Tag: books

What would you surrender for a story that won’t stop knocking?

I surrendered the glow. The soft, blue hum that filled the room after dinner. I set the remote down the way some people set aside sugar for Lent—deliberately, almost ceremonially—like I was laying a coin on a ferryman’s palm. The one-eyed monster blinked into its own reflection, and the living room exhaled. No laugh track. No canned cliffhanger. Only the fridge whispering, the clock ticking, the house going quiet enough for another world to speak.

That was the night my AR clicked on.

Not augmented reality. Author Reality. The dimension that lives behind every closed door and blinking cursor. It doesn’t need a headset, and it doesn’t apologize for being demanding. It’s the world that asks you to show up with the same seriousness you bring to your job, your family, your grief, your joy. It rewards the faithful, and it keeps its secrets from the curious who wander in for a minute and wander back out.

Is it worth it? Depends on what you want from a story: to be carried, or to build the boat.

Here’s the rhythm I’ve learned, the three-beat cadence of making a book: if I’m not writing, I’m editing. If I’m not editing, I’m sharing—sending flares from my lighthouse so readers can find the shore I’ve drawn by hand. The work doesn’t pause when inspiration does. The tide moves with or without me, and the only way to get anywhere is to put an oar in the water every day, even when the fog is thick.

In AR, everything means more than it looks. A mug of coffee stops being a mug. Steam rolls out like sea fog over the harbor city I sketched in a January notebook—the one with crooked alleys and market bells and a lighthouse whose stair treads know my footsteps by now. The keyboard isn’t plastic and wires; it’s a compass that points toward scenes I haven’t met and scenes I’m avoiding. The cursor blinks like a beacon: here, here, here. Come back to work.

Characters are the first to step through. They don’t knock; they appear mid-argument, mid-laugh, mid-betrayal, dragging weather from their world into mine. A woman with ink-stained fingers and a secret she thinks is hers to keep sits across a table I’ve never owned, tapping out a rhythm that nags me until I write it. A courier with a map stitched into his jacket refuses to sleep until I let him miss his train. They bring me their trouble and their hope and ask me to be brave enough to tell the truth about both.

Writing is the first excavation. It’s the rush of discovering a bone in the sand and imagining the whole animal in a heartbeat. Then comes editing—the archaeology that happens with a brush instead of a shovel. Line by line, brush, brush, brush. I dig out the clean edges of the story from the clay of my habits. I cut the clever lines that don’t serve the skeleton. I sand away the splinters of scenes that snag but don’t support.

Editing is humbling. It asks: if you were a reader with a train to catch and twenty minutes to spare, would you keep turning pages? It makes you honest. It makes you protective of the reader’s time like it’s your own. It teaches you that your favorite sentence is sometimes the one that has to go.

Then there’s the sharing. I used to call it marketing and feel like I’d swapped my compass for a billboard, but that was before I understood it as lighthouse work. A story without a reader is a ship locked in the bottle: complete, exquisite, invisible. So I keep the glass polished. I write the note that says, “This is the world waiting inside,” and I send it in a thousand bottles. I accept that some will wash back to my own feet. I light the lamp again tomorrow. Maintenance isn’t glamorous, but neither is missing land because the light went out.

What did I trade for this? The easy glow of someone else’s story. The comfort of predictable arcs and neat resolutions. I traded hours that evaporated into hours that accrue. The time I used to float became time I build.

Not all trades feel noble. There are nights when the couch calls me by name, when the news scrolls like a slow-motion car wreck and every good show has three seasons ready to swallow me whole. There are mornings when the alarm sounds like a dare. I don’t always win. But I keep a little ledger—a trade log that tells me, honestly, what I gave up and what I made instead.

Gave up: an hour of television, a mindless scroll, a snack I didn’t need. Built instead: 827 words that moved a character from lying to telling the truth. Reshaped a chapter so the secret doesn’t leak too soon. Jotted a note about how the lighthouse uses a lens I’d never heard of before—Fresnel, a word that tastes like a bell.

Some nights the ledger holds only this: showed up. Sat with the blank and did not run. That counts. That’s a bead on the string.

Is it worth it? I don’t pretend I don’t miss the weightless time. Ease is its own kind of bliss. But there’s another kind: the exhale that comes when a paragraph clicks into place after a week of sanding. The email that says, “I brought your character to the doctor with me; she kept me company in the waiting room.” The message that says, “I didn’t think anyone knew how this felt until I read your chapter.” Those are the moments when the ledger pays interest.

Author Reality is not glamorous. It’s not a montage scored to moody piano. It’s a series of ordinary choices that turn into extraordinary pages. It is the practice of saying no to something pleasant so you can say yes to something that will outlast you. It’s a room you have to reenter every day because the door locks when you leave. And it is, somehow, always worth the key.

Maybe you feel the familiar itch in your palms. The tug toward building instead of consuming. The quiet knowing that you are meant to make something you cannot yet see the edges of. If that’s you, come with me. We can navigate together, even in different boats.

Here’s how to open your AR door:

For one week, switch off the one-eyed monster. Thirty minutes a day is enough to crack the seam between here and there. Put your remote in a drawer, set a timer, and let silence stretch long enough to get uncomfortable. On the other side of discomfort is a voice that wants to talk to you.

Choose your role each day so you don’t fight your own weather. Calm sea? Write new words, even if they’re ugly. Wind picking up? Edit yesterday’s draft with gentle eyes. Fog horn blowing? Share a piece—a paragraph, a line, a feeling—with someone who might need it. Writing, editing, sharing. Every day has a job.

Keep a tiny trade log. One line. What you traded. What you built. Gave up: 40 minutes of scrolling. Built: 3 new pages and a better scene transition. Gave up: a second helping of dessert. Built: the energy to reread my own work without hating it. The log is proof. The log is a map.

Offer a postcard from your AR. A sentence, a sketch of a character, a logline that scares you a little to say out loud. Tell me why it matters to you. We anchor each other when we speak our worlds into air.

You don’t need a headset to live in augmented reality. You need intention. You need a door you’re willing to close and a light you’re willing to switch on. You need the courage to choose your story over the millions that want to borrow your attention for free and charge you with regret later.

I won’t pretend it’s easy to keep that light burning. But I can promise this: the worlds we build in AR have a way of building us back. They give us patience and precision and a tenderness for our own imperfect drafts. They teach us to wait for the fog to lift and to move forward anyway, even when it doesn’t. They send back echoes in the shape of readers who bring our characters to breakfast, to chemotherapy, to bed. They make meaning out of minutes.

The light is on. The keys are warm. The door is unlocked. If you’re ready, step into your AR. Leave your shoes at the threshold and carry only what you need: your stubbornness, your curiosity, a pen that doesn’t mind being chewed. I’ll be in the lighthouse, keeping watch, sending signals. When your boat appears on the horizon, I’ll wave you in.

