Swag It and Bag It


reading until dawn con, rudc, swag, roselynn cannesGuess who sponsored the bags for Reading Until Dawn Con?

If you did not guess me, then you are terrible at this game. Check it out! All author and reader attendees will be receiving one of our slick RUDC17 bags. I’ve ordered these same ones previously and they’re very durable; like, you could carry your books in there *wink*

In other RUDC news, I will be hosting Cannes-Can’s Story Corner at the RUDC pillow fort! Come join me for gin, nursery rhymes, and fairy tales. I’ll be sharing some of my favorite childhood stories in addition to some custom original content. Be there, or be square my friends.

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I Miss My Long Hair


About a year ago I had the opportunity to do an author interview with the fantastic Aaron Michael Ritchey and Cody May for a Colorado Author Interview series. The videos are officially up! If you ignore the fact that all my dates are completely wrong, I actually did a pretty good job staying focused during this interview for a change (mostly). Go me! I hope you all enjoy watching it as much as I enjoyed filming it!

You can see the updated news for my Fallen and Game of Thorns series(es) by following the links On My Nightstand (or just clicking the links I included in this post). And don’t forget to check out the rest of the author videos from this series here.

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I do Love Me a Pants Off Dance Off

I do Love Me a Pants Off Dance Off


reading until dawn con, rudc, author reader con, roselynn cannes, no to pants, pants are overrated, pants off dance off

Ooh baby! Ooooh baby!!! Get excited party people, it’s about to be on like Donkey Kong. Reading Until Dawn Con 2017 is officially happening and yours truly is definitely going to be there. One of the things that makes RUDC so unique is the unfettered access to authors: “Anyone can go to any author/reader/writer conference and listen to their favorite author talk about writing. But how many can say that they hung out with their favorite author? Not many. RUDC will be all about hanging out, playing games, and having fun.” – RUDC

We’re losing the barriers, and possibly our pants. Registration is open, but space is limited, so be sure to get yours while the gettin’ is good. And, Cannes-Cans, I expect you to be the rowdiest in the room (in a good way, of course).

Reading Until Dawn Con will be held June 3, 2017 in Denver, CO. Register here and share a gin with me 😉

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A Day in the Life: My Writing Process


Writing can be grueling, but probably not for the reasons you think. Check out this never before seen sneak peek into my writing process and learn why it really takes me so long to get anything done.

P.S. I actually go through an extremely similar process when I stream, for any of my Twitch fans wondering why I’m not live more often.

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Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Everything But the Kitchen Sink


Hello my delightful Cannes-Cans! I hope you all enjoyed a happy and fun holiday season. As always, I’m just a touch late to the party, but I have some exciting news and a gift – of sorts – for all my fans and followers: More Me!!!

cyberterrism, aftermath, me, roselynn cannesIn the process of recovering from the cataclysm that was my computer’s destruction, I’ve been struggling to get back into any kind of swing of things. In my most recent post about the aftermath of what happened, I talked about how I was moving toward acceptance. I’m still not sure I’m there. Honestly, I have good days and bad. Some are a flurry of activity – I’ve even managed to make some progress on Destroyed – while others are a struggle in nearly every way. The good news, at least, is that I seem to be having more good days than bad lately and I’ve made some personal changes (particularly a new and lower stress job) that seem to have bolstered my motivation and creativity. Amen-hallelujah! It’s about fucking time.

To start, if you haven’t been around (because I haven’t been posting), I’ve added some new pages to My Twisted Fairy Tales. Be sure to check them all out. I now have pages for fans of my fiction and fans of my Twitch stream. It’s been slow going, partly because this is not yet my full-time job and partly because there’s a lot I still have to learn about technology, but I’m working hard to make a fun and interactive home base for my Street Team. If you don’t know what a street team is, don’t fret, I’ve posted an FAQ. Your feedback and questions are very welcome! Submit here.

In addition to the new pages here, I’m doing my part to make myself more interactive and accessible. I’m the first to admit that social media doesn’t really light my fire, but I’ve been thinking hard about things I can do to get more involved in ways that will be fun for me and all of you. To start, I’ve begun (just today) to start using my Snapchat story feature. I thought it would be a great way to offer you all glimpses into my daily life and give you the opportunity to see what a goob I actually am. Add me on Snap @roselynncannes to see #adayinthelife of Cannes-Can. You’re welcome.

