The Egg

You see, here’s this egg.

It’s a strange one.

It’s not like a bird egg. It’s all craggy and wrinkly and rough.

I’ve seen and handled enough bird eggs to know this is not one.

And yet, it’s an egg. Quite clearly.

Well, maybe it’s just a rock. It’s cold and heavy, too.

But something… something tells me it an egg, not just an egg-shaped rock.

So I took it home, and now I’m showing it to you.

You don’t think it’s an egg?

You think it’s just an old rock, worn down by the elements?

Maybe an old volcanic bomb?

Hmmm. Quite possible.

But you know what?

I’ll just keep it on my desk for now.

Because maybe, just maybe…

it’s a dragon.

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Spring Thougts – a Poem


When nature renews itself.

When it steps out of winter, when it returns to growth.

When it is alive again.





Two days ago, Notre Dame burned.

Tears. Shock. Grief.



It’s not as bad as it seemed, the cathedral is still standing, it’s safe.

It will be rebuilt.

A new roof.


Even for a cathedral.



Let’s make it spring for our world.

Let’s step back into life, into our full humanity.

Let’s rekindle hope, love, kindness, caring and support.




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Some Fall Thoughts

Today, I’m sharing some cranes with you. I just took their picture as they were circling above my home town.

They are moving south, preparing for winter. In fact, I think they are a little late.

I tend to prepare for winter my way: Retreating from the word, cuddling up in my apartment, lighting candles, reading a lot, drinking a lot of tea and sometimes, playing soft music. Or a thunder app.

And of course, I’m thinking of dragons. I’m writing the sequel to “Dragon Prey”, something that is only happening because fans asked for it. And my writer brain obliged with a fascinating scenario – one that will test Sidren’s Clan.

And looking at those cranes – they make it easy to think of dragons, don’t they?

Reminder: My newsletter goes out on the 13th, with a new little Ember adventure.

See you then!

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Changing Things Around

So you may have noticed something about this site – it no longer opens on the blog.

I did that on purpose. Yes, indeed.

Because, my friends, I’m getting serious about my newsletter. And I want visitors to know that there’s a nice present waiting for them when they sign up.

But even more important, I want to send it out regularly. Because I’m weird, I plan to send it out monthly – on the 13th. Because I think that’s a lucky number.

And it’ll have news and some previews and links to stuff you can only see if you know it, and most of all this:



Meet Ember.  She’s basically my pet.

Because at the moment, I can’t really have a pet. I’d love a dog, but I live on the 4th floor, and all those stairs are hard on dogs. And they are banned from my day job work place, so meh.

And I literally have no space for a little box in my apartment. No, I’m not fibbing, but since I use part of it for clients, and I have a really, REALLY small bathroom, it’s just not possible.

And no, I’m not a fan of birds, or fish, or rodents, and a horse won’t ever fit into here… so more meh.

But we all know that pet content is cool and draws in people. Ember will do that for me and you. You’ll see her go on little adventures in my newsletter.

Wanna see her? Sign up through that form on the right hand side. Or through this link.

And I promise: No spam, and I’ll never ever sell your email, either.
(And hey, you can always unsubscribe.)

Oh, and you’ll get to download “Borderline” for free, too.



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Changing out of a Bipolar Writing Habit

Little Laptop

Little Laptop

Today, I want to talk about a rather big change in my life. One that’s providing structure and happiness, in more ways than I expected.

You see, I finally decided to use my EFT knowledge and experience to get myself some writing discipline. I wanted to become a professional writer, with a professional attitude and writing habit.

In order for you to understand the magnitude of this shift, you need to know that I used to write in a rather bipolar manner.

Bipolar Writing

On the one hand, I used to go for spurts of massive writing, hours and hours per day, being completely consumed by the story, immersed in my world, for months on end. In fact, when I started writing, that phase lasted for a few years. Yes, it was somewhat insane.

On the other hand, I’ve stopped writing for months and years in between. Completely dried up. Okay, for part of that time, I focused on EFT and the awesome changes it can facilitate. And I got training and passed the exame for my license as therapist. But writing just went out of the door.

Until it came back with a vengeance. Or until November came around with NaNo, and I burned myself out with doing 2k per day during it.