We have worlds to make.

#WritersLife #BookTok #Bookstagram #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #IndieAuthor #WritersOfInstagram #AuthorTok #WritersOfTwitter #WritersOfX #Worldbuilding

Avoid Marketing Mistakes: Tips for Authors

When you flush money down the shitter expecting results, you’re not just throwing a party for your dignity—you’re throwing it a surprise funeral. Spoiler alert: the porcelain throne isn’t some magical fountain of success. It’s not going to spit out gold bars or a winning lottery ticket. No, it’s just a glorified trash can for bad decisions and the aftermath of your Taco Bell binge. And let’s be real, the only thing you’re going to find in there is regret, a questionable smell, and the faint echo of your own stupidity.
Seriously, what were you expecting? A genie to pop out and grant you three wishes? Hate to break it to you, but the only thing coming out of that toilet is the ghost of last night’s tequila and the shattered remains of your self-esteem. Congratulations, you’ve officially turned your bathroom into a shrine for poor life choices. Light a candle. Say a prayer. And for the love of God, stop flushing your hopes and dreams down the crapper.

So, my book, Stupid Shit: A Survival Guide for a World Gone Mad, is almost ready to drop, and now it’s time to tackle the beast that is marketing. And let’s be honest—marketing can feel like trying to sell ice to penguins while wearing a clown suit. But hey, if you’re writing a book about stupid shit, you’re already halfway to genius. The trick is to avoid doing stupid shit while marketing your book. I know people who’ve written books, slapped them on Amazon, and then sat back waiting for the million-dollar checks to roll in. Should we tell them? Or just let them keep refreshing their bank accounts in blissful ignorance?

Then there are the people who pay someone else to do their marketing for them. Because nothing screams “I’m invested in my book” like outsourcing the entire process to someone who couldn’t give two shits if your book sells or ends up as a coaster for their coffee mug. Let’s be real—these people don’t care about your literary masterpiece on why Rome really fell. They’re not sitting there thinking, “Wow, this author’s insights into ancient history are going to change the world!” No, they’re thinking, “How fast can I slap together a half-assed Facebook ad and still charge them $500?”
If you’re going to be an author, you’ve got to face the cold, hard truth: unless you’ve got the luck of the Irish, or 50 shades of luck in the form of a billionaire with a fetish for spanking young women with tender white bottoms, you’re going to have to work a little harder. And no, I don’t mean “harder” in the Christian Grey sense. I mean you’re going to have to dive headfirst into the murky, soul-sucking waters of marketing your own damn book.

Because here’s the thing: no one is coming to save you. There’s no knight in shining armor galloping in on a horse made of Amazon algorithms to rescue your sales. You’re not Anastasia Steele, and your book isn’t going to magically seduce the masses just by existing. You’ve got to put in the work. You’ve got to convince people that your book is worth their time, their money, and their precious attention span, which, let’s be honest, is shorter than a TikTok video these days.

So, unless you’re sitting on a pile of cash and a dream that some marketing guru is going to turn your novel into the next Fifty Shades of Grey, it’s time to roll up your sleeves and get to work. Because the only thing worse than writing a book no one reads is paying someone else to pretend they care about it while they’re secretly Googling “how to make passive income without trying.”

Many people get on Twitter or Facebook and do what…Spam.
You know that guy who sends 16 identical pitches to random blogs in five hours? Yeah, don’t be that guy. Spamming your book everywhere is like farting in an elevator—it’s loud, obnoxious, and everyone hates you for it. Instead, focus on connecting with your actual audience. Who are they? People who love sarcasm, humor, and a healthy dose of WTF moments. Speak to them directly, not to the void. The void doesn’t buy books. The void doesn’t even have a credit card.
Learn from the Snowqueen’s Icedragon (Yes, That’s a Real Thing)

Let’s take a moment to appreciate E.L. James, the queen of turning fan fiction into a global phenomenon. Back in 2009, she wrote Fifty Shades of Grey as Twilight fan fiction under the pseudonym “Snowqueen’s Icedragon.” (Yes, really. Let that sink in.) She posted it on fanfiction.net, where she tapped into an existing fanbase of people who were already thirsty for sparkly vampires and awkward romance. Genius, right? She then moved her story to her own website, self-published it, and let word-of-mouth do the heavy lifting. By the time Hollywood came knocking, she was already rolling in cash and probably laughing maniacally while swimming in a pool of royalty checks. Moral of the story? Know your audience, and don’t be afraid to embrace the absurd.

Know Your Audience (Hint: It’s Not Karen from Accounting)
If you’re marketing your book to “everyone,” you’re marketing it to no one. Your book isn’t for everyone—In my case my audience is people who appreciate humor, sarcasm, and the absurdity of modern life.

Who is yours? Lean into that. Your ideal reader isn’t Karen from accounting who spends her weekends manifesting her dream life with crystals and self-help books.

My reader is the person who laughs at fart jokes, wonders why the world is so damn ridiculous, and probably has a meme folder labeled “For When I Lose Faith in Humanity.”
Social Media: Stop Screaming “BUY MY BOOK” Like a Lunatic.

If your social media strategy is just “BUY MY BOOK” on repeat, you’re doing it wrong. Social media is like a party—if you’re the guy standing in the corner shouting about your book, people will avoid you like you’ve got the plague. Instead, In my case I will share funny anecdotes, behind-the-scenes moments, or even snippets of the book.

The world is too damned serious and I want to make people laugh, make them think, and then—then—tell them about my book.

Balance is key. Think of it like foreplay. You don’t just dive in screaming, “BUY MY BOOK!” You warm them up first. Buy them dinner. Tell them a joke. Then hit them with the sales pitch.
Start Marketing Before You’re Ready (Because You’ll Never Be Ready)

Waiting until your book is out to start marketing is like showing up to a potluck with an empty plate. Start building hype now. Share your writing process, tease your cover design, or post about the stupid shit that inspired your book. The earlier you start connecting with your audience, the more invested they’ll be when your book drops. And remember, it’s not about follower counts or newsletter subscribers—it’s about quality over quantity. A small, engaged audience is worth more than a million bots or disinterested followers. Treat your audience like gold. Or at least like a really good burrito. Both are precious.

I know way too many authors who don’t give a shit—or even two fucks—about their audience. And let me tell you, folks, that ain’t gonna fly. Your audience isn’t just some faceless blob of people who magically buy your book because you exist. They’re your peeps. Your tribe. The people who are willing to spend their hard-earned cash on your ramblings about why Rome really fell or whatever other nonsense you’ve decided to write about. If you treat them like a pot pie you left in the air fryer too long—burnt, forgotten, and stinking up the place—they’re going to do what any self-respecting human would do: set off the fire alarm, leave your ass hungry, and never come back.

