So I'm writing a novel, and it's called Neither of Us Will Be Missed.

Do you know when you get an idea? The kind that won't leave you behind? The kind that follows you from room to room, place to place, from your bathroom into your bedroom and between your sheets at night? I had one of those a while ago, and this novel is the product.

Neither of Us Will Be Missed is a fantasy YA novel that I'm hoping to release independently in 2024. The basic premise of it is pretty much the same as every other fantasy YA novel ever released: girl with a sword meets boy with a sword, they have a weirdly tense play fight, they fall in love, and then the metaphorical shit hits the fan.

I'm not trying very hard to sell this novel. This novel is not for you. This novel is not for me, either. This novel is for my main character, Alina, who deserves- if not a happy ending- at least an ending. However, I do think Alina's story deserves to be read, also, which is why I am trying to keep this blurb spoiler-free.

But you can have a few snippets, as a treat.

"She blocked, swung, dodged, swung again, and she could not keep the shit-eating grin off of her face. They were starting fast, none of that cautious bullshit. He moved like water, precise and beautiful, and she took him apart like a hurricane."

"'I can’t speak the language of heaven,' she mumbled, again defensively. Maria grinned, again, and there was an innocent savage pleasure written all over her face.

'I’d be willing to bet you haven’t tried. Plus, their descendants have a legendary knack for tongues. Like babies. Did you not know this. Oh my god.'

Alina facepalmed to Maria’s cackles. 

'I’m a fucking glowstick,' she mumbled into her hand. 'A baby glowstick that’s good at Goblin.'"

"She turned away, and a realization promptly hit her with the force of a heavenly smite when the buzzing protested: she had wanted to kiss Jonah. Jonah Allbright. Stupid, nice, puppy-dog-eyed, warrior Jonah Allbright. On the mouth. Not a chaste kiss, either- she had wanted to drop her sword and fist her gloved hands roughly in his hair and claim him like sacrament. His defeat at her hands had somehow sealed his divinity- had somehow made his touch feel like the communion she was due by sheer virtue of faith- had made him sweat around the temples."

"'My apologies. I seem to have forgotten my manners. I am Sir Arthur Mosley, paladin of Tyr, Knight of the Merciful Sword, and Hammer of Grimjaw. I am also an etymologist, historian, and Grill Master'

'Grill Master? Is that like a torture thing?'

'Ah, no.' He had the decency to look sheepish. 'Most, if any, of my fame comes from my skill at the barbecue pit. I am lauded far and wide for my steaks and hamburgers.'

'Oh.' Alina didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing."