Thoughts on the Last Jedi: This contains Spoilers

Okay, so I’m going to write a post below these words and it’s going to contain spoilers. However, because I am a kind and generous soul, I’m going to give you a lot of space between this intro and Spoiler land.

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I feel like the saddest girl in sad town.

Luke has always been there in my mind. I loved the movie, but I wanted Luke to join the league of Badass Old Dudes, you know, with Uncle Iroh, and Sifu the sword master.

On the other hand, Yoda’s words could have been written just for me. As in, I needed to hear those words, that failure is a teacher, not an ending. Mistakes were made, and we have to move on. That’s big stuff, and it’s big stuff that I needed to hear. But at what cost??? Why do the masters always go just when they reach enlightenment? It’s like there’s no room in the mortal realm for such powerful understanding.

Okay, enough of the navel gazing, on to the good stuff:

I love me some using a spacecraft to do things it’s not supposed to, and that was brilliant. Even more brilliant for the use of sound in that moment. A+

My favorite image is the moment of Luke standing in front of the At-Ats.

I loved that they let the droid drive some things.

I appreciated that they gave Luke an opportunity to come full cycle.

I’m enjoying Kylo Ren’s ascension to darkness.

I’m pleased that Rey is like “I’m not just a badass, but I’m more of a badass than Luke was at this stage in his training.”

The boy at the end. OMG I NEED HIS STORY, AND I NEED HIM TO BE OKAY!

I love that Leia got to use some Force Stuff, because Space Mom is Awesome.

I am completely down with how many women there were with speaking roles in this movie! Amazing! LOVE IT!

Middle Trilogy movies are always so difficult, but this one worked as a story. I can sense the next one will destroy me emotionally.

In short: I loved it. I loved it’s message. I loved the battle scenes. I enjoyed the humor. I LOVED the imagery (cinematography was ON POINTE!). Will see again, probably in theaters. WOW. 

Insecure about self-made barriers

Don't forget to check out all the other Insecure Writer's Posts at Ninja Captain Alex's blog, hop on the Linky and thank this month's co-hosts: Julie Flanders, Shannon Lawrence, Fundy Blue, and Heather Gardner!

This has been a heck of a year for me professionally and personally. On the writing side, I’ve done more new things than ever before.

I joined SCBWI

I went to a writer’s retreat

I went to a writer’s conference

I went to a class visit

All of these were terrifying to me, but I went and did them anyways. And, I didn’t die. I’d even be willing to do repeats on all of them. But the funny thing about these items were these were all items on my list of markers that denoted a “real author.” These were all things I had seen other writers posting about and feeling jealous about. And, like most things viewed from the outside, they are different once you do them.

I’m a little suspicious of Moving Target Syndrome, the sensation that you long for a thing, but once you achieve the thing, you long for something else to feel gratification. I’ve experienced this before with writing, and well, it’s real. But somehow these markers were a litter different:

I was the one lurking in the shadows not joining SCBWI for more than a year after publishing—you can join at any time, by the way! I just hadn’t felt worth it, somehow. Going to a writer’s retreat was amazing because there were people at literally every stage. There were people with multiple books, people with agents and sales, people with agents and no sales, people with no agent, and people who had never written a book. It was awesome. And that was another barrier I had given to myself, thinking that I needed to be wildly successful to participate in that.

I could go on (the class visit was fun, and I’ve taught a lot, so I already knew how to handle a group). My point is, these markers of success that I had were all things I could have done years ago, but I felt too much like an imposter to do them. If you can learn one thing from my fail, please learn this: if you’re writing, wherever you are in the journey, don’t write yourself out.

Anyone else suffer from False Barrier Syndrome?

Widow of Papina Reveal!

Widow of Papina
Katie Hamstead
Published by: Soul Mate Publishing
Publication date: December 2017
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance

Forrest and Braydon Miller moved to the small town of Papina to follow their dreams and start a family. Braydon loves her new life in the quiet town, kept alive by the prestigious boarding school overlooking the valley. She is so proud of her husband’s work, helping the teens on the reservation.

Until one day, Forrest doesn’t come home.

Scandal spreads when it’s discovered that one of the teenagers is missing, too. But, Braydon refuses to believe her husband would leave her. When the teen is found, she isn’t talking–literally.

