Author: Kara Jorgensen

Kara Jorgensen (they/them) is a queer, nonbinary oddball with a penchant for all things antiquated, morbid, or just plain strange. While in college, they realized they no longer wanted to be Victor Frankenstein but instead wanted to write like Mary Shelley and thus abandoned their future career in science for writing. They meld their passions through their books and received an MFA in Creative and Professional Writing in 2016. When not writing, they can be found hanging out with their dogs watching period dramas or trying to convince their students to cite their sources. To find out more about her books go to https://karajorgensen.com Sign-up for her newsletter and get a free short story: eepurl.com/bfJTW9

Writing

On Writer Hustle Culture

July 14, 2024July 15, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

If there’s something I hate seeing online, it’s the glorification of hustle culture. For those of you who are not chronically online, hustle culture is the hyper capitalistic, you must be on 24/7, #girlboss, #productivity, work myself to death with a smile because I’m making more money than you attitude. As you can probably guess from my past screeds, I’m not a fan of capitalism for many reasons, but as an author/creator/artist, it’s particularly shitty to be expected to grind yourself to dust while supposedly doing what you love. Because if you aren’t, you’re apparently doing it wrong.

I believe artists should be able to make money from their art. I believe there should be social/governmental safety nets to allow us to do so as there are in other countries. I believe artists should be compensated fairly for their work and do it in a time frame that is aligns with their process and health. I feel like these are all very reasonable things to believe, but if you start looking at how people behave online, especially in certain online writing circles, you’ll see that is not the case.

Something I’ve noticed over the past five years of watching authortube (authors on YouTube), writertube (writers on YouTube), and writertok (writers on Tiktok) is the prevalence of hustle culture but in a way that is softer and almost more insidious because it is less obvious. I do want to preface this by saying that I see this more often with younger or less experienced writers than with people who have multiple books published, though I will touch upon some of those people later.

Beneath the aesthetic “A Day in the Life” or “Write With Me” videos is the looming threat of toxic productivity. No longer are authors writing in their pajamas gremlin style, they are out in the world writing and making content and recording B roll while doing it. The problem is that one must still write in order to have content to pump out into the world, and when your social media relies on you being a #writer, you must perform being a writer. The performance of writing is pretty clear in these videos, but the part that I find to be most toxic is the focus on large daily word counts.

Now, there are some people whose natural writing rhythm is 3k words a day or to fast draft. That’s totally fine. We all have our own pace. My problem is with the people who write for the sake of getting those large word counts, draft the same book ad nauseam, chasing their tail but never finishing anything. Or even worse, they beat themselves up over a no word or low word count day, even when the word count is perfectly normal for many writers. I’ve watched so many young or unpublished writers do this and burn themselves out. There are times when I’ve suspected a writer is burnt out and not writing, though they read off some giant word count while never talking about their project in any detail.

I’ve complained about Tiktok and the capitalist drive to produce content, but the mixing of word count and content does nothing to help writers. It gives completely unrealistic expectations to newbies, it’s fake in some cases, and in others, it drives people’s mental health into the ground when they try to maintain high levels of productivity for way too long. As much as the idea of NaNoWriMo started out as a good thing, I lay the blame for this trend at their feet. I think a lot of younger writer thought, If I can write 1666 words a day for a month, surely I can do more and for longer, without understanding that NaNo is not meant to set the pace for the entirety of their career or life. As with most things relating to hustle culture, it almost automatically excludes people without ideal circumstances, so people with lower energy levels, people with kids, with demanding jobs, etc. Those people can never be #AuthorGoals if they aren’t typing 3k a day while taking aesthetic B roll at a coffee shop.

My hope is that newer writers will understand that a lot of what they see online is not real or is heavily curated to make it look better than it truly is. There are ways to be productive and have goals without running yourself into the ground or creating a facade in order to live up to perceived expectations. The key is to focus less on content production or high daily word counts and more on what works best for you at this stage of your life. For some, it is fast drafting, but for many, a more moderate or slower approach is healthier. Don’t get caught up in what you think you should be doing because someone online tells you that you should or because you see someone successful doing it. You don’t know how much help they have or how many hours they have to work.

Going off this, be wary of people who consider themselves to be writing gurus or who churn out 10+ books a year. Many people whose sole job is writing can write 4-6 books a year, but if someone is publishing every month, be skeptical. Often, those people use ghost writers, people on Fiverr, or now, they rely on AI to do the heavy lifting with their books. They may also have assistants who run all their social media profiles or spouses who take care of all the day-to-day life stuff that you’re still doing. Don’t fall for the aesthetic hustle culture you see in online writing communities. Being a YouTube or Tiktok personality with never be a substitute for good writing or maintaining your sanity and health through good habits when it comes to a building long-term career.

Writing

Why I Will Never Be a “Brand”

July 7, 2024July 7, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about brands, online personalities, and sincerity a lot lately. Without harping on past posts, let’s summarize the reason for this rumination as recent-past online trauma (if you know, you know).

Something you hear a lot as a new author is figuring out your “brand.” What’s your author brand? Build your author brand in 5 easy steps! Build your brand!

What building your brand should be is targeting your product to your ideal reader. Note: I said product. Your book is a product; you are not a product. I do have an author brand. I call it being a romantic goremonger. I write books with some gory, highly descriptive gross bits (usually medical in nature or having to do with a cadaver) while balancing that with lots of emotional intimacy between the two main characters. My ideal reader also enjoys historicals and is probably queer (or enjoys queer books) since those are basically all that I write. If you like Anne Rice, KJ Charles, Jordan L. Hawk, Cat Sebastian, Allie Therin, and Arden Powell, you’ll probably like my books.

What I don’t like and have come to actively distrust is creatives who treat their social media as an extension of their brand. There’s a big difference between throwing your audience a bone by posting a smutty snippet or sharing some cool research from your latest project and treating everything you post like it’s a direct reflection on you. When the latter happens, often people start posting less about things they actually care about and more about things that will reflect well on them as a brand. It’s the same reason corporations only post rainbow stuff in June or Black history infographics in February. It’s not that they care about any of these groups or want to foster equity of any sort. It’s that if they don’t, it’ll reflect poorly on their public image.

