Yes, I'm Still Alive

Good news: my computer is back up and running. A whole month after I was going to throw a huge ad campaign (surprise) at the Internet for Death in Disguise. Unfortunately, I'm no longer doing that ad campaign- but I hope you readers will still let all of your friends know about us. Or you yourself can like us on Facebook!

What I'm working on: A ton of things. Sadly, unless people start sending me things, I may only update the site occasionally. Once I work some kinks out, though, I'll be getting a lot of things done. Here's what I'm working on behind the scenes:

1. Soft news reports: I'm a journalist at heart, and once I find a good freeware program for editing video I'll be working on getting some news out there on the YouTube. I was in talks with some people before the computer crash, and hopefully they'll still be interested.

2. Hilarious videos: I also like to humor myself by making videos I find hilarious. What might that be? I have an idea up my sleeve I'm not going to talk about JUST yet, until this cough of mine that is killing me goes away (and I find that dag nabit editing program). Other than that I was in talks about doing a sitcom series, another mockumentary, or even something along the lines of...Glee.

3. Freelance!: Yes, that's right. I'm working freelance now, or going to attempt to work freelance. You can see my first column over at Unexplained Mysteries from the other day when the world was ending. I'm working on getting my work in other places as well- and if anyone would like to use my work or is looking for freelance, feel free to contact me via our contact page.

4. The new novel: Yes sir, yes sir. I am working on a new novel- and it'll be coming to you via Amazon Kindle. The novel is going to be an expansion of the short story "The Connection" which you can find in my book. Remember, I have a book!

5. A video game: I am working slowly on a video game on top of all of this as well. 5 projects is nothing to me, kids. The video game I'm not really allowed to talk about due to agreements signed, and I'm not sure where it is at the moment- but I'm attempting to learn how to use this program called Blender. Once I do, I'll actually attempt to create a video for the site first. See if I can tell one of my stories in 3D animation...ooo, ahh.

As always, look for more writing (and art!) here and in the future. And feel free to send your artwork, poetry, short stories, or anything (you can send your amateur porn, but I can't promise it'll be posted. Viruses I would prefer not to have though, you can keep all of those to yourselves- both human and computer). Send them to asimpleletterwriting@gmail.com

Revelations

The doctor's office was always cold and though clean, felt dirty. Maybe it was because I had to take my pants off for my check up. And they always asked me to take my shoes off. This time I was in a gown, forced to have all my vital organs checked. Something was wrong with me, and I didn't know what it was.

"So Mr. Drab, what seems to be the problem?"

"I'm not sure. I have a lot of weird symptoms."

"The nurse wrote on your chart that you're constipated, you have frequent headaches, you haven't been eating properly."

"I'm just not hungry."

I watched as he looked over the words the nurse left him. He swallowed hard, rubbed his left eye and then sniffled.

"Not to be too personal, but how are you feeling?"

"Bad."

"How long have you felt...bad?"

"Awhile I guess."

"Do you have any problems with your mood?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you happy?"

"No."

"Did something happen to make you that way?"

Two years ago...

I stood on the carpet of the room and watched as they all came in. One by one, the new freshmen we had to welcome to our dorm. It was tradition, but I was getting tired of it. And it was only just then the first time we had a group meeting with them all.

I wouldn't see many of their faces again, but I noticed one of them.

"Hey, I'm Jim."

"Hi."

Megan was shy at first, but within minutes was talking.

"Yeah, I love that show. With the vampires and all, and none of that bullshit new sparkle shit."

She was beautiful. I had so much in common with her- we were both Catholic, we both watched the same TV shows, we both were interested in painting. She was spontaneous and such a free spirit. But she was taken.

"Yeah, my boyfriend is such a dork."

"He looks like one."

"Oh, shut up."

I backed away. It was only my place to be a friend, as much as I could at least. But I was only comfortable as a distant friend, a colleague. Even though I told myself I had moved on I hadn't.

Months later, everything began to fall apart. Megan and her boyfriend fell apart, our friendship was changing as she began to move away from our group of friends. And that final night was so much fun. As I left she grabbed my hand, held onto it tight and I realized I still felt strongly about her.

"I don't know what to do."

"She's not your type, why are you doing this?"

"But she is. I've never met a girl like her."

"Jim, she's not worth it. Stop worrying about her."

"I'm sorry Carol, I just can't."

Friends advice was thrown aside. I became impulsive, speaking with her and the guy she was flirting with.

