Update: April 16, 2022

Tomorrow is Easter.

Easter, like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Mother's day is one of the worst days of the year. A day that celebrates children and motherhood. On November 14, 2013, while I was 8 month pregnant, and putting bags on the back seat of my car, three still unidentified attackers, brought golf clubs down on my back, breaking my spine and murdering my baby. I am legally blind and almost deaf, so I neither heard nor saw them coming. I read lips, so you must be facing me for me to hear you. Bring legally blind, you also must be less than 3 feet in front of me for me to see your lips, to know you are talking. Because of this it was very easy for them to sneak up behind me while I leaned into my car, putting bags on the seat.

They broke 3 vertebrae in my spine, the shattered bones severing my spinal column, permanently damaging many nerves. Because of this nerve damage I have limited use of my left arm and hand, difficulty breathing, my bladder and intestines no longer function properly requiring adult diapers, massive tremors in both hands prevent me from being able to do basic things like brush my hair or hold a spoon to eat. These are just things from the nerve damage. 

Additionally they broke my pelvis, my hips, and my knees.

I was paralyzed for 5 months. It took me 18 months to relearn to walk. Today I can walk on a very limited basis, aided by a cane, but every step is seeking pain, like lightning bolts going through my leg, across my pelvis and up my spine.

Because of this I was bedridden from 2013 to 2015. And all of that time I had no use of my hands, so I was not online either. And thus was unaware that during that time, a group of locals set to social media to build up massive slanderous rumors about me. They created a huge fairy tale meme of me being an Erotica author, a porn star, a transvestite, a male to female transgender, gay, and an alien abductee. I am none of those things but they spent 3 years, on hundreds of accounts on Facebook and Twitter, many of them fake "Eelkat" accounts where they were pretending to be me, building up this massive slanderous web of lies about me, and I had no idea they were doing it, until October 2021, 9 years after they started doing it.

April 10, 2015 a group of 74 locals, many of them wearing ku klux klan white hooded robes, arrived at my farm. 14 of them held me, Ben, my mother, and one of my 3 younger brothers down on the ice and snow while holding guns to our heads, while the others used cinder block bricks and a metal pole device with wire loops on the end, to beat and behead, 10 of my 12 foster children, then nail their heads to my door. The youngest was 4 years old. The oldest was 16 years old. They chanted "too gay for the family friendly town of old Orchard Beach" while accusing me, my pink Volvo, my pink motor home, and Ben of being gay, transgender, transvestite, and citing that guys were not allowed in Maine.

THIS is what gay haters in Maine do to people they THINK, might maybe, be gay, even though they are not.

No man, woman or child is safe in Maine, so long as these murders walk free. They will kill anything they determine to be gay, even if it is not, as can be seen my the murder of my children.

They also had hundreds of paperback copies of my books, burning them in a huge bonfire on my lawn while calling them gay Erotica and calling mean Erotica author and porn star. (I'm an author, I write a travel blog style series about a homeless man who backpacks his way across Maine, there is no sex in the series. I'm a Mormon, I've never written a sex scene.)

My family was murdered and I am crippled for the rest of my life, because of this group who has been slandering me on social media. But, at the time of these two attacks (November 14, 2013 and April 10,2015) me and my family were unaware of these slanderous rumors the locals of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine were spreading not only on Facebook and Twitter, but by word of mouth around town as well.

May 2021, I started walking around town again, for the first time since being paralyzed 9 years ago on November 14, 2013, and it quickly became apparent something was seriously wrong with the locals.

I was unable to walk my dog on Main Street, Bradbury Street, Harvey Street, or Cutts Street Biddeford, where I have lived since becoming paralyzed, but not before gone outside, because of being paralyzed and bedridden and unable to walk until now…

I was unable to walk my dog on Main Street, Bradbury Street, Harvey Street, or Cutts Street Biddeford without being attacked, pushed off the sidewalk by random strangers running up to me and grabbing my cane and using it to push me in the road in front of cars while accusing me of being gay, transgender, or transvestite. Screaming "transvestite freak" while throwing rocks at me. Group of women joggers stopping to surround me and harass me while saying guys aren't allowed on their street. 

October 2021, my Volvo returned to my driveway after 3 years of being completely rebuilt, after the February 2019 attack on it with baseball bats completely destroyed it. Within 5 minutes of starting to repaint it, 2 men showed up in my driveway yelling about aliens and demons and Etoile and because of this I stopped painting fish on the door, painted over the fish and painted a portrait of Etiole instead. 

November 19, 2021 the red haired American woman from the 2016 High Street attack on my navy blue pick up truck, showed up on the porch here on Main Street. 

The location is 409 Main Street, the big white farmhouse Victorian on the 3way corner of Harvey Lane and Cutts street, right at the train tracks. It has 2 driveways one on Main Street and one on Harvey. There are multiple porches. It's the porch on the Main street side, that goes up the driveway alongside the abortive cedar tree hedge, where I park my painted Volvo. That porch is the one this woman shows up on. 

