My sister, Evelyn

This is a “Hamlet’s Play” post. I took down the others but there is a lot more, so much more. I can republish them at a whim, and still might.

Ghislaine Maxwell is in the news.

I think in 1997 or so, I was “introduced” to Ms. Maxwell, Mr. Epstein (her friend and employer) and of course, the people who owned the penthouse this all happened in (that would be Mr. Donald Trump, senior). I had no idea what was going on, I was probably drugged, I was told to put on a cocktail dress and that my passport would be withheld from me and I’d have to work on a boat to earn it back, and if I performed up to standards I would get it back sooner.

This was in Vancouver. I was in graduate school then, so it was 1997 or so.

There was one witness, one person on my side, who helped me escape.

Years, years later, I got a reedy voice on the phone telling me he remembered me, I was a “passionate young lady”. I told him I was born in 1982. It didn’t seem to matter to him. “You performed very well, better than expected. My son was pleased.”

My actual date of birth might be in 1972, but I am really not sure now.

The person that introduced me is someone known as Evelyn, and I’d say her last name, but would that matter? She can prove she knows me. I can’t prove I have ever met her. It’s always been a game to her, how much can she take from me without my being able to do anything in response, how much can she abuse and humiliate me and get away completely because I have no idea what is being said about me, I’m often drugged or brainwashed to forget what happened (and yes, I remember- it started, for me, a long, long time ago and I remember what she did to me in Vancouver), and I suppose she thought her control over me was total, complete, and no one would ever realize she kept throwing me into the path of my rapists, the people who would gladly see me sex trafficked off onto some boat to Riga, the people who saw me as a thing to be used and not as a human being. They treat eveyone that way, why should I be surprised that I was included.

She thew me into their path in the 2000s, and again in before the election in 2016. I know he told me he intended to use help from “foreigners from St. Petersburg” to win an election he framed as being for “President, like high school president”. And he told me his friends would help him win. “If you tell anyone, I’ll make sure you join the fishes.” Only everyone knows, now, what he did, that he cheated and lied, and no one cares, he was impeached but no one seems to think he does not deserve the office he holds, despite the fact that he does the things he does, for the profane reasons he does them.

He was told, he would be asked to do something for the benefit of “Vlad” which would not be “so great for America” and he paused, said he would have to consider it, then called back and asked what it was. So much for his oath of office.

Evelyn has hid herself well, and I wonder what stories she tells of her half-sister, maybe she says my name is Mary, maybe she says my last name is Deeds. I wonder what else she has done to me. What lies has she spun? How much money intended for me has been embezzled? She tried to sell me into sexual slavery once, how many other times has this happened? What has she stolen from me, from people attempting to help me or give me payment for work I have done, honest work? She hid everything from me, including my birth family and my actual name, my birth name, and I’ve lived… how many lives? How many names have there been, how many people have been manipulated as she has manipulated me, how many lies has she told?

It started with her, probably before I was born, and it ends with me, here, holding a match.




Focus, focus, focus

One bane of my life is my wide-ranging interest in many things, and my perceived inability to choose one and focus. I admit this is a hallmark of my creative endeavors, and it is in no small part influenced by my bipolar symptoms. I hit a snag or get depressed and stop working on a project, and don’t pick it up right away again- and lo, much time passes without progress, especially if, while depressed, I get many other story or scientific ideas and put those all down, get excited about one, and start to work on it. Shiny! I know this about myself.

I finally took a look at Canadian publishers of novels, and found out that my longest novel draft, Infinity, is not long enough to be considered by the three SF publishers still in business and currently accepting work. Also, I took a look at publishers of short fiction and realized that short fiction is often extremely short! So much so that a few pieces I have in reserve (never published) might make for decent and publishable stories as is.

So while I work on bulking up my novel and making sure it still is a decent piece of writing (and I think I have to add in a bit more conflict with one sub-plot, which will require some thought), I have now a goal of writing short stories and, once I have a green card, submitting them to publishers (I am unclear on whether I can do this right now so just in case I can’t, I am going to wait). I do have a few little stories on Smashwords, mostly fun things I wrote for friends, and a few stories here on this site as well, again, just for fun. My favourite Smashwords story, “The Icicle Maiden and the Spider King”, I took down from that site just now since I think it deserves a home elsewhere. I don’t believe there are many downloads of either version that I had posted. Most of the rest of my Smashwords stories revolve around my characters Agent Diamond and Charming Guy, and while I like the silly situations I put them in, I’m not sure these stories would easily find a home elsewhere. Fantasy spy comedy is not a genre, as far as I can tell.

I still have a large sheaf of notes for October 6th, which I still am excited about, but I envision this as a visual story (so television), and that is a medium I know even less about. So that is going to have to wait, even though I think the story has merit.

In terms of my self-published book (novella, really- it is a short novel), Perigee, I am trying to get it pulled from the publisher I used as I’d like to combine it with Anagama and a short story or two and publish that as an anthology, if I can find a publisher to take such a thing from an unknown writer. But that is going to have to wait until I really make sure I’m happy with both novellas and the short stories I plan on adding. I also wanted, for some time now, to see if Perigee could use some revision. I revised it in a hurry in 2013, though now I am puzzled about why I was in such a rush. It has a nice couple of reviews on Amazon, which is gratifying.

I am trained as a scientist, and so it might be laughable to professional writers that I noodled around with fiction for so long without considering the details for the professional sale of my work, or knowing really the terminologies used by writers. I admit I was of the mindset, “if you write it and it’s good enough someone will buy it”. All I can say is that I may be late to this particular party but I am enthusiastic about joining, and improving my work as much as possible.