Natasha Fondren

I’m writing a lot, hence my life is pretty boring to talk about. That’s the thing about not having another job; I don’t have time to think about writing because I’m actually writing.

I’m sad to see people leaving the campground. The snowbirds flock north for the summer, but all my friends will be back next winter, which makes me happy, politics aside. (Last night I got in two sentences in defense of my own beliefs, so I was proud of myself. That’s an achievement for me.)

Today is the release date of Ardeur, in which I have an essay: The Domestication of a Vampire Executioner. (Click to read a snippet, if you like.)

I did a guest blog post, Not In a Shy Way, at my favorite blog, Magical Musings. I hope you can stop by!

So what’s up with your life, lately? What’re you writing?

Our camper has no potty. I’ve grown to love this, even though it involves several nighttime trips. If you weren’t aware, there is a law of the universe that states that if your bathroom is five feet away, you’ll sleep soundly through the night, but if it’s a fifty-yard trek, you will have to go two or three times a night.

But I love these nighttime treks. I can’t keep my eyes off the stars. I’m fascinated by them. The constellations tell the stories of the Greek myths. Isn’t that the coolest? Sometimes I just imagine laying on my back with my (thus far imaginary) children and telling them all the stories.

And I can see how astrology developed. You stare up at the nighttime sky, and it sometimes feel like they’re twinkling just for you, like they know what’s ahead and they’ve got everything planned out.

When I was living in a house, I hardly ever looked at the stars. Usually I was inside at night. Even when I sought them out, it definitely wasn’t a three-times-a-night occurrence for ten minutes apiece.

So I feel sad that we’re going to upgrade our camper in the next year. I like having to trek through the open air to get to the potty. Okay, I hate it when I push myself out of bed, put my shoes on, put my jacket on, and step out into the cold.

Then I’m outside and I look up at the huge, cloudless, twinkling Arizona sky, and everything is okay. The future feels full of good things. I believe in magic.

And all the stars seem to reassure me that I’m on the right path, that I’m doing exactly what I should be doing.

Have you studied the stars lately? What do they tell you?