"No, dude- come on Jerry, she has a boyfriend. We gotta get out there and find girls who are single."

"Yeah, you're right."

And then I felt bad. Guilt fell in. They were happy. How could I stop happiness?

"Just go out with him, will you?"

"Why do you care so much about my dating life?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why not? You get all up in my business and then won't tell me why? Did he put you up to this?"

"No."

"Then why are you acting this way?"

"Because I've had a crush on you for months and I just want you to be happy, OK?"

I freaked out. I did the only thing I knew how to, and wrote. I wrote every stinging emotion I felt, that had no reason to be felt. I gave into all of it. I made them out to be the bad guy, when there was no good or bad guy. It was the only way I knew how to write. It hurt them, but more hurt her than anything else. And no matter what I did, she would never accept my apology.

"Two years ago? You've been feeling this way for two years?"

"No. That was just the start of it all."

"What do you mean?"

"After that..."

I had a year still left in college, but I had enough credits to graduate early. I moved on quick, stopped caring about girls and focused on getting the right credits. Even when she walked in, I wanted nothing to really do with her. It was just another year of new freshmen.

"And you are?"

"Eliza."

"Hi, I'm Jim. You new here?"

"Yeah, freshmen."

"Cool."

She seemed shy. I stopped trying after that. She was cute, but I had to focus on myself. I had to focus on me. It didn't matter anyways, because she was always on her computer whenever I saw her out of her dorm. Always keeping to herself.

Then, of course, I found out the same thing I did with every girl. She had a boyfriend.

I studied. I focused. I met this other girl, Mariah, in a class of mine. I thought about asking her out, but never got up the courage to. I didn't have time anyways, I had to focus on me and we only had fun working on a project together. We'd never get along outside of class.

Then Eliza was single. I thought nothing of it, and I was simply friends with her. Not even friends, colleagues. I wanted nothing to really do with her, because I was completely content with life. I just started a new job, I was still toying with asking Mariah out. Then we started talking.

I thought from the get go that she was flirting with me, and I didn't want that. I had to focus on me. But it's hard to do that when you feel alone as much as I do. I gave her time I shouldn't have, spent more hours working on papers than I should have. But I liked talking with her, even if it was only online as I sat in the library and her in her dorm room.

I didn't want a relationship though, and I had to nip it all in the bud before it got there. I confronted her.

"Eliza, are you flirting with me? Because I feel like you're flirting with me."

"Well, I mean- I can't say I am because it all just depends on whether or not I think it's flirting."

"So is this flirting?"

"Let's just say it's getting to know you better."

"OK. I can do that."

I asked her out the next time I saw her. As friends. Just to get some dinner. I didn't really think anything of it, I just went with the flow and I had a lot of fun with her. She then asked to hang out with me again, and we went shopping for the holidays.

"I like to make my presents instead of buying them. I feel like it's more personal if you do that"

"I don't have time to do that. Or the talent."

The entire day was amazing. I spent it with her, finding most my gifts for friends and family. And instead of my usual feeling of tiredness from shopping, I was just so happy with everything. Then it was all just...like a fairytale.

"It's so easy."

"What's so easy?"

"I can't tell you."

"C'mon, what's so easy?"

She kept quiet as I drove her home- a back and forth flirtation.

"Fine, you want to know?" she asked as we sat in her driveway. "Come here."

We grew closer, and she kissed me. I was lost. I didn't want a relationship, what was I doing? I pulled away, scared. "I'm not that easy." I said with a hint of flirtation. She got out of my car and walked up to her door.

I drove off, around her block and headed home. I smiled. Did that just happen? I asked myself the question again and again. I called my friend, who was supposed to meet me for dinner, and she didn't answer. When my phone rang I didn't bother looking.

"Hey Deb- I just dropped Eliza off I'm driving back now."

"Oh uh, it's Eliza."

"Oh, hey sorry." I had a smile on my face hearing her voice.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened. If that made things awkward or anything."

"No, don't worry about it. It wasn't awkward."

"Oh. OK. Well, I'll let you get back to driving then. Bye."

I knew then and there she was amazing, but I didn't want a relationship. I had doubts. As I sat down to dinner with my friends, I told them nothing of what happened. Told them we had fun. I paid little attention to the conversation, as my brain threw around the idea of letting go of so much. I was graduating college soon, the holidays were around the corner. I wanted to apply to places out of state, out of the country. I wanted to live free. But she was different. I could give up some of that, because she made me happier than I had been in a long time.

