Episode Three: Revenge of the Grinch!
Stardate: 20251212
Intro:
Well, hello there. I’m Devlin, call me Dev (please, for the love of god call me Dev, I hate my name). I’ve been writing and drawing for what feels like at least half a century, but despite having gone pro with my digital art a few years ago, I’ve never published anything.
I can just sense the head nods. A lot of you out there in the same boat? You want to take the plunge, but you’re worried those dark shapes below might be sharks? Well I intend to document my self-publishing journey. Not just the (hopefully many) successes, but the spectacular failures too. Hopefully, I can help someone avoid a few of the pitfalls I’ll plunge into.
News:
Well, that’s the LAST time you’ll see those intro paragraphs. Because I PUBLISHED SOMETHING!!! The first chapter of Peacebreaker: Book One of Flame & Claw is available for free (Well, ‘pay what you want’ so tips would be appreciated, but in no way necessary) on Itch.
Check It Out!
Also, while we still don’t have a release DATE for the trilogy, we have a release WINDOW for books one and two. Both will drop the first week of January, 2026.
In The Library:
Lately, I’ve been binging all my favorite holiday movies and old specials. Children of the the Rankin-Bass generations all have their favorites, usually corresponding to their birth year and the special’s release date.
My favs are: “Twas the Night Before Christmas”, “The Year Without a Santa Claus”, and the last one they ever made, “The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus” (the puppet one, not the weaker animated remake form a few years later).
On the movie front, I love Netflix’s “Christmas Chronicles” films. Kurt Russel’s ‘Jack Burton as Kris Kringle” energy is infectious. And of course, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is an annual tradition- but for a set of obscure reasons. All but one thing in that film happened to my fam around the holidays one way or another… except one thing. Anybody care to hazard a guess?
And Now, This…
Releasing the promo was a big decision. No one ever tells you quite how exhausting being a self-published author is. I’ve been sitting with basically this one element of my life for three straight days, doing hardly any of my day-job work (don’t worry the boss is lenient, I’m self-employed) in favor of adding social media posts, or talking it up in discord servers I usually just lurk in. The tldr is I haven’t thought up a clever Good, Bad,Fugly for this month.
In it’s place, I present this – A short story, more of an essay really, that I wrote a few years back. I keep stumbling back to this every year, and every year it still rings true.
Because magic is where you find it.
And, so…
Christmas in the Dark
It’s the hour of the wolf.
Somewhere between three and four in the morning, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling without seeing it. All I can see are the troubles and the trials stretching out before and behind me.
It’s December now, and our Christmas tree is up. It’s artificial, which is both easy and terrible- it smells like dust. We also decorated the house with all the little knickknacks that are supposed to remind us of childhood, and the glories of Christmases long, long ago.
Honestly, I’m glad we did it, it’s one less thing on the list that needs doing today, but the magic isn’t there anymore.
Sure, there’s the satisfaction of finishing the big task, but little else.
And now I lay awake wondering how I’ll buy presents with no money. How I’ll find a job when no one wants to hire. How I’ll pull my weight. How I’ll keep my weight down when everything is covered in chocolate and yes, sir, I’ll have another… and… and… and.
The wolf is outside, and she’d like a word with me about my life.
Giving up sleep as a dream of youth, I get up and grab my clothes for the day, managing not trip on my shoes or the various hazards between me and the shower.
Gotta celebrate the little victories, Wolfie.
The shower feels nice. It’s been too cold for the light blankets, but too warm for the heavy one- so the nasty overheat feeling clings to me as I shuck my PJs and stand under the steamy water. It resets my natural thermostat from all the shivering and sweating of the night, and just leaves the ahhhh.
Of course, eventually it ends and I have to get dressed in the bathroom. I hate doing that. I always end up hopping up and down on one foot while trying to get the other through that last six inches of stubborn denim that has decided to cling to the sole of the other foot. You try doing that without the words ‘Compound Fracture’ swirling through your head.
It’s five am by the time I haul myself, dripping hair and all, out to the living room. I can hear the rest of the house stirring, even the mouse, so I don’t want to make any more noise than I have to. I’ve never been a morning person, until being forced into it at gunpoint by various necessities. But now, I can admit that there’s something kind of nice about having an hour or so to yourself with all the distractions switched off. Having the time to sit quietly and think, meditate about the day to come.
Familiarity keeps me from bouncing off the walls more than a couple times, but once I’m out to the living room couch, that changes. See, there’s a new shadow, an unfamiliar shape in the dark. Just enough light comes in through the skylight and the curtained window to show me the silhouette of our tree. Shadows stretch it into a sinister figure. One with vaguely lupine features.
Lovely, the wolf is clocking overtime.
I sigh and go to the light switch, but here I pause. Partially because lighting that beacon will awaken half the house, and partially because it just feels wrong somehow. Instead, a wicked little grin escapes me and I carefully pick my way over to the side of the loveseat, and the power strip that all the decorations are plugged into.
This was one of my favorite parts of Christmas when I was a kid. I’ve always loved color, and the lights on the tree have been the last refuge of the magic of the season for many years now.
Our scrawny, apartment sized artificial tree sits there on the coffee table. In the center of a bunch of miniature houses on a field of snowy white. It sounds prettier than it looks in the dark, with its lupine shadows.
But I reach down and find the switch. It flips with a click and a soft orange glow.
I look up at the tree and… Oh, there you are. I’ve missed you.
The lights of the miniature village bathe the snowy felt in warm hues of soft memories, and the pinpricks of tree lights dot gold and pink, blue and red against the shadows. But it’s the star, all lit in warm ambers and purples as it casts its aurora to the cream colored walls, only to be returned in an aura of memory and magic that makes my limbs tingle.
Suddenly, this little dust-smelling man-made letdown of a Christmas tree is beautiful. My heart doesn’t grow three sizes that day, but it does unclench, just a little.
I settle down on the couch to consider the simple joy of light. Here, in the dark with the wolf and all her cares and worries curled affectionately at my feet.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Felicitous Solstice, Happy Kwanzaa, Sparkling Saturnalia, Happy Boxing Day, Marvelous Mōdraniht, Happy Festivus, Joyous Erastide, Happy Holidays….
Whichever your season, and for whatever reason, I bid you peace. May the coming year find you happy, healthy and well.
-Dev