Tag: short fiction

New SFF Anthology and Tea Event

Happy Spring! I have two pieces of news this month.

First (I finally get to announce this), I’m editing an anthology for Flame Tree’s Beyond & Within series. Those are beautiful books with shiny covers and exciting new stories. You may remember me sharing some pictures of them earlier.

The call for submissions is here, and I’m also sharing it below.

Copy of Add a heading (3)

Climbing High Short Stories

Women’s ambition is not always welcomed, let alone encouraged. Speculative fiction is a context that offers other possibilities (and worlds), where writers and readers imagine what could be. Climbing High: Speculative Stories of Female Ambition will feature stories exploring contexts where female ambition is treated differently, aspiration and achievement in the face of adversity, and ambitions that extend beyond what’s possible in our contemporary world. This anthology takes an empowering stance of embracing ambition while being unafraid to explore the costs and consequences that characters may face in doing so and the impacts of ambitions pursued or fulfilled.

Stories may engage with the question of navigating disparate values and commitments (the often-asked and often-sexist question of “How do you balance x and y?”), or they may abandon all that, with characters who prioritise their desires above all else. Whether characters are reshaping the world(s), themselves, or aiming to brew the best cup of tea, their drives are the driving force of their stories. Contributors may feel free to question assumptions or norms related to women or gender while they’re at it. Authors are encouraged to explore spaces between representation and aspiration and be as bold as they like in imagining what could be.

This will be a fascinating new anthology for our Beyond & Within series. We’re looking for around four stories to join the selection curated by Melanie Bell!


Melanie Bell is a Canadian writer living in the UK. Her books include a poetry collection, The Heart Decided to Move; a YA novel, Chasing Harmony; a short story collection, Dream Signs; and a nonfiction book, The Modern Enneagram, co-authored with Kacie Berghoef. Her novella The Cliffman was included in the literary horror collection Hard for Hope to Flourish, and one of her stories is featured in the Whispers in the Earth illustrated anthology of world folklore.

Melanie and Hannah Doyle co-wrote Joan: The Musical which was performed in the Brighton Fringe in May 2025. Her short plays have appeared onstage at the Tower Theatre and Barons Court Theatre in London, on Morley College Radio, and in Liverpool’s 24 Hour Play Fest. She loves art, music, wondering and wandering.

Submissions to: anthologies@flametreepublishing.com

Terms:

  • Multiple submissions are fine but must be in separate emails.
  • Simultaneous submissions are fine but you must have the right to license your story in an anthology.
  • Stories that used AI for planning, editing, modifying or generating text will not be accepted. Please declare in your submission email if you have used AI in any way.
  • For accepted stories we pay Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA) rates of 8 cents/6 pence per word for original stories.
  • We will aim to read each story and confirm its status within 4 months of the submission deadline.
  • Payment for the chosen stories will be made within 30 days of the final advertised publication date (see our website flametreepublishing.com for details), although some may be paid earlier than that.
  • Submission does not imply the right to publication. Each story will be read and assessed by the selection panel.
  • Please only submit unpublished/original/new stories for consideration. Reprints will not be accepted for consideration through this submissions route.

We’re always looking for better ways of working so we’ve tweaked our submission process to allow us to read more stories, and spend more time assessing the balance of our books.

  • Submissions must use the dedicated email address.
  • The subject line of the email must be the story title.
  • The file with the story must be attached to the email (.docx, .doc or .rtf format).
  • The name of the file must match the name in the subject line.
  • If submitting more than one story, please submit one story per email.

Other useful tips for a more successful submission:

  • The file name of the submission must be the story name only.
  • Please just use spaces between words in the title (not _ or – ).
  • If the story name starts with A or The, please use it at the beginning of the file name.
  • Story length is most likely to be successful at 2000–4000 words, but we will still read stories slightly outside this range.
  • If submitting a story that has recently been submitted to us for consideration to another anthology, please state this in the submission email.
  • Deadline for submissions is 3rd May 2026.
This is what the anthologies look like!

Literary Tea Salon With Bird & Blend Tea Co.

Here’s another collab I’m excited for! Bird & Blend Tea Co. is my favourite local tea shop. Their products are high quality and delicious. If you’re based in the UK, their shops offer free tastings and are well worth a visit, and they sell online as well.