While Braydon’s heart is breaking, she must hold her crumbling life together, raise her son, trust in the Sheriff’s loyal, and ever-growing devotion, and find a way to love the MUTE teenager enough to discover the truth of what happened to her husband.

Add to Goodreads

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Australia, Katie's early years of day dreaming in the "bush", and having her father tell her wild bedtime stories, inspired her passion for writing.
After graduating High School, she became a foreign exchange student where she met a young man who several years later she married. Now she lives in Arizona with her husband, daughter and their dog.
She has a diploma in travel and tourism which helps inspire her writing.
When her debut novel, Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh, climbed into bestselling status, she believed she was onto something, and now has a slew of novels now available, and is published through Curiosity Quills Press, Soul Mate Publishing, and REUTS Publishing.
Katie loves to out sing her friends and family, play sports, and be a good wife and mother. She now works as an Acquisitions Editor to help support her family. She loves to write, and takes the few spare moments in her day to work on her novels.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

Prom, Magic, And Other Man-Made Disasters: a Book Birthday!!

Today, I have unleashed my book onto the world:

Before Tessa can confess her feelings to her long-time crush, he beats her to the punch and confesses his love—for her best friend, Maria. Missing the crush of her dreams and her stag wingman for prom, Tessa’s on the prowl to make it a night to remember, and for more than the humiliation. Determined to not be the only dateless girl at the prom in Small Town USA, she asks the new guy. He has all the qualifications of a fun date: polite, mysterious―pulse―but the way Sean talks about magic like it’s real could ruin the illusion. But desperate times call for desperate dates.

To make matters awkward, Maria insists on double-dating for the pre-prom dinner. When a wizard shows up and kidnaps Maria, things go from jealous to deadly before the cummerbunds hit the floor. He’s mistaken Tessa’s friend for a powerful mage whose blood could help him conquer his world, but he’s got the wrong girl. Using the wrong blood wouldn’t make Maria any less dead, and Tessa has no plans to let some whack-job villain from another dimension murder her best friend. Working with Sean, she tracks the wizard to his home, a land filled with strange creatures, stranger customs, and a five-hundred year grudge match between three nations ready to explode into all out war.

Tessa’s starting to think she has a chance against the wizard so long as she has Sean by her side, but his kind words and sweet smile aren’t what they seem. He’s the wizard’s son.

Buy it on Amazon. 

Add it to Goodreads.

(Paperback versions available soon!)

Things I love: The Jack edition

This is Jack:

Yes, he's a cat

No he shouldn't be up there.

Note how much he cares about where he should or should not be

He likes to join in

And yes, he has a natural habitat:

Ragnarok: Things I love, now Spoiler Free!

I went and saw Thor: Ragnarok this weekend, and I gotta say, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was a fun romp, almost exactly as advertised. There is no romance (it's been replaced by the buddy feels), and it was always entertaining enough to keep my inner curmudgeon from raising it's head. Were there plot holes? Yes. Did they play gags? Yes. But it was fun. I cannot stress how awesome it is to have fun.

The interesting part is that it felt like the first Avengers movie.

I'd go see it again. Heck, I'd go pay to see it again.

Any thoughts? Any haters? No spoilers in the comments please, but if you want to have a longer discussion, you can always @RenaTheWriter and we can keep it going there (where I will talk to people in 280 characters, practically a novel, really!).

But teenagers aren't like that! An IWSG post

I think the thing I’m most insecure about is ever connecting with my audience and who that audience might be.

I am constantly under the attack of “that’s not what teenage girls are like.”

I think that’s my favorite statement ever. I love it because it seems to always come from men, but also because it completely ignores the fact that there’s no one thing that teenage girls are like. If you had fifty teenage girls in the same room, yes there are going to be some commonalities, but there’s going to be a huge spread about what they like and what they want to do. More importantly, there’s going to be a huge spread about who they think they are.

Caveat: I say think because the first encounters you have with college and adult life afterwards sometimes destroy who you thought you were in highschool. And sometimes, it only hardens it. One of my favorite quotes after coming back from college was that someone said “Wow, you haven’t changed a bit.” To which I replied, “I’ve changed a lot!” And the kind person said, “I know, but you’ve become so much more you than before!”