Years ago, I saw this mostly when authors completely refused to post anything “political” on their pages by abstaining from every mentioning a problem a person of color might face or that LGBT people exist. This was mostly due to the fear that people wouldn’t want to buy from them due to their lack of a stance (or conservative stance) on an issue. Unfortunately, we’re also starting to see it happen in the other direction where people make token posts about Palestine or trans rights because they feel they have to, not because they actually give a shit about either group. The idea is once again a preservation of their audience rather than a sincere post about something they care about. I’m totally fine with someone saying, “Hey, I’m not going to post about X because I don’t know enough about it.” I’d rather someone step back and educate themselves than make a knee-jerk post because they feel they have to. You should be supporting people of color, queer people, disabled people, etc. because you want to, not because you feel social pressure to do so. The social pressure on social media can absolutely drive this sort of insincerity, and I hate it immensely. The worst part is how many people seem very happy to tick off the boxes that make someone acceptable before supporting them when in reality it’s all for show and they don’t actually care.

Kara, how do you tell if someone cares? Well, at a glance, you really can’t.

This is the internet where everything is online for all to see, yet nothing is truly real. I think the only way you can truly judge is by looking at patterns of behavior. Do they continue support after X month is over? Do they seem to genuinely care about this topic/group? Do they retweet people who aren’t themselves posting about X thing? At the same time, some people only use their social media accounts for updates about their own stuff, so you have to take that into consideration. At a time where many people want a black and white litmus test for goodness or good rep, I’m here to remind you that nothing is that straightforward.

Going off of this, I will say the one rule of thumb that hasn’t proven me wrong yet is anyone who gets online and touts themself as an authority on anything is probably full of shit. Anyone who acts like they are the most queer, the most trans, the most Latinx, the most whatever because it makes them an absolute, unquestionable authority is probably pulling a Wizard of Oz act and hoping you can’t look behind the curtain to see who they really are. Authority should always be questioned, no matter if it’s in the community or outside of it. I feel like most people who know anything about something know that there is still a lot left to learn, and they are open to criticism or open to new information or outside perspectives. If someone’s online brand is that they are trying to cultivate a following that looks only to them or sees them as the ultimate authority on a marginalization or topic (like publishing), I would be very cautious as those people are usually grifters.

Has the idea of an author brand gone too far? I do kind of think so. The problem truly begins once a person gets a large enough following online. It seems around 3k-5k followers on most platforms is enough for fans/followers to start treating them less as a person and more of some random avatar that they can say whatever they want to as if they don’t have feelings. It’s weird, but I’ve seen it many times where people will suddenly say things to a person with a larger account that they would never say to someone they’re friends with who has 500 followers. The size of the account means the intimacy disappears and with it the humanity of the person holding the account. When we do that, we reduce a real person to only their posts, which makes it easier for grifters to turn themselves into an authority or “brand” that posts only to appease rather than sharing things they actually care about. Ultimately, it’s a problem that lies with the fans/followers as much as the creators. People don’t magically attain a different status when they reach a certain number of followers, and they are never going to appease everyone. Expecting them to do so will only lead to heartbreak, so keep your expectations in moderation and check yourself for parasocial relationships.

Monthly Review

June 2024 Wrap-Up Post

June 30, 2024June 30, 2024 Kara JorgensenLeave a comment

This month has somehow flown but also been the longest month ever. At least it was a rather productive month for me, so I’m content with that. I will say that I am lowkey flirting with burnout, but I think I’ll be okay if I am able to convince myself to play more games and chill a bit more. Here are my goals from last month:

Write at least 20k words
Outline next chunk of book 3
Start the cover stuff for The Reanimator’s Remains
Maintain some semblance of brain balance to avoid burnout
Keep up with the stitch-a-long
Read 8 books
Blog weekly
Send out June newsletter

Books

The Magus of the Library (#7) by Mitsu Izumi- 4 stars, in this volume we have discussions about censorship, political upheaval, and how we navigate it without setting the wrong precedent.
The Truth of the Aleke (#2) by Moses Ose Utomi- 4 stars, in book one, we got the story of a martyred boy and now we get the history of what comes after and how history gets twisted by time and politics.
You Should Be So Lucky (#2) by Cat Sebastian- 5 stars, a baseball player falls for a reporter fall in love during early 1960s NYC. I loved this book so much, especially since it also deals with grief and finding your place/value.
Asian American Histories of the United States by Catherine Ceniza Choy- 4 stars, I struggled a bit with the backwards chronology, but it was interesting to see how history has led to the present.
The House of the Red Balconies by A. J. Demas- 5 stars, an mm romance set in a fictional Ancient Greece where an engineer who comes to the island to build an aqueduct falls for a chronically ill courtesan.
The Captain’s Holiday Homecoming by Meg Mardell- 4 stars, a widower stumbles across an old friend presumed to be dead in his stable and finds they may have a future together (definitely a HFN rather than a HEA)
A Letter to the Luminous Deep by Sylvie Cathrall- 4 stars, an epistolary novel between the siblings of two missing people in an underwater city, loved the agoraphobia/OCD rep.
The Moon on a Rainy Night (#1) by Kuzushiro- 4 stars, a sapphic YA featuring a teenage girl starts falling for her hard-of-hearing classmate. Once again, great HoH rep that is obvious well researched.
The Moon on a Rainy Night (#2) by Kuzushiro- 4 stars, see above.

Admin/Behind-the-Scenes Stuff

I appeared on the Incoherent Fangirl Podcast’s Pride event, which you can watch here
Finished the Femurs and Fungi Stitch-a-long (and I plan to join Fine Frog Stitching’s next SAL in August)
Sent in all my info to my cover designer/Crowglass Design
Celebrated my 19th anniversary with my partner
Outlined the next chunk of my book draft
Edited the whole first act (again)
Blogged weekly
Sent out my newsletter in a semi-timely fashion for once
Attempted to relax more and refill the well by not taking on a shit ton of responsibilities
Wrote quite a bit (see writing section)

Blogs

Writing

This month has mainly been devoted to writing. I could feel myself flirting with burnout at the end of May due to the semester ending, so I took June to decompress and mostly write. On one hand, yay for doing quite a bit of writing. On the other hand, I’m still struggling to maintain any semblance of balance because I’m still mostly writing or staying at a Word Doc pretending I’m writing. The difficult part has been tearing myself away to do other things like reading and playing games, which ultimately keep me from frying my brain. My tendency is to give 100% repeatedly, even when I can’t actually give that much, until I’m beating myself up about how that current 100% is far less than it was a month earlier. I hope that makes sense. It’s really that I go too hard and take from a well that is rapidly running dry.