The other social media platform I’ve been supremely underutilizing is Goodreads. I’ve always been an avid reader and I ache when I think about how little reading I’ve done lately. This needs to change immediately, if not sooner. I’ve added a “Currently Reading” widget here so you will always know what book I’ve got my nose stuck in. Don’t forget to add me on Goodreads so we can nerd out together over our latest and greatest literary obsessions. I’m always open to book recommendations and I love dissecting the tops and bottoms of my reading list.

I’ve heard it said time and again that consistency is the secret to success. I’ve also heard it said that writers write (go figure). One of my issues with consistently blogging has been that I don’t always know what I want to write about and I wait for inspiration to strike, which typically means that I’m waiting for something I feel highly emotionally invested in. As I spend a lot of time doing follow-up research, searching for the perfect words, editing, and finding appropriate media content to include with my posts, I tend to be a bit of a slow writer. By the time it’s all said and done, I’ve frequently lost my fervor for whatever I started writing about and the post sits unfinished, never to see the light of day. Suffice to say I need to change my methods or I will forever and always be in a state of fits-and-starts.

Since what I really want to do is write for a living and since many of you are here because of my written content, it’s logical to make flash fiction my priority focus for my blog. I’ve had a blast doing promotional flash fiction and I love the idea of doing more of it. Part of what mateemo, lol, league of legends, selfie, roselynn cannesde the promotional pieces so fun for me was the game aspect. I was given a prompt – and in some cases a requisite story to build on and words I had to include – and good, bad, or ugly I had to make the best of what I was given. It really forced me to think outside my normal patterns and get creative in order to write a cohesive and interesting short. To date, I hadn’t been able to find a consistent source for prompts that inspired the same sense of fun, uniqueness, and challenge I experienced when I wrote those flash fiction pieces. Well, ask and ye shall receive! Husband inadvertently placed the perfect set of prompts in my stocking for Christmas this year (Thank you, Darling!). The first post will go live this Friday and each subsequent Friday in what I shall be dubbing #FlashFictionFriday. The only thing I love more than games is secrets and I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, so you’ll just have to stay tuned. This is either the best idea I’ve ever had, or the worst. We shall see 😉

Last, but certainly not least, I’ve recently joined Patreon, which I hope will be great for me and for all of my fans. If you don’t know what Patreon is, that’s okay. You can read a bit about what it is and why it will be good for me, and by association all of you, here. Success for me would mean that writing is lucrative enough to make story-telling my full-time job. My success means that I have more time to create more of the content you want from me. If you enjoy my content, be it on my blog, my fiction, my stream, or my social media, at least check my Patreon out. Even if you decide patronage isn’t for you, there are lots of other ways you can show your appreciation, connect with me, and get involved. I’d love to see all your smiling faces! (Literally).

This is Cannes-Can wishing you all a very Happy New Year! Thank you all for being here! I heart your collective faces off!!!

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The 5 Stages of Moving the Fuck On

The 5 Stages of Moving the Fuck On


This isn’t happening. Who the fuck does this? There has to be a way to fix it. Fuck…I can’t go on. I guess I’ll just get up and go on.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

hemingway, writing, bleed, typewriter


Requisite reading: A Stranger Broke My Heart Today (only if you want this post to make sense).

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The Beauty of the Beast


The smell of baking bread, lentil beans, and fish filtered into Belle’s awareness. It was the potency of the fish in particular that woke her, and her eyes fluttered open. Discombobulated, she tried to remember what had happened. Clearly she was in an alleyway in the market, but the memory of how or why she was there eluded her.

Fully aware of each and every pebble digging painfully into her, she sat up. With hands made clumsy by their violent shaking, Belle took a moment to attempt to fight the panic threatening by focusing on the mundane task of brushing off the gravel still sticking to her naked skin. Despite her efforts, her heart sped up, stuttering over itself. Her breath sawed in and out of her lungs. Dirt, and what looked uncannily like blood, caked itself into the creases of her knuckles and underneath her fingernails. One nail had been broken. Ripped off all the way to the midpoint and her finger throbbed in acknowledgement.

She would need to check a calendar to be sure, but she would guess that it had been exactly twenty-nine days since the last time. The last full moon. Ambivalence consumed her. Snaked its way up from her belly and threatened to choke her. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh maniacally because she might be losing her mind, or sob because she knew for a fact that she wasn’t.