I digress. My point is that people are different and they have different desires. When I was in high school, there was this terrible choice you had to make: You could either be tough and sporty—able to change your own tire and throw a pass—or you could like pretty things. I see now that it was just another way for society to try to change me into a less powerful version of myself by letting me be tough, but denying me something that I really wanted.

As an adult, I see that it was a falsehood. Who would have stopped me from wearing pink fingernail polish while changing sparkplugs? Would the fashion police have stopped me if I’d worn a cute dress before the game? (okay, well, after the game, that might not have been as practical, but still). My point is I liked to do things where you got your hand dirty AND I liked pretty things.

This is something that I try to write into my characters, but it’s really hard because I’m constantly up against the “but teenage girls aren’t like that.” It’s something that I’m always insecure about. I’m always checking myself, when I start up a new character, are teenage girls like this?

And then I remember how I was forced to choose, how society didn’t seem big enough for my peers to not tease me mercilessly for have diametrically opposed likes. How could I possibly like fingernail polish and soccer? They teased me when I dressed nice. They teased me when I painted my nails. They told me I wasn’t taking my sports seriously enough.

It was all a lie.

Every scrap of it.

So when people tell me that “teenage girls aren’t like that,” I tell them to fly a kite. My only concern is that when you write a book with a character like the person I was, constantly rubbing against the grain of what others want you to do, it can be hard to find my audience.

Because my audience are the people who are still struggling with who they are and what they like and how life has pigeon holed them into “but that’s not what teenage girls are like.” I know there are people out there who are struggling, but trying so desperately to fit in, and I’m worried that their trying so hard to fit in makes them close off to the things they might actually love. And those people are my audience. I’m literally trying to reach the kids who are hiding who they are because they fear being called out the same way I was called out. In short, the people who might literally be afraid to pick up my book for fear of not fitting in.

Whelp, if you made it this far, fantastic! Consider hopping on the link and checking out the Ninja Captain himself, Alex! And a special thank you to this month’s co hosts: Tonja Drecker, Diane Burton, MJ Fifield, and Rebecca Douglass! 

Things I love: The FLASH

Now let’s be clear, if we’re talking about the DC universe, my favorite has always been Green Lantern (though, Wonder Woman is making a heck of a comeback!), but Flash is a close second. And the Flash on CW has been no disappointment!

So yeah, I’m totally loving this TV show, and I have a hard time getting into TV shows (I blame the cancelling of Firefly and the wishy washy handling of the end of Babylon 5).  But why do I love The Flash?

I find there are some tropes that I love coming back to (super hero loses power, friend rescued, betrayal of teacher figure, magical girl transformation), so as you can see the first season absolutely played in my wheelhouse. Season two played it strong as well. For me, the weakest season so far was season three (with a few notable high points), but I suspect my not enjoying season 3 was that I have a hard time with the self fulfilling prophecy trope, which was played on REALLY big for the whole time. I have my fingers crossed for Season 4. 

Alright, this one’s just a short post because I’ve got some writing work to do (OMG, Less than a month before my next book comes out!!!!!). 

What TV shows are you into? What's are your favorite tropes in stories?

A terror of beauty, hungry and angry

There are fires all around, and luckily, many of them are starting to be controlled by the relentless work of some amazing fire fighters. The pictures are stunning. At one point, I was close enough to see the flames in action (at night), and the fire is both terrifying and beautiful in person. It is a force of nature, like the veil slipped open and spilled something uncanny on the world.

I’ve been struggling with what to write since last week when it started. I spent last week with my ear glued to a scanner, trying to follow the progress of the fire and the efforts to contain it. Lately, I feel guilty. It is a form of survivors guilt because everyone I know is safe, and my families’ homes are all okay. I sigh with relief, but there are hundreds of others whose houses burned down. My heart breaks for them. They are my co-workers, my neighbors, people I went to school with. It is horrible.

The stories that are coming out of these fires are harrowing to say the least. Fire is terrifying. Wildfire is like a march of demons set to destroy the world, and this one moved so fast, just so so fast.

I had started the month doing a bunch of #inktober drawings, but now, all I can seem to muster is fire paintings. I don’t think I’ll be sharing those any time soon.

There’s rain in the forecast, and I can honestly say, I’ve never hoped for rain more. 

I'll be back to my normal schedule soon, but in the meantime, stay safe people. 

