Over the last few months, I’ve been redirecting my online presence to focus more on fiction rather than poetry. With that came accepting some rather saddening facts, and embracing the new in doable increments.
While the daily poetry posts will continue here, I will be adding to my weekly Q&A Sessions to include other updates/things of note as they arise along with sharing my reviews of recently-read books. So stay tuned for those.
I’m so happy to introduce my next novel, Stronger Than Blood. This is the beginning of a new series within the Earthen Witch Universe, taking place immediately after the events in Safe.
Introducing: Stronger Than Blood The first book of the Earthen Knight Novels
The Earthen Knight Novels are an adult urban fantasy romance series featuring Voodoo practitioner Marcelline “Marcy” Webster and vampire Liam, written from Marcy’s perspective. The mystery of Aisling Green’s world deepens with the discovery of what runs in Marcy’s veins. But that is only the beginning. If Aisling is going to succeed in her quest in reuniting the supernatural world, she’ll need Marcy’s help.
“Voodoo practitioner Marcy Webster thought her family’s massacre was the biggest of her worries when she flees New Orleans. But when she seeks asylum with the vampire known as Liam, she learns the truth goes much deeper.”
Raised by extended family in extreme poverty under the rule of New Orleans’ sadistic Voodoo Queen, Marcy Webster dreams of a better life for her family so they can live — and practice their own form of Voodoo — in peace. After the queen is killed, Marcy’s family is massacred by one gunman in the historic French Quarter. She’s forced to flee the city with her three younger cousins with the shooter in pursuit.
Armed with nothing more than a name — a vampire known as Liam living in Nashville, Indiana, an injured Marcy travels there with her cousins in hopes of finding the only people she believes might be willing to offer them asylum. The last thing she expects when they arrive is to recognize Liam as the man that’s haunted her dreams for as long as she can remember. But with Voodoo attacking by day, nightmares taunting by night, and her would-be killer closing in, that’s the least of her problems. Discovering the answers to why everything is happening is all written in her blood. Will she be able to face the man hunting her, embrace her own unique abilities to protect herself and keep the ones she loves safe before it’s too late?
Coming February 20th!
If you’re as excited as I am, I’d be honored if you take a moment to do any or all of the following:
Share the good news and drop the cover on social media
Reblog this post
Finally, if an extended sneak peek of Stronger Than Blood and other freebies in an ever-expanding resource library sounds appealing to you, sign up for my newsletter. Also, if you’d like to join my Beta team and be among the first to read an advance reader copy of this book, sign up here.
I read somewhere that Sarah sees her writing poetry as a moment, whereas her writing fiction as a lifetime, and when I read this, it made total sense to me because I’ve read Sarah’s poetry for years and it is a moment, a strong powerful smack in the gut moment, but definitely a moment, whereas when I read her fiction, I can see the entire universe is being considered and she is methodical, paced and thorough in her plotting and building of characters.
Just Breathe delivered for me. I was surprised. Sarah knows her art, and she drew me into her world almost immediately.
I’m very familiar with Sarah’s poetry and have always appreciated her blunt and honest way of telling it like it is, that’s why it was a surprise to find out she is equally conversant and gifted with longer art forms. This isn’t just a hobby for her, you can tell she takes her writing very seriously and spends a lot of time ensuring she gets it right.
It doesn’t matter if a character is a witch or a vampire and whether those things exist in our world or do not, it matters that we believe as we read that they are real. That way we become invested in them.
Aisling (the heroine) is the kind of woman that women can relate to and she isn’t afraid to stand up for what she feels is right. For this reason, Just Breathe is a deeply redemptive book and that alone makes it worthy of reading.
And with this I leave you with one recommendation, pick Sarah Doughty’s work out of the genre and let it Just Breathe.
Special thanks to Indie Blu(e) and Candice Louisa Daquin for such an eloquent review of Just Breathe. It was both unexpected and touching at the same time. I still look back at this review with fondness.
I can only hope that as the series and overall universe has evolved, Candice’s thoughts still hold true. To read her review in its entirety, click here.
If you want to give my books a try, look no further.
The Fourth Installment of the Earthen Witch Novels is Here! Always free
A formidable foe crashing Aisling Green’s wedding day turns out to be the least of her worries when tragedy forces her to question everything she knows.
The blows keep coming from all directions as Earthen witch Aisling Green grapples with the aftermath of a tragic day. Feeling her heart shattering over and over as a result is more than she can bear, so she makes a decision that will redefine her future.
She must carry unbearable emotional wounds, protect those she loves, and rescue a helpless victim from his would-be murderers — all while facing the looming threat of a powerful new enemy. Aisling’s mere existence has already cost her dearly, but more than ever, the heavy price of her survival is proving to be more than she can bear. Will Aisling find the strength to keep fighting?
“How is it possible I didn’t know that Kim Harrison and J.R. Ward had a secret love-child who goes by the name Sarah Doughty? I have no idea, but I’m glad to finally be in on the secret…” – Ian Gregoire, author of the Legends of The Order series
I hate to admit it, but it has been some time since my last update. It seems as though the pandemic put everything on hold. And not all in a good way. Sure, there’s been some positives, but for the most part, the last year and a half have been a collective blur — a sudden, unexpected adjustment in the everyday routines in which we were so familiar.
