Covering Sexy

As someone who writes books, illustrates the covers and creates the title fonts, I have more covers than books recently. Most of my books since 2023 were written because I had covers that needed books.

The Sorcerer series is military science fiction. The Black Death novellas are black comedy action-adventure. My Weird World books are surreal horror.

My creativity is sexual first and foremost. The art and fiction are always erotic. The sexiness is not always obvious, however.

My thematic specialty is ordinary people easily killed by the bare hands (or tentacles) of someone strange. The scenario is usually that the killer is an intruder or escapee and the victims are clueless guards.

My specialty is not the theme of my Sorcerer series. The books are much longer than usual and perhaps my best work. The sexiness is a manly man as the villain and the heroine is the mother of his daughter... who is in love with him.

The easy victims in the Black Death novellas are not guards at first. They are normal girls living their normal lives when casually murdered by the antihero protagonists. The sexiness is the grim silliness that the killers not only kill easily, but with impunity. No one seems to ever notice... or care.

The heroes in the Weird World books are usually children... but so are the clueless guards. The foot soldiers of villainy are ordinary youngsters conscripted and brainwashed by the adult villains. The heroes have super powers and kill these conscripts with pathetic ease... and enjoy doing so. I am grimly amused.

The “pornography” I make is action-adventure, not actually “pornography” in the usual sense. As an example of how strange my idea of erotica is, the Cylon Raider in the 1978 television series Battlestar Galactica is one of my favorite “nameless baddies” of all time. It is a flying wing spaceship that flies headlong in tight formations and is blasted out of the heavens with pathetic ease... and I think that is so sexy.

A Fictional Passage of Scripture

I write fiction.

The world of my White Empires series is like our own but quite different. The continents are named after the sons of Noah. The countries are different than those of our world... even when the same. The Confederacy won the War Between the States. The 1930s are the modern day. The atomic bomb was already developed... but rendered useless by enervation technology. Adolf Hitler is instead Adolphus Wolf... and does not have a mustache. The right side of his face is scarred. Speech was never confounded into languages. Contagions are unheard of.

We take our world for granted. We assume it could not be any different than how it is.

The people of the White Empires universe do have the Bible. Genesis 11:2-8 reads...

2  And it came to pass, as they journeyed east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there.

3  And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar.

4  And they said one to another, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.”

5  And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men built. And the Lord said, behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do: and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.

6  Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech.

7  Alas, the Spirit of God was troubled, and asked, shall words mean nothing? What is truth but gibberish if to speak the truth is gibberish, if to hear it earnestly is to hear gibberish instead? A man’s words shall be his own, to be heard as he speaks or they mean nothing, true or not. Forsake the word and I shall henceforward be deaf to every prayer.

8  So the Lord did otherwise, that the word shall be glorified. The Spirit of God lit a flame in the heart of a man, and forged him to become a hammer that shattered the hearts of stone. By reasons of breakings the people scattered abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city. Their power was broken. The people as one became many, as if a shattered stone.

Our Bible reads differently... but I like this one better.

Swimming Against the Current Events

The spiritual is not only real, it is beginning and the end of everything.

I write books and illustrate the covers. My work is spiritual. I do not mean “religious” in the usual sense. I mean in all sincerity. Every aspect is about who we truly are. Every story is a parable. The silliness and seriousness alike are taken seriously by me.

My themes are typically risqué. The sanctimonious are stirred to self-righteous indignation. If you judge the tree by the fruit it bears, however, I inspire whereas they prove uninspiring. Their anger is evil and destructive. My love is good and creative.

I love what I write. It is never about what I hate. Though the things I loathe are mentioned, they are in a context that is hopeful.

Sins are not thought crimes. They are unfriendly intentions.

To mean to do evil is evil whether acted upon or not. To mean to do good is nothing of the sort unless acted upon. 

The heroes in my stories are not always “good guys” and the villains are not always “bad guys” but their side is good or evil regardless. The point is not that good and evil are shades of gray... but rather that it is personal rather than impersonal.

The tribes and nations struggle and we little people are conscripted into it. The world is bigger than we are. Its tribes and nations are bigger than we are. We are not expected to control the overwhelming forces that control us. We cannot swim against the tides and currents... but we are expected to swim. We drown if we do not.

Swim for the shore! You can still do what is right even if you find yourself on the wrong side of things. You can still do what is wrong if you find yourself on the right side of things. Where you find yourself was decided for you... but where you go is up to you... but only if you bother.

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My Dreams

I have dreamt three recurring themes over the years.

I am hanging from the edge of a cliff. If I try to pull myself up, it starts to crumble. If I remain dangling, it may crumble anyway… or I shall become so tired that falling to my doom may be better just to end it all.

Or…

I am on the top floor or atop a rickety structure. It may collapse out from under me. If I try to climb down, it wobbles. If I remain where I am I must keep my balance… and become so tired that falling to my doom may be better just to end it all.

The particulars vary. The gist remains the same.

I committed a crime, usually a murder. The particulars are ambiguous even during the dream. No one suspects it was me. It has been awhile and I am living a normal and pleasant life. I am suddenly overcome with dread. I realize my freedom could end in an instant.

The particulars vary. The gist remains the same.

