K. Alex Walker's Blog, page 5

Daily writing promptShare a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.View all responses

Teachers inherently know they might influence or leave an impact on a student, but many of them don't know how significant that impact can be.

I've had multiple teachers who've positively impacted my life, but three came to mind when I first read this prompt. We'll call them Mr. C., Mr. W., and Ms. S. 

Now, I've learned over time that although there are things I might find challenging that others do not, it doesn't mean there's something "wrong" with my brain or the way I was born. 

This, however, wasn't always the case.

Ms. S

Ms. S was my 9th-grade math teacher.

She was also the first teacher who worried about me. 

I used to be more of a math/science brain, but as I grew older, those interests evaporated through my pores and dematerialized into nothingness. So, in 9th grade, there was either a homework assignment or a test I didn't do well on, and Ms. S called…my…house. 

In defense of Ms. S, she didn't know what she was setting me up for, but I remember my mother calling me to her room to listen to the message. Of course, I already knew it was a trap, but I was 13. At 13, you have to walk into the trap. 

The message, however, caught me off guard because Ms. S didn't say I was a bad student, a slacker, etc. Instead, she said, "I know she knows the material, and I don't know what's wrong, but she's so quiet that I don't know how to help her. How can I help her?"

I don't know if any family members follow my blog, and if they do, this might get back to my family, but whatever. I'm grown. 

After that call, I got destroyed. My mother took what little confidence I had and poured hydrochloric acid on top to burn away the rest in the event I mistakenly thought I would amount to something one day.

When I went to school the next day, Ms. S let me know that she called my parents. I told her I knew. And I don't know what she saw on my face, but she worked with me without asking, without prompting, and I think she eventually learned what the "problem" was. The way she took time with me, as well as took time to understand the way I learn, still leaves me in awe to this day. 

Mr. C

Mr. C was my 10th-grade math teacher, and he would probably see this as no big deal, but he taught me the most important thing of them all.

Brains work differently sometimes.

We were working on a statistical problem in class as a group, and I, for the life of me, couldn't understand what he was writing on the whiteboard. And, no matter how often he wrote it, he'd get to a point where I felt as if I needed a Rosetta Stone to comprehend what had occurred.

So, after working with Ms. S (I've come so close to writing her name several times, lol), I went to him during one of these study hall/JA periods we had in my high school program. The interesting thing is, even after how kind Ms. S had been, I was terrified of going to Mr. C with a question. However, he was awesome, understanding, and caring, and he said, "I have a hunch. Let's work through the problem again from start to finish."

So we did.

And I needed the Rosetta Stone.

Then he said, "Let me try something."

And he essentially did the problem in reverse.

Now, I wasn't a huge emoter, so my response to making this exciting, electrifying, groundbreaking discovery was…"Oh."

Then we worked on additional problems, in reverse, and I was able to solve them all. Afterward, he told me to remember this for the future because I was 100% likely going to encounter this problem again. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with me; it simply means I learn this particular thing differently, and that's okay.

Lol, I'm actually tearing up.

Mr. W

As for Mr. W, I'll be honest—he might have gotten fired in 2023 for some of the stuff he did. For instance, he used to throw things at me (paper balls, squishy balls, stress balls), and I would let him. Then he'd say, "You have to react. You can't let people do what they want to you. Don't let people do whatever they want to you."

Not sure if I mentioned I was kind of rigid. Like, if I stood next to the Washington Monument, you'd be like, "Whoa, where'd she go?"

Still, I would not react.

I understand now what he was trying to do, but like I said…probably fired. Or he would have received a lengthy suspension.

But what Mr. W did was make me fall in love with a subject—biology. 

Remember me saying I used to be a math/science brain? I'd literally assumed my brain no longer had the capacity to learn either subject. However, he made concepts come alive. In his class, I could see blood cells flowing through veins; in my mind, the mitochondria lit up like a power plant. 

It was like being taught by Alton Brown. 

I was sick quite frequently during the two years he was my teacher, and whenever a doctor told me something, I'd go to Mr. W and say, "Explain this to me."

And he would.

If I saw something on a TV show…"Mr. W, break this down for me."

And he would.

No matter how many questions I had, and I had plenty, he was like my own personal Reddit ELI5.

In another life, I would have gone to medical school and studied rare diseases. In fact, my dream was to be like House, the person physicians called on to solve baffling medical issues. The doctor who'd spend hours poring over a patient's case when everyone else wrote them off in hopes of giving them an answer so they knew they weren't crazy. 

