Veronica King

Tag: writing

  • My Treasure

    My Treasure

    When I begin a blog post I normally feel like I have a theme or question that can be approached with structured answer. This month is Pride month, and I don’t think its a secret or surpise that I am queer. This month the post may not feel like the typical writing related topic, but this part of my identity does influence the stories I write, as all writers are shaped by their life experiences. Being queer has impacted me both positively and negatively. So, with my wife’s permission I thought it’d be sweet to share the story of how we met. 

    One day I woke up and realized the love of my life’s eyes no longer gleam emerald green. Instead, they resemble the rocks at the bottom of a riverbed: smooth, and speckled with moss. Her smile is a more frequent visitor than before, and her joy envelopes me in a whirlwind of pink, blue, and white butterflies every time she laughs. My eyes drink her in as she basks in the quiet outside, and my chest begins to feel hunger for her touch. I slowly turned the knob and gently drew the front door open so there was one less barrier between us. She sips her caramel coffee as the rising light pours over her and begins to warm her already sun-bronzed skin. I linger in the door for a moment. Her umber curls frame her high cheek bones and she is so beautiful in the most effortless way. The soft cry of the kettle pulled me back inside for a moment. I prepared my brew of loose leaf mint that we harvested last year at the end of summer together from my urban garden. I sighed as I moved through the kitchen which was drinking in the luster of golden morning light that seeped through the sheer curtains. Immediately, I feel lighter as I pass through the door. I take a seat beside her on our front step of our apartment stoop. The cement is rough on my hand as I drug it across the rigid surface to reach for hers. She playfully bumps me and I’ll act flustered, but the redness that blooms across my burned cheeks is anything but acting. I often think about how much I adore my life. I couldn’t picture it differently. We’ve spent a decade of mornings together just like this. Sometimes I forget how far we have come. It hasn’t always been like this.

    Admittedly, I was afraid. The fear was locked in my body at the end of my birthday tattoo appointment. It had become custom every year that we could afford it. I’d get ink. After paying and gushing over the art to the tattooist, I went into the bathroom. There I saw a basket of resources. Planned Parenthood among them. I gingerly picked up the pamphlet. It said they did gender affirming care. I bit back any doubts. While she had not expressly told me a label, I knew. My breath was labored and the paper in my hands weighed heavy with realization. While I trusted that my heart wouldn’t waiver, I was far too aware that our current life couldn’t stay the same. My husband was one of the few men I had ever felt safe with, and I knew I’d have to let him go. There would be a lot of changes to make, and many unknowns that I’d have to try and factor in. That’s when one thought began to scream above the rest over and over again. 

    Let her live. 

    Let her live happily. 

    Let her live. 

    If I left the tattoo shop with the knowledge of resources there without taking and sharing the information that day It wouldn’t have been an act of love. We are only here for a short time, and no one should spend that time tucked away neatly in the back of a closet. I folded up the paper and stashed it into my pocket, shoving it past the fear. My husband had always known who he was, and I had been waiting patiently for her arrival.

    When I got home that day, I handed it to her. A silent gesture giving her the unspoken ‘permission’ she thought she needed to begin living as herself. I don’t think we would have the life we do, because that is what kicked off the cocooning. My biggest fear revolved around her safety, but I also knew that she wasn’t really happy with the way her body was at that time. That anxiety made me react in a way that didn’t reflect my unwavering love for her. I thought I had every little detail taken into account, every possible outcome thought of, and the best course of action mapped out. All I had accomplished was a get-outta-dodge plan for our family, instead of a continued soft place to land for her. Over the course of a few weeks, we had shared on and off talks about what would be best. What we ultimately decided was a timeframe that would allow her to start treatment in the red state we resided in, but by the time physical changes would no longer be concealed by clothing we’d already be on the road. 

    So a few months went by and within the drawn on walls and thrifted decor of our rural home I watched with bliss as my partner began to experience the joys of girlhood: practicing make up, trying new styles of clothing, developing her true sense of identity and self. Staring at herself in the mirror and feeling pretty not for anyone else but just her. The joys I, myself, didn’t fully get to partake in when I was younger. I was watching her perform alchemy: Taking years of her childhood neglect and abuse and transmuting it into someone beautiful and confident. Selfishly, I thought that maybe this was something else we could experience together—a rather late start into exploring our femininity and channeling that into an empowering bonding experience. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t get that experience until a year later when we ventured across state lines in the dead of night. The seeds we planted for ourselves years before were finally sprouting. 