The Reanimator’s Remains is shaping up nicely though. I really love this book. I think it’s a little quieter than books 1 or 2, but it still has murder, mysteries, and some very tender moments between Oliver and Felipe. I eventually need to tweak the blurb for this book because it isn’t obvious, but Gwen is involved in this case and goes to the murder town with Oliver and Felipe. I know Gwen is a fan fav as Oliver’s bestie, so I hope you enjoy her getting some extra screen time.

Hopes for July

Write 25,000 words
Outline next chunk of book
Do a cover reveal and make graphics for them
Maintain my mental health better (oops)
Blog weekly
Read 8 books
Send out my July newsletter

The Reanimator's Remains · Writing

An Excerpt From The Reanimator’s Remains (TRM #3) Part 2

June 23, 2024June 23, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

Last week, I posted the first half of the prologue for The Reanimator’s Remains (TRM #3), which you can read here. You can preorder The Reanimator’s Remains at all major retailers in ebook form. The paperbacks will be available in October, closer to the October 29th release date. Without further ado, here is part 2.

The hairs rose on her arms as she passed from the normal forest and into the other realm. When Joanna looked back, the path to the Allen’s was gone, and in its place stood a thick carpet of ancient trees and moss. Here, there was no smoldering house or in-laws to hunt her, and she didn’t know if that comforted or terrified her. The Lady of the Dysterwood did not like humans to intrude upon her domain, and those who did so uninvited rarely lived long enough to regret it. Joanna’s heart beat loudly in her ears as she tried to remember the direction she had come from, but everything seemed wrong. The trees felt different from the ones growing the Pine Barrens. The pitch pines and black oaks around her rose to monstrous heights, leaving only smudges of sunless, red sky. They seemed older, as if their roots ran far deeper than humankind, and they had tasted the marrow of the earth. The Dysterwood felt untouchable. No human would dare take an ax or fire to it, lest they be destroyed.

All around her the woods teemed with life. Moss, flowers, and scrubby brush grew so thickly on the forest floor that she didn’t dare move or disturb them. It should have been a peaceful place, but beneath its bows, Joanna felt a litany of unseen eyes watching her. Every tree and leaf housed the Lady’s retinue. Birds she had never heard before squawked high in the canopy while the insects and creatures on the ground clicked and hummed as if oblivious to her presence. Hesitantly stepping deeper into the forest, Joanna froze at the gentle patter of blood from beneath her petticoat.

More! the Dysterwood howled as the ground closed around her boot and yanked her to her knees. Intruder!

Joanna bit back a cry as she landed hard, her palms stinging with scratches. Blood wept from the cuts, and in an instant, all eyes were upon her. The creatures buzzed to the surface, and the trees hissed in anticipation of the Lady’s verdict. Before it could come, Joanna drew in a deep breath and ripped her foot from the muck.

Lifting her chin, she stared into the waiting forest and held up her hand to show the ring her husband’s family had passed down for generations before he slipped it to her. “Take me to the Lady. I would like to make a bargain.”

For a moment, the entire Dysterwood went still until, with a dull rumble, the forest floor roiled and parted. Wet, petrified boards and bleached, half-rotted bones rose through the moss, cutting a path between the trees like the spine of some ancient slumbering beast. Squaring her shoulders, Joanna stepped onto the first tread.

The Lady would see her.

***

Time flowed oddly in the Dysterwood. Joanna walked for what felt like minutes, and darkness descended thickly over the forest. Owls hooted and screeched in the pine trees, diving down on unseen prey. A flash of red or a flicker of motion would catch Joanna’s eye, but she didn’t dare step off the path or let her attention linger for too long. Keep to the path and no harm will come to you, Stephen had said to her, but she wasn’t one of them, at least not by blood. She had the Lady’s attention, but she didn’t doubt she would feed her to some creature for her entertainment if given the chance. As she passed through a thick copse, the sky brightened to the bruised red of sunset. The trees thinned, giving way to pockets of mountain laurel, bushes studded with white bearberries and fragrant, pink swamp azalea. Bees droned nearby, though Joanna couldn’t see them through the thickets of flowers.

Stepping onto the next plaque of bone, rusty red water pooled around the soles of her boots. Joanna drew in a ragged breath. The endless forest should have been a paradise, but beneath the cloying aroma of flowers was the earthy smell of rotting earth and peat. If she strayed from the path to pick a flower or follow an animal’s child-like cry, the hungry ground would swallow her up and drag her down. The bog yearned for more flesh, more iron, more, though she didn’t dare stop following the path of decay, even as her calves and core ached and the blood ran from her body in earnest. What other choice did she have? The Lady might toy with her and let her wander aimlessly through the forest for all eternity, but Joanna wouldn’t lay down between the pitcher plants and sundew and let the Dysterwood consume her until she finished her pilgrimage. Her thoughts flickered to Mercy and the baby, but she quickly banished them from her mind. In her domain, the Lady might know her thoughts, and she wouldn’t give her any more tricks to use against her. She had given Mercy and the baby the best head start she could. That would have to be enough.

When Joanna raised her gaze, she suddenly stood in the center of an empty glade, and the trees that had surrounded her only a moment ago now stood a furlong behind her. She shivered, despite the summer heat, at the wrongness of the clearing. Still water pooled on either side of her, leaving a strip of grass only wide enough to accommodate the treads of bone and wood. With every step, her feet sunk deeper into bog and the pounding of her heart grew louder in her ears. Her powers hummed a steady dirge as she crossed the narrow turf. Joanna told herself not to look, but she needed to know. Beneath the bog’s still waters, a man’s face stared back at her. He was pale and still as death, a ragged wound marring his neck. While his clothes were from decades before her time, the outline of his features reminded her of Stephen. She half-expected him to open his sightless eyes or rise to grab her, but he never moved. Bracing herself, she looked into the pool on her right, expecting to find another body. Instead, a woman’s reflection hovered beside her own.

“Do you like my collection?”

