I have never written a book before, so the process is quite challenging, especially since I wish to write so many (and on top of everything else I have to deal with). However, I know that I need to focus on the first one that I am writing The Ruins of Desolation.

I have everything outlined and even have room for things I wish to add in or remove, it is all seemingly ready to complete. I even wrote a first draft, but I am completely unhappy with it. However, I understand that this will be my first book. It is never going to be as perfect as I would like it.

So, I had an idea.

Just like Charles Dickens with his serialized novels, where each chapter was released one at a time in a newspaper, I have decided to do the same with my blog. I will release one chapter at a time here on my website for all of you to read.

I will make an effort to finalize my thoughts on each chapter, but do not expect this to be the case with all of the chapters, though most will just be fixing minor errors such as punctuation.

Then, after all is said and done, I will release the novel for sale as an e-Book and work out how to get it printed out and have a link to purchase it.

I have always been fascinated by Dickens’ use with this, as well as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s use, because it is a nice way to build the same type of suspense from that which you find in TV shows.

Will I do this with all my books? I do not know, but we will see. However, I hope that you enjoy The Ruins of Desolation and the books that I release to come.

Thank you so much.

Happy New Year!

I am in quite a pit

I do not know what to do

I feel trapped and lost

Within this wretched world

I care too much

I care too little

Told to smile, but told not to lie

What am I to do?

What am I to be?

I feel nothing, but everything

People do not care

Not for me, not for themselves

Existence is naught but a plague

And mine is but another addition

To the conglomerate of disease.

Mum made stew that mornin’. Aye, make ’em good! She tol’ me t’make shure to wash me hands, but silly fergits the well dried up days afore.

Mum let me out t’play ‘nd she grabbed me by the frock, shoutin’,

“Hark, child! Do not play South, ya understand? It’s scary ‘nd fill wif munsters. Come back fore dawn.”

I bobbed me head ‘nd told ‘er that I’d as sweet as a morg! But not play South? Crazy! She said munsters, but she’d crooked ‘er nose, so I knews she’s lyin’. Now I wunt to play South. I skipped to th’ east ’till m’house was gone, then I skipped south.

I wunt t’play wif munsters! Munsters! I bet they’re friendly munsters! But they’s got BIG TEETH, tha’ size o’ houses! So, people call ’em evil, but they like little people like me!

I gat so many flowies ‘nd put ’em in me hair! I was so pretty! A morg skitter-di-der-deed o’er t’me ‘nd we ‘ad a race! The morg beat me. Meanie. I scared ‘im ‘way ‘cuz he beat me.

I found suhm o’ th’ red berries Mum told were good. ‘Nd they’s were! Oh, I’d many ’til m’tummy yellin’ at me. Heehee! So, I’s a nap. I’s so full.

I woke t’ a cool breeze ‘nd th’ sunset. I’d t’get home.

No! I wunt t’play wif munsters!

I kept skipping South until I saw a dark’n’d wood wif black as night fog. I was scared.

But then I saw ‘nother lil’ girl just like me hidin’ behind a dark tree, watchin’ me. She’d a white frock ‘nd had long, black hair. I wunted t’be ‘er friend!

I skipped o’er t’her, but she was afraid. So, I walk slowly. I tol’ ‘er that I’s no munster, ‘nd then she smiled ‘nd grabbed me hand.

“Play wf me?” she asked. O’course I wunted to play! I grabbed ‘er arm ‘nd tried t’bring ‘er home wif me, but she fought me. She wunted t’stay ‘n the dark wood.

“No, I can’t leave. This m’home.” I got sad. I wunted a sister.

“No, don’t be sad! Here, always makes me feel better when I’m sad.” She pull from a pocket ‘neath ‘er frock a pretty my-ho-ga-nee music box. I wunted it.

“But if y’are to lissin’, you’ll be m’friend forever. M’kay?” I bobbed me head.

“Great!” She twist th’ knob o’ th’ music box ‘nd sang along wif it.

Turn me over, twist my clock,

Set me against your gentle frock

Go from within the blackened trees

Where there lies no cool or warm breeze

Help me sing pretty, humming so low

Drift to darkness, no one will know

You are my one and only friend

‘Til the end.

I’d blinked at t’end o’ ‘er song, but she poofed! I called out to m’friend, but saw just’a paperpiece lyin’ on th’ floor. It said

“Write what happened today and leave it here. Then we can play together, as friends. Love, Clarissa”

Hope mum finds this. I’m gun’ to play with m’friend!