    The past still had its teeth sunk into us taking months to feel confident enough to leave the house, hand in hand. As wife and wife without fear tagging along. The year of settling in was spent combating dysphoria, and what I affectionately call ‘growing pains’. It was getting new clothes because the old ones she had picked for herself no longer fit. Choosing what half of our belongings needed to stay in storage and getting accustomed to a different way of life. We leave the apartment now without thinking about if we are wife and wife or if we are safe to do so. We leave knowing that we will be greeted with smiles and pleasantries embroidered into the tapestry of who we are becoming.

    Just because my wife had blossomed and found her true self didn’t mean the that bills, domestic life, and working poor struggles suddenly vanished. All together it was hectic to juggle, but while I understand many would have left, I’ve been falling in love with her all over again, and again. Every unknown step is cherished because we are together. The sounds of warbling birds beckon me from memory lane, so that I feel the weight of her hand in mine, the morning warmth of summer kisses the apples of my freckling cheeks. She finishes up her morning coffee and I continue to sip in her presence. Not ever feeling like I am fully getting enough of her. The love of my life. Our love story has been forged through hardship, yet it’s still tender enough to collapse into every night. A love story I eagerly awake to be a part of every morning. Ours is one I will treasure until my last breath, and even then my spirit will remain restless without hers to be tangled with.

  • the pressures of author-hood

    the pressures of author-hood

    As of drafting this blog post, let me just say as someone who has written and had a book ready to go to pub. within five months, to have a year ahead with no releases but somehow more work on my plate, I had to figure out quickly how to cope with the demands of being an author. Especially, in what I am calling the year of being an engaged author. I like to think my background makes me adaptable and resilient when facing external stresses. But for any aspiring author out there I wanted to share how I get through career pressure, deadlines, and stresses.

    I try my best as a neurospicey individual to have a loose time frame of what work hours are. Currently I work from 9am to about 2pm, and another thing that is helpful is that I let these hours change when needed. I am also not writing for the duration of the five hours. There’s blog posts to be drafted, graphics to be made, social media to interact with, and of course that’s not including the items to do in my personal life. So, one of the best tools in my arsenal is maximizing work time. This means working on my phone in the pick up/drop off  line at school, or when the family is asleep, so I can focus on tasks in front of me. While I can’t quite sacrifice sleep like I used to, fitting in little blips of time for tasks helps a great deal. 

    The other tool I like to utilize is setting myself up for success by setting goals that are specific, and achievable. For example while drafting this blog I have a manuscript to finish drafting and another manuscript to revise; however, today I needed to have some wins under my belt so it’s a batch drafting blog posts kinda day. The power of this tool is that you can be adaptable in your approach to the work. 

    Speaking of adaptability, that is a trait that is much needed when pursuing a creative field. Something else that helps is effective and open communication with those in your working circle. Depending on your publishing route the people in your working circles may change, but that doesnt mean its any less important. Now, this was something early in my career that I prided myself on not needing. I have a lot of qualities I like about myself but when needed I am a work horse and I do well under pressure, but that mindset I prided myself in was also the reason that I was feeling a slump and potentially on the edge of burn out.

    For me, at this moment I needed some extra time. Some help. So, I reached out to Zara to have a discussion about needing an extension. Luckily, I was timely about voicing this need so it wasn’t an issue. I could now breathe easy knowing I had more time to turn in a product that I was not only happy with but also proud of. 

    Speaking of breathing easy, the last tool that really helps me manage the stress and pressure is having a nightly routine with my wife of a relaxing cozy game. Lately, we’ve been playing Cult of Lamb together, but an old and favorite is Stardew Valley. So, find yourself something that brings you joy that has no connection to your creative work.

  • My writing origin story

    My writing origin story

    Writing, after drawing, had quickly become a lifeline for me. It’s odd to write out but while I was busy escaping in fantasy, and taking notes of the wondrous places I visited, that act, is how I stayed grounded. This coping skill is something that would develop later during my college years as more of a hobby, and post graduation something that I learned, the dream of being an author, could be something tangible if I put in the work.

