PSA: White Claw Fall

With trends rising and falling as they do, I find it important to keep up with them. So important in fact, I’ve turned on my Facebook alerts. My key source for completely true and always accurate news stories. 

On my plate, or should I say, in my glass today: the announcement of Pumpkin Spice White Claw. 

I don’t know which trend to fear most. The return of Pumpkin Spice Saturation, or the ongoing White Claw Mayhem. I have to admit, I’ve sipped from the sweet nectar of each popular thirst quencher and found them to be pretty spectacular. Spectacular enough for the trending hashtags, slogans and surplus of supply?….I’m on the fence. 

While I would love to bash the companies quite literally jamming these delicacies down our throats, I have to think hard on why the push of spiked seltzer water and pumpkin spice flavors has taken over our society in the dominating way they have. Is it the need to connect with others? The drive to be constantly trending? The smell of spices filling our senses and reminding us of childhood trick-or-treating? Are they really that good and I’m just being pessimistic? I don’t think it’s the latter. 

I feel the buzz of the coming fall- oh wait no, that’s just the White Claw. Still, this season, for some reason, brings in a slew of new ways to gain weight. But wait (weight?), aren’t they just 100 calories a can? You are correct. But do you just drink one can? That’s what I thought, sit back down. 

Getting back on track. This pumpkin spiced can of booze is sure to take over the market making us all cringe with curiosity. All of us save for the ones who have been impatiently anticipating the taste of fall that is. 

Are you on the bandwagon? Are you not going to touch it with a ten-foot pole? Will you be deleting your facebook ahead of the incoming political stances this is bound to create? As for me. I’ll be sippin’ pretty. 

Until then,
A.F. Blom

Dear You. . .

Dear You,

It’s been awhile since I’ve written to you, and for that I am sorry. I wish I had a better excuse than I do, but it seems  I’ve just been out of my own mind lately.

You see, I took a trip not too long ago, and since then I have had trouble getting any of my thoughts to think normally again.

I have to tell you, this was unlike any of the adventures I’ve been on before. I know you must be thinking that it’s pretty unbelievable, but I tell you each trip seems to top the last.

I found myself in a land of clocks. Finding myself somewhere like that is a far cry to be honest. It took two plane rides, and a illegal taxi driver, but there I was, finding myself in the land of ticking hands.

My friend Calend lives there, and he invited me to his house for a cup of tea, so naturally I didn’t pass up the opportunity.

After the taxi ride that nearly ended my appetite altogether, I was greeted by Calend with a wave of his hand, and a sincere smile. As promised, he poured me a cup of tea as soon as we walked into his house, and I must say, it did not disappoint.

He then started to tell me a story about a missing second hand, and the many accusations that have been thrown around town. Being a curious mind myself, he thought my ameture investigative skills might help to aid the search. The land of clocks you see, would erupt into utter chaos if those second hands continued to be missing. At that very moment they were off the time by an hour. We couldn’t waste any more minutes than what we already had drinking those teas.

I got right to work, asking questions of the boy selling newspapers on the street. The banker that exchanged my money was an odd fellow, but he had a solid alibi as he had been at work, and they conveniently have security cameras that caught his every move. Even the very instance when he picked his nose and put the booger on the nearby plant. Unforgivable I tell you.

I then asked the flower lady who handed me a rose as I left the bank. I even asked dear Calend about his whereabouts as he poured me another glass of tea after dinner that evening. I seemed to be no closer than any other person who had been looking over this case before me. That’s when it hit me.

“How are these clocks taken care of?” I asked Calend after a sip.

“Well, it’s kind of magic.”

“Magic?” I asked in an attempt to get him to continue.

He looked at me warily, and then with a sigh he continued, “The land of clocks isn’t a place like any other.”

“Please go on.”

“It’s magical. Most people shake their heads at that notion.”

“I am not most people.”

“Seems so,” Calend took the seat opposite me, “The clocks are taken care of by a silly little cat.”

“A cat?” I asked in confusion. I’m sure at this point you are as confused as I was then.

“A cat,” he answers me in a serious tone.

“A cat, huh,” I took a sip of tea, and cross my legs, “This cats name?”

“Rasgus,” Calend answers.

“Rasgus?! I know Rasgus!”

“How do you know Rasgus.”

“We just met in Russia about two weeks ago. Tell me, when did these second hands go missing?”

“About two weeks ago.”

I set my tea down, “Just as I thought. Calend, we need to go see Rasgus.”

We did not go see Rasgus that evening, as it was already 9:30, and past all three of our bedtimes.

The next morning, after another cup of tea, the trip to the bathroom, and a putting on my jacket, we were out the door, and on the carriage to the house of Rasgus the cat.

We arrived, and I noticed Rasgus on his roof immediately, searching for something. At this time I figured it was the second hands, and it turned out I was correct.

