Author Archives: G.P. Merwede

About G.P. Merwede

I moonlight writing fiction and witty one-liners for money and fame - mainly money. Expert boondoggler and iconoclast extraordinaire.

Search Results From A Cam Girl

I’ve been nursing what some call a cold, others acute bronchitis, and others still, black death coughing syndrome – thank goodness I’ve stockpiled all of those “God bless yous” throughout the years.

With that, I haven’t been entirely productive in my NanoWrimo-ing, updated posts (minus Fairytale Shattered), or life in general. But I noticed a tremendous uptick in visitors these past few days, which I attribute to either my FANTASTICAL writing, or the fact that Alicia Liow was the top search result. I’m going with the latter, and let me tell you about peoples’ disappointment when they didn’t find Alicia on Werewolves & Shotglasses.

Why is that, you ask?

Well, Alicia is a cam girl and Malaysian and mighty fine looking. I am none of those things, not that I’m aware of anyway.

*Sexy look*

How about now?


I can tell you that I do know Alicia – she’s a terrific person and a total nerd, she plays Diablo 3 on the regular – albeit you can’t generally tell while she is crisscrossed in leather and lace and making grown men squeal.

If I were a politician, I’d have to explain why I am friends with a cam girl, which, aside from the fact that I don’t judge people by their professions, is a laughable question.

And for those of you keeping score at home – no, I didn’t meet her in the cam chat, I knew her before she went all pink lipstick and hip-hugging corsets.

All of this leads me to the simple truth that, besides search results from a cam girl drive significant volume, we should never judge people, places, thoughts, beliefs, or otherwise by our initial mind spark, that flash of mental sulfur which pigeonholes much too often.

Our judgment becomes misplaced due to social “norms” that are ever changing, evolving, and reinventing themselves and us, which means that we should never hold anything to them because they will eventually change. The loudest social cry in the United States is currently gay marriage and social equality, and twenty years from now our children will ask, “What was the big deal?”

Few things stand the test of time – books, architecture, cockroaches – but society and its dynamics do not, so we shouldn’t harp or fret, but hark and harbor hope for a day where social “norms” are defined by the fact that there are no social “norms”.

There are only people, and we are all different; like snowflakes, and who can hate a snowflake?


Fable-Fiction-Fairytale: Fairytale Shattered

It was sobering to watch the girls hold onto the abject hope they found in money grinning eyes.

Foolish GirlThey twirled two-toned curls like abecedarian witches learning cauldron incantations from the backs of matchbooks. Every inch of their heels tipped toward ignorance while their eyes pitched falsetto at the mention of properties and prospects; all of them, from tongue to toes, foolishly enchanted.

They clambered and colluded, betrayed and besieged those once counted among friends, all in the hopes of becoming a midnight Madison fleur-de-lis.

Yet there was little forever in these fairytales. They tended to shatter like glass slippers in the dawn of bed sheet endings, leaving the girls to walk with their nightmares along the morning avenues – shoeless and broken.

Foolish little girls, from tongue to toes, always forgetting there is little room left for fairytales in the hearts of big bad wolves.

NanoWrimo: Writing Is Difficult

Writing is difficult.

There is much more to it than day-dreaming fictitious wonderlands populated with plots and schemes, and warlocks and witches, and harrows and heartbreaks. It is much more than throwing down any fusion of pronouns and adjectives, themes and motifs, and allegory and fable. It is a tedious and laborious endeavor that tends to feed and heal your soul more than it may ever your bank account.

Hemingway nothing to writing just bleed image quote

And that is the entire foundation upon which NanoWrimo is built.

There isn’t supposed to be a polished manuscript, nor a flawless array of well-vetted characters and plots, but a collection of unrefined passion for a story that needs to escape from a writer’s mind, through the hand, and onto the white blank page.

Don’t fret the grammatical mistakes, the plot holes, character names, or bevy of literary balderdash that drips from your creative soul. It takes time – an indefinite amount that is determined only by you – to mold and prepare the intricate difficulties of your words which are to become your tale.

Not all stories are ready to be told, not all words are ready to be written. Allow your mind to spin them individually until they are finally in tandem – that is when you are ready to share your art.


NanoWrimo: Writing Walls You Didn’t Think Were Walls

Within the scrawling marathon of NanoWrimo, there will undoubtedly be walls and plateaus which will impede the locomotive pace that you possessed in the first few days or weeks – best known as writer’s block.

writers-blockWhether or not such a condition is “real”, rather than cursing your way through a tizzy and delete button mashing your pages, the best option is to identify what these walls and plateaus are, especially because you may not realize they are barriers.