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The above is the original Beauty of the Beast flash fiction, which was written for an author spot with Alpha Heroes promoting the first ever Reading Until Dawn Con. The Mad-Libs style interview with Alpha Heroes is what planted the seed for the whole Game of Thorns concept. You’re welcome– I mean, thank you. See the original interview here and check out the strange directions Belle was taken after I released her into the loving care of Reading Until Dawn Con’s other featured author’s here.

The Beauty of the Beast will be book 5 of Game of Thorns, which will be my next project after the Fallen Series. The predicted release is, you know, it will be released.

Is That Like Rocky Mountain Oysters?

Is That Like Rocky Mountain Oysters?

Ah, my nut sac! Ah!

October of last year, I plunged ass-first into the world of self-published writers. Almost a year later and I still feel like I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. Don’t care, it’s still some of the most fun I’ve ever had. Just maybe don’t use me as the foremost authority on writing, or publishing, or adulting.

While I’ve done pretty well staying focused on the writing part of publishing…sort of. Focus is relative… Anyway, by choosing to indie publish, I am not just responsible for the writing, but everything else that comes with it. Like PR. To do this effectively, I’m told I need to find a niche. You know, brand myself, or something. Apparently drinking gin and ripping my pants off in public is only ideal marketing for strippers. Or so I’m told. I don’t know, it’s hard to remember when I’ve been drinking.

But I digress.

It’s likely that I will continue refusing to wear pants (viva la revolución), but that doesn’t mean I can’t also attempt to focus. And by focus, I obviously mean meander less. As a natural scatter-brain, focusing on just one thing is sort of like attempting to force a square peg into a round hole. It doesn’t matter how hard I push, it just won’t fit. However, there is something I already do on a consistent basis that doesn’t involve drinking or pantsless dancing– shocking, but it’s true. Drum roll, please…………

It’s research. When I write, I do stupid amounts of research. This is partly because I care about getting the details right and partly because I’m prone to falling down the rabbit hole once I get started. I come across a number of strange and interesting bits of information in my quest to find the exact piece of data that I’m looking for. What better place is there to share all the often useless knowledge that doesn’t make it into the final cut than right here? You’re welcome.

Without further ado, as the Fallen Series was largely influenced and inspired by Ancient Greco-Roman society, I’ll kick things off with some fun facts about the ancient world:

  1. In Ancient Greece throwing an apple to a woman was considered a marriage proposal. In part two of this fun fact, catching said apple meant she accepted the proposal. So, ladies, if you’re single and intend to stay that way, beware of flying fruit.
  2. Anyone that saw the movie 300 knows that in Ancient Sparta boys began military training at age 7. But did you also know that military service lasted until age 60? Assuming, of course, they lived that long. That’s what I call job security.
  3. Music in Ancient Greece was a form of mathematics as well as art. This might explain why I’m terrible at both; they’re actually the same thing.
  4. Beard trimming became an art in Ancient Greece. So much so that barbers became leading citizens. So, basically Greeks were the first hipsters. At least we know who to blame.
  5. Ancient Olympic competitors ate sheep testicles to enhance performance. So evidently, performing enhancing drugs have been a problem since the outset. Go figure. In additional news, only men were allowed to compete in the early Olympics and they did so in the nude to ensure that no women participated in the games. Imagine running that way. Was the chafing worth it, boys? Was it really?

God I love useless trivia so much. Bask in it with me for a moment. Do you feel that? That warm tingling sensation is the feeling of information you’ll probably never need burrowing itself into the synapses of your mind. Ahhhh… Enjoy 😉

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This post was originally published December 30, 2015 on my old website; it was revised and published to MyTwistedFairyTales August 1, 2016.

A Stranger Broke My Heart Today

A Stranger Broke My Heart Today


It’s a hostile world, perhaps exceptionally so in the online world. My step-dad, a software programmer, has been saying this to me for years. I always knew he was right, but it wasn’t until I found myself on the receiving end of what is ultimately an act of cyberterrorism that I truly internalized the lesson. I think, by now, most of us know that if you get an email regarding a distant relative and a small fortune that it’s probably a scam, and you should delete that shit ASAP. I mean, I don’t know your family, maybe it’s legit. Not where I’d place my bet, though.

But what if you requested the information?