An answer which could influence treatment options. 

And maybe even recovery!

Of course, I wouldn't ever stop writing, so I'd end up doing both, but I would have been doing two things I love.

These were things Mr. W thought I was capable of!

Me!

If only I'd felt the same way back then, you know?

I haven't thought about any of that in a long time, but it's interesting how memories are always there, rocking back and forth, waiting for their turn to hop in like a game of double-dutch.

These three people had a positive impact on my life because so many times, so many times, I wanted to give up on everything. I wasn't smart, I wasn't pretty, I wasn't confident.

I wasn't wanted. 

I wasn't worth it.

Yet, in simple and innocuous ways, they taught me that there's always been room for me in this world. To find them, I'd have to look in places I've never thought about looking. And, in those places, I would find comfort.

Heyyy!

So, I've been MIA, but you all already know what that means. 

I'm writing.

Technically, I'm always kind of writing, but I've been trying to do new things like sleeping, eating, and leaving my house. I tend to get significant tunnel vision when working on a story, and once I'm locked on, I'm locked on, but I'm trying to do better. However, I promised to return A Fighting Chance to Amazon in order to complete the republishing of the OG Angels and Assassins books, and guess what?

It'll be here next month.

Better late than never, eh?

Also, I'll be honest—although I wrote it, I wouldn't say I'm proud of the first version. Joel is a joy to write, and I felt like I could do better. Therefore, this AFC is a new story that better fits within the A&A timeline. 

At least, I hope it does. This timeline is like I'm in the ring with Muhammad Ali. Me. Not me as Tyson, Frazier, Holyfield, Laila…nope. I'm in the ring about to get my a$$ floated like a butterfly.

AFC is the novella that leads into Joel + Ayesha's book, and I've got it up for pre-order here. It somehow already has a review, which isn't supposed to be the case on a pre-order, but Amazon has been all over the place lately. 

On account of my "tenure" in the writing dungeon, it's only recently that I learned exactly how unexpectedly low the Kindle Unlimited payout was last month, which meant having to do some Excel gymnastics. In addition, I'm now seeing that some authors' books were removed from sale because they were pirated and placed on illegal websites. Amazon took the pirated books as being published elsewhere, which violates Kindle Unlimited's policy. It's unfortunate because Amazon is so much more powerful, it would be nice to have them in our corner to go up against these piracy sites.

Although Amazon/KDP and I have had a tete-a-tete, or ten, they've always managed to come through for me, so I only hope that continues to be the case. It's a bad time to take away authors' incomes, even temporarily.

Anyhoo, back to AFC.

Now, I know a few of you were probably hoping for a Joel & Sydney reunification, but my brain & fingers have spoken. Plus, you have to admit, Joel and Ayesha, especially when you toss in Theo and Josiah, are just .

I hope you can find it in your hearts to still have love for little ol' me (even a teensy bit) lol.

xoxo,

Alex

P.S. – I'll be back soon with a life update. I've made some terrifyingly huge changes in the past couple of months, which meant stepping out on faith. What I've learned is that people can mean well, but at the end of the day, they'll always do what's best for them. Sometimes, you have to take a page from their playbook.

There's this line in a Beverly Jenkins book where the character says that she never lived life how she wanted to, so now that she's older, she doesn't have memories. Only regrets. 

Fcuk.

That's 100% my story if I don't make some changes. 

Has anybody ever been there? Like you're in a hammock with hope on one side and fear on the other, but each time you try to get out, no matter which direction, you only get further caught up in a knot?

* OFFICIAL COVER*PREVIEW EXCERPT

Gideon tousled Niko’s hair. “I don’t know yet. I would love to help, but I also don’t want to overstay my wel…”

Jordan’s “Mommy” emerged from the doorway.

“…come.”

Slowly, he rose to his feet. This couldn’t be Anyssa. This could not be the sister whose law practice Pavel had described as a “coven or something like that.” With how lovely Zaraia was, it wasn’t unexpected that she would have a pretty sister, but Holy Mother of Perun—Zaraia’s sister was a work of art.

Warm brown skin. 

Short hair still long enough to grip. 

Freckled moles on her face and neck. 

Lips that looked like they plumped in all sorts of heavenly ways once bitten.

Dark eyes and a slender figure completed the stunning package, though her frame somehow remained curvy enough to give hands his size somewhere to grip while he was "otherwise occupied." Attractive women had been all over Las Vegas, and he’d dipped more than his toes in their shallow pools, deep wells, and bottomless lakes.