It's an elderly couple and mother in law who live there at that porch.  When they leave for work, this woman shows up when they are not home and stands on the porch bellowing like a fog horn screaming death threats at me, yelling crazy demon and alien slander about Etiole, making the claim of putting a bomb in the tail pipe of my car, screaming about suicide demons and evil eye curses, and yelling about someone named Todd Murphy (I don't know who that is, I get the impression he's a relative or boyfriend or ex of hers or something, but I don't any one by that name, so I don't know who he is. I don't know who she is either.) She looks to be maybe 30s to 40s aged. 

She was here again yesterday. She was bragging that she got a fight started with my mother and the Atwaters on Facebook, laughing about how easy it is to get my mother and her ex fighting and the old woman was giving her hell and telling her to get off the Atwaters Facebook and leave them alone. 

This happened less then an hour after my mother made the claim that a woman of the same short haired blond description, assaulted her and my father at an ATM machine, the blond woman claiming to my mother to be my father's girlfriend, my father claiming he never saw her before. 

All this happened on April 10, 2022, the 7 year anniversary of the murder of my foster children, and the blond woman who was here in my driveway after the ATM attack was bragging the anniversary is why she is instigating the fighting between my parents. 

I did not see the ATM attack, so, I do not know what happened other then what my mother and father are saying. 

I did however see her here in my driveway.

She does not live here. She's shows up in a silver pick-up truck driven by a small skinny blonde man. No one here at this building knows who she is.

There is another blonde woman, older sometimes with her. I do recognize the older woman. She's one of the November 14, 2013 golf club attackers. The one the others who were with her called "Claire". She looks to be in her 60s. Usually wears a blue denim button down man's worksheet as a coat. She sometimes drives a gold Volvo suv around 2004vintage, sometimes a silver Subaru suv, sometimes a mega sized white Nissan 4 door white pick-up truck, and sometimes a pine dark green pick up truck. She frequently has another older woman with her, who calls herself "Kendra" and has very, very long natural red curly hair, sometimes she wears big Janis Joplin glasses and sometimes cyberpunk cyclops lime green glasses, she frequently carries a small white poodle dog. The dog is often wearing either a purple dragon or a black skeleton costume. These 2 older women and a younger bald man are the 2013 golf club attackers who murdered my baby. This new younger blond woman and the 5 who are often with her, appear to be their relatives. The FBI believes they are part of a drug gang from Connecticut that call themselves "The Cyr Clan". According to the FBI the Cyr Clan was a gang that my uncle Bruce was involved with back in the 1960s in Boston before I was born. The FBI believes Bruce pissed them off in the early 2000s and that's what brought them up here to Maine.

The FBI believes they were after either one of Bruce's daughters or one of Bruce's sisters with both the November 2013 and April 2015 attacks.

One of Bruce's daughters also lives on Portland Ave in Old Orchard Beach and she also has a pink motor home. So there are TWO pink motor homes on the same street. This particular daughter of Bruce IS in fact a porn star. She's a pole dancer for a top less bar.

In 2016, there was another large scale attack, near duplicate to the April 10, 2015 attack. I never talk about it because it didn't happen to me. It happened to Bruce's daughter across the street from me. The attack on her family was bigger, bolder, and bloodier, than the attack on my family the previous year.

In 2017, a third similar attack happened in Biddeford to one of Bruce's sisters. Again I don't talk about it because it didn't happen to me.

Like I've said before there is A LOT MORE going on, then what you hear me talking about. I don't talk about what has happened to several of my cousins and their families both the Atwater cousins and the Murphey cousins- because it is not my place to do so. That's why you ONLY hear me talking about what directly happened to me personally and never mentioning the rest.

And I've not said everything that happened to me. A lot more has happened to me then you hear about because the FBI has specifically requested I don't talk about specific aspects of what happened to me and my children, because a lot was never released to the public, because they want to see who knows what. Certain things no one in the public should know about and knowing those things marks you as involved. This new young blonde woman KNOWS several of those things that were not released to the public and yells those things. Which means she is VERY INVOLVED with the murder of my children. 

Like I said until summer and fall of 2021 when started walking again for the first time in 9 years, I was unaware of the local gossip that was falsely accusing me of being gay, falsely accusing me of being transgender, falsely accusing me of being transvestite, falsely accusing me of being a porn star, falsely accusing me of being an Erotica author, or falsely accusing me of being an alien abduttee. 

I have lived here since 1975. You people know me. You people knew my murdered children. You people know I'm a cis female. You people know I'm not gay. I have published 138 novels and more then 2,000 short stories since 1978, and I  have sold 27k copies of every one of them to you people who come to my house and buy them in person, so you've read my books and know they are not Erotica. You people know I've been a devoted orthodox LDS Mormon my whole life, and that I've been with Ben for 37 years, so you know I'm not a porn star. 

