean it would be cultural appropriation to write about Chinese mythology with my own ‘English’ twist?

Can I honestly afford the risk to write something like this?

Do I have it in me to pen such an epic sweeping world?

Am I good enough?

And if I do enter this world…will I ever want to leave?

What if I do this and it flops?

What if I don’t do this and I regret it?

Should I stick to writing romantic standalones and try to stick to genres I’m known for?

Should I blow up certainty in favour of uncertainty?

Am I crazy for doing this?

I’m batshit crazy, right?

Yep, I’m definitely crazy.

I asked all these question to my hubby.

And you know what he said? He said sure, I could stick to writing what I THINK I should be writing. Doing my best to deliver standalone romances that might be enjoyed or might flop. Books that I will write to the best of my ability and books I will stand behind but books that might not have my full soul in their pages. I could continue doing that for a few years until I was brave enough to say yes to this burning desire to ‘go home’. Yes, my career might stay ‘stable’ (but One Stalker Night now renamed Texting Dr Stalker just proved very eloquently that’s not the case as I can’t seem to colour within the lines I set for myself anyway lol).

Yes, I could wait until I officially ‘retire’ to write this world that’s been in my heart ever since I was born. And sure, I could be ‘smart and logical’ not to rock the boat when I’ve already made it pretty messy with my past dalliances.

OR…I could accept that I can’t stop thinking about this adventure for a reason. It isn’t me thinking the grass is greener on the other side. It’s not me looking for an ‘easier way’ as we both know this is the hardest path for SURE. I’ve already said I will never ‘retire’ from writing, but I will be honest and say, I’m feeling the warning threads of burn out.

Seven years ago, I burned out very badly. It took me about a year to find myself and it set me on the path that has made me a very spiritual person today. However, I will be forever grateful for that awful burnout as it made me take stock in what is important, gave me heart palpitations that now act up at a SINGLE drop of stress (so I have no way of ignoring what is and isn’t working) and gave me the ability to read about all kinds of mindfulness and mediation work like Buddhism and Taoism that…funny enough…dwell HEAVILY in the themes of Xianxia romance (Immortal Hero romances).

It’s almost like I’ve come full circle.

From one burn out onto the cusp of another, the two sides of my passions have finally joined. The mythology of my youth coupled with the research of my present have now combined to show me the next step of my journey.

I’m honestly petrified.

Even now, I don’t want to publish this blog as I don’t want to admit defeat.

I already have a fantasy series that I haven’t finished that has gone scarily quiet in my head and has no completion date set.

I don’t want to put in stone what I’m thinking because I’m afraid.

I’m afraid that my readers won’t join me on yet another tangent.

I’m afraid that I’m misinterpreting my intuition for wishful thinking or straight up delusion.

I’m afraid of the time it will take and the future when I publish.

But…if I take a step back and truly look at where life is trying to push me…it’s almost ridiculously obvious.

Yes, I’m a write girl about to embark on writing a Xianxia romance but it’s not cultural appropriation. It IS my culture. It always has been. I’ve been formed because of it. I’ve become who I am thanks to it. Just because my skin colouring is different doesn’t mean I didn’t live and breathe every inch of this world. It’s in my blood as surely as my other heritage gifted to me from my parents.

And…if you believe in past lives (which I do), I believe I lived in a dynasty of China purely because the language feels comfortable in my mind. I’ve started learning it again and learning Mandarin for me isn’t like learning Thai (I’m learning Thai with hubby as we aim to move there in the future.) I’m not learning a Mandarin word, I’m REMEMBERING a word. It’s hard to explain, but I fully believe there is far more to this world than we know and we have far more sides of us than we are aware of.

I even have a Chinese name that I was given when I was too young to remember.

飞水 – Fēi shuǐ – It means Flying Water. Which is funny as whenever I go to feed the horses, if there are clouds above GUARANTEED it will rain on me. I seem to attract water and most at home around a river. Husband laughs as it’s honestly freaky how frequently a storm will crash the moment I go outside.  

Right, this has gone on long enough, so I’ll start to wrap it up.

I think a part of me doesn’t want to mention the Xianxia part as I’m afraid for many reasons. However, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m doing this. I refuse to write a book that is ‘influenced’ by this genre and not be loud and proud of where all these incredible myths and magic come from. I want to fully embrace the deities, artifacts, magic, and karmic trials just like all these Xianxia dramas I’ve been watching and absorbed as a child in Hong Kong. I also want to bring this world to others who might not know about the vibrantly rich, insanely amazing world of Chinese mythology, and it will be an absolute honour to share that. It will also be incredibly freeing to be able to share more of myself thanks to having the luck of being born there.