For the last few years, the pattern held. Months of massive writing, followed by months of blocks. I knew that wasn’t productive. It probably wasn’t even healthy.

This pattern wreaks havoc with any publishing schedule, after all. I lost lots of readers because I couldn’t finish part 4 of my Cloud Lands Saga series until a year after the rest. I started stories and let them wither. (I have dozens of unfinished stories and ideas on my hard drive.)

So eventually I thought I should fix that. And I have the means – I am an accomplished EFT practicioner, coach and therapist. I have helped many others change their habits, let go of beliefs and lift blocks. I just needed to apply that knowledge to myself.

So on June 4th, I made a decision:
I decided to use EFT tapping to write 1,000 words per day.

That kind of decision is crucial for any change, by the way.

It wasn’t easy. I struggled with it for a week or three. Several times, I needed to tap on my resistance, my fears, my blocks. And I had a few friends who tirelessly encouraged me in chat. Most days, I forced myself to write in the evening, after procrastinating for most of the afternoon.

I failed twice.

Once because I wrote such an intense scene that I couldn’t go on, although I was only at ~600 words. That’s okay. And the second time because I had a very, very rough day and ran out of energy before I could write. Blergh.

Twice. That was all. And I could forgive myself for that.

After four weeks, it became a bit of habit.

I found a structure that helps – I write in my evenings, it’s usually the last thing I do in the day. That works, because by now, writing is a source of happiness, and I like going to bed happy. I also have accountability, in my own FB group, with my chat friends, and on MeWe. And I keep a WordCount file.

Then I changed something else: I started using my cute little Acer laptop for my writing and started sitting on my balcony while doing it. (Which works perfectly because right now, we’re having a very nice summer in Germany, with late sunsets.) No distractions. Just the file, the story, and me.

Writing has become my happy time, a source of great satisfaction. But I only write for about an hour max, which means I’m not burning out on it. And for the last two weeks, with the help of balcony magic, I’ve been writing ~1,300 words per day. In flow. Easily. With Joy.

The Results

Since I started this new journey in writing, I have finished “Dragon Prey,” a novella set in my Cloud Lands world, much earlier than the other stories, though. That one has taken over a year to complete.

My first beta reader is on it. My cover designer is holding a spot for me. I’m aiming for a release in September. It’s exciting!

I’ve moved on the part 3 of a Science Fiction trilogy that I like to call “The Franssisi Chronicles”. The main character is a young human man called Zell, so whenever you see me mention him on FB or other social media, that’s the trilogy I’m referring to. I’m saving the parts up for a rapid release to launch my new pen name – Joanna Steenen – who writes explicit bed scenes.

Depending on beta readers and covers, I may actually get that out in October/November. I’m scaring myself, to be honest. And I need to really learn how to set up a good launch.

Want a preview of the blurb for the first one, “Captive”?

They catch him.
They make him a bed pet.
But Zell is not a pet by nature.

He is one of the few Wild humans left on Franssisi Four.
And as his Dile master finds out, his nature is indomitable.

There you go (yes, I am proud of it, so there). And no, it’s not truly about the bed scenes, although they are essential to the plot.

The Big Picture.

Writing like this, with predictable speed, allows for more planning that I’ve ever had for my writing. Yes, I still need to add systems for editing and formatting. I may choose to outsource more of that. This is all in the future.

The foundation, however, is regular production. And I finally put that into place.

The best part is that I’m having a ton of fun with that regular production. In fact, I am very glad I shifted out of that unpredictable writing into a very satisfying, joyful habit of writing every day.

My life is much, much happier because of this.

Which is the best part of all.

Happy writing, my friends!

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Review: The Coming Storm, by Valerie Douglas

Cover - The Coming Storm

The Coming Storm

It all began on Facebook. I don’t even remember who started the thread.

We were talking about horses in real life, and horses in stories, and Valerie mentioned Smoke, a horse in one of her stories. A stubborn gelding with personality and grit, and I thought I’d really like to read that tale.

And so I bought “The Coming Storm”, and started reading it on my vacation, a few days ago.

It starts out deceptively slow. It even takes a few chapters before me meet Smoke, and then he’s just the annoying horse of a friendly side character.

Naturally, he is annoying one of the main characters, and a few chapters later, Smoke saves her life. And he does more. He takes Ailith to the man who will become her best friend and ally, and he carries her through many adventures and close scrapes.