“Rasgus, have any luck finding anything,” Calend called out to him.

“Nothing yet,” Ragus replies not looking in his direction, “For the life of me I can’t figure out where those little guys have gone.”

“It’s a good thing you have nine lives then,” I chimed in.

Rasgus looked up then, the realization that he knew me hit him suddenly.

“Frinser!” he exclaimed excitedly, “I didn’t think I would ever see you again!”

“Seems adventure had other plans.”

“I’m thankful for that. What brings you here?”

“A cup of tea with a friend, and the case of the missing seconds hands.”

“The tea is excellent here,” Rasgus says pointedly.

“Indeed,” I agree with him.

Calend joins the conversation with, “Frinser as an ameture investigator, I figured any kind of help would be useful.”

“It’s certainly better than no help at all,” Rasgus agrees.

“Not sure if that’s a compliment of my skill, or just a fact,” I joked with them.

We all laughed for about three seconds before the conversation turned to how Rasgus and I met in Russie.

“Over tea, actually.” I told Calend.

“I should have guessed,” Calend smiles.

“I don’t mean to change the subject, but have you any luck of locating the second hands? We’re about an hour behind. I have the back-up hands in their place, but they haven’t gone through all the proper training, and they seem to be falling behind. Seems a week of work is all they can accomplish at this time.”

“Precisely a week,” I say with understanding.

Rasgus looked at me with a confused look on his face, “I feel like you know something I don’t.”

“Do you remember the book you let me borrow in Russia?” I asked Rasgus.

“The Sequence of Numbers, and the Fault in Sequences?”

“Exactly,” I pause to let the knowledge sink in. Calend looks from Rasgus to me, and then back to Rasgus. Just then Rasgus’ face lights up in understanding.

“The bookmarks!”


“Booksmarks? We’re looking for second hands?”

“The second hands were his bookmarks,” I explain.

“Yes, I took them on vacation with me to give them a break. I cannot believe I left them.”

“At least you left them in good company.”

“Do you have the book with you?”

“I never leave without a book.”

Life is an interesting storyline friend. To think that the simple gesture of letting a friend borrow a book sent an entire town into a panic is an exaggerated example of how our actions have consequences. Please don’t mistake this as a lesson in not doing anything. You of all people should know that I don’t recommend that.

Therein concludes my letter to you, dear friend.  

I hope to see you soon, and talk about your wonderfully silly life.

Until then,

Frinser DePew

Concerning My Position

To Whom It May Concern, (that’s you Rog)

   I’d like to take the time to say that working with you has been an utter hell hole. Sure, you gave me the freedom to use my skills for good, but what’s the good in good if I don’t feel good doing it? Are you following along? Good.

To think our fates attraction to each other, all started with a cat pendant, and some forged paintings is a modern day romance for the books. I know you hate it when I refer to our time together as a romance, since you and I are both straight men, but it’s the only way I can get through thinking about it without wanting to throw up in my own mouth. We did have some good times. Like the time I found out that Merik was really Fraise, and you and I ended up sharing a strong drink, and stronger words in your apartment. That was fun.

To cut to the chase, I’ve taken my talents elsewhere. I won’t tell you where, because quite frankly, I don’t care to be imprisoned by the Fine Arts Legal Society anymore.

I know what you’re thinking right now: “But Pierce, you’ve got a legal obligation with the government to be under our employ until your crimes against the art market are made right.”

To that I ask you, do I really have an obligation anymore? I feel like with the death of Henry Cloud, the capture of Alec Alden, and the untimely departure of our dear Merik (RIP. Or should I say, rest in pieces. Too soon?)- I digress. My “obligation” is now moot.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to be forging any more paintings. Well, that is until after I’ve made the small fortune back that you all took from me when I was arrested.

I do have to say how disappointed I am in the fact that you didn’t clear my name with Harlow. If you ever get the heart to correct that wrong, I would urge you to leave it alone. Though I love her, I know that I need to let her live her life without the burden of a scam artist.

Onto the Avery debacle. This is an area I am extremely pleased with you on. I know that she has her messy background, but the fact that you cleared her record, and put her into the witness protection program is really a medal on that already decorated vest of yours. It is a vest, right? Did you get the one for selling the most cookies this year too? God, I hope so.

I’m getting off of topic. I did hear you’ve lost her. For that, I’m happy.

Oh, please tell Jeff that I am extremely glad we are not friends. He’ll know what I mean.

I bet you’re wondering if I learned anything from my time with the most boring people on earth. To that I say, yes.

I learned how to stay hidden from you all.

Probably not the lesson you wanted me to learn, but what else can I say? You know I’m an honest person, so to lie to you would be a breach in our friendship. If that’s what you want to call the curse word filled romance you, and I have shared over the past year.