A Thief or a Vanishing Act: IWSG

I once wrote about where I find the time to write. I said I didn’t look through my pockets to find loose time. I said it had to be stolen, pilfered, and sacrificed to the god of words.

I’m clearly not making the right sacrifices lately. My word counts have been REALLY low this year. I finally drew a line in the sand and said “enough.” I went to a retreat and pounded out 11,000 words to finish a book I started in 2014, (a small miracle as far as I can tell), but since that retreat, I haven’t been able to just sit down and make the magic.

I worry that I’m broken.

I worry that the magic is gone.

I listen to podcasts and they talk about writing exercises and I despair at ever having enough time to write those exercises to try things on. How would I find the time?

And that’s when I realize I’ve caught myself in a trap. Doing a writing exercise is a literal act of improving the craft for the sake of improving my craft. If I can’t improve my craft prior to writing a book (or the second draft of said book) then how will I write a better book? Yes, all writing moves a writer in the direction of better writing, but sometimes, you need to spend a couple dozen pages of words figuring out a character. It’s worth the time to hone the craft before diving into the words, as the choice is really write it better the first time, or rewrite it, it seems more efficient to take the time out of my writing schedule to work on the elements of craft.

But my writing schedule has been insanely tight with edits and proofs, and marketing plans.

So, I’m insecure about the fact that I’ve been writing and publishing and I feel like there is SO MUCH to learn, and I’ve been blithely sending books off into the world without these elements. Which isn’t true, they were just there without me having to think about them because my betas stuck them in, or my editors pushed me to write those things in. But it’s time to level up.

What about you, dear reader? Do you feel like you have the time to work on craft as well as piling on the word count?

Don't forget to visit the Ninja Captain, Alex and this month's lovely co-hosts: Olga Godim, Chemist Ken, Jennifer Hawes, and Tamara Narayan!

FALL

I’ve decided that it’s time for my internet version of me to start lining up a little bit more with the real me.

Wait, Rena, you LIED to us???

Oh, gosh, internet, how quickly we jump to conclusions. No. I haven’t lied. In fact, I’ve been super duper cautious to never lie on the interwebs (the Easiest to Fact-Check place ever). But, I have left certain things out. Like lots of things. I've spent a lot of my online existence trying not to "offend the wrong people" and I'm starting to realize, that's just silly. Who am I going to offend? My readers? My opinions are in my books! All writing, at some level is autobiographical, so it stands to reason many of my opinions have already been heaped on my readers. And many of my opinions are downright silly (Yes, I love Sailor Moon, and No, I don’t see a problem with how often she gets saved by Tuxedo Mask. She saves his buns a lot too. A LOT! That’s what we call partnership. Also, he’s never bummed out about being rescued by a girl, so in some ways, it’s pretty girl positive, but I digress).

To that end, I'm going to run a bit of a series this fall to get back into the swing of blogging. This series is going to be pretty simple: Things I love, enjoy, or am generally obsessed about. Expect a lot of book and movie reviews, lots of talk about painting and museums, and some pictures. 

I want to talk about the things that make me really excited, and right now, it’s Fall.

I LOVE FALL. It is easily my favorite time of year. I know people like the other seasons, but I’m all about Fall. I love turning leaves and grass getting green again (yeah, I live in California, and our wild grasses go blond for the summer, but with the coming rains of fall, they green up again). I love how the days can’t decide and start with frost that melts into day with skies blue like glacier, but a sun bright enough to cut your eyes. I love the stars of fall, turning overhead to the great lanterns of winter, guiding us (in my melodramatic feels) through the darkness.

I love Halloween, and only wish that we could celebrate it a little differently.

And yes, I even love pumpkin spice latte. I know, I’m a walking cliché, but there it is. I love Fall. (Spoiler alert, I also really dig Spring!)

Son Of A Pitch #1: FROM SMOKELESS FIRE

Son Of A Pitch Entry #1:

Title: FROM SMOKELESS FIRE
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 90,000


Query:
When Zahara floats up from a lamp in Daniel Goldstein's NYC apartment, she's a jinn with her own wish: fulfill an easy request from a modern-day sorcerer and trick him into eternal servitude.