And now, you’re probably wondering why I’ve even bothered wasting your time if all I’m saying is I’m pivoting genres again. Big whoop. Been there. Done it before. We’re used to you changing and creating chaos with book promises and then delivering something else.

And for that, I apologise. It has never been my intention to announce a book and then not deliver. I would prefer not to be this way. But…I literally don’t have a choice. Whenever I try and fight against the muse, bad things happen. (I can’t finish a book) or the book completely changes (with time costing rewrites).

I’m not saying that I will NEVER visit other books. Never is a very long word and who knows, I might get this drive out of my system and return to dark romance or any of the other worlds that I have open-ended. But for now…this is me confessing that I’m about to embark on this new journey…for better or for worse.

Basically, this blog post isn’t for anyone else but me.

This is me signing the contract that fate wants me to sign. To finally have the guts to say, okay then. I’m ready. Let’s do this. I’m ready to take the leap and now that I am…I can state my dream up front. If you’ve ever read the book THINK RICH, GROW RICH by Napoleon Hill, he has a fabulous statement for narrowing your focus and bringing your intention into reality.

“Write down what you’re willing to give in order to get. It must be infused with passion, right intention, and be at the service of humanity.”

Almost two decades ago, I wrote down: I AM WILLING TO WRITE THE BEST BOOKS OF MY ABILTY TO PROVIDE WORTHWHILE ENTERTAINMENT IN EXCHANGE FOR WRITING AS MY CAREER.

That came true.

And now…I have a new statement:

I AM WILLING TO WRITE THE BEST XIANXIA ROMANCE BOOKS FULL OF MYTHOLOGY, LONGING, MAGIC, AND FANTASY IN EXCHANGE FOR DELIVERING STORIES THAT FILL ME WITH JOY.

There was also a secondary reason for writing this long-ass post and that is…I’ve already decided to write this book under a pen name but am not hiding the fact it’s me. I’m merely using the name as a new ‘shelf’ so once I publish in this new genre, any future books in this world will remain under that brand and be neat and tidy in one lane.

That name is FERN RIVERS. I have an Instagram account that I’ve started and a very basic Facebook one too.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fernriversauthor/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61563878392098

I will be sharing a lot about this book as I’m brimming with excitement and joy over finally allowing myself to write it. I’m hoping it won’t take me too long, but I will be a lot more vocal in the future as I’m no longer having an existential crisis over what I’m doing and ready to admit that this is me…chaotic and messy, but for now, I’m embracing my roots and writing the best book I can all while revisiting who I truly am inside.

And…once again, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this but here is the opening prologue for WATER DUST. (subject to change, unedited etc etc)

And so it all began…

LEGEND HAS IT THAT THE three realms balance preciously on a seesaw of right and wrong, good and evil, yin and yang. According to history (that’s long since turned to myth), an emperor was born to embody this balance. Within him, he carries the keys to paradise as well as damnation. An anomaly within the universe, he’s the vessel for every emotion and fate.

Created from equal parts love and hate, happiness and misery, compassion and cruelty, life and death, he has unlimited power over every creature and demon, mortal and immortal.

He must always remain neutral, battling against both forces.

As long as he can control the darkness, he can purify it back into the light.

However, every day those two forces battle harder within him.

And every day, the darkness gathers a little stronger, whittling away his strength.

The three realms depend on his ability to withstand this imbalance.

Without him, the perpetual wheel of life and death, rebirth and tribulations will break.

Unfortunately—according to history—one day, the malicious energy of our three worlds became too much for him to cleanse. And now, the mortal world of Elsewhere, the immortal world of Upthere, and the demon world of Otherwhere are all on the brink of collapse.

We’re dying.

Disasters are increasing.

The end is coming swiftly.

And the only one who can stop it is his Highness the High Immortal Emperor Luska Zuolin Stormcast.

But he disappeared.

Five thousand years ago, he shattered beneath his own power and went mad. Unable to cope with such an unwinnable task, he severed his heart, left himself empty of feeling, and vanished, condemning mortals and magical to die in ever increasing catastrophes.

And that is where this story begins…on the brink of ruin—destined to die through slaughter and carnage, all because the celestial wheel is broken, and the end is nigh…

 And that’s it for now.

If you got this far, thank you.

If you have comments or questions, let me know.

I don’t blame you if you’re not down for this next part of my journey as an author but if you are…thank you. Thank you so much for your amazing support and I cannot WAIT to share more about this world with you.

For now, I’m jumping back into the world of WATER DUST and making all my past and present dreams come true…

Xxxxx