I couldn't understand it, but though I had my fears I knew I wanted to be with her. The next thing I knew, we sat in the back of my car in freezing weather.

"So what are we doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like us. Are we just friends or...do you want to be more?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?"

"Ugh, will you go out with me?"

"Well I've already been going out with you-"

"Shut up, you know what I mean." I smiled. So did she.

"Yes. I will."

"You don't think it's too soon do you?"

"No. I want to."

"Cool."

Nothing really changed. It was slow going. Which I liked. She was so understanding, and I didn't have to tell her anything. She just knew. We just worked so well. Then our ideologies got in the way. We began arguing over things we couldn't control. We were happy, but there were problems we had to work through and neither of us wanted to budge. We couldn't compromise, even though we wanted to.

Then she just snapped on me one day. I was making sure she was OK, asked her what the problem was and she said I was the problem. That I was being self-centered and idiotic because I was worried about her well being. It hurt. She had been pushing me away, and I knew it. She didn't even want to look at me the time before we hung out. She was done with me, and that was that.

I tried to talk her through our problems, but I broke down. Maybe because I had let go of so much for her. I had let go of my fears, I had let go of my plans for my future. Maybe it was my mistake. Maybe I should never had met her parents the week before. Maybe I should have waited to ask her to be with me, but I knew she was special and I didn't want her to leave me.

And then that was it. It was over. And I lost it. Because at that moment I realized Eliza was the only thing I had that was keeping me happy. And she walked away. Just like that.

"Mr. Drab, it seems like you might have some issues with depression."

"And then..."

I couldn't get over her. I saw her in everything. A measly less than two months with her, and I was more broken than I had ever been. I couldn't explain my behavior. I wanted nothing to do with anything. Nothing made me happy. All I wanted was her again. All I wanted was to make things better.

She wanted to be friends, so I tried that. She said close friends, but she still pushed away. And my own friends, they were only sort of there. Only a few talked to me about it, the rest acted as though it was a joke. But it's how they always acted.

Then I started telling them the truth. I had an impulsive desire to just come out and tell every single person who I had something to say to the truth. Every jackass that ever pissed me off, every motherfucker who crossed me. All the awful things I had done and held on to. I bitched, I laughed, I apologized.

"Mr. Drab, I'm not a psychologist. You need to speak with one, I believe. You have a lot of the symptoms of-"

"And then they started walking away..."

They didn't understand what I was doing. It wasn't normal for me to stand up for myself nor was it normal for me to apologize for all the little things I was apologizing for. No one understood but a handful of people. A very close friend then decided to walk away because I bitched out some girl he kept around in case he needed a picture of her tits. Because the people I hung out with were judgmental and hated being called out on it. And he was one of the worst.

"Seriously, Mr. Drab-"

It all came down on me. I wanted to die. I wanted to slit my wrists. I stood at work, in the kitchen washing dishes...I held the knife to my wrists. It took everything in me to not let the knife slice through. Everything.

"Mr. Drab, I-"

"And now I'm here. Because I can't understand why I feel so sick."

"I think you should definitely see a psychologist. I can recommend one. It doesn't seem like this is an issue I can deal with. It sounds like you're dealing with clinical depression. Might even be something else that makes you act this way."

"Are you saying I'll have to take pills?"

"Maybe."

"I don't want to take pills. I don't want to go to some crazy doctor. I just want my life to be better again."

"Here. You'll be fine, Jim. You'll be fine."

I hope so. I hope so.

Demons

"Hey dude, so you asked me to come here."

"Ah, Kevin. Glad you could make it." Jack put the book down he was reading and shook Kevin's hand.

"Don't make me regret it. What do you want?"

"Have a seat. You want to order anything?"

"No. Not hungry."

"Really? I'm surprised you haven't worked up an appetite being a, how should I put this? Asshole."

"I will walk away right now."

"Ya know, go ahead. Don't hear what I have to say. But since you came all the way here, I'm sure you're at the very least curious."

"Fine." Kevin waved his hand and leaned back in the booth, waiting for Jack to speak.

"We had a falling out. Shit happens. Shit was said. We disagreed on so many key points- and I sucked it all up and let things slide. Hell, I apologized forthright and you never did say you were sorry. Makes me sometimes wonder if you were and think you weren't, but that's besides the point here." Jack took out a glass bottle, filled with a clear liquid.

Kevin eyed the glass bottle, curious. He licked his lips in fear.

