More Than Zombies: Landscapes and Poetry and Cats

Molly’s fingers touched his wrist. Very light, very soft. “Drew, maybe in the house there they’d spare us somethin’ to eat?”

A white line showed around his mouth. “Beggin’,” he said harshly. “Ain’t none of us ever begged before. Ain’t none of us ever goin’ to.”

Molly’s hand tightened on his wrist. He turned and saw her eyes. He saw the eyes of Susie and little Drew, looking at him. Slowly all the stiffness went out of his neck and his back. His face got loose and blank, shapeless like a thing that has been beaten too hard and too long. He got out of the car and went up the path to the house. He walked uncertainly, like a man who is sick, or nearly blind.

— Ray Bradbury (with an assist from Leigh Brackett),
“The Scythe,” The October Country

It’s not quite as dire as with the starving Okies in Bradbury’s tale quoted above, but I prefer not to wait until I’m forced to live out of my car.

Starting this Patreon is something I’ve been resisting for a long while. Even after deciding to do it, I’ve put off making the necessary videos to promote myself. It’s equal parts stage fright and simple mortification for having to do this in the first place. 

It's more than finishing the last book of Yet Another Zombie Apocalypse Series (of which mine is more than that, thank you). I’ve gotten positive responses to my photo essays, and would like to continue them, and with a proper DSLR, at that. I’ve been writing poems as a form of creative exercise and a way to vent emotions, and it turns out people want more of those, too.

A man’s gotta eat. Often at his desk, if he wants
to get anything done.

Meanwhile, there’s overhead, if not quite hell, to pay. A mortgage note, cats to feed, wood pellets and gas bills for the subzero days of winter ahead, et cetera and so on.

So, here we are. My ultimate goal is to build a cyber-oasis away from the usual angry drama in the media at large. If you like a bit of fictional ultraviolence, I’ve got a tab for my zombie novel excerpts. Otherwise, flowers and sunlight, old architecture and cats for days. (Trust me, with all the darkness I jam into my fiction, I need all the sunbeams and hollyhocks and tabbies I can get, with a side of food porn.)

Should I deem it necessary to write some terse lines about throwing away an old television or the shadows of the ants in late afternoon light, well, trust me. It beats arguing contemporary affairs, foreign or domestic. 

Of course, maybe that’s just me.

Let’s find out. Should you decide to support me, let me know what you want to see more of, and I’ll do what I can to make sure you get it.

If you’re not sure you want to commit to a monthly thing, but if you feel up to buying me a beer or six, there’s always the PayPal tab, too. Every bit is appreciated.