Zahara's never been able to live up to her infamous mother's demonic expectations, and a binding magical contract that guarantees her a human thrall would be just the thing to impress her family. But newbie magician Daniel, whose Moroccan grandmother has reached out from beyond the grave to command him to raise a jinn, wants to do good—to the tune of stopping two fallen angels bent on revenge against humanity. Daniel and Zahara end up on the run in Morocco, dodging paranormal mercenaries and bumbling terrorists, while trying to foil a massacre that will rip open the barrier between the jinn and human worlds and plunge the two sides into a devastating war. As Zahara and Daniel try to keep their friends close, they end up discovering their enemies are even closer.


First 250 Words:
Coming out of the lamp was such a rush. One minute Zahara was nothing but vapor, swirling in the icy storms of the last level of hell. The next, she streamed out into the mundane air of the human sphere. Her flesh solidified into a floating upper torso, while her lower body remained only a tail of black flames licking up around the brass vessel used for the summoning.

And what flesh it was.

Zahara pinched back her shoulder blades and posed with her hands on her hips to better accentuate her breasts. They were huge, because she liked her first impression to be a lasting one.

The resounding crack of thunder that marked the transition into the world of man faded away. With a fanged smile, she faced the sorcerer who had dared to call her, the most notorious jinnayah this side of Baghdad.

"Behold. It is I, Zahara, Dread Spirit of the Endless Desert." She’d made that up on the spot, and it sounded great. "I have journeyed, O Child of Mud and Dirt, from the land of smokeless fire to your dreary realm. What do you call yourself, and what is it you demand of me?"

She had decided to put as much formality into her speech as possible, to further impress upon him how fortunate he was to have summoned such a powerful jinn to do his evil bidding. Not too traditional, of course, since she was speaking in flawless English, not classical Arabic.

Son Of A Pitch # 2: SENESTRE

Son Of A Pitch #2:

Title: SENESTRE
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 93,000

Query: 

Ten-year-old bastard Maleficent (renamed Senestre for this retelling) is painfully aware that she should never have been born. Her mother is hell-bent on revenge against the Vesii who abducted her when she was just a teen. If Senestre can’t prove herself valuable to her mother’s quest, she won’t live to turn eleven. When Senestre’s gift for magic flares to life during her testing ritual, she escapes death at her mother’s hands only to find herself embroiled in a convoluted plot against her will.

As she grows, so do her powers. Soon she surpasses all the other Wise Women in her village in both strength and skill. Hungry for more, she secretly learns the spells that are reserved for male magicians, hoping the knowledge will keep her safe—maybe even earn her mother’s love. But all the magical power she possesses isn’t enough to protect her mother and sisters from the brutality of life in the village. When her mother dies at the hands of a lecherous warrior, sixteen-year-old Senestre dedicates herself to vengeance in her mother’s name.

Blinded by hate, she sets in motion a tangled plot that she does not fully understand. Determined to prove her worth, she carries out her mother’s strange last wish and curses an unknown baby girl to die. Only when she comes face to face with Aurora on the princess’ sixteenth birthday will her mother’s plot—and its price—become clear.


First 250 Words:

My eyes darted to the bedroom window. The sun hung halfway below the horizon—I’d almost run out of time. “Please help me. You know how awful the testing is.”

My fingers tightened around the lump of hard brown bread I held out to my half-sisters. Rhea and Starling eyed the bribe from the corner where they crouched, swallowing as hunger made their mouths water. I swallowed too—I’d scrimped the bread from my own meager dinner.

“All I’m asking is if you’re up first, wake me. That’s it. I know I can’t get out of the testing tomorrow, but maybe I can avoid being scared awake.” I shivered. “That’s the worst part.”

I took a step forward and stretched my hand out further, emboldened at a hint of a sympathetic nod from little Starling. Fabric rustled behind me. I froze.

Wren darted into the room and snatched the bread from me. Clutching her prize to her chest, she glared at Rhea, the only one of our sisters large enough to challenge her. But Rhea suddenly found the sunflower-colored braid circling Starling’s head fascinating. Wren relaxed. She raised the chunk of bread to her mouth and tore off a bite.

My own mouth watered. The others watched as intently as a flock of birds hoping for crumbs. I should have known none of them would brave the Woman’s wrath for me. Unless I could come up with another plan, I’d have an empty belly followed by a terrifying morning.