Joanna gasped and turned to face the Lady of the Dysterwood. Nothing Stephen had told her could have prepared her for that moment. The Lady felt limitless, too old, too much, magic made flesh, made shadow, a glimpse of something other that was beyond comprehension. Then, she pulled back and solidified into something approximately human. A shadow of a smile twisted the Lady’s lips as she watched Joanna’s breath hitch and her eyes widen with terror. She was beautiful in an uncanny way that Joanna feared hid sharp teeth or claws. Her copper hair had been woven into intricate knots and braids, while her heart-shaped face remained unmarred by age, she appeared far older than Joanna’s twenty-five years. Her clothes were a mockery of the sumptuous, crinoline-fluffed gowns wealthy women wore. The fabric of her dress was so deeply red it hurt Joanna’s eyes to look at, and the embroidery decorating the edges shifted patterns from flowers to hunting scenes to figures of death, and where there should have been a chatelaine or purse at her belt, a heavy gilt knife hung. Instead of a simple necklace or ribbon around her neck, she wore a heavy, golden, dragon-headed torc. When the Lady looked down at her, her pale eyes bore through her, weighing on Joanna’s heart like lead.

“You took something that belonged to me,” the Lady said, her voice as deep and cold as her domain. “Do you know what I do to thieves?”

Joanna’s throat tightened like a garrot as the Lady stepped closer. If Stephen’s family dealt with her for centuries, she could do the same. Her feet were numb in the cold water and her head swam with blood loss, but Joanna straightened her spine and met the creature’s gaze.

“I am not a thief. Stephen made his own choices. I took nothing he didn’t freely give.”

The Lady’s eyes narrowed, and the trees around the glen rustled with an unseen gust. “My patience wears thin, little thief, and your hunters draw near. All it would take is but a thought to bring them here. Tell me why you have intruded into my domain.”

“I would like to make a bargain.”

A chiming laugh escaped her lips. “And why should I bargain with you?”

“Because I have this,” Joanna said, holding up the signet ring.

“That ring buys you entry, not cooperation, child. Besides, what do you think you could possibly give me that I don’t already have?”

Rusty water lapped against Joanna’s calves as the Lady turned away. Joanna’s powers hummed in time with her hammering pulse. Something was down there, a hair’s breadth from her skin, waiting for the Lady’s signal to strike. Her mind raced. She had to say something. She couldn’t be bested by a capricious demon’s disinterest after all they had done. “Me. You can have me and all that comes with that in exchange for a new bargain.”

If you enjoyed this excerpt, I hope you will preorder The Reanimator’s Remains at your favorite retailer or add it to your TBR on Goodreads. If you haven’t read books 1 or 2, you can grab them in ebook, paperback, or audiobook. Keep your eyes peeled for the cover reveal in July!

The Reanimator's Remains · Writing

An Excerpt From The Reanimator’s Remains (TRM #3) Part 1

June 16, 2024June 16, 2024 Kara Jorgensen2 Comments

I’ve recently realized that I am sorely behind in doing promos for The Reanimator’s Remains (TRM #3). Well, technically, I have been, but only in my newsletter and on social media. The cover reveal for book 3 will hopefully be next month, but in the meantime, I hope you will enjoy this excerpt from the prologue of The Reanimator’s Remains, which comes out October 29th at all major retailers. You can preorder it now in ebook. Paperbacks will be available closer to release day.

Prologue

The Bargain

Clutching the baby to her chest, Joanna silently slid open the window and ran. Her breath rasped loudly in her ears, but it did little to block out the voices yelling out behind her in the house. Quick as a shade, she slipped between two buildings and sprinted for the cover of the churchyard. The old cemetery held its breath as the sun crept toward the horizon, though not a single soul gave her away as she picked between the crooked headstones and disappeared behind the old, abandoned church. The moment her back hit the blistered, whitewashed wood, a wave of pain ripped through her core. Clasping a clammy hand to her stomach, Joanna released a tremulous breath. She shouldn’t be running yet. If she was any of the mothers she tended to, she would have told them to get back in bed and rest as much as they can, but if she stopped moving, everything she and Stephen did would have been for naught.

Joanna bit her lip against the bitter burn of tears. Her husband was well and truly dead now, her mother beyond her reach, and the people she once thought might become her family hunted her. All she had left was the swaddled baby in her arms, and she wasn’t going to let anyone stand in the way of his safety. Peeling back the quilt just enough to see her baby boy’s face, she watched him puff out a sleepy breath. How he had managed to sleep through the chaos of their escape, she didn’t know, but she silently thanked the Lord for small miracles and sleepy newborns. If Joanna had her way, he would never know about any of this. He would grow up to live a normal, peaceful life.

He will grow up without you.

Her head snapped up at the rustle of leaves. Across the sea of graves, the forest beckoned in a hissing whisper. No breeze reached her in the old church’s shadow, yet the tallest black oaks stretched and swayed as if searching for her. The Dysterwood had thousands of eyes, thousands of roiling, susurrus servants eager to tell their master of the goings on of mortals. Joanna pulled the blanket close enough to obscure the baby’s face and tightened her grip. The wood didn’t know him yet, and it never would.

Peering around the edge of the church, Joanna confirmed no one had followed her to the graveyard before making a break for the cluster of mausoleums. All around her the ground hummed with the slumbering dead. If she paid attention, she could tell who they were and roughly how long they had been gone, but she didn’t have time to talk to them now. Her heart clenched as she passed the clustered rows of tiny headstones, some with nothing more than a surname and single date. If she had done nothing else during her time in Aldorhaven, she had tried her best to keep their number from growing. Hiding behind the second grandest mausoleum in the cemetery, Joanna bit back a whimper of pain at another yanking cramp. As if sensing her discomfort, the baby stirred. She patted his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he quieted. Can he sense the dead too? she wondered.

Part of her had hoped he might have an easier life and grow up to be a plantmancer like his father, but she knew from the second she saw him that he took after her. Shutting her eyes, she inhaled the milky scent of his skin, and for a moment, she could pretend she had merely taken him for a walk to settle him and that one day she might stroll with him hand-in-hand through the graveyard and explain how their powers could be used to do good, no matter what anyone said. She pictured him grown with dark hair like hers and his father’s gentle, warm smile. He would be kind and smart and helpful. Her mother would make sure of it, even if she couldn’t.