I wanted to share a few that I’ve found which certainly bring my writing to a screeching halt due to my unneeded reliance, or expectation, on them.

Looking Too Far Ahead

I hear it all too often: “This is the first book of my trilogy.” Instead, let’s begin with the first book of the first book. There’s nothing wrong with reaching your story to span three books, or even more, but it certainly should start at one. Always start at one.

Saving A Line, Plot, or Character For Another Story, Or Not Putting Them Together

This is certainly warranted at plenty of creative junctures – saving for another tale – but sometimes it’s best to combine lines, plots, or characters into one story. As writers, we constantly dream up ideas, but not all of them are fully realized and never will be. With that, don’t be afraid to throw all of them into a cauldron and cook up something entirely new. These ideas may not work on their own, but together they may be the perfect combination.


Use placeholders until you are ready to settle on names, if you don’t already have them. All too often we obsess over finding the perfect moniker, researching meanings, histories, and family trees until we circle back to our original name. And don’t worry if one of your favorite stories has already used that name – unless you’re going to be smug and use Holden or Gatsby.

Not “Stealing” From The Best

There’s a reason why writers are encouraged to read – to learn how to write. Which, in a twisted way, means that you are reading about how to steal from the best. Most stories during those preteen days are blatant imitations of our favorite authors or movies or videogames; it is only once our writing matures that our unique voice shines through. But our inspirations continue to be the foundation and stealing from the best is not only the sign of a good writer, but a smart writer.

Being A Writer, Not A Storyteller

Although I’ve been prattling about the “writer”, I believe the best advice is to not be a writer at all, but a storyteller. There’s no need to follow proper grammar, format, syntax, rhetoric or any other English major term – save those for the crows. You’re sharing a story that is enchanted and heartbreaking and spans the galaxy of our creative minds. Writers are beholden to rules. Storytellers are beholden to none.

NanoWrimo: Day 5

My current NanoWrimo word count is not what many would call prolific; unless, of course, you’re a five year-old, and then my 350 words is an entire novel to you. And for you little people of the world, I am thankful.

This lack of productivity isn’t due to anything else – time, excuses, alcoholism, gnomes – except the fact that I didn’t know my opening scene. I didn’t even know my opening line, which, to me, is the equivalent of having a white blank page despite there being 10,000 words on it.

The opening must set the tone. If I’m going to be showcasing a pair of magic-wielding sisters and their emotional and physical struggles, then I must open where not only both of those types of struggles occur, but also that you know, yet not necessarily understand, that these sisters are more magical than most. So I perused the archives of multicolored spiral notebooks that years of ideas have formed into a tower of literary misfits – lost and nearly forgotten.

And it was there I found my opening scene, tucked beneath an untitled header, comprised of a young girl who is visited in her orphanage by a man yet-to-be-named whose “job” – work with me here, it’s a first draft – is to “recruit” magic users for a yet-to-be-named school/theater troupe/X-Men-esque community. All of this is subject to change as I am mighty capricious, but I assure you that these will not be superheroes; although, I have ALWAYS envisioned a superhero novel.

Which begs the question: why haven’t more superheroes come about in novel form? Especially in these hyperactive days of comic book adaptation culling.

But I digress.

Being that I finally have my start point – yes, I know, the point of NanoWrimo is to write religiously as if the Devil is at your heels – I can begin to better form words and share a much higher word count in the coming days. And with that, I give you the venerated John Green’s thoughts on NanoWrimo:

NanoWrimo: Synopsis

I’m thankful that someone else will have to write my eulogy because I’m terrible at talking about myself; or, in this case, my story.


It’s not that I don’t know what my story will be about – that’s a half fib, or a quarter of a lie, depending how much weight you put on either of those nouns – but more that I’m a weak handshake when it comes to describing what is going to happen.

Some may call this a soft flaw for a writer.

Well, at least I have a title.

There is also the repetitive fact that whenever I describe ideas to my friends, more often than not, I need to end my synopsis with: “trust me, it’ll work”. I’m not entirely sure if this is a redundant writer issue, my friends can’t fathom the creativity pouring from my spark plug mind, or I’m a horrendous storyteller.


Regardless of the answer – it most obviously couldn’t be the latter of those reasons – I took a dive into the darkness and drafted a synopsis:

Upon the stage of a theatre that is only open when it rains and where trapdoors, spiral staircases, and forgotten hallways lead to far more than cobwebs and whispers, sisters Rydia and Rhyse perform impossible feats of spellbinding enchantment in a world where mysteries and magics have all but been extinguished.

Mentored by Trifilio, the proprietor of this most unique venue, the sisters hone their skills and explore their home while assuring audiences, just as they do at the end of every show, that there is no magic in their magic, although they are more magical than most. 