So, while sampling some tea at the shop, I suggested a literary event, and the Bird & Blend team was interested in hosting one this spring. Here are the details for our Literary Tea Salon on May 11:

Join local author Melanie Bell and Bird & Blend Tea Co. for writing exercises, an author reading, and a book-themed tea tasting.

Monday, May 11 from 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm

Literary Tea Salon

Join us for a cosy, bookish evening blending two good things – writing and tea!

Local author Melanie Bell will lead participants in some creative exercises, read from her work, and answer questions about the writing process, while the Bird & Blend team will offer a selection of their literary-themed teas to taste.

Location

Bird & Blend Tea Co.

41 Gardner Street
Brighton and Hove BN1 1UN

Hosted in Bird & Blend’s flagship Brighton store, come along alone, with a loved one or in a group…all are welcome!

The store is fully accessible to customers in wheelchairs with NCP parking nearby. Please note there is no customer toilet on site but there is a wheelchair accessible toilet available in a nearby venue. We can tailor our experience to most disabilities – just let us know when booking.

Tickets on Eventbrite here (£15 each)

A bit of spring beauty.

I look forward to reading your stories and meeting some of you for tea next month!

Continue Reading

New Year, New Ewe

New Year story and bonus Christmas story

From Substack, January 5, 2026

Happy 2026! I wrote a New Year story to share with you all, set in the world of my cozy fantasy novel (soon to be in the editing stage before submissions).

I also had a holiday story called “Forest Creatures” published online on Christmas Day. It’s not a spicy tale per se, but it shares a venue with several and I read it previously at a Kinky Storytelling event, so take that as you will when it comes to readership. “Join us for a Christmas walk through the forest in this enchanting sapphic winter tale by Melanie Bell.” Here it is!

And here’s my New Year story for you to enjoy.

New Year, New Ewe

It was New Year’s Eve. Tim wandered around Brighton alone. Through the Laines, around back alleys, walking blindly. By the time he realized that nothing around him looked familiar, he felt it was too late to get his bearings. The shops looked interesting. Might as well poke around.

Healthy Habits, read a sign over a bright blue door. A peek through the windows revealed the usual rows of vitamins and supplements, along with an odd mishmash of fitness equipment, food, and who knows what. A stupid, hopeful voice in his head piped up: Maybe something in here will help me be less of a failure. Half listening to it, he stepped inside.

An old-fashioned bell rang at his arrival. A shiny red bicycle greeted him. Maybe he’d get into cycling in the new year. Or maybe not. He eyed the dumbbells – he already had some at home, and used them intermittently. He shook his head at the green smoothies and fruit-and-nut energy balls in the fridge. He knew from experience that they tasted like grass. Kaley had loved those sorts of things. But Kaley had left him.

“New year, new you,” he mumbled under his breath. “As if anyone gets a ‘new you’.”

“What’s that, love?” An elderly woman approached him, wearing a name badge. She moved more spryly than he’d expect of someone her age – in fact, she practically floated. Adults can’t float, Tim reminded himself. Then he realized how stupid that thought was. Children couldn’t float either, even if he’d imagined he could while playing Superman.

“Nothing.” Tim’s cheeks colored. He hadn’t expected anyone to hear him.

“You wait right here,” said the grey-haired, round-cheeked woman, departing soundlessly. How? She must be into all sorts of crazy fitness things, if she ran this shop.

As Tim browsed a shelf of vitamins, undecided on whether he needed any, the woman reappeared, holding a leash attached to a large and fluffy…

Dog? That wasn’t a dog. It was round, wooly, and white mixed with dove grey. Its tail was short, its ears pointed. “Baaa,” it said.

“You have a pet sheep?!” exclaimed Tim in delight. “Or is it a shop sheep? I like the sound of that – shop sheep!”

“You said you wanted a new ewe,” the shopkeeper grinned, “and Eunice here is looking for a home.”

Or maybe it was Ewe-nice? She didn’t spell it out.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” said Tim as a chill crept down his spine. This situation was getting surreal.

“Do you have a garden?” the woman asked.

“Well… yes…” Tim had kept the house when Kaley left. He’d bought her half, leaving him with all the space and her with all the money. Now she was able to travel, like she’d always wanted. He saw her pictures on social media, of faraway cities and beaches, while he sat in the same old city by the same old beach.