Joanna flinched at the sudden shatter of glass followed by a cry of fire. Smoke rose over the far side of the hill as Stephen’s final trick destroyed their home and bought her precious time, yet she didn’t dare look back. The house and furniture the fire consumed were only things, things that could trace back to her life before Aldorhaven, she reminded herself, ignoring the lingering pain beneath her heart. From her high perch behind the tomb, Joanna could see the Allen’s cottage at the edge of town. She watched as the tall, stalwart figure of Jacob Allen ran out of his house and mounted his horse a moment after the fire bells sounded. Just as she hoped.

Gathering the remainder of her strength, Joanna sprinted past the empty tombs of the town’s founding family, away from the cavernous mouth of the Dysterwood, and through a loose bar in the ironwork fence. Half-sliding down the hill, she made for the shelter of the trees leading to the Allen’s home. In the normal thickets of the Pine Barrens surrounding the edge of the town, the creatures of the Dysterwood held no sway, though Joanna knew the eyes of the forest still trailed her as she reached the field behind the house. The knot in her chest loosened upon seeing Mercy’s chestnut Morgan standing in the field beyond. The horse’s ears stood erect and his eyes wide as he listened to the distant clang of bells.

The moment he spotted Joanna, the brown stallion ambled over from the pasture, eager to check her pockets for treats. For the first time all day, a genuine smile crossed Joanna’s lips as she patted Rasmus’s nose and rubbed the white streak between his eyes. The horse butted his head against her neck, and she hugged him tightly with one arm, wishing this didn’t have to be goodbye. Pulling back, Rasmus snorted and nosed the bundle in her arms curiously.

“Gentle,” she coaxed as she carefully pulled back the blanket to reveal the baby. The horse looked puzzled as he sniffed him, but when the infant briefly opened his eyes to stare up at the gentle beast, Rasmus lipped and snorted on him for good measure. Joanna laughed, but the sound was cut short by voices and smoke carrying on the wind. “Where’s Mercy, boy?”

“Over here. I’ll be right with you, Joanna.”

Joanna turned, her heart lurching at the sixteen year old’s sudden appearance at the barn’s entrance. No matter how many times she did that, Joanna never grew accustomed to it. Mercy’s dark blonde hair clung to her face in the summer heat as she set the pitchfork against the wall and wiped her hands against her well-worn trousers. Swallowing hard, Joanna tried to commit Mercy Allen to memory. She was only a few inches taller than Joanna, yet she was stalwart and strong in a way she could never be. She moved through the world with purpose, when she let people see her, but the more days she spent in Aldorhaven with her father, the more patches of her that became threadbare under his gaze. If she didn’t get out soon, whatever life Mercy yearned for when she donned her brother’s hand-me-downs and galloped full speed past the house and into the pine barrens would be gone. As Mercy quickly washed her hands and face at the pump, Joanna readjusting her grip on the baby and confirmed she hadn’t lost her purse or knife in her haste. No, Mercy and her son would have the chance to have a life they could never know here.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. My father left to deal with some crisis in town. Did you hear the—” Mercy’s brown eyes brightened with excitement as soon as they landed on the bundle in Joanna’s arms. “You had the baby!”

“Sssh!”

“Sorry,” she said softer with a wince. Gently shouldering Rasmus out of the way, Mercy peered down at the baby as he yawned and hunkered further into the quilt. “Oh, Joanna, I’m so happy for you. What’s their name?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

“Why not?” Mercy asked, gently stroking his dark hair with two fingers.

“Because I can’t know it.” Mercy’s head shot up, but Joanna held her gaze and nodded toward the woods. When Mercy opened her mouth to speak, Joanna cut her off. “Stephen’s dead. For real this time.”

“We knew it was coming, but still, I’m so sorry, Joanna. Did he get to see—?”

“Yes, he did, but now, they know,” Joanna said, the words tumbling together as she spoke. There was so much to explain and so little time. “Within moments of Stephen dying, they showed up, just like he said they would. I don’t think they fully understand what Stephen and I did yet, but when they do, they’ll come for the baby. You’re the only person who knows he’s alive, besides me and Stephen, and I need you to take him far away from here. I have money for you.” Pulling the heavy purse from her pocket, she shoved it into Mercy’s hands. “There’s enough there that you should be able to pay for the ferry, board Rasmus, and buy anything you need to start a new life, the one you’ve always wanted. My mother will understand and help you. She will let you stay with her until you’re on your feet, but you must take him and ride to the Camden as fast as you can. If you leave now, you can make it to the last ferry to Philadelphia and be at my mother’s not long after nightfall. There’s a note for her in the purse that explains everything. Her address is on it.”

Opening the pouch, Mercy choked. “Joanna, this is a small fortune. I can’t take this. How will you—?” Her eyes widened in understanding. “No. You can’t do that. He… he’ll need his mother.”

“I have to. Once they realize what we’ve done, they will be out for blood. Mine or his. That’s why I can’t name him. If they get it out of me, they can find him.”

“Then, come with me,” Mercy pleaded. “We can all fit on Rasmus.”

“I will only slow you down, and you’ll need all the speed you can get.”

“But I don’t know how to hold a baby. What if I drop him?”

“Mercy, I’ve seen you ride with a basket of eggs. I’ll make sure he’s strapped tight to you, but you need to go soon if you have any hope of escaping.” Glancing at the smoke-streaked sky, Joanna calculated the meager time she had left and turned back to Mercy. “I’ve never had a sibling, but of all the people in this world, you are the closest I have ever had. I would never ask this of you unless I had no other choice, but you are the only one who can escape the wood’s notice. It will be hunting me after what I’ve done, but it hasn’t sunk its teeth into the baby yet. You both can be free.”

When Mercy’s features tightened with fear, Joanna pressed her hand to her cheek and whispered, “If you love me, you will leave this place and live well. That is my greatest hope: for my boys to live well.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way?” Mercy croaked. When Joanna nodded, Mercy sighed and hung her head. “I’ll get my things.”

“Please be quick.”

Grabbing her saddle bags from the barn, Mercy disappeared into the house. As the door shut behind her, a wave of exhaustion passed over Joanna. She leaned against the side of the house out of sight, letting the baby’s full weight rest against her chest. The fear that had propelled her from the mob had finally been spent. Her arms shook with fatigue and blood dripped down her leg and clung to her petticoats while cupboards opened and shut inside the house. With every second she waited for Mercy, the baby seemed heavier and the rippling pain in her core grew stronger. Joanna screwed her eyes tight and released a steadying breath. She only needed to hang on a little longer. Soon, it would be over, and it would all be worth it.