Of course, there’s also much traveling, tension and terror, a terrible threat and fierce battles, as well as magic. There are Elves, Dwarfs and Men, a High King and Wizards, there are politics and intrigue, and there is unspeakable evil.

There is everything that matters in an epic fantasy tale, and more. There is even a dragon, although I won’t say more than that about it.

For more detail, you will simply have to read the book.

But be prepared. You will need some tissues at the end, and you will need to go to Amazon and buy the sequel.

Fair warning.


The Coming Storm on Amazon

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Borderline – a Cloud Lands Short Story

"Borderline" Cover


Well, “Borderline” is up on Amazon and all the other other vendors.

And in addition, you can sign up to my newsletter and download it for free as a gift.

But what is it all about?

I wrote the tale for a project which had two basic topics: Winter and Romance.

In addition, I wanted to create a short story set in my Cloud Lands world, simply so I could gain more readers through it.

Yes, that’s writing to market, in a way, and I’m not ashamed of that. Because I hope it’s still something you, my dear readers, enjoy.

And I quickly decided that this would be a story about Ylanda, a dragonrider I discovered while writing “Dragon Court” (which is Book Three of the Saga). She dropped a hint about her and her dragon Rakild knowing how to live rough, and that got me thinking.

What if she had been a scout, guarding the border between the Western Kingdom and the Carmine Empire? That’s a region with a huge series of mountain ranges, very hard to control, very hard to even survive in. Only dragonrider scouts have a chance, the area is too rough for armies.

And of course, the Carmine Empire would have its guards on the prowl, as well.

Which made for an interesting idea:

What would happen if Ylanda and a Carmine were thrown together in dire circumstances?

Now, if you have read my stories, I’m a firm believer in human goodness and good, win-win solutions. Not all of my characters can do that, obviously.

But I knew Ylanda could. And then I met Kerrin, and knew he could, as well.

Which made it huge fun to throw both together and watch them make it work. How far would they go? Well, that’s something you’ll have to find out yourself. *grins*

And once I finished the story, I had come to love Kerrin, as well. I couldn’t stand using him as a throw-away character, and I really wanted to find out what became of him.

Which is why I wrote him into “Betrayal”. And while I couldn’t reveal everything Kerrin has become since it’s mad, angry, delusional Ferren who sees him, you can certainly guess.

So how can I get it again?

If you want to read “Borderline”, you can sign up to my newsletter and get it for free. (Sign-up form is on the right sidebar, EXCEPT in Firefox, which for some stupid reason doesn’t show it. Apologies. Go to This Link to sign up if you can’t see the form.)

Or you can go to this Global Link and choose your preferred vendor if you want to buy it. It’s 99ct everywhere.

Borderline – Books2Read

Please consider writing a review if you enjoy the tale. Thanks!

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Status Quo, March 24th, 2018

I have no real news.

I’m writing. Mostly a little every day, mostly for snarky Joanna stories (i.e. with explicit bed scenes). Would you like to see one?

I’m waiting for a cover. Once that’s done, I will have news – I want to offer you a special story, one that’s a favorite of mine. It’s set in the Cloud Lands, and the two protagonists have appeared in the series. Yes, you may start guessing.

I’m taking two weeks off from my day job, and I want to spend a considerable amount of that time writing.

So many projects. Most of them unfinished.

If you know cover designers who do dragons well, let me know.

That’s all for today.

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Flash Fiction: Storming the Castle



Another quick Flash Fiction story, inspired by three words: “Comfort, Computer, Castle”.

Check out what my brain came up with:


It was now or never. Ragnar was the first to climb the ladder they had leaned against the high castle wall. He was the first to jump over the parapet and cut down an enemy warrior on the walkway. Moments later, he was joined by his battle buddy Willard who had been right behind him.

In a flurry of slashes and parries, they cleared the walkway, making way for more and more of their own warriors to join the fight.

Ragnar dashed down the stairs to the courtyard and opened the massive wooden gate, Willard guarding his back. As more of their fighters flooded in, they ran ahead to storm the tower, ducking arrows on the way. Resistance was fierce, but Ragnar and Willard overcame all enemies. Moments later, they entered the sunroom where the princess was kept prisoner.