My company posted a help wanted ad on Craigslist. Because I handle all of our communication with the outside world, it made sense to funnel applicants to me. We received lots of legitimate inquiries and have successfully hired employees this way in the past, so when I received an email referencing the ad I posted with a resume attached, I wasn’t suspicious. It caught my attention that it was password protected, but resumes frequently have personal information on them, so again, it didn’t really red flag for me. When it was all said and done, it only took 4 clicks for a complete stranger to thrash my entire world.

I was hit with Cerberware encryption software, which seeks out and encrypts your most important files: your .docs, .jpegs, .mp3s– basically, your documents, pictures, and music. Files that have the highest sentimental, monetary, or utility value to the user. The twats don’t steal them, they just make them completely inaccessible to you, the owner. Cerberware Ransomware is a 2 MB encryption code. I don’t know much about computers, but in essence it’s so big that it would be impossible to decode without a “key”. And that’s where they get you. You see, they send you this lovely notification telling you what you’ve been hit with, describing what encryption is, and then demanding– in my case– $679.00 to sell me the key I need to access my own property. The real kick in the teeth is the part where they tell you that this isn’t malicious and together we can make the internet a safer place.

Did I mention that in the event that you attempt to recover your files through other means, the Cerberware will corrupt them, rendering them permanently irrecoverable? Oh, and the assholes give you a deadline. I was given 5 days to pay the discounted rate and if I missed it, the amount would double. Fail to pay by the second deadline and they corrupt all your files anyway.

Not malicious? Fuck you very much.

As soon as reality came crashing through my confusion, I experienced the gut-wrenching horror that I am– was– 58k words into a novel that I needed to get to my editor in three weeks and nearly half of that was completely unrecoverable. At a conservative guess, the irrecoverable material represents around 80 hours of work on my part. That might not sound like a lot, but I have a full time job. That 80-hour effort has been spread out over months and it doesn’t include any of the time spent on research– files that I also lost, by the way.

The word ‘devastated’ comes to mind.

My knee-jerk reaction was to call my step-dad, upon which I received the comforting news that, “These guys are bastards. You’re going to have to pay them.” What he means is, I need to pay them  if I’m going to have any hope of getting anything back. After extensive research, what we found is that there are some reconfiguration programs that people have tried, but success rates are low– and by low, I mean practically zero. We also discovered that there are lots of reports of people paying the money and receiving nothing for it. Discouraging, to say the least.

Not surprisingly when the shock wore off, it made room for anger, at myself– for not backing up when I knew better– and at whoever did this. Perhaps naively, because I know that there are some truly terrible people out there, but I find myself oddly hurt that someone would do this. My moral compass might not always point True North, but I do take special care not to do things that I know will be hurtful to others, so this level of intentional cruelty is somewhat incomprehensible to me.

There’s no denying, all my options suck some serious hairy ball sac, so what do I do? Try to make the least crappy decision and hope for the best. Oh, and kiss my files goodbye.

To whoever did this,

I’m certain that you will never read this, but it makes me feel better to say it. I don’t know whether you believe the diatribe you’re spouting or if you’re just that much of an asshole, though I suppose it doesn’t matter. Whether or not you would have released my own property to me, your scheme works because people pay, which is a sort of endorsement of what you’re doing. I cannot in good conscience allow myself to financially support the deliberate harm you are causing.

You say this program isn’t malicious; I’d laugh at the sheer audacity of it if I wasn’t so compelled to cry. My friends tell me you don’t deserve my tears– and they’re right– but I know the truth. My tears are mine alone. I’m a drop in the ocean to you. Not even a blip on your radar. You don’t give a shit about my tears, just my money, which isn’t yours to have either. While I’m not exactly winning in this situation, neither are you, and that’s enough for me. It has to be.

To me, the work you stole is worth the amount you’re demanding. More, even. However, in spite of the fact that it literally makes me ill to think about my loss, I won’t pay you. Not one cent. Not ever.

Kindly, take your lack of maliciousness and choke on it.

nope, double bird, fuck you
You make me wish I had more middle fingers

To Anyone Reading This,

Life frequently gives the test first and teaches the lesson second. The internet is a hostile place. Don’t open things from people you don’t know, no matter how legitimate it might seem. It’s just not worth it. Perhaps even more importantly, back-up your work. Even if we’re cautious, accidents happen. Shit gets through. Computers crash. The worst sometimes happens. There are no words to express how desperately I wish I’d been on a back-up regimen. It takes only moments and I could have spared myself a great deal of agony. Discipline weighs ounces; regret weighs tons. Don’t set yourself up to run your race with weights around your ankles.