The wind blew down the bank and through the trees, bringing with it the acrid tang of smoke and the sound of Stephen’s sister yelling her name. Tightening her grip on her son, Joanna peered around the corner of the barn, but thankfully, no one was there. Daphne’s only allegiance was to her family, and no bond of motherhood or feigned friendship would stop her from dragging her back. The door to the cottage whined as Mercy stepped outside. Before she could call for her, Joanna emerged from the shadows. In her brother’s clothes with the too long trouser legs rolled beneath her boots and a derby squashed over her hair, Mercy could easily pass for a boy in the evening light. Giving Joanna a stalwart nod, she strapped her bags to the saddle and prepared Rasmus for their ride. The horse looked nervously toward the Dysterwood, but Mercy whispered to him and stroked his neck until he quieted. Stepping back from him, Mercy held Joanna’s gaze but neither moved nor spoke.

Joanna twisted her fingers into the quilt and swallowed against the knot in her throat. She knew the time would come to let him go, but it still felt too soon. Everything she and Stephen had done had been for this moment when they could send him somewhere far away, where he would never know of Aldorhaven or the fate that would have awaited him if he had stayed. He had the chance for a life his father never did, and she needed to let him go. Pulling back the quilt, Joanna tried to memorize his face as she had Mercy’s. He was so new. He had no name or features she could pin down as coming from her or Stephen, but he had his life. And it would always be his own. Joanna kissed his forehead and readjusted the blanket around him until he was swaddled tight. Beckoning Mercy closer, she pulled the shawl from her shoulders and threaded it around Mercy’s middle under her coat. She carefully tied the bundled blanket into it and stepped away before she could change her mind.

Embers blew on the wind as Mercy gingerly swung into the saddle and turned Rasmus toward the road. “You can still come, Joanna.”

“You know I can’t.” At the hesitance in her eyes, Joanna called, “Mercy, after you get settled, promise me you won’t look for me. Forget I or this place ever existed.”

“I promise I won’t look, but I’ll never forget.”

Joanna stood rooted at the gate as Mercy gave her one final, long look before spurring her horse to a trot. She tried to keep her gaze trained on Mercy’s back as Rasmus picked up speed down the road, but her eyes kept sliding off as if they weren’t there. When she could no longer find them beyond the distant clack of hooves, the pain in her heart lessened a fraction. If she couldn’t see them, then hopefully, the wood couldn’t either. Godspeed, Mercy. Tears burned the backs of Joanna’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and headed back to the road. At the top of Cemetery Hill, a lone figure appeared between the tombs. Joanna’s heart lurched in her throat as Stephen’s father stepped from the shadows. Before he could see her and call out to the others, Joanna took a deep breath and plunged into the Dysterwood.

If you enjoyed this excerpt, I hope you will preorder The Reanimator’s Remains at your favorite retailer or add it to your TBR on Goodreads. If you haven’t read books 1 or 2, you can grab them in ebook, paperback, or audiobook. Stay tuned for the second half of the prologue next week.

Writing

Kara’s Current & Future Writing Plans

June 9, 2024June 8, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

As we head toward the end of the second quarter of 2024, I find myself starting to plan. Truthfully, I should be planning for the third quarter, but instead, I find myself thinking about all the writing projects I would like to work on and when I’m hopefully getting to them. To preface, none of what I’m going to talk about is set in stone. All dates and ideas are subject to change, especially due to work, extra projects, etc.

2024 Books

The Reanimator’s Remains (TRM #3)– Book 3 of the Reanimator Mysteries will be out October 29th, 2024. I’m hoping to have it drafted and done by the end of the summer for the late fall release. You can preorder it here.

TRM #3.5 short story– I still have no idea what this will be about, though I’m thinking it will be set during the Paranormal Society’s All Hallows Eve party. Depending on how long it ends up being, it will be released at the end of 2024 or beginning of 2025.

2025 Books

The Reanimator’s ________ (TRM #4)– As of right now, I think book 4 will be the last book in the Reanimator Mysteries series. I have ideas for it and hope you all will love how the series wraps up, and don’t worry, we will definitely revisit our favorites in future books. This will be my big project for 2025, and I expect it to come out in October as usual.

TRM #4.5– I’m not 100% sure if there will be a final short story, but I’m going to assume I will write some sort of epilogue for Oliver and Felipe. This story will come out after book 4.

Timeline Unknown

When I say “timeline unknown,” what I really mean is, “I haven’t committed to a due date, and I can’t be behind if I don’t know when they’re due.” Basically, these projects are marinating and will for sure be worked on, but they are not as high of a priority as the Reanimatory Mysteries books are at the moment. Also, due to job stuff, energy levels, etc., it’s hard for me to write more than one book a year, though I would love to work up to finishing two a year without sacrificing quality or my sanity.

Joe and Ansley’s Book– I’m 99% sure this will be novel length, so it will probably take months to write. I don’t want to shoehorn it in between Reanimator books like an afterthought, but it is coming! I have ideas for them, and I really want to write more within this universe as well.

A book starring Teresa Galvan– This one is a huge maybe. I have a sparkly idea, but I’m not sure it makes sense yet. Teresa is growing up in a time of immense change and possibility, so writing a story set during the Belle Époque from an artist’s perspective would be a lot of fun. Once again, still working out the bugs.

More Reanimator Side Stories– I have some ideas bouncing around for an Oliver and Gwen prequel short story, potentially a short story about the head inspector and Gale, and several others. Eventually, I would like to put together a collected volume of Reanimator Mysteries related short stories.

Trousers and Trouble– I am so sorry to my readers who have been waiting years for this book. Between burnout, covid, life stuff, etc., it was really hard to write a book about trans joy. Once again, after the Reanimator books are done, I will revisit this book, and this series to write books for other characters mentioned in this one and Kinship and Kindness.

Dinosaur Duology– So I think it’s a duology. In my head, that’s the structure of it, before and after a giant event, but that is subject to change. There are also some other things I would like to explore within the same time period, so I don’t know what the structure of this series will be or if there will be an off-shoot book. I have no idea, but it’s marinating.

Scandinavian flavored epic fantasy– the series that will be cooking the longest because I don’t know if I am smart and/or talented enough to pull it off yet. I have lots of sparkly ideas and aesthetics, but those do not make a book, unfortunately.

