This week, Twitter’s ever-anxious literary world was shook at the news that an agent forged offers to her clients, for a reason nobody can explain. DS has vanished, and so did the hopes, at least for a time, of the authors whom she represent. This is such a blow to both worlds – agents and clients alike – because frankly, this industry requires a certain amount of trust as well as skill, and nothing less of the other. I’m not in that industry yet, but I’ve got my eyes wide open, because there’s just so many things to learn, and often, I go by experience. Not necessarily all mine, by the way.

To the authors who were hurt by this letdown, you are stars. Your words shine bright and your work was chosen for a reason.

I finished a good revision The River Dead this week, which means it’s readable, and a screamed all over on Facebook for any few who would read it. It’s been a long time since I wrote with emotions of dread, and some of the feelings got into my sub-consciousness and well, it didn’t feel good. Not. At. All.

Here is my week in tweets.

Monday

Me while following the news about the SONA:

It’s a thread. You can read it.

Tuesday

Some nightmares happen in real life. It just so happen that ours, a collective form, is embodied in a few people who rose to the country’s greatest power, and is still grabbing it after their time.

To that person who said libraries are gone, I DREAM OF BUILDING A CAFE + LIBRARY FOR INTROVERTS don’t you dare. Or maybe, at least, even just a library. Kids need to read.

Wednesday

This is the SCARIEST dream I had post-The River Dead and the terror is real. Imagine: getting both of your legs SHAVED to the bone that your innards are showing as you walk. Good thing Harry Potter used his magic so that it wouldn’t hurt.

By the way, the accident should have been his, but well, guess who’s the more unlucky one…

Of men and mountains and moving them:

Thursday

Guys! OIL PULLING WORKS!

Today was the day when I fear and rejoice for my dad at the same time.

Friday

I actually had just two tweets on Friday, and this was one of them. Early morning, I read bits of Michelle William’s interview, how she fell in love again after Heath Ledger’s death, and how she is more than America’s white-skinned pretty-faced leading lady. It’s strange that I am always drawn by people who were in, or overcame grief. Grief is such a big magnet to me.

There’s a word I learned this week, and whoever coined it is wise: BIG BITCH ENERGY. I know, I know, we’re not supposed to fashion ourselves out of ~dogs~ but right now, ~bitch~ has a new meaning other than whoredom. I’m not about whoredom. I’m about women in their fiercest, most ferocious form. Of women fighting for their spot and expanding their territories. Of women taking what is theirs. Of women setting fire on something (in a symbolical way), when necessary. Big bitch energy, y’all.