Yet, attractive was all they’d been.

And he was looking for so much more.

In the Brotherhood, restraint had been necessary; showing attachment had meant placing a target on a lover’s back, no matter how high or low one’s rank in the organization’s hierarchy. 

Love had been the ultimate weakness, so he’d flirted, f*cked, and then feigned not soothing a broken heart when things didn’t work out. Then, at night, he’d secretly suffered the ache of loneliness.

Zaraia gestured to him. “Nyss, this is Gideon Medvedev. He’s a good friend of Pavel’s, and he’ll be staying with us until he gets settled in the area. Gideon, this is my sister Anyssa.”

A soft, silky-looking top was partially tucked inside dress pants that hugged Anyssa’s frame down to her ankles. Taking in that frame momentarily brought his attention to her bare feet, her toes tipped with pink polish. Having never been much of a foot guy, nothing about them should have been erotic, but he wasn’t exactly thinking of them in his mouth. In his mind’s eye, those nails gleamed on feet whose ankles were locked at the base of his spine.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised,” he said. The words weren’t meant to be said out loud, but it was too late to take them back. “Volk gave me a different impression of you.”

She ticked her chin toward Pavel. “What, did he tell you I was a witch or something?”

Pavel motioned to the house. “There was only one broom in the house until you got here, Anyssa.”

Zaraia sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, holding in a laugh. Annoyance glimmered in Anyssa’s eyes, but her irritation was thinner than a strip of lace. It was clear that Pavel and Anyssa were like brother and sister, all faux animosity and traded barbs, but they would protect each other fiercely if it came down to it—something neither would likely ever admit.

“And your impression now?” she asked. “Do I scream witch?”

She didn’t scream “witch.”

However, if he had his way, she’d eventually scream, “Gideon.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t.”

Their gazes held.

Never in his life had attraction hit him this hard when all he really had to go on was that she was pretty. Wildly pretty. Plus, he liked her smile, along with the way she slightly tipped her head to the side as it swept across her face. There was also the fact that she had the respect of someone he held in the highest esteem, regardless of Pavel insisting they had a contentious relationship. Virtually no one had ever met someone Pavel truly didn’t like. If they had, they rarely met them more than once.

“It was nice meeting you, Gideon,” she said. Then she motioned to Niko and Jordan. “Cadet Niko? Cadet Jordan? It’s time for dinner.”

She turned to walk inside the house, but her foot briefly caught on the door’s bottom strip. Even as she hissed in obvious pain, she reassured Zaraia that she was okay. They disappeared inside, Anyssa hopping on one foot and Niko and Jordan singing something about someone named “Bruno” as they followed.

No wonder Pavel never described this woman. He would have limped to Georgia, on crutches and with his sutures oozing blood through white gauze, just to ask her out to dinner.

“Hey, Volk?”

Pavel shook his head. “No.”

“I want her, Volk.”

“Come inside, Gideon.” Pavel headed for the door. “And careful not to trip on your jaw.”

We finished up the call, and before going out to greet Marvin and spending the better part of the night talking about Aubrey, I took a moment for myself. Maybe Pitt was right. Maybe I was delusional. Because, with no concrete evidence that Oliver Hopkins was the unsub I was looking for, tonight, I was going to kidnap his wife.

If you know me, you know that one of my biggest flaws frustrations is that I need a ton of variety in everything I do to remain stimulated. If not, I create multiverse upon multiverse in my mind & kind of get stuck there. Honestly, that’s made me a headache of an employee in the past…the present…and based upon how inflation & my writing career works out…maybe the future as well.

That was supposed to be the purpose of Vella, to give me some of that variety, but I feel like it’s not effective for me as a writer. 

So, I started writing Jonah’s Ghost primarily because Amazon KDP was like, “Hey, we have this new thing we’re launching called Kindle Vella. Can you write a story for it? Test it out for us?”

Me being ever the people pleaser, immediately said, “Um, sure.”

The thing is, I had no idea anyone was reading the story. Then, once you all started emailing me, I started writing and found that I didn’t really like delivering it on Vella. I can read on both digital and print platforms, and I can see myself doing serial books, but I think Vella has to make some further improvements before I can see there being a benefit for everyone.

Quick side note: Speaking for me. Not speaking for all authors.

What it did do, however, was give me an opportunity to eek out a ghost paranormal mystery romance with some historical elements. If you have Vella, you can dive into the first 15 Chapters of Jonah’s Ghost. It’s also on preorder for a Halloween release (10.31.2022). 

If you don’t, here’s as much of a teaser that Amazon KDP will allow:

When making love to your husband, it’s taboo to think of someone else. Was that still the case if that person might or might not exist?

Oliver huffed on top of me, sweat-slicked skin and hips pivoting as they pushed into mine. It was standard fare—him groaning and grunting and me making complementing noises on a feedback loop. As my mind ventured to places outside of our bedroom, I panted. I gasped. One day, he would notice the fixed rhythm of my pleasure, but I doubted he would care. In some ways, he appeared to prefer I lay perfectly still while he drilled his way to the center of the earth via my sexual organs.“I’m almost there, Rynnie.”“Okay.”“Oh, Rynnie. Oh, my sweet, Rynnie.”Taryn.I barely accepted Roselyn calling me Ryn. Oliver rolled off my body, falling to his back on my right side. I stared at the empty doorway, squinting as though I had the power to make the apparition appear.“I will never love another,” he said, breathing hard. He coughed into his elbow. “You hear me, Rynnie? Never. I’ll never love another.”I turned onto my side and propped my head on my fist. “I hear you loud and clear.”“My wife is so beautiful.” He slid a finger along the curve of my chin. “I can’t wait to see what our children will look like.”“I feel the same way.”“Should we start?”“The house.” I gestured to the massive structure, barely up to code enough for habitability. “After we finish the house. I cannot handle this size of a renovation while pregnant.”He nodded, the hair stuck to his forehead dark with sweat. “You’re right.”“Go take a shower, babe. You don’t want to miss your flight.”“Impossible. They can’t go anywhere without the pilot.”He rolled out of bed, and his naked backside disappeared inside the bathroom. Once he was out of sight, I returned my attention to the empty doorway, and there it was.I could see much more of its form than before—a slender frame wearing what appeared to be a dark-colored corduroy knit sweater and lighter-colored trousers. The trousers looked like they could be covered in dust. A working man’s outfit.The lamp next to the bed flickered, and then he was closer.“Is your name Jonah?” I asked.His gaze left mine and went to the lamp, which flickered again. The electricity had returned five hours after Oliver called the power company, but the lamp had never had any issues before. Still, it wasn’t farfetched to think the sudden change had to do with the accident rather than a spiritual presence.He reached out just as the bathroom door opened. “Sweetheart, order more shampoo,” Oliver said, his head and the hand with the shampoo bottle visible from the doorway. “I’m out.”I nodded. “Yes, babe.”The door closed.Relief fluttered in my belly when I realized Jonah hadn’t left.“Odette, you came back.”I wished I could feel the hand he’d outstretched toward my face. I wished I could press my fingers against it as it cradled my jaw. I wished I knew what he’d smelled like when he was alive, whether the fabric of his clothing was soft or rough and whether the hair on his face was smooth or coarse.“Jonah…” I closed my eyes. “Who’s Odette?”An icy blast of air tickled my cheek.Then it was gone.So was he.Underneath my nightgown, my body tingled, warm. None of it, however, was because of Jonah. It couldn’t be. It was simply the remnants of dissatisfaction from a husband who knew how to turn me on but had no idea what to do once I was.I lay on my back and slid under the sheets.One hand slipped between my thighs.I touched and touched, each sensation bolder and stronger than the last. My knees fell to the side, and I writhed, fingers bending and flexing. The friction of my moving body against the sheets generated heat against my back. No matter how hard I tried to keep an image of Oliver, to think of Oliver, he fizzled. It was only when Oliver was completely gone from my mind that I tore and spasmed, going molten in the space from the tips of my breasts to my knees.I opened tired eyes to find Oliver standing over me, betrayal so prominent on his face, he could have worn it as a mask last Halloween. We exchanged no words as he packed his things, dragging his pilot’s uniform onto his body and leaving without a kiss, a goodbye, or a glance my way.It was an overreaction on his part. At least, I’d assumed so until, hours later, a text came through on my phone from my emotionally wounded husband:

Who the hell is Jonah?

Thank you for all the love and continued support.

I hope you enjoy.

xoxo,

Alex

One more day before The Darkest Knight returns to regular price

– 1 –

I’ll be bringing the Angels and Assassins online series books to Amazon. 

However, there’s a caveat: in order for me to put them on Amazon, I’ll have to either remove them from my website -or- exclude them from K/U.

Amazon’s really strict about this, and I haven’t made a decision about which I’ll be doing yet, but I’ll keep you all posted.