For now, these are the works I have on the docket and the backburner. I hope you will stay tuned as I talk more about my current and future projects!

Monthly Review

May 2024 Wrap-Up Post

June 2, 2024June 2, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

May has been one of those months that felt twice as long as it should. I feel like I’m finally hitting my stride with The Reanimator’s Remains, and I don’t want to jinx anything, but things are finally going smoothly. Before getting into things, let’s take a look at the goals I made for May.

Writing goals are as follows:
- minimum 15k words
- standard 20k words
- stretch 25k words
Finish outlining the next chunk
Finish grading finals
Do more creative stuff to avoid burnout
Read 8 books
Blog weekly
Send out my May newsletter
Keep up with my stitch-a-long

Books

My goal was to read 8 books in May, and I read exactly 8.

Night for Day by Roselle Lim- 4 stars, a second chance romance where a couple reunites only to be sent to an escape room-like challenge in order to end a war between the gods. The catch is that they must work together but in separate pocket dimensions, and the gods can be friend or foe.
The Brides of High Hill (#5) by Nghi Vo- 5 stars, a Gothic East Asian fantasy with nods to Bluebeard stories and Asian folklore with plenty of twists and surprises. Loved it!
Lore Olympus (#6) by Rachel Smythe- 4 stars, I’m deeply enjoying this series, especially seeing Hades finally standing up to Zeus and the loom of consequences for certain people.
Spear by Nicola Griffith- 5 stars, a Medieval fantasy featuring a crossdressing/living character, a queer romance, and plenty of Arthurian goodness in a small package.
The Binding of Bloom Mountain by Siggy Chambers- 4 stars, a lightly horror fantasy that takes place in a slightly unsettling down and its deeply unsettling mountain, which is full of creatures, nature gods, and potential ways to die.
Therapy Game Restart (#4) by Meguru Hinohara- 4 stars, in this volume we get to see some of the issues queer couples in Japan face as well as some sweet and steamy moments between my fav couple.
The Lies of the Ajungo (#1) by Moses Ose Utomi- 4 stars, a story of a young boy who goes looking for water to save his mother and discovers things are not how they appear. I am very curious as to how Utomi will handle the sequel.
She Loves to Cook & She Loves to Eat (#4) by Sakaomi Yuzaki- 4 stars, a super cute sapphic story about neighbors who are slowly becoming more. I love how we get to see more of the main couple’s relationship along with their new friends.

Admin/Behind-the-Scenes Stuff

Edited the entirety of what I’ve written so far for TRR
Wrote fairly consistently in the second half of the month
Finished grading finals/last minute papers in a timely manner
Turned in grades and collapsed into a heap
I commissioned art from OblivionsDream of Oliver and Felipe (it’s GORGEOUS- please follow and support her, she’s awesome and a fan of the series)
Had a small emotional/mental breakdown after everything that happened in April, but I feel better, so it’s all good.
Blogged weekly
Sent out my monthly newsletter
Listened to my body and actually rested
Kept up with the Femurs and Fungi stitch-a-long

Blogs

Writing

This month has been a bit of a weird one for writing. I feel like I’m finally hitting my stride with The Reanimator’s Remains. I ended up having to revamp part of it because Gwen is going on this investigation with them (yay!). While this makes the book so much better, it also means rewriting and reconfiguring things a bit (boo). On one hand, I’m very happy that things seem to be flowing better, but on the other, I feel behind because I had to fix stuff and I’m going to end up sending less of my book to my cover artist than I intended. I don’t think he’ll mind, and I can always send him more as I go, but yeah, I am struggling to keep the “you’re not doing enough!” thoughts out of my head. Listening to those too closely is a one-way trip to burnout ville, and I don’t need that right now at all. I’m really liking this story, especially knowing what the big emotional beats for Felipe will be. I apologize in advance to Felipe fans because you will be put through the wringer with this one. Something that has been low-key shaking my confidence a little bit is that this is a quieter, more internal focused book than books 1 and 2. It’s still very dark and has a spooky forest and the undead, but it’s less overtly action packed. I think you all will enjoy it, but knowing this book won’t be an action movie worries me a bit. This will not be the last book in the series, so I have to remind myself that we don’t need to go out on a bang with this one. We just need to put the boys through it.

Hopes for June

Write at least 20k words
Outline next chunk of book 3
Start the cover stuff for The Reanimator’s Remains
Maintain some semblance of brain balance to avoid burnout
Keep up with the stitch-a-long
Read 8 books
Blog weekly
Send out June newsletter

Book Reviews

10 Books to Add to Your TBR 2024 Edition Part 1

May 26, 2024May 25, 2024 Kara Jorgensen2 Comments

Most years I put out a list of books I greatly enjoyed from the first half of the year some time in June. This year, I decided to do it early because, besides needing a blog for this week, I have read a lot of good books lately, so I’m thinking of making this something I do more than twice a year (and often forget to do in December). The books listed below are not in any order of favoritism, but I will provide reasons for why you should pick up my ten favorite reads of 2024 thus far.