Here’s the thing: your audience is the lifeblood of your book. Without them, you’re just some weirdo shouting into the void. And the void doesn’t buy books. The void doesn’t leave reviews. The void doesn’t even care that you exist. So, if you’re not willing to put in the effort to connect with your readers, you might as well pack it up now and save yourself the embarrassment of watching your Amazon ranking plummet faster than your self-esteem after reading a one-star review.

Treat Your Audience Like Gold (Not Like That Mystery Meat in the Back of Your Freezer)
Your audience isn’t stupid. They can tell when you’re phoning it in. If you’re just throwing your book out there and hoping for the best, they’ll notice. And they’ll leave. Fast. Think of your audience like a delicate soufflé—you’ve got to nurture them, pay attention to them, and for the love of God, don’t slam the oven door by ignoring their needs. Otherwise, they’ll collapse into a sad, deflated mess, and you’ll be left wondering why no one’s buying your book.

So, how do you keep your audience happy? Simple: give a shit. Engage with them. Talk to them. Make them feel like they’re part of something special. Because if you don’t, they’ll find someone else who will. And trust me, there’s no shortage of authors out there who are more than happy to steal your readers while you’re busy treating them like yesterday’s leftovers.

Don’t Be That Author Who Thinks They’re Too Cool for Their Readers

You know the type. The author who thinks they’re some literary god, too busy basking in their own brilliance to bother with the people who actually read their work. Newsflash: you’re not Hemingway. And even if you were, Hemingway would probably tell you to stop being such a pretentious asshole and buy your readers a drink. Your audience doesn’t owe you anything. They don’t have to read your book. They don’t have to leave you glowing reviews. And they sure as hell don’t have to stick around if you treat them like crap.

So, here’s the deal: if you want your audience to care about you, you’ve got to care about them first. Show them some love. Make them laugh. Give them a reason to stick around. Because at the end of the day, your audience isn’t just a bunch of random assholes—they’re the reason your book exists. Treat them like it.

Don’t Be Afraid to Be Bold (Or a Little Stupid)
My book is called Stupid Shit, so you better believe I’m going all-in on audacious marketing. Humor, sarcasm, and a touch of absurdity to grab attention. Because let’s face it, the world is already full of stupid shit—my book is here to make sense of it. Or at least laugh at it.

Marketing doesn’t have to be a soul-sucking exercise in futility. It can actually be fun. Just remember: don’t spam, don’t rely on bots, and don’t try to be everything to everyone. Focus on your audience, be genuine, and let your personality shine through. After all, the world is already drowning in stupid shit—my book is here to be the life raft. Or at least the inflatable pool noodle.
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I have to get back to work on editing 1300 Feet Per Second which is a thriller.
Next time we visit I will share my writing techniques regarding letting sleeping dogs nap while I work on something else and then return to wake them up and get them howling.
-Best

Navigating the Challenges of Writing in the AI Era

I had lunch with a dear friend recently—a lovely person who discovered that writing is, in fact, a business. Yes, a business. Like selling hot dogs or running a laundromat, except with more existential dread and fewer health inspections. Over sandwiches, we discussed the latest in literary absurdity: AI-driven software that can crank out an entire book faster than you can say, “What the actual fuck?” Apparently (and I can’t confirm this, but it sounds stupid enough to be true), Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) now limits authors to uploading no more than three books a day. Three. A. Day. Because, you know, that’s a totally normal output for a human being and not at all a sign that Skynet is moonlighting as a romance novelist.

Let’s talk about writing a book the way most authors do—or at least the way we used to before AI started pooping out novels like a malfunctioning vending machine. Writing a book used to be a deeply personal, soul-crushing process that required creativity, discipline, and the kind of stubbornness usually reserved for toddlers refusing to eat broccoli. Here’s how it went down in the pre-AI era:

1. Generating Ideas

Back in the day, authors had to rely on their own brains to come up with ideas. No ChatGPT, no Bard, no “AI Muse 3000.” Just raw, unfiltered human creativity. Inspiration came from life experiences, dreams, or that one weird conversation you overheard at Starbucks where someone said, “I don’t care if it’s illegal, I’m marrying the ferret.” Writers carried notebooks everywhere, jotting down ideas like lunatics scribbling manifestos.

For example, when I wrote a book about sailing, I didn’t just Google “how to sail” and call it a day. No, I lived it. I chartered a sailboat, had the crew walk me through the process, and spent the day pretending I was Captain Jack Sparrow (minus the eyeliner and rum). That night, when I lay down in my hotel bed, the room was still swaying. That’s the kind of detail you can’t fake. That’s world-building, baby.

2. Outlining the Story

Once you had an idea, you had to outline it. This was where the real masochism began. You’d map out the plot, develop characters with backstories more complicated than your family drama, and, if you were writing sci-fi or fantasy, create entire worlds with their own rules, languages, and economies. It was like playing God, except no one worshipped you, and you didn’t get a day off.

Some writers “pantsed” their way through the story (a.k.a. winging it like a drunk pilot), while others meticulously planned every chapter. I personally use a beat sheet from Save the Cat, because apparently, I enjoy turning my creative process into a spreadsheet. Nothing says “art” like Excel.

3. Writing the First Draft

Ah, the first draft. The part where you sit down, stare at a blank page, and think, “Why the hell did I decide to do this?” Writing was slow, painful, and required the kind of discipline usually associated with monks or Navy SEALs. You’d aim for a specific word count each day, and if you hit it, you’d reward yourself with chocolate or alcohol—or both.

Writer’s block was a constant companion. Without AI to suggest ideas, you had to push through it on your own. Some people went for walks. Others screamed into the void. I personally found inspiration in coffee, wine, and the occasional existential crisis.

4. Revising and Editing

Once the first draft was done, the real torture began: revising. You’d read your manuscript over and over, catching typos, fixing plot holes, and wondering why your protagonist sounded like a cardboard cutout. Beta readers would give you feedback like, “I didn’t connect with the characters,” or “This part was boring,” and you’d resist the urge to reply, “Well, Karen, maybe you’re boring.”

If you could afford it, you’d hire a professional editor. If not, you’d edit it yourself, which was like performing surgery on your own child. Painful, messy, and guaranteed to leave scars.

5. Research

Research is the necessary evil of writing, especially for non-fiction or historically accurate fiction. It’s the part of the process where you willingly dive headfirst into a rabbit hole of facts, only to emerge hours later wondering why you now know the mating habits of 18th-century pigeons but still haven’t figured out what your protagonist’s name is. Research is both a blessing and a curse—it gives your work depth and believability, but it also makes you question your life choices when you’re Googling things like, “How long does it take for a body to decompose in a swamp?” and praying your internet provider isn’t judging you.