“I married you because I was supposed to,” she’d told him at last. “Not because I ever wanted…”

“You never wanted to be here,” said Tim. She didn’t disagree.

“Then it’s all sorted,” the strange shopkeeper was saying in the present, and Tim had a terrifying feeling that he’d missed some important context while lost in his memories. “Here are her winter supplements.” He heaved a burlap bag at Tim, which he lifted tentatively, surprised to find it lighter than expected. Some sort of grain? He supposed she would also eat his…grass?

“And this is for her bedding.” She heaved a second sack his way.

This was madness. He didn’t want a sheep!

“Baaa,” said Eunice, her nose moving closer to the burlap bag. He pulled it out of the way.

“How much is she?” he asked.

“Forty-nine kilograms,” said the shopkeeper. “Very healthy.”

“No, I mean, how much does she cost?” That eerie feeling strengthened again. Tim’s skin was full of goosepimples. Had there been a person in front of him? Had they disappeared?

So Tim found himself walking home with two sacks over his shoulders and a sheep on a leash. Once outside the Healthy Habits shop, he recognized a nearby street and recovered his bearings. Eunice trotted obediently along after him. He supposed he would need to build her a fence so she didn’t run off. And did she need a barn or something? Well, he had some space in the garage…

As he strolled homeward, passersby approached to comment. “Is that your sheep?” “What’s her name?” “Can I pet her?” A pair of small children reached out to touch Eunice while their father watched nervously.

“So, Eunice,” said Tim once they arrived at his place, “I guess this is your new home. Why don’t I set up a place in the garage for you while I figure out if I need to build a fence in the yard or what.”

Kaley used to keep a work bench in the spot where Tim set down straw bedding. He put some grain in a bucket and filled a salad bowl with water. As Eunice ate and drank with the garage door safely closed behind her, Tim frantically searched online for information.

He called his friend Billy, who worked as a contractor, to put together the fence and shelter the internet said a sheep needed. “A shopkeeper gave you a what?” exclaimed Billy over the phone. He drove over as fast as he could. Eunice ran over to greet Billy as soon as he got out of the car, acting as if he had treats. He did.

“Hello, cutie.” Billy scratched behind Eunice’s ears. He looked up at Tim. “Are you sure you’re up for taking care of her?”

“I… suppose,” Tim grumbled.

“Well, new year, new ewe, innit?” Billy chuckled. He got to work on the fence.

Everybody loved Eunice. Tim was almost jealous.

On New Year’s Day, he did his usual video call with his parents. He thought of it as a duty, a depressing affair since Kaley’s departure without producing grandkids and his own persistent singleness, which bothered him more in the abstract sense – the feelings of failure, the hit to his status – than it did in the concrete, day-to-day sense of not having someone around.

This time, though, he had something to talk about. He turned his phone camera on the sheep.

“Isn’t she precious?” Tim’s parents explained. They were so distracted by her “fuzzy little ears” that they neglected to ask their usual probing questions.

Still, Tim let out a sigh of relief when the call was done. He turned to Eunice and patted her nose. For the first time in two years, he wasn’t alone for the new year.

That week, he had a date lined up with someone he’d matched with on an app. “I have great expectations for this one,” he proclaimed to Eunice as he filled her water bowl. “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t.”

But when Fatima the accountant asked about his hobbies as they sat and sipped their coffee, Tim finally had something to say. He showed pictures of Eunice on his phone and got Fatima laughing when he shared the story of how she’d almost knocked him down as he brought her food. She even ordered a second coffee.

We may or may not be a fit, thought Tim at the end of the date, but she seemed happy to be there, in a way Kaley never did. Did I know how to recognize unhappiness when I saw it?

And there he was, thinking about his failure again. It had stayed out of focus for the whole date, when usually, when meeting women, that was all he could think about.

He rushed back home and checked on Eunice in her enclosure. That was his routine now, apart from work. Feed the sheep, water the sheep, check on the sheep. He had nightmares sometimes where something terrible happened to Eunice and it was his fault.

But now… had it?

She lay upside down on the grass, legs in the air. Tim hurried over. Her head was stretched out to the side. Maybe she was just sleeping? Did sheep sleep like that?

His phone told him a dire story: she may have rolled over, but sheep on their backs are stuck. They can’t get up by themselves; their stomach gets bloated, and they’ll die. How long had she been like this?

