An Action-Packed RavenLife Story! 🥷

INDIELIFE: Finally ☑️ An Item Off That Indie Author Endless To Do 📋

As part of the Blood Eternal audiobook release, I’ve been getting reviews coming in. While chatting with one of the reviewers, he pointed out that it would be good to have the Glossary of the Am’r Language and Index of Non-English Phrases (that are in the end of the paperback and ebook versions of all the series books) uploaded to Audible.
This is something I’ve been intending to get around to for literally years, but it has just never has moved up the Indie Author Endless To Do List high enough to actually materialize 🙄

So I wrote back to the lovely fellow, thanked him for applying a boot to my ass in this regard, and now if you buy the novels on audiobook, those downloads finally come with them. (It should also work for you if you bought them before—but if you have any issues, hit reply to this email and I’ll shoot you over the PDF directly!)
Here is the review of Blood Eternal:

🎧 Listen to Blood Eternal at Audible 🎧

🎧 Listen to Blood Eternal at Amazon 🎧

🎧 Listen to Blood Eternal at Apple 🎧

RAVENLIFE: When Shit Gets Real, But You’re Not Fictional…

So far, I’ve written about stuff from my past. Today, thanks to a chest-thumpin’ idiot, you get brought into “a day in the life of Raven” as of last weekend. 🍿
For those of you who are new here, recently I’ve had to move in with my mom, as she is dealing with age-related memory loss. I haven’t been writing about it much— it would scare all of you off if I really went in-depth on how hard this is—but I am at the moment not living with my partner, Trent, and we are grabbing time together when we can get it.
Trent had come out to do a special weekend hike with Archie and me.
As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw a man. We didn’t see the off-leash dog he was letting just wander around the parking area until after Trent had almost hit it, due to neither seeing nor expecting a dog to be there. It’s understood that you don’t have dogs off-leash in the parking areas around here. (It’s also basic common sense, but common sense is not as common as one would prefer.)
As we exit the car, both upset about that close call, the man yells to Trent, “Whatcha doin’, TRYIN’ to hit my dog?”
This was not the correct thing to say, to either of us. Trent responded, “What are you trying to do? Get your dog hit by letting it run around the parking lot off-leash?”
“Oh, Big Man are you? That’s fighting words! You wanna fight?”
“Sure.” For those of you who don’t know Trent, he is my main resource for choreographing the fight scenes in my books. He is practiced in a number of martial arts traditions, and has never not been in-training since he was a little kid. Trent is not looking to start a fight. He is, however, perfectly happy to finish one, as a salutary lesson: “Don’t start none, won’t be none.”

I at this point have Archie tucked under one arm, and have moved to a safe distance to give them room if they are going to get into it. I have my phone out, because Trent, being Black, will likely need evidence that he didn’t start the fight and did not use unreasonable force during it.
Trent meanwhile, has already prepared himself for the fight. He’s assessed the guy, guessed at what he will do for an opening move, come up with a plan of response, and decided the exact level of pain he’s going to put the guy through for being a loud-mouth bonehead who endangers his own dog. He is just waiting for the guy to take the first swing, because he is Black and the guy is white, and he needs to be able to tell the cops that he did not start the fight.
But the guy doesn’t want to fight. He just felt he had to be, as he put it, a Big Man, but he doesn’t really actually want to exchange blows. Every time Trent relaxes out of stance and starts to move away, the guy goes, “That’s right, walk away, you know you can’t take me on!” and so Trent obliges by getting back into a fighting stance and saying, “I’m not moving away. Come here and fight.”
Now, I’m on day three of a migraine and the meds are barely touching it, and I just want to get on with walking my dog and my partner in the woods. I’m getting tired of this nonsense. So, Archie still tucked like a football under my left arm, I walk over to the guy, hold out my right hand, and say, “Give me the leash. I’ll hold your dog so you can go fight.”
The guy’s eyes got wide. He was not expecting this, especially not of a “girl,” who should at this point either be having hysterics or begging her partner, “Don’t do it, baby!” But while Trent was assessing his opponent, so was I. This guy was no threat to Trent. He was profoundly unlikely to get even one strike landed. And Trent was not so amped-up that he was going to lose control and hurt this chucklehead too much. This was a “safe” fight for Trent, and while the guy would be injured a bit, it was a “safe” fight for him, too. I was just tired of the whole situation and wanted it over, one way or another.
As I made this offer, Trent got back into fighting stance. “So he thinks he’s a ninja?” the jackass asks me. “Yes, he’s trained in martial arts,” I reply. “Hand me the leash so you can fight now.”
But the dolt is clutching his leash. He really doesn’t want to fight now. Trent said that I probably scared the guy more than he did, at this point, because I was “calm and a bit condescending,” as he put it.
The craven imbecile was clearly not going to do anything, so I went back to Trent, put Archie down, and we started to get back to our rudely interrupted walk. “Oh, yeah, walk away!” the blockhead yells after us.
I’d had it. I turn around, look him dead in the eye, and say, “You’re an idiot. And you lost.” He stares at me, stunned into silence. I turn my back. Trent and Archie and I walk away.
We saw him two more times on the walk, and he hid behind a tree each time, in that nonchalant, “I just happened to step behind a tree right at this very minute, it had nothing to do with seeing you,” kind of way.
Trent informed me, grinning, that I’d just done “epic girlfriend shit.” Which is hilarious, because if I tried to be “epic” I’d have failed humiliatingly. I just had a headache and enough of that guy’s toxic masculinity.
Which, I realize, is in it’s own way what Noosh does to survive the am’r. Except I don’t get the timely quips. Instead of what I said, Noosh would have turned around and shot off: “Fight or shut the fuck up. And your dog deserves a better human.”

But I’m not a quick-witted fictional character. I’m just a tired gal with a headache and no more fucks to give. The real winner of this whole story—besides my partner Trent, who will always stand up to a bully—is Archie, who stayed calmly under my arm the whole time (despite the fact that I know for certain that he senses all emotions around him strongly) and who just trotted off with us without any reactivity after it was over. My Archie-boy is definitely a fictional character come to life! 💝

OK, I’ve got a novel to get back to writing! ✒️ See you in two weeks…and as always, be good or be good at it! 😘

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