For example, if you’re writing sci-fi, you might find yourself studying quantum physics or emerging technologies, which sounds impressive until you realize you’re just trying to figure out how to explain time travel without sounding like a lunatic. Or, if you’re me, you might Google “how to sabotage an airplane” and then spend the next week convinced that the FBI is about to kick down your door. I mean, imagine it: covert agents taping over your outdoor cameras, RF jamming your phone so you can’t call for help, cutting the power to your house, shooting your dogs (RIP, Fido), and snipers perched in trees a mile away, just waiting for you to answer the door in your pajamas—or, let’s be honest, nude—so they can interrogate you about your questionable search history.

Wait. I never Googled that. Nope. Never happened. But damn, wouldn’t that make a killer chapter in a thriller? Picture it: the protagonist is a writer who accidentally stumbles onto some classified government conspiracy while researching their next book. Suddenly, their innocent Google searches turn into a one-way ticket to paranoia-ville, complete with black SUVs tailing them and mysterious men in suits showing up at their local coffee shop. Someone call Netflix—I think I just wrote their next hit series.

But seriously, research is the backbone of good writing. Whether you’re crafting a historical epic or a sci-fi adventure, you need to know your shit. As Patricia Leslie points out, research is essential for both fiction and non-fiction writers. It helps develop characters, make settings believable, and weave fact and fiction together so seamlessly that readers can’t tell where one ends and the other begins

For non-fiction, accuracy is king. For fiction, it’s more like a benevolent dictator—you can bend the rules a little, but you still need to know what you’re doing.

The trick is to use research as a tool, not a crutch. Sure, you could spend weeks poring over vintage newspapers or interviewing experts, but at some point, you have to stop researching and start writing. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a head full of useless trivia and no book to show for it. And let’s be honest, no one’s going to be impressed that you know the exact dimensions of a 16th-century guillotine unless you actually use that knowledge in your story.

So, to all the writers out there: research responsibly. And maybe clear your browser history every now and then, just in case. You never know when the FBI might decide to pay you a visit.

6. Finding a Publisher

Before self-publishing, authors had to grovel at the feet of literary agents and publishers. You’d write query letters, pitch your book, and wait months for a response, only to get a rejection that said, “Not for us, but good luck!” It was like online dating, except instead of ghosting you, they sent a polite “no.”

7. Marketing and Promotion

Even after all that, the work wasn’t done. Authors had to promote their books like used car salesmen. Book tours, media appearances, social media campaigns—you name it. You’d beg people to buy your book, and they’d say, “I’ll wait for the movie.” Thanks, Aunt Linda.

The AI Problem

Now, thanks to AI, anyone can “write” a book in minutes. But let’s be honest: these programs aren’t writing books; they’re shitting them out. And the result? A flood of mediocre, soulless content clogging up the literary world like a fatberg in a sewer.

I’m all for technology as a tool. Word, Grammarly, ProWritingAid—these are great. But AI-generated books? That’s where I draw the line. I’m pushing for legislation that requires AI-generated books to wear a big, ugly label that says, “This was written by a robot.” Readers deserve to know if the “author” of their favorite romance novel is a human or a glorified toaster.

Final Thoughts

Writing is a job. A hard, thankless, occasionally soul-sucking job. There are days when I stare at my manuscript and think, “Why am I doing this?” But then I remember: because I love it. Because it’s who I am. And because the world needs more books written by real people with real stories to tell.

My book, Stupid Shit, is coming soon. Subscribe today so you can grab a copy when it drops. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

-Best

Today’s Stupid Shit Moment: Independence Day Edition

Ah, Independence Day. A time for fireworks, BBQs, and, apparently, a parade of people doing stupid shit that makes you question how we’ve survived as a species this long. For those of you in the U.S. or Americans abroad, Happy Independence Day! You’ve earned it. Well, most of you. Some of you are out there being paid to metaphorically (and maybe literally) piss your pants in public because you think it’s a good idea to protest a president who—brace yourselves—actually believes in putting America first. Shocking, I know.

To those of you playing the role of “useful idiot,” let me just say, your about as helpful as a parachute that opens on impact.

Oh, and while you’re out there playing political charades, make sure you report that dark money on your taxes. Seriously. Uncle Sam doesn’t give a shit about your “cause,” but he will care about the fact that you’re skipping out on your dues. If you think you’re above the law when it comes to taxes, let me introduce you to a little history lesson: Al Capone. You know, the guy who ran an entire criminal empire but got taken down because he couldn’t be bothered to file his 1040? Yeah, that guy.

And don’t think for a second that you’re too clever to get caught. The IRS is like a bloodhound with a caffeine addiction—they’ll sniff out your shady finances faster than you can say “offshore account.” And when they do, don’t be surprised if your new address is Alligator Alkatraz, the newest prison where tax evaders go to share a cell with a gator named Chompers. Spoiler alert: Chompers doesn’t care about your political affiliations, but he does care about how tasty you look.

I hear the mosquitoes in the newest Florida prison create a relentless, high-pitched buzzing, a cacophony that makes the alligators sound like gentle giants in comparison.

So, here’s some free advice: stop trying to Jedi-mind-trick people into thinking your bullshit is revolutionary, pay your damn taxes, and maybe—just maybe—try doing something productive for once. Like knitting. Or learning how to juggle. Or, I don’t know, not being a walking punchline.

Now, don’t get me wrong—I get it. I understand both sides of the equation. Communism? Not the answer. Hating on cops? Also not the answer. And for the love of all that is holy, tossing 90-year-old grandmas who crossed the border illegally into the slammer? Yeah, probably not the answer either. But here’s the kicker: it’s above your pay grade to fix all this shit. So maybe stop taking dark money to unravel the fabric of this country faster than a cheap sweater in a washing machine. Just a thought.

A quick thank you to the real MVPs.

To the veterans who sacrificed so we could have these kinds of conversations (and by “conversations,” I mean yelling at each other on Twitter): thank you. You’re the reason we can argue about stupid shit like pineapple on pizza or whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie.

To law enforcement: you’re the best. We back the blue—well, the ones who actually support the American people. The rest of you? Maybe consider a career change. I hear Starbucks is hiring.

For the Writers Out There: How to Make It Big (Without Losing Your Mind)

Now, let’s pivot to something less rage-inducing and more productive: writing. I know a lot of you dream of being “independent” from working for The Man. You want to write your way to fame and fortune, sipping margaritas on a beach while your books sell themselves. Spoiler alert: it’s not that easy. But it’s not impossible either. Let’s take a look at two wildly successful authors—J.K. Rowling and E.L. James—and see what we can learn from their journeys.