    Starting a book was never a problem, for me, the problem at the time was finishing one. Countless stories were started and stopped, but in November of 2019 something magical happened. I had found the online writing community known as Authortube. It was great to finally connect with others who had the same passion for stories, and shared interest in the same niche topics I liked. This bit of socializing for me was also vital in staying sane. During 2019 the world was just sounding the alarm bells of an impending pandemic, and while I didn’t know it at the time, I was suffering from post-partum depression. A silent agony that many mothers know, but seldom gets talked about. With all of these factors at play writing was a much needed escape once again in my life.

    As I was getting close to finishing my first manuscript, I did what most ambitious writers do, something else. I began researching the world of the publishing industry and what to expect. The first thing was figuring out which publishing path I wanted to go down. Both are good options, and each have their own pros and cons. What ultimately worked for me was to pursue traditional publishing. Opposed to indie as I did not feel comfortable with all the hats I’d have to wear in addition to the funds in my pocket were lacking. I told myself that as a reward for and continued motivation to finish my first manuscript I could practice query letters for agents. Again, being on an online community really helped push me to finish as it felt like while we were all working on our own stories we were also all gonna cross the finish line together. Once I had finished the story, the first draft of what would later become Down The Well. I began looking at places like manuscript wishlists as well as some authortubers that had ‘How I got an agent’ videos. On top of the wonderful circle of friends I had cultivated I felt confident about editing my story while also drafting some query letters. As much as I’d love to get into the knitty gritty of how Down The Well made it to publication, that may be a future blog post as right now I need to reign back and stay on topic, and keep this short and sweet. So, that is how my writing origin story came to be Dear Reader. From the escapism of a rather turbulent childhood to a hobby of a young college adult, and now at the beginning of twenty nine everything feels like it’s just getting started.  

  • Silver Lined Reflections

    Silver Lined Reflections

    2025 was a year of everything not going according to plan, and I am glad the plans didn’t work out. 

    Now during the time that the changes were happening it felt like I was in the trenches, between career expectations, and personal life goals things were not all falling in place for me like I thought they would. This translated to feelings of failure and really affected my self-esteem, but I am dangerously optimistic and these are the silver linings I found in the darkness.

    While the manuscripts I thought I’d be focusing on were shuffled around, I’m really happy with the work I’ve done this year. And that sentence alone is momentous for someone who, for her whole adult life, had tied her value to her work output.

    Have I written more books in years before? 

    yes. 

    Do I need to meet that level of production every year?

    No. 

    I have actively in past years downplayed any accomplishment I have made because the thought of well i’ve done it so how hard could it actually have been? And it took awhile but I’m happy to say regardless of if it’s my first pixel art piece or the release of my fourth official work I am going on record to say I will be celebrating every victory, small, big, even those schmedium wins.

    The overall  take away is that it’s okay to be happy with the work you do and not have to focus on output. I feel like that’s a pretty cliche take but if it gets more folks talking about it, I will happily yap. 

    Because my plans went awry I had the opportunity to dive into a new genre, and write a story with someone I consider one of my closest friends. The novel is feminine rage converging with a deconstruction story, and a wlw romance. This is a story I hope to share more details with you sooner rather than later. It’s gritty, and graphic, but the themes are important to talk about and I’m so proud of Chandra and I for carefully stitching such a tale together. I also had another contract signed with my publisher, Inimitable Books, so that was exciting. I feel like the line up we have in store will really expand upon the Veronica King’dom’ in a crafty way. That again, I look forward to elaborating on in the new year. 

    To my small readership I hope you have enjoyed the books that came out this year, and while I’m hard at work, I am happy to say I have a bit of a break as there are no planned book releases for me in 2026. So I guess follow along for the little updates, as I do have big(albeit more realistic) goals in the new year.

    While right now everything that’s behind us can be looked at with clear perspective and the future is foggy, but in view. I look forward to navigating the waters of 2026, and sharing my voyage on the career front, because I’m very fortunate to have such a supportive crew working alongside me. So thank you 2025, because of you I found myself saying often that there’s always a secret third option, and every setback can be an opportunity if looked at with enough creativity.