Get Fanged Cover Reveal + Chapter 2 Sample

[Skip to Chapter 2 Sample here]

You know what I'm really good at? Procrastinating. I already talked about this pretty extensively, but I have this thing that I do where I work with something with a lot of passion, then I psych myself out and don't write for weeks. Only to rinse and repeat. Been doing this for 10 years and still going strong, BUT I promise that new stuff is coming soon.

Some big things have been happening in my life as well. I finally submitted my Master's essay for review, so I'm waiting to get word back on that. That took so much of my life force to finally finish the fucking thing.

I also had to return to work because my leave was over. Time flies when you're having an existential crisis! That being said, it's good to get paid again, because I need that money. Inflation has been a bitch.

As a treat, I made up a "book" cover for Get Fanged! I think it turned out pretty well. Graphic design is not my passion, but I had fun putting it together.

I took a lot of inspiration from some punk zines and Dracula covers. I was going for a lot of wear and tear, like a well-loved copy of a paperback. I plan on putting this up around the site. Just not sure in what way yet, but I'll figure it out.

Get Fanged is going to be split up into much smaller chapters from here on out. Partly because I want to add a bit more to the story and I think having 15-page chapters isn't really sustainable. So, stay tuned for Chapter 2 when Amber and Consuela return for more stupid gay shenanigans! I'm having a lot of fun writing out their interactions.

To prove that the work exists, here's a sample of the second chapter. Enjoy!

---

The tablet is hostile in its emptiness, like the yawning chasm of purgatory. The stark neutrality burns itself into her eyes and makes it hard to see when she raises her head again to see a blurry, spotty figure on the bed. Amber jumps, yelps, her skin prickling with goosebumps and the scar on her arm burning.

Somehow, Consuela snuck into the RV without Amber knowing. Or, worse yet, she was here the whole time. This is something Amber doubts, but the thought is a fleeting horror. A reminder that she’s in close quarters with a predator.

“Hey,” she says and dares to waggle her eyebrows, “how’d you like the show, eh? Was good, right?”

Consuela languishes with an almost regal disposition. Fitting, considering her performance earlier in the night. Instead of the yellow button-up shirt and skinny jeans, Consuela is draped in a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt with shorn-off sleeves and chequered slacks. Her messy blue hair casts a shadow over her dull grey eyes. She looks so painfully casual. It clashes with the potent personification of rage Amber saw the night before, like it was a fleeting dream instead of a reality. Amber returns her gaze to the tablet in front of her.

“It was…”

Ineffable.

Charming.

Effervescent.

Beautiful.

“…really good.” Amber swallowed with difficulty and barely registered when she began to rub at her right forearm. “Anyway, how are you feeling? About finishing your first show.”

Amber pulls out her audio recorder from her messenger bag and brandishes it for Consuela to see. “On the record? It’s up to you.”

Consuela raises her eyebrows an inch, her smile easy and almost warm.

“Yeah,” she says, “I give you my consent.”

Amber switches on the recorder and sets it down on the floor.

Amber Hurley: So, Consuela, we just finished your first concert tour show in almost forty years. Congratulations! How are you feeling?

Consuela Manuel: Feeling alive! No pun intended.

AH: Did you notice any differences between this performance and your last one from 1985?

CM: You mean besides the fact they don’t offer coke in the backrooms anymore? Not that I can think of.

AH: Is that a…a joke or…?

CM: I don’t joke.

AH: Right…so, you said that the song “Razors” is for those who still fight their memories. What did you mean by that?

CM: Man, sometimes I just be saying shit, you know? To sound deep or whatever. It didn’t mean anything.

AH: At all?

CM: Not really.

AH: Can you tell me what “Razors” means?

CM: I like sharp things.

Amber barely holds back from rubbing her face in exasperation. Consuela is utterly immovable in her persona as a stoic. No cracks or vulnerabilities allowed. It reminds Amber a bit of herself which is all the more infuriating. ⬜