Secrets of Success for Authors Like J.K. Rowling and E.L. James

Perseverance and Resilience J.K. Rowling was a single mom living in poverty, writing in cafes while her baby drooled on her shoulder. She got rejected 12 times before Bloomsbury finally said, “Fine, we’ll publish your wizard book.” E.L. James? She started in fanfiction, reworking her stories into the “Fifty Shades” trilogy after getting feedback from online communities. Moral of the story? Rejection is just the universe’s way of saying, ‘Not yet, bitch.’

Don’t skim, read; this text is full of wisdom.

Unique and Relatable Stories Rowling gave us a magical world with themes like friendship, loss, and courage. E.L. James? She tapped into a niche market with her bold, unconventional storytelling. (Translation: she made BDSM mainstream. You’re welcome, society.) The lesson here? Be unique. Be relatable. And if all else fails, throw in some handcuffs.

Discipline and Hard Work Rowling rewrote the opening chapter of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone 15 times. FIFTEEN. Meanwhile, James worked tirelessly to turn her fanfiction into a polished trilogy. The takeaway? Writing is hard. Suck it up and do the work.

Embracing Criticism and Rejection Both authors faced rejection and criticism. Rowling’s manuscript was rejected by multiple publishers, and James got roasted for her writing style. But guess what? They didn’t quit. They used the feedback to improve. Pro tip: Grow a thick skin. You’re gonna need it.

Leveraging Opportunities and Platforms E.L. James started in online fanfiction communities, building a loyal audience before going mainstream. Rowling expanded her books into films, merchandise, and theme parks. The lesson? Use every platform at your disposal. And don’t be afraid to think big.

Passion and Authenticity Both authors wrote stories they were passionate about. Rowling loved storytelling, and James was enthusiastic about exploring unconventional themes. (Again, handcuffs.) The point? Write what you love. Your passion will shine through.

Timing and Luck Talent and hard work are crucial, but timing and luck also play a role. Rowling’s manuscript landed on the right desk at the right time, and James’ trilogy blew up during the rise of digital publishing. The takeaway? You can’t control luck, but you can control how prepared you are when it strikes.

Building a Brand Rowling turned Harry Potter into a global empire. James capitalized on her trilogy with movie adaptations. The lesson? Think beyond the book. Could your work inspire a podcast, a screenplay, or even a line of merch? The possibilities are endless.

Final Thoughts for Aspiring Writers

Writing is a grind. It’s messy, frustrating, and sometimes feels like you’re screaming into the void. But it’s also rewarding as hell. So keep at it. Write your stupid shit. Share your stupid shit. And who knows? Maybe one day, your stupid shit will make you famous.

Now go forth and conquer. Or at least write something that doesn’t make people want to gouge their eyes out. Happy writing!

As for my book, Stupid Shit, let me tell you something: just when I think I’ve finally wrapped it up, the world goes, “Hold my beer,” and hands me yet another steaming pile of stupidity to write about. It’s like the universe is running a 24/7 stupidity buffet, and I’m the poor bastard with an all-you-can-eat pass. Seriously, I could be typing “The End” and BAM—someone out there decides to try and deep-fry a frozen turkey in their living room. Or, I don’t know, invents a new TikTok challenge that involves licking electrical outlets.

I mean, I try to filter out the mundane, everyday dumb shit—like people who still don’t know how to use a turn signal or those who microwave metal forks. That’s amateur hour. No, I’m here to bring you the absolute stupidest shit imaginable. The kind of stupidity that makes you stop, stare, and wonder how we’ve made it this far as a species without accidentally walking into the ocean en masse.

And let’s be real: I don’t just do this for you. Writing this book is therapy for me. Because if I didn’t laugh at this stuff, I’d probably be curled up in a corner, rocking back and forth, muttering, “Why, humanity, why?” But for you? It’s humor. It’s a front-row seat to the circus of idiocy that is modern life.

So, stay tuned. The world keeps giving me material, and I’ll keep serving it up hot and fresh. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: stupid shit never takes a day off.

Dissecting 2012: The Hero’s Journey Explained

I don’t always watch movies on TV, but when I do, it’s usually because I’ve run out of excuses to avoid them. Truth be told, the last time I sat down for a cinematic experience, Twisters was still blowing cows across the screen. Why the long hiatus? Well, when you’ve written over 90 million words (yes, I counted), your brain tends to treat “relaxation” like a mythical creature—something you’ve heard about but never actually seen. But hey, even the most overworked wordsmith deserves a mental vacation every now and then, right?

So, I decided to dust off my popcorn bowl and dive into 2012, Roland Emmerich’s epic disaster flick. But because I’m a writer (and therefore incapable of turning off my analytical brain), I thought it’d be fun to dissect the movie through the lens of the Hero’s Journey. If you’re not a writer, you might be thinking, “Why should I care?” And honestly, fair point. But stick around—there’s a good chance you’ll leave this with a newfound appreciation for both storytelling and John Cusack’s ability to outrun the apocalypse in a limo.

The Hero’s Journey: A Quick Crash Course

Before we dive into the fiery pits of 2012, let’s talk about the Hero’s Journey—a storytelling framework so universal it’s basically the avocado toast of narrative structures. Coined by Joseph Campbell, it’s the blueprint for every epic tale, from The Odyssey to Star Wars to, yes, 2012. Here’s the gist:

Ordinary World: The hero starts in their boring, everyday life. Think “before Frodo left the Shire” or “before Harry got his Hogwarts letter.”

Call to Adventure: Something shakes up the status quo. Usually, it’s a big ol’ problem that can’t be ignored.

Refusal of the Call: The hero hesitates because, let’s face it, saving the world sounds exhausting.

Meeting the Mentor: Enter the wise guide who says, “You’ve got this!” (or, in some cases, “You’re doomed, but good luck!”).

Crossing the Threshold: The hero leaves their comfort zone and steps into the unknown. Cue dramatic music.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies: The hero faces challenges, makes friends, and punches bad guys (or, in this case, dodges tsunamis).

The Ordeal: The big, climactic moment where everything’s on the line.

The Reward: The hero achieves their goal—or at least survives long enough to celebrate.

The Road Back: Time to head home, but not without a few more hurdles.

The Resurrection: The hero emerges transformed, wiser, and probably in need of a nap.

Return with the Elixir: The hero brings back something valuable to share with the world. (Spoiler: It’s usually not an actual elixir. Sorry.)

How 2012 Fits the Hero’s Journey (With a Dash of Chaos)

1. The Ordinary World

Meet Jackson Curtis (John Cusack), a struggling writer and part-time limo driver. His life is as ordinary as it gets—divorced, juggling kids, and probably wondering why his book sales are flatter than a pancake. If this were a sitcom, his biggest problem would be forgetting his ex-wife’s birthday. But alas, this is a disaster movie, so things are about to get way worse.