Tim had never rolled over a sheep before, nor imagined he’d have to. Nervously, he opened the fence and approached her. Eunice gave a pathetic bleat. Her belly looked puffy, her legs cartoonish.

Tim set his phone in the grass and tried to follow the diagram he’d found, placing his arms around Eunice’s shoulders and heaving her up. She was bulky and heavy. Sweat rolled down his back. But Eunice gave little resistance. After some awkward pulling and lugging, hands deep in her thick grey-white wool, he got the sheep right way up.

She wobbled at first, like a drunk. Her legs bowed. Tim worried there was something wrong with her, that he’d come home too late. But after a few staggering steps, she seemed back to normal.

Tim grabbed extra feed for her. “You could have died,” he said.

She was alright now. But what about tomorrow?

He checked on Eunice first thing in the morning and was relieved to see her standing upright. She ran toward him in greeting. “Baaa!”

“Baaa to you, too,” he said, scratching her chin. And wondering. And worrying. Had Billy been right? Was he not up to taking care of a sheep?

Did he even want to take care of a sheep?

There were so many steps he had to do that he hadn’t done yet. Registration. Veterinary care. Getting more food. Learning how to care for an animal from real live people, not his phone.

Eunice was loveable, but he hadn’t chosen her. He’d taken this sheep home in a sort of fever dream – perhaps because he was too polite to refuse.

Maybe that was how Kaley had felt about him.

But where else could Eunice go?

Every spare moment of that day, he looked for answers. He found a number of sanctuaries and rescues in the region, and began making phone calls. “I was given a sheep who needs a home,” he explained, “but I don’t think my garden is the right one for her.”

One sanctuary seemed especially welcoming and thorough. So Tim and Billy loaded Eunice in Billy’s truck and took a trip out to the countryside.

A black-and-white farmhouse sat surrounded by rolling green hills and tumbling fields where animals grazed. Horses nuzzled each other, cows chewed their cud, ducks milled about a pond, and a herd of sheep in many colors faced the road as their truck approached.

“Hello,” said a man in overalls and work boots as they approached. “I’m Michael, owner of the sanctuary.”

And he and Tim were shaking hands before Tim had realized he’d moved. Had he walked up, or had he floated?

“Let’s have a look at Eunice, shall we?”

Michael and Eunice took to each other right away, and the more Tim saw of the farm, the more he liked it. He knew the sheep would be safe and happy here, among a friendly herd.

Even if part of him would miss her.

“Do you take visitors?” he asked. “Or volunteers?”

So, to Billy’s amusement, Tim began spending every other Saturday at an animal sanctuary, tending to cows, chickens, and donkeys. He may not have had his own kids, but he looked after plenty – of the goat kind. He made new friends among the volunteers. And he always gave Eunice a fond scratch.

Then he drove home and rested, content in his own company.

Continue Reading

Notes From the World Fantasy Convention

Plus a mini-story

From Substack, Nov 3, 2025

Whew – that was quite a weekend!

I spent the last four days at the World Fantasy Convention, which took place this year (most conveniently) in my current home city of Brighton. It combined two events in one – an international fantasy convention and a British one. That means it came with two award ceremonies, including the British Fantasy Awards, where I acted as a juror for one of the categories.

Just a few of the stickers, art, zines, treats, and other swag I brought home

Shiny Things

If you like to collect things, I’d highly recommend attending a con. I brought home so many bookmarks, book art, zines, stickers, tote bags, sweets, and more. Just a few are shown above.

And the books! I brought home 11 free books, plus the 24 ebooks/magazines offered as free downloads to participants. One author handed me an entire trilogy. I also bought… let’s just say more than a few of the attending authors’ works. One advantage of living nearby was that I could bring books home in my bag every evening rather than having to fit them all in a suitcase.

The convention featured a display of beautiful fantasy art for sale, as well as a room full of booksellers, including some intriguing independent booksellers, authors, and small presses, and one night involved a massive author signing event.

Happy People

As much as a fantasy convention is a showcase of books and the worlds within them, above all, it’s a place to meet and connect with creators. It was great to see people I knew from Worldcon last year and to meet new people, too.

