Can be the target of awesome T-shirts

How was your Christmas? Set anything on fire? No? Well, there's always next year.

But to the point, I have a set of new T-shirts to share for any other RPG nerds in need of new raiment.

Want to share with the world that you are protected from simple spells and abilities? Easy peasy.

 But while I loved the look of the single line layer, I wanted to also see if making the "Cannot be the target" part bigger would make it more legible.  Long story short, here's the second option for people you want to warn across the dungeon.

Second T-shirt.

So, if you're flush with Christmas money and need a shirt there ya go.

Merry Christmas

To celebrate or if you need any very very last minute card's, here's a Holly Jolly Reaper from Mass Effect

Or to get into a Parasite kind of mood, let's all spend a Christmas under the sea at rapture. But you might want to leave before New Years.

The Dreaded One Star

It had to happen. It was over two years ago I steeled myself with twitchy fingers while waiting at first patiently, then a bit impatiently, then throwing things around in Hulk rage impatiently (gods of mischief aren't gonna toss themselves) for the first reviews of my books to come in.

Funny thing about reviews, people only write them of their own, free, unasked will if they either love it/hate it/or hope they'll get something out of it. It's rare for the average not running a book review site person to drop a well articulated three star review for the hell of it.

But back to the point at hand. Anyone who dares to put something they've created out into the world knows that a dark cloud always threatens on the horizon. If you could please all the people all the time, people would bitch about how pleasing you are. Aside from caffeine and sloth gifs, complaining about things is what powers the human spirit.

So I knew that the one star bullet was coming for me, it was just a matter of when and where. (I didn't go looking for it, it was gifted to me by Smashwords brilliant plan to e-mail authors when their books receive reviews.) It could have been worse, it wasn't a piece I was charging any money for, I didn't spend three to four months drizzling my soul into it, and the reviewer didn't write my name on a piece of paper and then set it on fire (that's a tale for another time).

But despite all that it doesn't change the sting, the unabridged and un-coddled truth that someone didn't like me! Oh the wounds and arrows and other slings that bite into the psyche wrenching my soul in twain and...is that a cookie? Mm, breakfast. Sorry, where was I? Oh right, the damning truth that one star isn't the end of the world. Unless it's our sun and it's heading towards the Earth, then End of the World orgy time.

Rejection hurts, or so every poor nice guy who never gets the girl stories tell us over and over and over. You can't recover, your very DNA is altered with each rejection. Soon you're covered in failure tumors and the only cure is holing yourself up in a basement wailing about how the amontillado won't love you. But then time passes, the grass prods up through the snow, birds return to Capistrano, and the hippo of failure recedes into the water. Besides, there are many more spectacular ways to fail just around the corner.

Which isn't to say that upon having a moment's good mood, hopes and dreams, milk and cookies crushed an author doesn't have to smile wide and brush it off. Contrary to the rising demands of the review sector of the internet, writers aren't all emotionless automatons pumping out words based upon focus grouped algorithms. (James Patterson excluded) If you stab me in the eye with a quill, do I not shriek "What the hell are you doing?" You didn't like something, fine, own it, but also accept with that that you did make someone sad. It's the darkside of reviewing but it's there and you can't divorce it from reality until those emotionless author bots are created. (Nothing but Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey books. You've been warned)

All the internet wants is a good blow up. Authors Behaving Badly falls easily into the genre of "You didn't grieve in the proper way so I am suspicious and suspect you're some kind of horrific monster." Because you got upset that I said I'd rather wipe my ass with this book than read it, I shall have every person I know on Goodreads boycott you for time immemorial until our grandchildren's grandchildren crumble to dust. Which then causes the author to come back even madder than before, then more reviewers jump in until everyone feels bullied and we get a grade 5 shit storm which fuels the ravenous internet.

What's my point? Just be good to each other. Let authors grieve ever briefly over something that kind of sucks and know that a bad review isn't the end of the world; giant space mutant hamsters are.

And to end this on a final pointless note, here's a book cover for my black protagonist YA fantasy I'm trying to get into a serial format now. (You want to get over rejection fast, try querying)

Cyber monday

Once again the cyber warlords are upon us, and if we do not tithe at least 10% of our earnings to the God of Capitalism they shall trap us in a perpetual world forcing us to calculate pi all day.

So I might as well help out a bit with a few of my own curious offerings scattered about the internet.

Need some cards to tell your family that you're still alive? I got your back.

Cthulhu Santa Card

A new Skeleton Greeting Card courtesy of my Santa Skeleton

Want to don your tree in cat smashing apparel? We've got an ornament for that.

Tentacles on the tree! Out of a chimney, as they try to help out by decorating for you.

Want an ornament a bit less tentacley? Well, there's always a winter tree one. You didn't think I'd have something tree related?

Speaking of trees, I have a few lovely paintings left for sale on this fine gift exchanging holiday.

Sunset or Sunrise tree.

Poking through the branches

And finally for the nerdy crowd:

A Starry Starry Tardis print.

And for the vegetarian or zombie in your life, Vegetarian Zombie tshirt.

Now, get to shopping lest the cyborgs eat all our brains scraped across their toast!