A masked killer is on the loose. He can pretend to be normal and his performance is eerily convincing. I realize that his real face is spiritually a mask. He is actually faceless and soulless. He only ever speaks to deceive, not to actually say anything. He is not after me… except when I try to stop him from killing the innocent.

The particulars vary. The gist remains the same.

Dreams are meaningless if you control them: You cannot be enlightened by what you decide. They cannot be interpreted by assumptions: The obvious is a matter of normalcy whereas dreams are very weird.

I simply pay attention. I remember what I remember though I forget what I forget.

Reality is a body of water. The material is the surface. We can see it because it is illuminated by the light of day. The spiritual is the depths. The deeper you go, the less you actually see.

Dreams are my glimpse into the spiritual. I cannot see what they show me so I must imagine what is shown. It is like a submarine using sonar, in a way. I must interpret what I detect but cannot see.

I write and illustrate fiction. I am dreaming awake while I do so. I record the experience and share what I recorded. Everything I imagine is real… but in a spiritual sense. I write and render to show what cannot actually be seen.

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Ending the Sorcerer

I am killing interest in my Sorcerer series, it seems. I am referring to the fiction about a genocidal Nazi and his psychotic daughter. They are Arnold and Elsa Kess, The Sorcerer and the Enchantress. Their villainy is using magic, technology and armed force to commit mass murder. The girl’s mother and half-sister fight to stop them.

The series was loved by the very few who heard me read it to them. The Sorcerer was their favorite character. His dialog is eloquent and his atrocities logical. He is loving though murderous and idealistic though cynical.

SPOILER ALERT!

The Enchantress dies. She was the conduit for a curse that kills countless children in their sleep. It kills her too. The Sorcerer weeps as his own child dies in his arms.

Listeners were deeply moved by the scene. It is the end of the first book, Sorcerer of the Realm. The second book, Blood of the Sorcerer is a prequel.

The third book, Call of the Sorcerer is the conclusive end of a trilogy. Elsa is saved by the psychic powers of her mother. Everyone disliked that the dramatic ending of the first book was negated.

I knew THE END from the beginning. It was NEVER the death of the Enchantress. It was ALWAYS the death of her father, the Sorcerer himself. The story is meaningless otherwise.

The Sorcerer is about a man and a woman. They fell in love but the world estranged them. Their daughter is that love personified. Everything about her is their relationship. When you understand this, MY ending for the story makes PERFECT sense. You realize the alternative is not only cynical, but a narrative dead end.

As of September 30, 2025 I am only six chapters away from finishing the Elsa Trilogy, the first three books of the Sorcerer series. The fourth book is an alternate version that has Elsa as Felix, the Son of the Sorcerer as the book shall be entitled.

https://www.deviantart.com/yellowplasma/art/Blood-of-the-Sorcerer-full-cover-1139980646

The Enchantress: Almost Finished

On September 26, 2025 I finished the 84^th chapter of my Sorcerer series of books. Unless I write more than planned, the Elsa Trilogy of the series shall be finished after six more chapters.

Three books, each nearly 95,000 words long. A trilogy of 285,000 words about a Nazi Sorcerer and his apprentice, his teenage daughter.

I am a prolific writer of fiction. I illustrate the covers and create the title fonts. The Sorcerer series may be my best work yet. Its title character is the villain and commits the most atrocious acts of villainy… yet he is the hero. The actual heroes are not vilified to make him seem righteous. On the contrary: Unlike him, they are unquestionably moral.

The setting is an alternate 1930s as the modern day. The continents are named after the sons of Noah. The Confederacy won the War Between the States and is the thriving Empire of the Golden Circle.

The fiction is a love story. A man and woman are estranged. Their daughter is in love with the man… and jealous that her father is still in love with her mother.

A strong distinction is made between magical and psychic powers. They are described by the Sorcerer as the difference between a sailboat and a motorboat. His magic is empowered by “catching the wind” whereas the telekinesis of the heroine is “empowered from within.” The magician is ultimately more powerful than the psychic, because he channels and directs rather than generates.

The Sorcerer series is military science fiction as dystopian alternate history. Should you ever read it, you are sure to be confused at first. You are sure to squirm. Endure to the end and you shall be pleasantly surprised, however.

Artificial and Actual Art

I am an artist. My art is writing books and designing the covers.

I would love to quit my two jobs to make art full time… but I have bills to pay… and my art does not make me the money to pay the bills.

There is concern about AI and rightly so, especially for artists who make money for commissioned work. We are already struggling. Now we have unfair competition.

AI is not really the problem. It is proving useful, actually. An artist who makes his own comic books uses it to illustrate generic backgrounds such as forests or cities so he can focus on illustrating the characters. He explained that drawing trees and buildings was too time consuming. He would rather spend the time crafting costumes and poses.

My writing is excellent. My illustrations are stylish but amateurish. If I ever have a career as an artist, it shall not be as an illustrator.

People tell me I should use AI to illustrate my covers. I would rather do it myself. Yes, my art is pathetic… but it is MY art. It is illustrations of the stories by the actual author. It ultimately serves as concept art for better artists.

Despite my desperate hope, it is obvious that I shall never be able to make a living as an artist. My fiction may became lucrative someday… but not in my lifetime. I must toil in the meantime. Though in vain, I never squander a day.

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