Son Of A Pitch #3: THE UNBROKEN

Son Of A Pitch #3

Title: The Unbroken
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 108,000

Query:
Catori is a peasant. She grew up picking flowers to sell in the streets of Mennos’ main cities and she’s served ale to many a lord in her home town’s tavern. But this barmaid has a dangerous hobby. To protect herself and her family, Catori’s picked up the art of swordplay. Her skill with her blades has earned the admiration of passing travelers, including some with hidden ties to powerful families.

When war breaks out following an orc invasion, Catori knows she must help. She leaves her infant son under the patronage of a noble family and joins the Mennosi auxiliary, where she begins to rise through the military ranks on the recommendation of a mysterious hero. Soon she stands at the head of a broken and neglected army against the might of a massive orc army. But enemies lurk under the guise of support. Catori will need friends old and new to end a brutal war and keep her son out of a feud that could end his life.


First 250 Words:
Bitter’s body was lying on a table inside his tent, the same table that only a day before had been covered in various papers including her last letter to him, creased and worn as if he’d read it repeatedly. His armor had been removed and was hanging on a post beside him, just waiting for him to get up and pull it on. It looked almost as if he were sleeping but for the noticeable pallor in his skin and the deep, bloody wound in his stomach.

Catori stood just inside the tent, staring. This was the man she loved, the father of her child, the man she was supposed to marry. No—it was his body, but the man had gone. She was half afraid to move closer, as though doing so would cement his death forever, but the lure of him was too strong. It had always been too strong.

With slow, hesitant steps Catori stepped closer. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she gazed down at her lover. He didn’t look like the Bitter she had known and loved, but it was unmistakably him. His pale skin lacked any color now and his lips were turning grey. Someone had closed his eyes, thankfully. She didn’t think she could handle him staring up at her, unseeing. She reached out and touched his cheek lightly. Yes, he was real. His skin was cool to the touch.

Son Of A Pitch #4: FLESH AND INK

Son Of A Pitch #4:

Title: FLESH AND INK
Category and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 87,600

Query:
When the blue stains growing on her stomach are exposed, 17 year-old Lilivan knows she must abandon her dream apprenticeship as a holy inker-of-flesh. Only enemies of the Goddess bear these stains.The church’s soldiers will kill her for her marks and sentence her family, even her favored sister, Naoma, to a life of servitude.

On the run from the church, Lilivan tracks down a hidden sanctuary for those who bear stains like hers. There, she learns the church lied. Her stains are a blessing, marking her as a wielder of non-church magic. The church uses earth magic and seeks to eradicate all who possess magic they can’t control.

Protected in her new home, a nightmarish vision awakens Lilivan—the church has trapped Naoma and is draining her earth magic and her very life. If Lilivan wants to save her sister, she must embrace her new powers and the elemental beings she once shunned as evil spirits. But first, she must win her freedom from a sanctuary that doesn’t think she’s ready to leave.


First 250 Words:
The window above the sink lit the half-subterranean kitchen a little too well. When I raised my arms after dinner to put a plate away, my ill-fitting shirt exposed more than just my light-brown stomach.

I’d grown careless since the blue stains first appeared on my stomach two years ago. The dark-brown dye I used to conceal the marks was currently faded and patchy. I should have permanently inked over them.

“Oh, Holy Goddess!” Papa's face paled as a mug slid from his fingers and splashed into the sink. “Demon-stains, Liligirl?”

I shoved the plate onto the shelf and yanked my hem down.

“Papa, I didn't do anything,” I said, breaking into a cold-sweat, “I swear, by Domina Earth, the Goddess Nelopai Herself!”

Papa had to believe me. No matter what the church said, the stains had arrived like acne right after my fifteenth birthday. They weren't heralding some imaginary deal I’d made with demons. Despite my prayers, the angular cobalt-blue stains spiraling out from my navel had spread. They now brushed my sides, contrasting against my rounded belly when I neglected to cover them in nut dye. Maybe the myths were true, the Goddess couldn’t hear the prayers of the soulless.

My dream apprenticeship as a holy inker-of-flesh had seemed a chance at redemption for whatever I’d done to deserve the stains. How could a soulless one have been allowed to perform such a sacred task? For over a year I’d been doing dye prep and touch-ups on the faithful.