Jonno's Writerly Haven

I'm a writer of many hats. I'm a journalist by profession, a novelist by pseudo-profession, and a roleplayer because I feel like it. To the side, I also have dabbled in songs, poetry, and other stuff. This here writerly haven o' mine is made for storing a selective showcase of book excerpts, articles that I'm partial towards, and every so often, some of that aforementioned other stuff! Enjoy. May the walrus light the sky with your name.

Feel free to comment and critique as you see fit, though I haven't been drawing as frequently, so the writing is really the main focus.

Song Lyrics

Spoiler: Black Tapestries

Do you recognize the state I’m in

Where these stone walls feel paper thin
To raise them up, to tear them down
The busted flush of a funambulist clown
Only when the lightning flows
Aided by love, through two shared souls
Conduced unto a road paved by zealous endearment
Can the traipse maintain a precious concision
You broke it down, you broke it down
But you’re the one who rose it in the first place
I can’t find a balance in mind through which we’ll see
Beyond tunnel vision and black tapestries
You broke it down, and can’t you see
That trust is as fickle as falling leaves
That it’s not so easy to reclaim a bond
That was all in one movement broken apart
I want to believe you when you say that you love me
But there’s much more to love than shallow pleasantries
And looking back, reflecting, I wish I would be wrong
That this was not a mere stumble through the fire and flames
Why did I love you and why did you care
Why do you insist on this dated affair
When in the back of our minds the both of us know
That this halfway house is not a home
Into the light and out of the darkness
Fare thee well, I’ll be your dearly departed

Drawings

Spoiler: Octorok, from The Legend of Zelda

Spoiler: Shiranui, from Okami

Spoiler: Wally, from Realm of Belief, Book 1: Project Believe

Book Excerpts
[spoiler='Realm of Belief, Book 2: Babuta's Kingdom' Opening Excerpt]It was only around eight in the morning and the sun was still present, though despite that, the sea violently rocked to and fro, the sky surrounding the sun colored itself dark gray and obscured the fiery ball of light, and the harsh wind twisted the clouds with such vehement that they had managed themselves into a massive, churned structure that stretched itself many, many miles out in any direction, a light rain liberating itself from the confines of the barriers which had originally held it, following the route most similar to that of the turning of the ocean waves, which battered the minnow of a sailboat, known as the Machiavellian, with immense strength. The ship somehow kept its balance through and through up to this point, its literal pastel blue and white-striped bath towel not even attempting to escape from its clothespin confines which attached it to a somewhat tall, somewhat sturdy cypress branch that was stuck smack-dab in the middle of the thirty-foot long, fifteen-foot wide ship.

Despite being pushed about by the wind and the ocean so rigorously, the Machiavellian kept on, still somehow chasing the same general direction towards Retei, a desert colony perhaps most famous for it being the place where renowned sea captain Hagoolsapooloo XIV settled his headquarters, where the captain of the Machiavellian, and his side-kick, who now rested his burly, curly almond-colored hair-covered arms over the bow of the boat, stern-looking hazel eyes peering onward towards the miniscule silhouette that could be seen far, far off into the distance, his faux black and dark blue sailor’s cap keeping its spot on his cleanly-cut light brown head of hair by hook or by crook, his navy-colored vest and yellowish-green rag of a shirt now preceding his tomato nose or his oversized, bushy stache that jutted out from just beneath his nose all the way down to just short of an inch under his chin, since they were fluttering about so wildly in the wind, every once in a while having to be pushed down by a now rather impatient right-hand man, who even took things so far as to pray to the Goddess of the Sea above, which Azoria, now more commonly known as the Realm of Belief, was named after, asking of her to “Please, stop this torrent, or at least allow Alex and myself to be hastily freed of this stormy prison sometime soon, O Azoria, she who is the kind, giving mother to us all!”[/spoiler]