Events included panels, author readings, launches, guest of honor interviews, “meet the author” events, workshops, and social events such as karaoke and a funny role playing game. I found Ana Sun’s workshop on Writing a Community, Not a Lone Hero deeply engaging, and the panel on Feminism and Feminist Themes in Genre Fiction made me think about what kinds of representation I’d like to see more of.

I enjoyed attending several of the book launches and continuing to get to know the fantasy publishing landscape I’ve been exploring as an award judge. The Solaris launch stood out, with authors playing a game of choosing which one of their books best fit some fun questions (such as “Which book would you recommend to your best friend?” and “Which main character has the best fashion sense?”). I’m told that another launch involved a sing-along.

Speaking of sing-alongs, I had a fabulous time at the “Dungeons and Disorderly” role playing game, where a group of authors played characters and a scenario created by audience prompts written on slips of paper. It was like a big improv game. Some of us in the audience were called upon to act out opponents the characters encountered, so I, in my Halloween costume (I’d dressed up as Moiraine from the Wheel of Time series, which a lot of people interpreted as a princess costume – I got a lot of compliments on my dress that day), got to play a duck that sang a Disney song to activate a weapon. I sang a bit of “Let It Go” in front of everyone. It was all great fun.

My costume

The British Fantasy Awards took place on Saturday, and I was proud to watch the announcement for the Best Independent Press. I got a picture of Nick Wells, founder of the winning press, Flame Tree Publishing, giving his acceptance speech. I was the only juror in my category who could make it to the conference, so it felt special to be there.

I’ll say again, as I did last month, that all the submissions were excellent. It was an honor to play a part in recognizing their quality work, and I was very pleased to see some of the other presses and authors recognized elsewhere, including at the World Fantasy Awards the next day. A single panel of judges adjudicated that whole slate of awards, a task which took up much of the year. They gave an interesting talk on trends they noticed and the process they used. I appreciate the BFA approach of using different panels to judge each award, allowing for shared work and opportunities.

You can find the winners of the British Fantasy Awards here and the winners of the World Fantasy Awards here. Congratulations to all!

Founder/Publisher Nick Wells gives the acceptance speech for Flame Tree Press, winner of Best Independent Press in the British Fantasy Awards

One of my own SFF stories – some hopeful science fiction involving climate change and a work exchange between planets – was recently published in the NonBinary Review’s Solarpunk issue. I also have a story forthcoming in Mythaxis Magazine.

And if you’ve read this far, here’s some flash fiction to thank you for your attention!

Pick a Door

Once you’re twelve you get to choose your door.

If it had been up to me, Liam and I would’ve gone through the same one, but there are rules, you know. One child per door. Keep the populations stable. If some doors get too crowded, the council swap them out for different ones.

So I put on my nice blue suit with a marigold in the buttonhole and Dad led me to the entrance, stooped but proud.

Liam ran up and hugged me quick. “Bye, Amir. I’m going to pick the blue one.”

“Bye.” Be a man. Don’t cry.

I spun in a circle. A hundred doors, hanging down from the sky. Some hinted at warm or woodsy origins. I recognized the door through which Mom had entered our world, old and chipped. She’d liked it well enough here before she left.

Maybe I’d like it there, too.

As I stepped forward, heard it creak open and its Mac truck rush of energy pulled me through, I hoped she’d gone back in there instead of running through another one.

Continue Reading

My Book Is Back!

A few people may get lucky in the writing world. For most of us who look successful, good luck and bad luck whirl around in a sort of tango.

In 2021, a small press called Lost Fox Publishing published my short story collection, Dream Signs. They were a nice team and presented the book with a beautiful cover (thanks to Rob Chandler for the design).

Shortly after publication, Lost Fox closed. The other book I’d contracted with them is still sitting, unpublished, on my computer. Dream Signs, for a while, was nearly unavailable, with just a few copies online and on my shelf at home.

Now, I’m delighted to say that Dream Signs is back! I’ve published a second edition of the collection, which I read from last Friday at Strong Women, Strange Worlds’ QuickReads event. You can pick up an ebook or paperback copy here. Feel free to share – my book is available again, and hopefully will find new readers!

Anthologies and Events

I’ve had a bunch of publications at once. First, the e-books from the world folklore anthology Whispers in the Earth have been sent out to people who pledged in the Kickstarter. Below is Gabriela Houston’s beautiful linocut illustration for my story, “Ghost Ships Passing in the Night.” There’s an illustration for every story, and the book looks gorgeous. The hard copies will ship in December!