Now don’t get too emotional, I am going to miss you as well. Maybe I’ll send you some paintings every now, and then. I know you loved my work.

In the words of our dearly departed Merik:

Until then,

Pierce Pont


Dear Narrator,

I hope we never speak again.

The Art of Loathing.

“Something odd struck my mind as I applied my lip gloss the other day,” she confesses, “What if everything I believe is a lie? I encourage you to never go down a path that leads you to question your very existence. Unless, that is, you have an unquenchable need for self-loathing.”

“I find myself doing just that on a daily basis,” he replies with amusement.

“Question your existence?”

“Loath myself.”

She smirks at his candor, “Well then, it seems you’re ahead of me.”

“I’ve found it’s an important tool for the human race. Self-loathing, that is.”


“Imagine a world without it. I mean, the terror that would exist without it would be unthinkable. We’d all have the mind of a three-year-old, feeling justified in every action we made. Entitled to things for no reason at all.”

“Honey, I think that’s called being a millenial.”

“Do millennials not loath themselves? I swear I hear them talking about being depressed more than any other generation.”

“The difference between being depressed, and being unhappy is lost on them.”

They both pause in thought.

“Surely not all of them,” he breaks the silence. 

“There will always be outliers.”

“Thank God for the outliers.”

“Thank God for alcohol,” she raises her glass to his. 

“Thank God for alcohol,” he mimics.

They clink their glasses, and each take a long but delicate sip of a dry martini.


Narrator, Narrator Find Me a Match…

Cutting It Short: Figure out the experience you want your reader to have. Test your creativity in both forms. Pick the one that best fits your storyline.

Every reader experiences books a different way depending on the narration. It’s not really difficult to figure out what you want your reader to feel. What is difficult is figuring out if you can give your reader all the information they will need with the narration they are following

Third Party Narrative – This is the easiest form of narration to write in. If any kind of writing it is easy, that is.
This isn’t to say there aren’t setbacks. In the matter of wanting your reader to feel the same feelings as one of your characters deeper than just saying how they are feeling, you have to go into a thought monologue. Which in all intents and purposes, really isn’t that bad.
I say it’s the easiest, because a third party narrative is an all-knowing party. So they are able to give definitive remarks about each, and every character.

Character Narration – This one is difficult because you are limiting the knowledge of your reader to the knowledge of whichever character is narrating the book. i.e. When making remarks about any other characters thoughts or actions, you have to caveat that as a guess from the narrator themselves.

My advice is to try both. Take a chapter, and see which one lends itself to developing your storyline. I myself wrote my first book in the form of main character narration, but ended up changing it to a third party because I wasn’t able to be as clear as I was wanting.

As always, I’m open to banter.

Until then.

A Tense Situation

Cutting It Short: Pick a tense. Past. Present. Whatever, just stick with it. There are times it can be broken, but not by the narrator.

How sorry I felt for my proof-reader when I saw all the red marks of changing past tense, and present tense. I wove them together like a professional basket weaver, and it was a disaster.

Pick your tense. It can be past, it can be present. Sometimes, only sometimes, can you change those, but make it clear where you’re going before doing so.

Examples are going to be the best way to explain this. See below:

“She escaped from the clutches of death with the thought of him on her mind, and in the seconds it took for life to return to her lungs, she knew she would never be the same.” 
— Past tense. The narrator is telling you something that has happened.

“She escapes the clutch of death with the thought of him on her mind. The seconds it took for life to return to her lungs, gave enough time for her to know she would never be the same.”
— Present tense. The narrator is telling you something happening at the very moment.

“She escaped the clutches of death with the thoughts of him in her head. The seconds it took for life to return to her lungs, gives enough time for her to know she would never be the same.” 
— Mixed tenses. The narrator is not giving you a clear idea if this is happening now, or if this happened in the past.

“I remember how I escaped the clutches of death,” she says with a far off look in her eye, “it was you I was thinking of.”
Her eyes find his, and he can see the depth of her longing. He breaks the connection between them, and crosses his arms as he looks down, “I can’t hear this right now,” he shakes his head, the weight of where they are pulling him down. He looks up again, and pulls in a long breath as he turns, and walks away. 
“I knew I’d never be the same after that,” she says under her breath, watching him leave.
— Mixed tenses. This works because the character is the one referencing the past tense, while they are in the present.

Hope this helps in your tense situation.

As always, I’m open to banter.

Until then.


Proof Your Writing

Cutting It Short: Find an honest proof-reader. Give them a list of questions to answer. Discuss their thoughts. Adapt what you want. 