– 2 –

Also, because I haven’t been feeling all that well, 2022 has been about siphoning out the things in my life that are overwhelming, detrimental, or plain unhealthy (cakes, cookies, and donuts made the “still in my life” cut, though).

My entire life, writing has been the greatest means of expression, whether I’m writing something raw from my own internal challenges or writing someone else’s story where, in this version, they did get to stand up for themselves or face their accuser. 

The only time in my life I didn’t write were the 4.5yrs I was in a very bad relationship. I did write poetry but not a single book. I love sharing my writing and crafting new stories, so my aim is to make more space to do that, and in a way I can bring you all more International Mafia, more Angels and Assassins, and more Myths Legends and Monsters.

I literally have full sketches and plans for each of these series, but I haven’t had time to write them. For instance, remember Adrían Delgano from Joel and Ayesha’s story? What about Gideon Medvedev from Prince of the Brotherhood? I mean, we didn’t see him die. How about a plague, a Viking warrior, and a disgraced CDC scientist?

– 3 –

Breaking The Code took a lot out of me because of the subject matter. In addition, I had too much on my plate, all of it coming to a head at the same time as release day. I haven’t recovered yet, and I usually take around 10 to 14 days off before I start writing again. This time, your girl needs 30. 

– 4 –

I’m going to be bringing more to my Patreon page, at every level. 

(Is anyone else like this? You don’t like seeing your face or hearing your voice? That’s why I almost never post anything with my voice or face. The  cringe . )

That means, I’m going to try my hand at vlogging some stuffs, and being a maladaptive daydreamer and story creator makes me a boss at film editing. 

My question is, what kinds of things do you all like to do?

Can I copy you?

Would you be interested in small group, relaxing, reader/author experiences? Like one of the Train Across America trips? I already know one person who would be interested ^_^

Leave this up to me, and all you’ll get is the guy at the gym I stare at but never talk to.

– 5 –

Back to Patreon.

Patreon sets the lowest support level you can choose depending upon what you’d like to offer your readers. I want to offer T-shirts, but they won’t let you do that for less than a certain amount. Here’s a snapshot of what I’m updating:

Tier 1 – All the online stories (beginning with my completion of Jonah’s Ghost before it goes wide), occasional “day in the life” and “between the scenes” posts, and reader gifts.
Tier 2 – All of the above, all of the “day in the life” and “between the scenes” posts, a first look at new books, your free ebook copy of each new release, and yep, you’ll be writing a book (or books) with me. And yep, it’s gonna get weird. The one I have in mind is an alternate universe that includes my A&A guys, in a zombie apocalypse, and that’s how all the couples will meet. Like I said, it’s gonna get weird.
Tier 3 – All of the above, a signed copy of each release, merchandise (I like to do reader merch instead of K. Alex Walker specific merch, for generalizability), and quarterly gift baskets. Also, if I do any major giveaways, you get one of whatever the winner receives.

Check out my Patreon page here:

The last person Miguel Reyes wants to fall for is Delilah Daniels.
Of all the people in the world, this is who fate is trying to lead him to?
His overprotective best friend’s younger sister?

But he’s never felt anything like this in his life.
Delilah could live in his blood, and she still wouldn’t be close enough.

Together, they're a perfect mix…
as well as unstable elements on the brink of explosion.
Trying to stay away only pushes them back together even more intensely than before.

She's his.
He's hers.
It's either succumb or be destroyed.

And they can't seem to do a thing about it.

Things felt too perfect, and it was the kind of perfect that usually resulted in neither of them truly getting what they wanted.

“I do have a favor to ask.” His palm skimmed full length of her leg. “If I fail at this, if anything happens to me, keep your heart open.”

She frowned. “Happens to you like what?”

“Like if I get hurt. Or worse.”

“No.”

“No, you won’t keep your heart open?”

“Miguel, shut up.”

“Why—”

“Please, just shut up.”

“Then let me ask you what I really wanted to ask.” He sighed, like he literally carried the weight of what he was about to say next. “And, fair warning, it’s selfish as hell.”

She silently stared at him, uninterested in offering a response after his last ridiculous request. As if she could promise him something like that when it would require her to think about losing him permanently.

“Date, if you want to,” he said. “Go out and have fun. As much as I might want to choke the shit out of any man who gets close enough to touch you, if you ask me to stay out of it, I’ll do my best to respect that. I love you. Jesus, I love you. So date, yeah, but while you’re gone…don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

Two weeks!!