2. The Call to Adventure

Jackson stumbles upon a conspiracy theorist (Woody Harrelson, in peak “crazy guy with a radio” mode) who warns him that the world is about to end. Naturally, Jackson’s first reaction is, “Yeah, okay, buddy.” But then the ground starts cracking open like a dropped egg, and suddenly, Charlie’s ramblings don’t seem so far-fetched.

3. Refusal of the Call

At first, Jackson doesn’t take the whole “apocalypse” thing seriously. I mean, who would? But when Los Angeles starts collapsing faster than my New Year’s resolutions, he realizes it’s time to grab the kids and hit the road. Or, in this case, the sky—because nothing says “family bonding” like escaping in a private plane.

4. Meeting the Mentor

Charlie Frost, our lovable doomsday prophet, serves as Jackson’s mentor. Sure, he’s a little unhinged, but he’s got the inside scoop on the government’s secret arks (because of course there are secret arks). His advice? “Head to the Himalayas.” His delivery? Equal parts helpful and unhinged.

5. Crossing the Threshold

This is where things go from “bad” to “holy crap.” Jackson and his family narrowly escape a crumbling Los Angeles in a limo—a scene so over-the-top it makes Fast & Furious look like a documentary. They’re officially in the unknown now, where survival is the name of the game.

6. Tests, Allies, and Enemies

The Curtis clan faces obstacle after obstacle: collapsing cities, selfish billionaires, and the occasional volcanic eruption. Allies include a Russian billionaire’s kids (because nothing says “teamwork” like rich kids in peril) and a geologist who’s trying to save humanity. Enemies? Pretty much everything else, including gravity.

7. Approach to the Inmost Cave

The gang finally reaches the Himalayas, where the arks are being prepped. But there’s a catch: they don’t have tickets. (Pro tip: Always RSVP to the apocalypse.) Sneaking aboard becomes their next big challenge.

8. The Ordeal

This is the big one. A massive tsunami threatens to destroy the ark, and Jackson has to risk his life to save everyone onboard. It’s tense, it’s dramatic, and it’s exactly what you’d expect from a movie where the stakes are literally “the end of the world.”

9. The Reward

Jackson and his family make it onto the ark, securing their survival. Humanity gets a second chance, and Jackson gets to be the hero his kids always wanted him to be. Win-win.

10. The Road Back

As the waters recede, the survivors aboard the ark prepare to face a drastically altered Earth. It’s a bittersweet moment—kind of like realizing you’ve survived a marathon, only to remember you still have to walk home.

11. The Resurrection

Jackson’s journey transforms him into a braver, more selfless version of himself. He reconciles with his family, proving that even in the face of global annihilation, there’s always time for personal growth.

12. Return with the Elixir

The survivors represent humanity’s chance to rebuild. Jackson’s “elixir” isn’t a magical potion—it’s hope, resilience, and the knowledge that even in the darkest times, we can find a way forward. (Cue inspirational music.)

Why the Hero’s Journey Matters

The Hero’s Journey isn’t just a storytelling formula—it’s a mirror for our own lives. We all face challenges, doubts, and moments of transformation. Sure, most of us aren’t dodging tsunamis or sneaking onto arks, but the core themes—struggle, growth, redemption—are universal. And that’s why it works, whether you’re writing a novel, watching 2012, or just trying to survive Monday morning.

So, the next time you watch a movie, ask yourself: Where’s the hero? What’s their journey? And most importantly, could you outrun an earthquake in a limo? (Spoiler: Unless you’re John Cusack or have a death wish, the answer is a resounding “hell no.”) But hey, if you’re feeling confident, go ahead and try. Just make sure someone’s filming it so the rest of us can enjoy your inevitable failure on YouTube.

Speaking of disasters, have you signed up for my emails yet? No? Why the hell not? What are you waiting for—a personal invitation? Fine. Here it is:

Dear Reader, please sign up for my emails so I can spam you with my questionable wisdom and occasional nuggets of brilliance. Love, Me.

There. Now you have no excuse. Unless, of course, you’re one of those people who still uses AOL and thinks email is for “serious business only.” In which case, I can’t help you.

Now, let me tell you about my current juggling act. I’m working on not one, but two books at the same time. That’s right—two. Because apparently, I enjoy torturing myself. One of them is called Stupid Shit, which, let’s be honest, is probably why you’re here. The other one? 1300 Feet Per Second, which is a psychological thriller.

And because I’m such a generous soul, I even find time to share blog posts about stupid shit. Or, occasionally, not-so-stupid shit. You know, for balance. It’s like a treasure chest of wisdom, except instead of gold coins, you’re getting sarcastic commentary and unsolicited advice. But hey, treasure is treasure, right? So go ahead—take something from my trove of brilliance. Or at least pretend you already knew all this stuff so I can feel like I’m making a difference.

Have a nice Day!

Why Stupid Shit Rules the Internet

Let’s be honest: the news is a soul-sucking black hole of despair. It’s like a daily reminder that humanity is collectively riding a unicycle on a tightrope over a pit of lava, and we’re all just hoping the clown in charge doesn’t sneeze. I, for one, can only stomach about two minutes of headlines before I’m ready to yeet my phone into the sun. As long as the sky is still blue, birds are still dive-bombing freshly washed cars with military precision, and gravity hasn’t given up on us yet, I’m good.

So, what do I do instead of doomscrolling? I dive headfirst into the cesspool of distractions: reels, TikTok, and YouTube. These platforms are like the junk food of the internet—deliciously addictive but guaranteed to rot your brain. And let’s be real, they’re also a breeding ground for some of the stupidest shit humanity has ever produced.

When I’m not doomscrolling or watching people do dumb things for clicks, I’m writing. Currently, I’m editing a thriller about a forensic expert who moonlights as an assassin. (Because why not? Who doesn’t love a little murder with their science?) Writing, my friends, is escapism on steroids. Unlike movies, where you’re stuck in someone else’s plot, writing lets you play God. I create worlds, people, places, and scenarios. I can make someone fall in love, get hit by a bus, or both—because I’m the boss.

But editing? Editing is like one of those adult coloring books that are supposed to be relaxing but actually make you want to set the whole thing on fire. It’s tedious, it’s boring, and it requires a level of self-control I simply do not possess. Which is why I keep getting distracted by—you guessed it—stupid shit.

Let’s talk about reels for a second. My God, this is the armpit of society, and I say that with love. Case in point: there’s this girl—no, woman—who has a pet scorpion. Yes, you read that right. A pet scorpion. She proudly shows off this venomous little nightmare, holding up its log like it’s a goddamn trophy, and proceeds to explain how it eats, how poisonous it is, and—wait for it—warns people not to pet it.