This is an area in my writing experience that surprised me. I had some people in mind for proof-reading, but ended up asking someone I had only spoken to a few times. Someone I knew would be completely honest in their thoughts. It’s convenient to ask a significant other, but I’ve found that they often times don’t feel like they can give as honest answers/opinions as you need. (it’s also hard hearing it from them)

So, you found your honest person, what now? Give them your printed manuscript with a list of questions you’d like answered (sample questions will be listed below), and let them know it’s okay to add any other points they feel are relevant.

It does take time, since this person will be writing out their thoughts, and questions they want to go over with you. Give them the space to do that.

Once they are done, have a sit down to talk things through. I can’t stress enough how important it is to go into this with a completely open mind. It’s easy for us writers to grow attached to our characters, or scenes, but we have to remember that this person is coming at you from a non-emotional state, so their thoughts are normally more clear than your own.

Take notes. Lots of notes!

Take time to think through the opinions you got. You don’t have to change everything to whatever that person told you. Sometimes, speaking with them simply sparks an idea for that catch you’ve been trying to figure out, or another scene that opens clarity to the story.

In the end, it’s your book, your writing, your characters, your world. You don’t have to change anything based on another opinion.

– Thoughts on each of the main characters? How are they coming off? Why are they coming off in those ways? 
– Is the storyline sticky? If so, where are they getting caught up?
– What, as a reader, are they wanting to know? What do they want to see resolved? What are their own guesses on where the story is going? 
__ These are just a few of the questions I wanted answered whenever my proof-reader was going through my manuscript. If you have any you’d like to add, feel free to drop those in the comments sections! 

As always, I’m open to banter.

Until then.

Reading to Yourself

Cutting It Short: Read out loud. You’ll be amazed at what you find.

We all have an idea of how the story is flowing in our head. It’s seamless, and, if you’re anything like me, and write to music, you have background noise to help build up scenes.

When you’ve got a bulk of a storyline put together, print it out, and take some time to read out loud, to feel how it is sounding. Make sure you have a pen on hand to take notes, because trust me, you will be taking a lot of notes.

Added tip: This also helps when you’re trying to suss out an awkward or difficult scene that isn’t coming out the way you want it to. Read it out loud, and most times you’ll figure out how to write it down.

Wow, that was way shorter than I thought it would be, but I’d rather be simple in explanations than try to make things drawn out for the sake of a post.

As always, I’m open to banter on here, through email, or even catch me on IG. Links to all at the bottom of this page.

Until then.

Difference In Style

This post is about the different styles in writing, and where they belong. Mainly focused on adapting your writing techniques into storyline writing.

Coming from a poetry background, I found myself wanting to make every sentence I wrote in my book as eloquent, and beautiful as possible. While that works for poetry, it does not work for long storylines.

This isn’t to say there is no room for flowing sentences or thought provoking ideas. It’s only saying that it doesn’t have to be every word put down on the page.

Storyline is about creating, you guessed it, a storyline, and that doesn’t always come out in the most flowery way. Most of the time, it’s about the facts, about what’s going on in the scene. It’s dialogue between characters, and the thoughts those characters are having (this is where it’s easy to throw in those poet wanderings, thought it’s not necessarily where they should always be)

I try not to make these posts too long in an effort to get you the most information you need, while getting to the point, and not just liking the sound of clicking keys under my fingers (the bloggers equivalent of ‘liking the sound of your own voice’).

So, to put it simply: In storyline writing, keep the main bulk if it simple, don’t get caught up in the twirl of poetic thoughts. Keep those for times when a character is perusing an idea in their mind, or at the end of an argument between two people, or as cliche as it is, from the old wise guy that every person must have in their life.

As always, I’m open to banter on here, through email or even catch me on IG, links to all at the bottom of this page.

Until then.


Layer, layer, layer…

My last post was about getting started on your book writing process.
To summarize: simply start (or “Just Do It” depending on your motivation preference.)

Writing a book is all about layering (Ogre’s have layers, onions have layers!) A good storyline is one that has depth, and depth is created in the layering process. Unfortunately, this is also not something that happens on the first go round. This is a process of reading through your story numerous times. In total, I’ve probably read over my own book 100plus. Each time adding bit by bit, layer on layer, processing the story, characters, scenes, and conversations until there is a a hold for the reader to grasp.

I like to think of storylines as a mountain that a reader climbs. When a surface is smooth, there isn’t anything for a reader to hold onto, nothing for them to peruse. It’s basically a hill, and while that’s easier to trek, it’s also easier to be forgotten.
But when the surface has crevices and texture, they find themselves having to think about what they are reading, they connect with the story, attaching themselves to your characters, and getting invested in what is happening.

An added note to this: read your story out loud. It’s easy to hear a tone, and read it that way in your head. But when you read out loud, it slows down how fast you go, showing you the real tone of your book. 

If you have questions, or want to continue this conversation with me, feel free to comment or email me at

Until then.