Saturday, July 14, 2018


Yesterday was Friday the 13th.

Last night I cried myself to sleep.

Today I still feel like shit.

The week was another very stressful week. On the plus side I don't have to do anything or be anywhere today so getting dressed is optional. And I'm taking that option.

There is this really weird counterproductive thing I do when shit gets too hard. It's a roll call of the dead. I will run through that list of names and pull them close and tell them all what's going on. But they're dead so the conversation is a bit onesided and to be fair they're not much help.
But I know each of them would move hell and high water to figure something out if they were still on this earth. Sometimes that actually kinda helps.
I thought it helped last night, but, it didn't.

In other news,
Might be able to get some writing done this weekend. Yay.
Also, have something I want to add to Qubyte before Jayne starts the editing rounds.

This morning I listened to The Live Drop, it's my Saturday morning thing. So at 7, I turned my phone on and opened Podcasts. And there was the latest episode from The Live Drop: BG (ret) Kevin Ryan demystifies the Elbe Group. 

If you've read my books then you know that I have a Russian character, he's FSB and he's worked with Ellie's team on various cases and becomes a close and trusted friend of Delta A. So podcasts like Mark's are helpful and informative for a writer like me.

Speaking of Misha Praskovya - remember him from such books as Terrorbyte ... actually, I think he's in all of them except killerbyte, though I'm not a hundred percent on that. I would need to check. (Yes I know I wrote them but I've also written over a million words so I can't actually recall exactly who is in which book anymore, apart from Ellie - she, obviously, is in every byte book.)
Anyway, Misha, there are a few things I need to tweak in Qubyte that have to do with Misha, because I realized I did him a disservice by not applying enough depth to a very important situation and I didn't allow enough time for the team to fully comprehend what happened (or what was occuring). And that's not fair.
I will correct this particular unfairness. :)

This morning I sent a bunch of cease and desist letters to another selection of wankers pirates.
What I would very much like is a way to code digital books so that they know when someone tries to copy them and go into protection/defense mode.
In my mind that entails, taking over the device, snapping a photo of the thief and sending it home, along with other identifying information then wiping the person's device or overriding hardware safeguards and overheating the device until it fries or explodes ... exploding is good.

How much fun would that be?
It'd be awesome.
Steal from me ... burn in hell, assholes!

On that note, I'm going to dye my hair purple and put the washing out. Or something.

Oh ... this:

Excerpt from Cryptobyte. These are raw words.

An explosion hit the air as a rumble shook the ground. Argo whined. Dane threw an arm over Julie’s head and pushed her down. I turned. Smoke, dust, debris fell from the air. It can’t happen again. Everything slowed. Blinking took an eon. My eyelids lifted to reveal Kurt in front of me. His mouth moved in silence. A hand wrapped around my arm, like an anchor. The world around me moved in slow motion. I pushed Kurt’s hand off my arm and scrambled to my feet.
With a bang sound and speed returned. I clicked my fingers. Argo jumped to his feet. His eyes on me. I moved my hand. Giving him our signal to move with me. I sprinted toward the billowing smoke with the dog next to me.
“Stop!” Kurt yelled.
Ignoring him seemed the best response. 
The closer I got the harder it was to see. A voice in my head questioned my wisdom as I ran toward chaos. I growled internally. “It’s what I do. Back off.”
My phone rang in my pocket. It just added to the noise and became easy to ignore. Ten yards from the explosion zone a bulky person intercepted me. Argo reacted with a protective growl but waited. 
“Argo,” the male said, his voice muffled slightly by his gear. A gloved hand landed on the dogs head. “Friend not foe.”

I recognized his voice. “Tony.” 

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