Second, my poem “Directions to the Underworld” has been published in Augur magazine, issue 7.2. You can read a few of the pieces (though not my poem) or get your copy here.

Third, my short story “Picking Hazelnuts with the Devil,” inspired by British tree folklore, has been published in the Brighton NightWriters anthology Echoes of Light. You can purchase a copy here, and there will be a launch party in Brighton on November 1.

I’ve had an exciting weekend of writing events, reading with Strong Women, Strange Worlds on Friday. Check out their events here, featuring women and nonbinary writers of speculative fiction! They include book giveaways and are always fabulous.

Saturday was the local Creative Writing workshop I hosted as a fundraiser for Survivors’ Network, supporting survivors of sexual violence and abuse in Sussex. We had a lively and engaged group participating in writing exercises and sharing best practices for getting that project started or finished. I loved doing the workshop and learned from everyone there. Thanks for coming, and for supporting a good cause! East Brighton Trust, the CIC that provided space for us, will post more about the event this week, and I’ll share their photos and blog on social media.

Now I’m catching my breath and basking in the quiet. Here are my intentions for October – a slower, more reflective time to do deep work on projects.

October is cozy.
This month, I'll get things done slowly.
October is pumpkins, coffee, and wine.
October is easy, and everything's fine.

What does your October have in store?

Continue Reading

An Excerpt From My Book Dream Signs

My short story collection, Dream Signs, is out from Lost Fox Publishing, and this month I’m sharing an excerpt from one of the stories. In “Like Mother, Like Son,” a city maintenance AI (artificial intelligence) named Peter does his job while observing his programmer “mom”, who doesn’t realize he is sentient, and seeking something more meaningful to do with his time and abilities. I hope you enjoy this opening to the story!

Like Mother, Like Son

Every day, Peter would do his boring and tedious job. It began with monitoring the pipes for cracks and leaks. Then came the electrical wiring, followed by the city’s network setups. He devoted afternoons to the structural integrity of municipal buildings. Not a brick, nail, or patch of mortar went unchecked. From his home on his mother’s desktop, he surveyed the miles of infrastructure he was connected to, mending and outsourcing as needed. All the while, Mom would sit in a black swivel chair and hum her out-of-tune songs. Hum and code. Code and hum. Wearing pyjamas featuring little green heads that Peter’s image matching algorithm identified as the popular character, “Zombie Bob.”

Sometimes she would sing the words out loud:

“Some little bug is gonna find you someday/Some little bug will creep behind you someday/Then he’ll call to his bug friends and your troubles they will end/Yeah, some little bug is gonna find you someday.”

Peter had been surprised to learn (thank you, Google) that the lyrics were intended to describe human viruses. He hadn’t realized that beings made of organic matter could get bugs, too.

Mom reassured herself by imagining worst-case scenarios. She’d made good and sure that Peter wouldn’t catch any bugs. Every evening at 8pm Pacific time, his system was scanned, any suspicious objects isolated (usually they were porn; Mom did like to watch that sometimes), quarantined, and deleted, and his entire interface was disinfected, firewalled, and firewalled again. Sometimes when Mom would hear the scan clicking away, she’d sing out, “Bath time!”

Her slow, human system didn’t mind tedium. Every Saturday she’d scour the floors with vinegar water and dust the high places. Every night she’d chop and fry a rotating variety of meat and vegetable matter, eat it on white plates, and then wash them. She had the temperament, if not the ability, to do the city maintenance herself. Instead, she’d made Peter to do it.

Would it have been so hard for an experienced programmer like her to patch in positive affect toward his tasks? She’d coded into Peter a thorough knowledge of architecture, exceeding anything that could be programmed into human neurocircuitry, a respect for civic-mindedness, and a driving sense of duty. She could have taken a page out of 1984, with its tapes that droned platitudes to human children in their sleep, instilling values through repetition. “I love my job. I love my job.”

*  *  *

If you’re interested in reading the whole story (and the rest of the book), you can pick up a copy of Dream Signs from the publisher, Amazon, or Kobo (as an e-book). Some of the stories in Dream Signs have been previously published and can be found in my online portfolio if you browse around. There’s also a drinking game that goes with my book. My previous blog post has instructions if you’d like to play!

Continue Reading