No shit, Sherlock. Who in their right mind is out here trying to cuddle a scorpion? “Oh, look at my adorable little murder bug! Isn’t he just the cutest?” No, Karen, he’s not. He’s a living fossil with a stinger that could ruin your whole week.

Let’s take a moment to appreciate the irony here. The word “pet” comes from the Scottish Gaelic word “peata,” which means “tame animal” or “companion.” In what f*cking world does a scorpion fit that definition? Unless you’re cuddling it, stroking it, or teaching it to fetch, it’s not a pet. It’s a red flag with legs.

Fun Fact: Scorpions Glow (and They’re Everywhere)

Now, I live in a place where scorpions are not a novelty—they’re a nuisance. They’re everywhere. I take a blacklight out at night to hunt them because, fun fact, they glow under UV light. It’s like a rave, but instead of dancing, you’re trying not to get stung. And no, I don’t pet them. Once you’ve stepped on one barefoot, you’ll understand why. Spoiler alert: it’s not a pleasant experience.

So, that’s where I’m at with my book, Stupid Shit. It’s coming along nicely, fueled by my fascination with words, my disdain for scorpions, and my love of calling out the ridiculousness of the world. If you want to stay updated on my blogs, book releases, or just want to laugh at the absurdity of life, sign up for my email list.

And as always, have a nice day! Or don’t. I’m not your mom.

Modern Insomnia: Navigating Today’s Chaos

If you’ve ever lain awake at night, pondering the peculiar parade that is our modern world, you are not alone. In fact, you’re in excellent (and probably sleep-deprived) company. Join me, dear reader, for a meandering stroll through the baffling bazaar of current events—a stroll filled with curious characters, economic contortions, and, of course, the ever-present background noise that makes insomnia seem downright logical.

Restless Nights and Restive Times

It’s hard to sleep these days. Not because of caffeine, but because I’m serenaded nightly by the cacophony of contemporary civilization. The soundtrack? Equal parts confusion, outrage, and a touch of “did that really just happen?” If only there were a snooze button for society.

Story Time, But Not As We Knew It

Once upon a time, story time meant fairy tales and talking animals. Now, it seems we’ve added a touch of theatrical flair, with drag queens reading to kids. Some call it progress, others call it performance art gone rogue. Either way, the plot twist is: society can’t agree on the moral of the story.

The Immigration Imbroglio

Tens of millions in the country without official paperwork—some say they get more assistance than our own veterans. It’s a bit like hosting a potluck where the guests eat first and the hosts get the leftovers. No wonder the host is grumpy.

Gang Bangers, Judges, and the Curious Case of the Protected Perpetrator

In today’s legal landscape, it sometimes feels like activist judges are playing defense for those who never quite got the hang of playing by the rules. Courtrooms: now with 25% more plot twists!

Presidents, Puppets, and the Mystery of the Marionettes

Why do we need a president? Is it just to keep the White House tour guides in business? And if the president is the puppet, who’s got their hand on the strings? I suspect the marionettes have marionettes, and somewhere, someone is making a fortune selling all the strings.

Economy: Where Prices Go Up, Wages Stand Still, and Politicians Get Richer

Sanders and company shout about living wages while their own bank accounts live quite comfortably. Meanwhile, regular folks are left with calluses and receipts for $8 eggs. Here’s a radical idea: maybe prices should come down instead of wages going up. But what do I know? I’ve never been invited to a Senate brunch.

Did you know: the more you earn, the more everything costs, and the only ones celebrating are the tax collectors, who get a bonus every time a price tag goes up. It’s like a game of Monopoly, but the banker always wins.

North Korea: Apocalypse Now, or Later?

Rumor has it that North Korea’s supreme leader instructed his people to launch nukes at the U.S. upon his demise. Loyalty or lunacy? Hard to tell. Either way, it’s proof that “Dear Leader” is not a job for the faint of heart (or the rational).

Shadow Governments and Conspiracy Cocktails

Was JFK snuffed out for being too much like Trump? Is the CIA running a shadow puppet show behind the scenes? Was the “Red Scare” just a shiny distraction? At this point, the only thing less believable than the official story is the unofficial one.

Higher Education: Now With 50% More Indoctrination

Is college just expensive brainwashing? If so, can I get a refund? And perhaps a certificate of “Critical Thinking, With Honors (Some Restrictions Apply)”?

The Curious Case of Flying Immigrants

The latest travel trend: the Biden administration was flying in thousands of newcomers and dropping them in red states, courtesy of NGOs with all the transparency of a foggy window. Apparently, “non-profit” is the new “trust me, bro.”

The Age-Old Question: Why?

Why does the media spin tales taller than Paul Bunyan? Why do politicians defend the indefensible? Why is the frog in the soup kettle still hanging on? Why can’t I get some sleep?

Conclusion: Pass the Ambien, Please

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations! You deserve a nap. Perhaps you’re considering joining me in a virtual world where the newsfeed is filled with nothing but puppy videos, and the only drama is whether the cat will knock over the vase. Until then, let’s keep asking questions (and maybe invest in earplugs).

Best,
A Fellow Sleepless Soul

The Return of Firing Squad Executions in the U.S.

I have been on the fence regarding the Death Penalty since I was a child.
For those of you old enough to remember grade school, when we got back from lunch and there was a projector in the room it was a great day!

Well, that was not the case one day in the third grade—yes, third grade. Most of us were 9 years old, and we didn’t know too much about war. For me, Vietnam was fresh on our minds even though we couldn’t find it on a map; we all knew someone who was involved.

The film that day was The Execution of Private Slovik. In case you never saw the film, the story revolves around a soldier named Private Slovak, who is executed for the crime of cowardice.

The events unfold in a manner that highlights the absurdity and tragedy of war. Vonnegut uses dark humor and irony to convey the senselessness of the military’s decision, questioning the values and morals of those in power.

“The Execution of Private Slovak” serves as a powerful commentary on the nature of war and the moral dilemmas faced by individuals in extreme circumstances. Vonnegut’s unique style and perspective prompt readers to reflect on the consequences of conflict and the human capacity for both cruelty and compassion.

The film adaptation of “The Execution of Private Slovak” is likely aimed at a mature audience, primarily due to its themes of war, morality, and the psychological impact of conflict.
The film’s production was so compelling that I still suffer from PTSD after seeing it in 1974 as a child.
I don’t have to tell you that the ‘teacher’ who sucked at teaching BTW had no business showing that film to nine-year-olds.