Spear by Nicola Griffith– If you enjoy Medieval or Arthurian fantasy with a queer twist, Spear should be on your tbr. It is under 200 pages, but there is so much crammed into such a small book. The writing flows so smoothly, and while it reads as more authentically Medieval than many Arthurian retellings, it feels very modern while simultaneously being true to the time. Yes, the Middle Ages were diverse; get over it.
The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo– I am a Nghi Vo stan. If they write it, I will read it, and while you do not need to read the Singing Hills Cycle books in order, you should still read all of them. The Brides of High Hill was deliciously South-East Asian Gothic with little flourishes of Bluebeard-esque stories while being obviously grounded in Asian myths and folklore. Vo’s books are all at once beautiful and horrific with plenty of twists and surprises, and this one was no different.
The Shabti by Megaera C. Lorenz– I received this one as an ARC, and now, Megaera is on my autobuy list. The Shabti is a historical-paranormal romance set in the 1930s between a washed up fake medium trying to go straight(ish) and an Egyptology professor with a ghost problem. Hermann and Dashiel are adorable together, and the side characters and titular ghost/object are all delightful.
Refusing Compulsory Sexuality by Sherronda J. Brown– A really fantastic nonfiction book about asexuality, acephobia, compulsory sexuality and how that all intersects with anti-Blackness, racism, the patriarchy, etc. I think you should read Angela Chen’s ACE first if you aren’t familiar with asexual scholarship, but Refusing Compulsory Sexuality really puts all the pieces together in a concise way.
We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian– Cat Sebastian is one of those authors who continually rips my heart out with how loving and cozy her books are, and We Could Be So Good is no exception. A reporter falls for the owner of the newspaper’s son and realizes Andy is far deeper than he seems. Andy and Nick are just so good for each other, and the side characters really make the story shine.
The Reluctant Heartthrob by Jackie Lau– Technically, this is the second book in series, but I think they can be read out of order. The female main character is autistic with face blindness, and the male main character is an actor who prefers to stay out of the limelight. They are delightful together, and as with all Jackie Lau books, there is so much good food and heat to go with it.
Mislaid in Parts Half-Known by Seanan McGuire– If the Tardis and an antique shop had a baby, it would be the setting of this story. You do have to read at least the book before this one to understand fully what’s going on, but this whole series is chef kiss if you enjoy portal fantasies and misfit kids finding where they truly belong. I love stories where we get to revisit a character and have them grow even more than the previous book allowed.
Ivy, Angelica, Bay by C. L. Polk– If Claudia is your favorite character in Interview with the Vampire, I think you’ll love Ivy, Angelica, Bay. Once again, this is technically a sequel, but it can be skipped (though you should read St. Valentine, St. Abigail, St. Brigid because it’s also fantastic). We have a witch fighting capitalism and gentrification and so much more.
Threads of Life by Clare Hunter– If you’re a crafter, especially someone into needle crafts, I highly recommend Threads of Life. Hunter talks about the sociological, political, cultural, and feminist issues that surround needle crafts. She talks about the shifting gender roles behind them as well as the ways people are lost to history yet their great works remain. She also touches upon Palestine and other disenfranchised and threatened people/cultures.
The Lies of the Ajungo by Moses Ose Utomi– This one is super short (under 100 pages), but Tutu goes through so much in such a limited amount of time. It’s a story about how empire destroys and defangs the people it colonizes and turns them against each other. I’m really interested to see how what happened in book one plays into book two’s plot.

Personal Life

Ambition v. Spoons

May 19, 2024May 16, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

I hate making banana bread. And it isn’t because I hate bananas or banana bread or even baking. It’s because somehow, no matter what I do or how I plan the bananas and I are never ready at the same time.

This has been a theme throughout my life, especially as an adult as my inflammatory issues have taken a toll on my energy levels. If I have the energy, I don’t have the inspiration. If I have the inspiration, I don’t have the energy to work on my creative projects.

If you’ve heard of spoon theory, should sound familiar to you. In short, spoon theory is the idea that we all have a certain allotment of energy (spoons), and certain activities cost more spoons that others. The problem with being neurodivergent and chronically ill is that there is no such thing as a work-life balance. There isn’t a single activity that doesn’t cost me spoons, whether they’re physical or mental.

Spending time with people outside my partner, costs me even if I greatly enjoy our time together. Washing my hair will ultimately feel better, but it will cost me energy to do, which means I end up putting it off until I have to because I have work or I put it off so long that it starts to bother me from a sensory perspective.

What people don’t seem to grasp with spoon theory and autism is that things cost you spoons that don’t always make sense to others or they cost a disproportionate amount. Going to the grocery store isn’t physically taxing for me, but the lights, the noise, trying not to get clipped in the parking lot, the people, remembering to get everything on my list (I need a list because I have gone totally blank at the store), acting “normal” at the checkout, etc. is a lot that most neurotypical people take for granted. For me, this mental stress converts into physical stress, so once I get home from the grocery store and unpack everything, I wind up in a heap of fatigue for a few hours decompressing. It’s the same thing with my job(s) and why I avoid going to conferences or conventions. Even if covid wasn’t a thing, they still suck the life out of me and require a multi-day recovery period. Part of the reason I diligently mask and try to reduce my chances of catching covid is because if I got long-covid/a post viral illness, I would have even less spoons to go around, and I can’t imagine limiting my life more.

I’ve tried to organize my life in such a way that I’m expending as few extra spoons as I possibly can, so I can still do my writing and creative stuff and not be an overstimulated misery to deal with. It sucks though because I don’t think most people who casually know me would think of me as disabled or even autistic, and people with invisible disabilities or neurodivergence will always be held to impossible standards. They might be attainable for a time, but they aren’t something most of us can manage long-term without burning ourselves out. There is no way for me to have a standard neurotypical work-life balance without losing something, whether it be hobbies, socializing, chores, or my actual job. Something will always be falling to the wayside, and in neurotypical society’s eyes, I will always be failing.

For people where most of these things are near effortless or the effort is only required in short bursts, they will probably never understand how much I struggle and how little of a safety net there is. There are many reasons I support Universal Basic Income (UBI), but one of the main reasons is for when people who are ND or disabled burn out or need time to recover from a flare, they won’t be left destitute or having to keep working at seemingly 100% while actively hurting themselves. We live in a society that is very much all or nothing. If you aren’t disabled enough, you get zero benefits/support. If you are able bodied enough, there is no safety net. The best way to support your neurodivergent or chronically ill friends is to help them out when they need it (after asking, of course) and pressuring your government and politicians to expand things that actually help our society and those who need that extra help or safety net. Being able bodied is a temporary state for most people. Shaping our society to support rather than penalize a state most of us will end up in will benefit everyone.

the reanimator's soul · Writing

The Reanimator’s Soul Audiobook is Available Now!

May 12, 2024May 10, 2024 Kara Jorgensen1 Comment

the audiobook cover for The Reanimator's Soul written by Kara Jorgensen, read by Jack R. R. Evans

I am so excited to announce that The Reanimator’s Soul is now out in audiobook! It’s still trickling out to a few other retailers, but it’s now out at most major retailers and library systems.

Jack R. R. Evans, who narrated The Reanimator’s Heart and Kinship and Kindness, has returned to narrate The Reanimator’s Soul, and they have done an amazing job. I always rave about Jack’s work, but the way they did Ansley and Joe had me grinning from ear to ear.

You can grab the audiobook of The Reanimator’s Soul at

Amazon

Audible

Barnes & Noble/Nook

Kobo (on Kobo Plus as well)

And many more including Libby, which many libraries in the US use. It will also be available in other library systems and Libro.fm, but it takes a few weeks to appear.