The same holds true for me as well. Last August, when my son began his 4th grade remote-learning school year, I took the plunge and forced myself to sit at my desk and write my next novel. After nearly four years removed from writing anything of real substance within fiction, I dove in. Trepidation and terror be damned.
It turned out to be the one thing that pulled me out of that four-year funk I’d fallen into after health issues and unfortunate world events dangled and stranded me outside the realm of creative headspace. I let myself become absorbed. Now that I’ve had some time to just bask in my fictional world, I’m making an honest effort to stop neglecting the other areas of my writerly life while I begin drafting another novel.
What does this mean?
A few things.
My newsletter, Mailbox Eulogies has been revamped and revitalized, complete with a freebie library for subscribers — more on this tomorrow
A minimum of one blog post a week that is not a regularly-scheduled prose poem
“Before you point that accusatory finger
in my direction, remember this:
I never asked for it.”
The sun is setting and I feel the cold seeping into my bones. I feel the life bleeding out of my feet, leeching into the ground. And I stand here, breathing smoke into the sky. Because that’s all I have left to give — pieces of my broken spirit. And that’s all that remains after the vultures picked me apart. So before you point that accusatory finger in my direction, remember this: I never asked for it. I never gave the wrong signals. I didn’t deserve all you forced upon me.
And how could I have known better? I was barely old enough to walk, let alone understand what vile things you wanted from me. If you wouldn’t blame a child, then why blame the teenager for going to a party? Why blame the woman that was followed home from work? It’s time everyone takes a hard look at the patterns. Those men saw something they wanted, and they took it. With complete disregard for their victim. And I suppose that’s part of the point. They have the power. They need it. So they take it wherever they can get it.
So, if you are a victim, and you’ve ever felt that finger pointing in your direction, know that no matter what anyone tells you — You. Are. Not. To. Blame.
I am sharing this again today, not because I feel the need to repost it, but because I feel it’s necessary to reiterate to the world that there is, in fact, a culture. It exists and there is a reason that women (for the majority) do not come forward until sometimes decades later, if at all. Society immediately rejects them.
She shouldn’t have been at that party.
She shouldn’t have been wearing those clothes.
She shouldn’t have given him eyes…. Where’s the evidence to prove this happened? Why didn’t she come forward immediately?
… and the list goes on.
So, this is for all the survivors out there — both the ones that have used their voices (and especially for Dr. Ford, for having the bravery to speak out in a public, televised inquiry, despite having been harassed and given multiple death threats by even considering doing so) and those that have survived in silence — know that it was not your fault. My thoughts are always with the people that have suffered at the hands of monsters and I hope that at the very least, someone will find comfort with these words. Just knowing that you aren’t alone might be enough.
I also want to state that I am not claiming that Kavanaugh is guilty, because I believe in the “innocent until proven guilty” principles this country is based upon. However, this does not mean that I believe that Dr. Ford is not telling her truth. Something happened to her, and I believe her. After thirty-some years, you wouldn’t remember something in such vivid detail if it wasn’t a major event in your life. I know this from experience. There are many things I wish I could erase from my mind, but alas, they are burned there like a brand and they will never go away as long as I live. These are not the accounts and emotional responses of a person that is fabricating a story.
“When I awoke from the nightmare,
I reminded myself that I was alive.”
The blade cut into the night and flashed silver against the moonlight. And even though my ears heard no sounds but the thundering of my heart, I swore I could hear the sharp metal singing its high-pitched tune as it sliced through the air. It slipped through my skin like it was warm butter and at first I felt nothing. I wondered if maybe it was shock or disbelief. But then the pain started. Like someone injected gasoline into my bloodstream and lit a match. I watched as the thick, red liquid poured out of the fresh wound and begged for death. And as he stood over me, he licked my blood from his dagger and smiled down at me in a show of blood-stained teeth — right before everything went black.
When I awoke from the nightmare, I reminded myself that I was alive and the true face behind my fears liked it when I called him Daddy. The only comfort I found was knowing that death came for him first. Too bad he didn’t take the memories with him.
“My love, all I want and need is you.
It’s always been you.”
Maybe that’s what I can’t reconcile. What I want and what I need. You. You see, I want you to be by my side. I want you to love me, unequivocally, just as I love you. I want you to grow old with me, and fall more in love with me every day as I do for you. I want you with me, happy, content, and fulfilled. What I want is you. All of you. For always….
It’s been so long since the pandemic started raging through countries and cities. It’s spilled into every corner of the globe with no end in sight. And here I am, where I’ve always been. Except this is different. I’m not the only one in isolation. I’m not the only one that feels stuck with no hope of escape. I’m not okay. You’re probably not, either. And that is okay.
It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s okay to feel sad. Or scared. Or anything else. It’s okay to feel. Twice today, I was reminded of this fact. Despite my social distancing online — which again, I apologize for, people are still taking time to reach out and tell me how much my words have helped them. Different ways of helping, but helping nonetheless. I’d almost forgotten what something like that feels like, and I realized that we all probably need it, in some form or other, as well.
So, if you’re reading this and something has been on your mind, or you’ve thought about something someone is doing that you appreciate, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell them. Tell them how they’ve impacted your life. Even if it was only for a few seconds. Even if it feels inconsequential, it should be shared.
I, for one, cannot thank each and every one of you enough for being here despite my silence. Knowing you’re there waiting for me gives me hope to keep fighting through whatever this is I’ve been experiencing in different degrees of severity for nearly a year.