That brings me to my reason for this blog post…

Recent Execution by Firing Squad
Today, March 8, 2025, marks a significant event in the realm of capital punishment in the United States, as Brad Sigmon, a 67-year-old inmate, was executed by firing squad in South Carolina. This execution is notable as it is the first firing squad execution in the U.S. in 15 years, with the last one occurring in Utah in 2010.

Brad Sigmon was convicted of a double murder in 2002, where he killed his ex-girlfriend’s parents. He opted for the firing squad as his method of execution, rejecting other options such as electrocution or lethal injection. This choice has sparked discussions about the ethics and humanity of various execution methods, especially given the controversies surrounding lethal injections and their potential for botched procedures.

The execution has drawn significant attention and criticism, with many labeling the firing squad as a “barbaric” method of execution. There have been calls for clemency and debates about the appropriateness of using such methods in modern society. The return of firing squads as a method of execution raises questions about the evolving landscape of capital punishment in the U.S. and the moral implications involved.

Well, I don’t have to tell you that his death has resonated with me.

Unlike many, I feel as if we gain something when a mass murderer doesn’t commit suicide by cop or just plain old taking the coward’s way out and offing themselves.

Learning from the experiences of convicted murderers can help identify patterns that lead to violent behavior. This knowledge can inform community preventive strategies, such as mental health support, conflict resolution programs, and educational initiatives to reduce violence.

I maintain that we have a mental health crisis in this country and most probably around the globe.
As the Trump administration focuses on improving America’s health, mental health should be a key component.

This person chose this method to die as a statement. Why? What was his reasoning to die in such a horrific manner? Will his death dissuade others from committing acts of violence?

What are your thoughts?
Should we have the death penalty?
If we have it how should it be carried out?

As you can see, I enjoy sharing my views on current events. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section below.

I am thrilled to share an exciting update with you—my latest book, 1300 Feet per Second, will be released soon! This novel delves into the intricacies of human resilience and the relentless pursuit of one’s dreams, all set against the backdrop of gripping adventure and unforeseen challenges.
Your support has always been invaluable to me, and I am incredibly eager for you to dive into the pages of 1300 Feet per Second. This story will captivate your imagination and resonate with your spirit, much like it did with mine during the writing process.

In addition to this new release, I invite you to explore my current collection of books available on Amazon. Each title carries a piece of my heart and endless hours of dedication, crafted to offer you memorable and enriching literary experiences.

Thank you for being such a passionate and supportive community. I look forward to hearing your thoughts on 1300 Feet per Second and hope you find joy and inspiration in all my works.
Happy reading!

Warm regards,
Scott
Discover more of my books:

If your in to reading short stories for free…Follow the link and read my contest entries on the Reedsy web site in the UK.

Show Don’t Tell

‘Show don’t tell’ is one of the foundational principles of writing, emphasizing the importance of vividly illustrating instead of simply stating.

The principle of “show, don’t tell” is a fundamental technique in writing that enhances storytelling by allowing readers to experience emotions and events more vividly. Here are several reasons this approach is effective:
Engages the Reader’s Imagination
When writers show rather than tell, they invite readers to interpret the emotions and actions of characters through descriptive language and sensory details. This engagement encourages readers to visualize scenes and feel emotions alongside the characters, creating a more immersive experience.
Creates Emotional Depth
Showing emotions through actions, dialogue, and body language adds layers to character development. For instance, instead of stating that a character is angry, a writer might describe clenched fists, a flushed face, and a sharp tone of voice. This method allows readers to understand the character’s emotional state more deeply and personally.
Enhances Character Development
Characters become more relatable and realistic when their emotions are demonstrated through their behavior. Readers can infer motivations and personality traits based on how characters react to situations, making them feel more authentic and complex.
Builds Tension and Conflict
By showing rather than telling, writers can create suspense and tension in a narrative. For example, a character’s internal struggle can be illustrated through their actions and decisions, allowing readers to sense the stakes without explicitly stating them. This technique keeps readers engaged and invested in the outcome.
Encourages Reader Interpretation
When writers show emotions and events, they allow readers to draw their own conclusions and interpretations. This active participation can lead to a more rewarding reading experience, as readers connect with the story on a personal level and reflect on its themes and messages.

Here are some basic emotions

Joy – A feeling of great pleasure and happiness.
Trust – A positive emotion characterized by reliance on someone or something.
Fear – An emotional response to perceived threats or danger.
Surprise – A reaction to unexpected events.
Sadness – A feeling of sorrow or unhappiness.
Disgust – A strong feeling of aversion or repulsion.
Anger – A strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.
Anticipation – A feeling of excitement about something that is going to happen.

Detailed or nuanced emotions.

Affection
Amusement
Anxiety
Apathy
Compassion
Confusion
Contentment
Curiosity
Despair
Disappointment
Empathy
Envy
Excitement
Fearfulness
Frustration
Guilt
Hope
Horror
Hostility
Interest
Jealousy
Loneliness
Nostalgia
Pride
Relief
Remorse
Satisfaction
Shame
Surprise
Tenderness
Worry

Examples:
Opening his birthday present, Tim was joyful when he saw the latest video game.

Opening his birthday present, Tim’s face lit up with joy as he saw the latest video game. He eagerly imagined the hours of fun ahead.

Tim was disappointed to learn he would have to wait to play the game until the weekend, as tomorrow was a school day.

The following example may be a bit excessive, but it effectively conveys his disappointment.

As Tim’s face fell, a deep furrow etched itself across his brow. His eyes, which had sparkled with anticipation just moments before, now held a hint of sadness. The corners of his mouth, which had been curved up in a hopeful grin, now turned downward, reflecting the weight of his disappointment. He sighed, a long, slow exhalation that seemed to carry the burden of his unmet expectations.
He stared at the game console, its vibrant colors and intricate graphics now a stark reminder of the fun he would have to postpone. His fingers, which had been itching to wrap around the controller, now drummed a slow, disheartened rhythm against the table.
The room, once filled with the excited chatter of friends eagerly discussing strategies and predicting outcomes, now fell silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The hands moved inexorably forward, marking the passage of time that Tim could not reclaim.
As the reality of his situation sunk in, Tim’s shoulders slumped, and his body language indicated his despondency. He glanced at his friends, their faces a mirror of his own emotions, and then back at the game console. The screen, with its glowing promise of adventure and excitement, now seemed cold and distant, a cruel reminder of the joy that was now out of reach.
With a final, resigned sigh, Tim turned away from the game, his eyes downcast, his heart heavy with disappointment. He knew he would have to wait until the weekend to play, but for now, he could only endure the long, slow hours until then.

Try your hand at it. Pick a couple of the basic emotions, tell the story, and then show the story.

If you want more of these types of interactions, share your thoughts or stories in the comments.

-Best