After dispatching her guards, Ragnar gallantly sank to one knee and bowed his head before gently taking the princess’ hand and leading her to safety. Willard once again guarded his back and slew one wily fighter who crept out of a side room.

The siege was over, the battle was won. The princess had been delivered to her father’s hands.

Ragnar finally sat down with Willard to enjoy the hard-earned victory feast. He had just lifted his tankard of ale, when a loud voice reached his ear.

David, dinner is ready!”

I’m coming, Mom! Just need to save and log out!”

Willard watched in desperation as Ragnar and the great hall melted away before his very eyes. Once again, they were denied their feast… as he was dissolved himself and the pixels were lost in cyberspace.


I would appreciate your thoughts on this piece.

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Flash Fiction: “Dad’s Helping Hand”



I wrote this last week, but it’s the perfect Halloween story. Enjoy!


Leonie decided to go to her father’s grave, to ask for his help. She always did that when stuck in a difficult spot, and it was almost as if he were still alive and she could sit on a stool next to his armchair and just talk.

Except, of course, the grave was in the graveyard, which severely lacked an armchair. But she never failed to bring her stool, and sit on it, pretending she could smell the smoke from his pipe and hear his deep voice.

Dad, I need your help,” she said, perched on her stool. She closed her eyes listening for his answer.

Again? Another rabbit ate your salad? Another hawk got one of your chicken? What is it this time?

I think Gellenia has put a curse against me.” Leonie held on to the indignation she felt, despite the hint of impatience in her father’s voice.

Really? Are you sure?

Yes, I am.” Of course, Gellenia had cursed her.

And what do you want me to do about it?

Punish her! Kill her.”

I shall take care of it. There was a certain finality in her father’s voice.

Thank you.” Leonie sent a wave of gratitude and mimed kisses. Then she got up, picked up her stool and walked home.

She knew the problem would be solved within the hour.

With a little grin on her face, she put away the stool, changed into her better clothes and packed a basket of food. Under it lay the will she had forged, making her the heir. Then she walked over to Gellenia’s cottage.

To her inner eye, a dark cloud hovered over the thatched roof. Her smile got bigger before she quickly erased it.

Yes, soon that lovely cottage would be hers, as well as that fabulous, brown, soft-eyed cow. And the flourishing garden. And her life would finally be good.

She knocked on the door and stepped in without waiting for an answer.

Gellenia was writhing on the floor, to Leonie’s delight.

You!” the stricken woman gasped. “What have I ever done to you?”

Leonie smirked. “You were always better than I was. You won at the village fair all the time. You always took what should have been mine.”

I worked for it,” Gellinia managed to say. “For the memory of my mother.”

Leonie put her basket on the table and knelt next to the middle-aged woman. “Liar,” she hissed. “You did it to spite my father and me. You couldn’t bear he became mayor after your father died, and you lost all the privilege.”

Gellinia simply shook her head and closed her eyes, forcing the words out. “The Goddess knows that isn’t true. See that you don’t lose everything you think to gain.”

You dare to threaten me?” Leonie reached out, intending to throttle the women, then thought better of it. Why hasten her death? She might as well enjoy her father’s work. She sat back and watched Gellinia writhe in her death throes.

What curse did she set on you?

Leonie looked up, not expecting her father to still linger around after sealing her enemy’s fate. “Everything I touch withers and dies,” she said, allowing her anger to show. “It must be her. She has been sucking the life out of everything I ever did.”

It wasn’t her.

Leonie stared. “Who else?”

You did it yourself. Your petty jealousy and spite blighted your life. Her father’s voice sounded harsher than ever in life.

What?” Leonie jumped to her feet. “I? How dare you blame me!”

I watched you. I helped you, hoping you’d be grateful. Hoping you’d change. But instead you got worse, and now you’ve tried to use me to murder Gellinia.

Her heart twisted inside her chest, and she sank to her knees.

This is intolerable.

A moment later, it was Leonie who was writhing on the floor, her chest on fire, her breath ragged.

Gellinia, on the other hand, suddenly took a deep breath and sat up, looking stunned.

Leonie, I’m not your father.

As Leonie’s senses faded, she heard the disembodied voice once more.

I am the Guardian of this village.


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