And last, but not least, To my Fallen Fans,

You might have guessed, but I lost half of what I’d written of Destroyed. The story’s still there, right where I need it: in my head. I can– and will– rebuild, but it would be a lie to say I’m fine. I’m not fine. I’ve spent the past ten days grieving. The task of re-writing and finishing in time to publish by October 2nd feels insurmountable. While it feels insurmountable, the only way to truly fail would be to quit. There’s nothing else for it except to get up, dust myself off, and keep on creeping on. So that’s what I’ll do.

Don’t let the bastards get you down. As an avid reader, I know how insufferable it is to wait for the next book in a series. I adore you all and would never make you wait longer than absolutely necessary. Bear with me Destroyed is coming.

galaxy quest, never give up, never surrender

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A lot has happened since this post– you know, relatively speaking– check out the latest chapter of my story: The 5 Stages of Moving the Fuck On


Games of Chance


“Games of Chance” was originally written for Literary Escapism’s Midnight Games series. It is set somewhere in Galilae, taking place in the time immediately before Fallen begins. 

A Fallen short story:

Augustine made his way slowly through camp with Cato by his side. The sun had been up for several hours, but many of Augustine’s soldiers were still sleeping off the previous night’s debauchery. Arms were thrown over eyes. Heavy snores disturbed the stillness of the morning air. Looking at the disorder around him, it was hard to believe they would be ready for an invasion by sundown, but Augustine knew from experience they would be.

“Everything is in place.” He meant it as a question even though Augustine framed it as a statement.

Cato had more than enough familiarity with him to know he expected an answer, though, and hummed his assent. “Yes, we’ve been assured the bulk of the guards around the perimeter will have been removed from duty and none of the guards will be in place outside the bedrooms. Grabbing the royal family should be simple.”

Even if they did not have inside help, taking control of the palace would not have posed a challenge. The place was severely under protected. The real test would be in ensuring everything was done quietly and without raising alarm in the rest of Galilae. This was why Augustine had decided to enlist help, even if it was risky to trust such an important task to a man that was about to betray his own kingdom.

Quiet laughter drew Augustine’s attention. A small group of his soldiers sat around a makeshift table playing a game of dice.

“I cannot believe you returned to camp so early,” Lucius teased good-naturedly. “Were it me, I might have never returned.”

“She was a sweet girl,” Seneca defended.

“A very sweet girl,” Lucius insisted, indicating to the rest of the players that she had a large pair of tits.

A much louder bout of laughter followed that statement.

Seneca shoved Decimus. “Take your roll, or should we skip you while you take your cock in hand?”

More jeering ensued, but Decimus grabbed the two dice from the table. “Not a chance, boy. General. Captain.” Decimus greeted both Augustine and Cato with a nod. The other soldiers hadn’t noticed their approach and snapped to attention. “You care to join us?” Decimus continued, the only member of the group un-phased by their presence. “This is a new round.”

“I think not,” Augustine said lightly.

“Feeling unlucky? That does not bode well,” Decimus jested.

“I make my own luck,” Augustine retorted. “This is a game of chance, there is no skill involved.”

Decimus smiled genially and raised his hand to roll. “Suit yourself.”

Before he released the dice, Cato interjected. “Just one roll, General, lest your men think you believe yourself too good for them.”

Augustine met his friend and second’s smirk with a glare that held no heat. “You are a real shit, Cato,” Augustine said, to which Cato’s mouth curved in spite of the jab. “One roll,” Augustine agreed. “Where does everyone stand?”

“Seneca is at eight, Lucius threw snake eyes – bad luck, friend – and I’ve yet to roll.” Decimus held up the dice. “Superiors first.”

“Best for last,” Augustine deferred and Decimus threw an eleven.

“I do apologize for making you look bad,” Decimus teased and handed over the dice.

Augustine snorted as he rolled, wasting no time on superstitious rituals. Cheering erupted at the double sixes staring toward the sky and Augustine smirked at his Lieutenant. “The Throw of Aphrodite,” Augustine told him. “You lose.”

“The gods favor you,” Decimus chuckled, handing over the coins Augustine had won.

Of course they did. His record would suggest they always had. “Never forget it.”

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