"Even though you won't say you're sorry for calling my sister a loser. For all the awful jokes you've told, because you didn't like her. For every judgemental thing you've said about people you barely know- even though you won't say you're sorry...I forgive you. Because honestly the only people who in the end really will forgive you is Jesus and me. Not to say I'm Jesus or anything, but if you're looking for forgiveness from a friend- and true honest forgiveness and not that little bullshit holding it in until one day it erupts kind of thing...then yeah, you're only looking at me."

Kevin scoffed at the idea.

"Yeah, I know. You're thinking so many people would forgive you. They won't. Not when they realize you were really manipulating them to do what you wanted. Wording everything just the right way, and forcing your ideas onto friends and colleagues alike until they either agreed with your or walked away. And if they walked away, all you could say is they didn't understand you. The difference here is, despite everything you said and did- you walked away from me. Because I had the balls to stand up to your jackassery. To tell you the truth."

Jack took out a shot glass and set it on the table. Kevin eyed it, nervous.

"And not just admit that I was wrong, but that you were wrong. And that you were wrong so many times. And you didn't like that, because you don't like being wrong, do you Kevin?"

Kevin was quiet. Licking his lips, nervously.

"And thus I lost trust in you and you lost trust in me, because we both are similar. We both have issues in our past that make us feel abandoned, betrayed. And we put on these masks to hide ourselves. We put on these masks to make our insanity seem OK. To make our actions plausible and reasonable. We don't care that someone gets hurt, if we don't agree with them. And what was our conclusion? Do you remember? You know why you said we did these things?"

Kevin said nothing.

"I know you do. You told me you were possessed by a demon, and you could sense I was too. For years I felt like I had been, like something deep inside me was making me do these things. And it was a demon, but not the kind you're thinking of. It was a demon I had created. The past. Every little detail of every bad thing I had done or every bad thing someone had done to me. Every lie I told, every smile that wasn't a smile. Every second I lied to others and myself. My issues, always wanting to feel loved because I never did. I never felt love from my parents, I never felt it from my family, I never felt it from my friends. And when I did feel it, I just wound up hurt. I couldn't trust anyone but myself, and even then that was a lie. And you did the same damn thing. You never felt loved either."

Jack took out another shot glass and set it on the table.

"We went through life as friends, knowing this about each other. We coped with our demon the best we could. You used sex. I used drugs. We both used art. We were content with that, but I never agreed with what you did and you never agreed with what I did. Our coping mechanisms- both of us striving to feel what love is...were different. And we could never agree on that. We could only agree on art. And art is where we lived, but the difference was that I needed the success...and you didn't. You were OK coping with your demon through sex. Drugs didn't do it for me though, because I didn't have somebody else there with me. I didn't have someone acting as though they wanted me. The drugs never filled a hole that I had, but the sex filled yours."

Jack opened the bottle and set the cap on the table.

"I strived for success. For acceptance as someone normal. We both thought we were special, but were striving for normality. Giving our demons any chance to show themselves. And that's where we began to differ. You could cope with yours, as long as your demon took over. But as mine couldn't cope, my demon slowly came out in other ways. I lashed out, I became depressed, I attached to people I shouldn't have. I became obsessed with the idea of time and the reason why I am here. I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn't normal. I was meant to succeed in life, and I had a reason- but everyone else didn't. I saw the future, just like you. I sensed the demons just like you did. I felt the world as different as the guy standing next to me."

Jack poured the liquid into the first shot glass.

"And these demons, they became real. You even named yours. Our memories lapsed on purpose. We didn't want to admit we were responsible for such horrible acts. We didn't want to admit we were normal. We wanted to be special, because we wanted to be loved. And then I finally felt as though I was loved. And I was scared I was going to lose it. I was so scared. And then I did, because I was scared. Because I was so fucking scared of losing something I fucking lost it. Doesn't that scream irony? Doesn't that make you want to write a book about how ironic it is?"

Jack breathed in heavily. He swallowed hard and poured the liquid into the other shot glass.

"And that's when I realized, I was responsible for everything. I wasn't possessed by anything. I never saw the future. I don't know what I saw sometimes. It doesn't matter. We rely on the paranormal to explain the normal. Because, here's the key Kevin...anyone who thinks they're special, is really normal. Everyone has problems, everyone has their little issues. And everyone is told to think they're special. And it's irony again, because the people who are special, think they're normal. Think about all of the people who really have something extraordinary. All of them think it's normal. They think nothing of it. And yet look around you. Everyone of these people thinks they're special. In reality they are but normal."