Yet those with such unexplained powers tend to question from where those powers came, and when Rydia and Rhyse begin to search for answers, they inevitably begin to find them. And so does Icarus Infante, who means to use the sisters’ powers to unlock the darkest of the arts: animancy.

But can such a power be harnessed? Or will it mean the death of those who are foolish enough to believe so?

NanoWrimo: Gmerwede

For my fellow NanoWrimoers who want to stalk connect and become writing buddies – inspiring, rooting, screaming, belittling – one another as we storm the beaches of National Novel Writing Month, hunt me down:

NanoWrimo: Title

Drawing inspiration – plagarism or ripping-off are such ugly terms – from William Gibson’s Neuromancer, the working title of my NanoWrimo novel is Animancer.

But more than having common syllables and homophone tendencies, Animancer best fits, at this point anyway, the flair and flavor of the concept. It not only refers to the character, but it also encapsulates the magic that drives the plot. It also gives off that whimsical touch while saying it aloud. It sounds like a fantasy story.


It helps lead to several questions right from the title as well: What is an animancer? Who is the animancer? How do you become an animancer? Why is the animancer so important? At least, important enough to be the title of the entire story.

I’ve always felt that every story begins with a title – be it flash, short, novella, novel – that will draw in the reader. It may be foolish to do such a thing, but everybody has their own path through storytelling, and mine is to conjure a title that intrigues, or sounds downright killer.

I also performed the tried and true research method of googling to check if the title has been previously used, but only found a few webpages that described animancers in a much different light than what I have in store. I didn’t unearth a book, but if I’m mistaken, I’ll be certain to write a better story than that one.

Again, so many things can change as the story progresses and a more apt title may present itself; but, until then, Animancer will act as placeholder and overlord.


I still like the sound of it.

NanoWrimo: Prologue

Once a year, aspiring writers from across the globe are brought together under the banner and prospect of numb fingers, weighted minds, newborn curses, and over analyzed characters, plots, settings, and themes all in the hopes of churning out enough words in one month to garner an entire novel.

This self-inflicted mental torture is known as National Novel Writing Month, or NanoWrimo. And I’ve decided to subject myself to this art of madness scribbling. It is where Erin Morgenstern discovered the genesis of The Night Circus within the tens of thousands of words she poured onto the page.


I’ve attempted NanoWrimo in the past, but it went about as well as the flash fiction that I submit. For those of you who haven’t been around, I fail, miserably. I continuously pushed back when I would write until it was November 15th and the prospect of filling 100K words within 15 days was all but laughable. Especially considering my constant struggle with the blank page.

This year will be the oft repeated “this time it’s different” and I will wholly toss myself into the crucible; Arthur Miller would be proud.

I’m also nerdgastically giddy over the NanoWrimo banners this year, harkening back to the 8-bit and 16-bit videogame era that profoundly shaped my creative world. Even more fitting is that the story which I have chosen to write has the lead character of Rydia, a name lifted from Final Fantasy IV.

2013-Participant-Square-ButtonMy intention is to document the process of melding this cauldron of creativity into a coherent tale of dark fantasy. I want to share how the ghosts in my head make it onto paper, or digital pages. And already there’s an eagerness, a nervous excitement as the calender peels away to November 1st.

Teapots will need to be set, notebooks stacked, pens checked by swirling them madly on a sheet of paper, and the fear of failure must be swept away by the hope of success.

This is where heroes and cowards part ways.

Fable-Fiction-Fairytale: Church Train

There was a unique quiet to the train, a silence that permeated like an abandoned church where the wind sounds like a prayer.

Train PathThey boarded in drips and drabs, walks and crawls, the first available transport that would ferry the sleepless sinners and runaway one-night stands across the river.

Charon turned the engine and we departed.

A stewardess sat at the bow, her bags packed and her outfit pressed, red-eyed and overdrawn. She closed her eyes and waited.

Hiding in black, she hadn’t a ticket, hadn’t anything but a broken umbrella that she clung to as if it were a buoy among a storm of mistakes. She paid the ferryman, that’ll be extra for short notice passage, and curled herself complete upon the seat. Her stiletto heels gently tapped, wishing and waiting for no place like home.

A boy couldn’t find an ounce of sleep in some girl’s bed, the neon glow outside her window like a spotlight of infidelity. He abandoned his belt in her maelstrom floor and disconnected, boarding the train without ever knowing her name – but he would remember her, even the nameless leave impressions.

The sun rolled from beneath its bed with a golden stretch of its arms and painted the train in gilded anew. The city may never sleep, but then it never gets to visit its dreams.