"What's the point of all this?"

"The point is that you and I are normal human beings. And to be human, is to err. So I forgive you, for being a normal human being." Jack slid the shot glass over slowly. "And I want you, as a friend, to deal with your demon. Let's start with trust."

"What is this?"

"That's the point. Trust me. because I'll trust you here. You can choose what happens. We can both do the shots. You can do your shot, or I can only do my shot. It's all based on trust. Do you think I put poison in there? Do you think I pissed in a cup and am going to make you drink my own piss water? Or is it something you're allergic to that's in there? Maybe even if I drink this, you could drink it and start having an allergic reaction. Or vice versa. Maybe I put something in it that I'm allergic to, and I trust that you won't make me drink it. Or maybe nothing will happen. So, what will it be?"

"I don't want to play this game."

"What will it be, Kevin?"

"You really think trust is the problem? Man, you're so far off. You think-"

"I'm not here for one of your little speeches where you have to give your opinion on every little thing that's happened. I'm here to forgive you, and let you make up for what the fuck has happened. All of the shit you've done, I'm letting go of. So you can either make a choice right now, or watch me make one for you- because apparently you can't even do that."

"Fine," Kevin grabbed the shot and swallowed it whole. "There. I trust you. Are you happy now?"

"Feel any different?"

"No."

"Let's wait. How's your job, by the way?"

"It's OK."

They talked for a bit. Ten minutes passed.

"It's been ten minutes. Feel any different?"

"No. I feel fine."

Jack grabbed his shot and knocked it back.

"Good stuff."

"It was just water, wasn't it?"

"Water."

"See, I trust you."

"Then you trust me that there is no demon inside either of us controlling us. We are the only ones in control."

"I don't know."

"There is no demon. You created it."

"It controls me man, I can't-"

"Stop. You're normal with issues. There is no demon."

"How can you say that?"

"Because that was holy water you just drank." Kevin sat, staring at the shot glass. "Now you can really face your demons."

Author

3 AM. I was still awake, writing. My story grew larger, coming to an end. Each keystroke bringing to life the end to another story.

"And they all lived happily ever after..." I said, the last keystroke adding a final period to my work. I saved, sent it off to the publisher. They would make their edits, send it back, tell me it was shit and to rewrite certain parts. Not that I cared, my agent was having publishers call him.

"Adam, you have deals coming in from everyone. Time wants you to do a cover story, New York Times is offering you a weekly column- along with every other newspaper. Random House wants you to write another horror story, Pearson wants a text book on English, Harper Collins called and is offering you two million just to sign a book deal and they don't care what it's about."

I stood in front of him, eyes barely open, half listening to his rambling on about how Oprah wanted me to be on her new show as a guest and have my latest book- A Wandering Stare- for her book club.

"So what would you like to work on?"

"Work on? Oh right. I was thinking of taking a break. After the last book, I need some time to think."

"Time to think? You're on top, Adam. You can't just quit when you're on top. Two million dollars from HarperCollins!"

I yawned. "Yeah, but it's OK. I made three million on A Wandering Stare so what's it matter? It's still selling too."

"Like hotcakes. You are on fire, and you're writing sets the world ablaze. You realize you have more potential than J.K. Rowling? Your book appeals to everyone."

"I wasn't really trying to appeal to five year olds, though."

"And yet, here look- I'll show you, a kindergarten class is using your book for an art project. An art project, Adam!"

"You do realize my name is Alan, right?"

"Alan, yes- what have I been saying?"

4 AM. The computer screen glared back at me, waiting for me to send the email off to the publisher. I was supposed to have it sent hours ago, but I didn't care.

I had been too busy to mess with sleep. I had just finished going around to talk shows, talking about my book. It was tiring.

"So tell us, what is your book about?"

I hated that question. It wasn't about just one thing. It was about so many things.

"It's a tough question to answer. What do you think the book is about?"

"Uh, well- I haven't actually read it just yet." Typical. On-air hosts asking me a question they don't care about.

"Well, when you do you can get back to me." That was my greatest response to them. I did it to every single host that said it, and so many did that someone made a YouTube video of me saying it over and over again.

"lolol this is wut the news is today geez that guy is such a hack"

5 AM. Comments like that never distracted me before. I enjoyed watching myself sing in autotune, especially when all my words were twisted to talking about sexual positions. At least, that's how they sounded. Now the comments make me wonder. Am I a hack, or are they just haters? What I wanted was to change the world, but who I have I truly inspired?

"I'm your biggest fan."

"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" Everyone said they were my biggest fan. I was so tired of it. Every autograph signing someone told me they found me an inspiration. They told me they wanted to become a writer.

"Molly."

"Alright, there you go Molly."

"Thank you. Thank you so much." They all were so grateful for what I had accomplished, but to me it was just work.

"I'm your biggest fan."

"I'm sure you are, who am I making this out to?" I was just a robot on repeat.

"Michael." Every name meant nothing. It was just hard to keep track of how to spell everything.

"How do you spell that?"

"M-i-c...h-a-e-l."

"There you are Michael, thanks for being a fan."

"Thank you. You're a true inspiration." I could only smile. I was on top but I didn't care. I had fame, but I didn't care. I was never meant for this life.

6 AM. Why the hell am I still awake? The email that I was supposed to send hours ago sits there still, saved as a draft now for hours. I wasn't interested in actually sending it. I didn't care to. All I did was google my own name.

"Rumor: Author of 'A Wandering Stare' signs deal with NBC for TV show"

The headlines were hilarious to read. Rumors that I was dating Selena Gomez or Taylor Swift abounded- even though I had never met either of them. I happened to meet Ellen Page at a book signing event, and had lunch with her one day and the news was all about us dating. It was lunch. If it was dating my work would suffer.

I never signed a deal with NBC, but my agent was in talks. My agent was always in talks.

"Adam, you have to do this. It's a six point five million dollar deal for three years. Do that math, you'll be famous for three more years writing sitcoms and hey- maybe they'll even let you host Saturday Night Live."

"I don't think they'd let me host that show or even want me to be on camera. I don't have the right look."

"They'll give you that look. Listen, it's all about where you are and who you know. Now, have you been working on a sequel to A Wandering Stare?"

"A sequel? There's no sequel. There can't be. The story ended when I did."

"No, your fans want it. You signed a deal for a sequel already, it's supposed to be done in 6 months."

He always had something. He told me that 6 months ago.

"Your success is prevalent on this sequel. You have to write it beautifully, but be fast about it. They want it out by Thanksgiving. You got 6 months to send them something or your career is over."

I wrote. I ignored the rest of the world. Every keystroke to finish this story they wanted. Every second giving them my soul.

7 AM. The sun was up. The email wasn't sent. I hadn't put any effort into my writing. I didn't care. What I had become was not something I wanted. Changing the world with my work is what I wanted. This was Hollywood garbage. No one saw the true meaning of my work.

I read over the story again. I hadn't titled it, but I enjoyed it. I knew that when they asked me on talk shows what it was about. I knew what I would say when fans called me an inspiration. I knew what I would say when my agent called me Adam again.

8 AM. I clicked my mouse over to the main part of the letter and erased my standard reply.

"I apologize for my tardiness. I wanted to insure it was a great read."

I hit send, got up and laid in my bed. There was no good way to conclude what I had done. I conformed, but I hated it. I couldn't die, because I still wanted to make a difference and I feared death. Drugs never were something I was good with, and neither was alcohol. I had no ending for how to deal with my problem. I could only sleep and hope that one day I would come to some conclusion.

If only that was a proper ending.

The News (if only this was a story about news and not an update post)

Fans I have gained access to a computer and taken care of a few things that I thought I would update you all on.

If you didn't see, Death in Disguise has launched and is available for order on Amazon for 9.99 if you still like the feel of real books, or on your Kindle/Nook if you don't. Also available on Kindle is the series The Fated. I have pulled some of the stories from both books offline, but have left some of my more favorites online still. You can find links on our new page, A Simple Letter Books.

Unfortunately I have to call in about my computer, and our electricity might be out today so I won't be doing anything until- at the earliest- tomorrow afternoon or later tonight. I'm hoping they can give me something that will magically make my computer run again, but if I do have to send it in this will most definitely postpone my plans I had ready to announce. I apologize for that fans.

I am working on a few things, though. Expect a new short story here soon. Expect more news here soon. And once my computer is fixed and I'm ready for launch, expect an awesome event. Count on it.

Issues

I'm sorry fans for taking this long to post something. My computer crashed on wednesday and I have not been able to fix it. The book is released though, links are on our facebook page for the moment. Until I know more please be patient. I apologize for this, I had big plans that all got ruined. Stay tuned.