What is wrong with you people? My family was murdered and I have spent 9 years recovering from medical hell, and I go outside for the first time in 9 years and find you people who know me have all devolved into gay hating, sex spewing, gibberish slandering gossips spreading vile, evil, malicious rumors and lies that you yourselves know to be untrue?

No wonder not a single one of you have helped my family through any of this. No wonder not a one of you ever once visited me at the hospital or my home after I got out of the hospital and couldn't go outside because I couldn't walk. 

You don't see me for 9 years because I'm bedridden and you're all to cold hearted to stop by and check in on me, and you spend that 9 years spinning wild, crazy transphobic, gay hating, sex filled lies about me?

What is wrong with you people?

You all let some stranger, who very likely IS the murderer, convince you of crazy ass slandering lies, that you people know to be untrue. 

You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves. 

Every resident of Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, Maine,  you all ought to be ashamed of what you have spent the last 9 years doing.

This new younger blonde woman, she's the one who keeps saying my car has a suicide demon in it and yelling about Todd, saying my car caused him to die.

I don't know who she is, but she's the same one who used to show up at 27 High st, also Biddeford and scream "nasty bitch" at me and acuse me of being an Erotica author and porn star. (Which she did during several Witcher 3 livestreams on Twitch, you can see her doing it if you go back and watch my VOD). I am neither an Erotica author or a Porn star, and she had throughout 2016 to 2019 arrived at High st with 5 others, one a blond man with a silver pick-up truck, one a black man with a yellow Mitsubishi with new York plates, one a very obese woman with blond Shirley Temple sausage curls, and the other two hooded men with a navy blue Buick sedan. If you remember the Christmas Eve 2016 livestream when the gang attacked my high st apartment and screaming "transvestite freak" that's them. This that same woman who also slanders me by calling me transvestite and transgender, which I am neither. I am a cis female, I've had 7 miscarriages, and the 1 baby that made it full term was murdered November 14, 2013 by 3 people with golf clubs, who are suspected to be, these same people. 

One day when I went downstairs to get the mail on high st, a mailbox that was in the lobby and you had to go through 2 sets of doors and foyers to get to, she had her hand in the mailbox and when I came out the door she yelled "I wasn't stealing your mail" threw our mail on the ground and ran off.

She knows the Martals, (Aunt Barbara ex, uncle Paul Martal,  the one in prison for building the Boston Marathon bomb in 2013, Mike's father, those Martals) she was staying with them for a few months in 2016. Is somehow connected to Barbara (the one who wrote all those emails in 1997 pretending to be me, when I did not yet have email or internet or a computer at the time, and I had not yet heard of email and didn't even know what email was, back when Barbara wrote all those alien abduction emails about Etiole and pretending I wrote them.)

She has short straight blond hair and sometimes dyes it dark red or purple. I know she follows both me and my mom and most of the Atwaters and my 3 younger brothers (though not my 2 older brothers as the oldest is in prison and the 2nd oldest is dead) on Facebook because she keeps saying that "I read on Facebook…" when she's in my driveway.

She shows up at Walmart to yell at me sometimes, and sometimes shows up while I'm walking Mickey. She talks about Etiole and White Monkey a lot when yelling, which is strange because that's stuff Brucie and Daddy used to write in their letters to Bishop Morgan back in Cape Elizabeth in 1990s. 

I'm not the one who calls him Etiole that's always been Bruce and Barbara who did that. I know his real name and use his real name.. They don't know his real name. And my father is only one who uses the term White Monkey. The white monkey was Helen Pearlys pet back in 1970s, it had nothing to do with Etoile, I don't know why he keeps saying it does.. My father is the only one who ever makes that connection. I've never called Etiole a demon or alien, again that has always been my father, Barbara and Brucie who said the alien and demon stuff. I don't believe in aliens or demons, but they do. (Etiole if you don't know is a local elderly homeless man who has backpacked around New England since 1953, and since 1978 I let him camp on my farm in Old Orchard Beach when he's in the area. He's covered with scars from WW2 and they call him an alien and demon because of his scars. They refuse to believe he is a human, which just goes to show how absolutely stupid they are.)

In November an elderly man came over and started asking me why I was emailing him about Etiole and I'm not, I don't use email. He said he was getting over 300 emails a day about Etiole all claiming to be from me. He said there are hundreds of email addresses getting copies of this email. You remember when Barbara and Brucie used to send emails back in 1997 claiming they were from me but we didn't have computer or internet back then? I think it might be Barbara sending those emails again like she did back then. I can't think of who else could be doing it.

This sometimes blond, sometimes red hair, sometimes purple hair woman, also mentions these emails when she is in my driveway yelling at my Volvo at 409 Main street. 

FBI agent Andy Drewer has found and shut down, so far 27 Facebook accounts, all pretending to be me. He said all of them were owed by Brucie. These fake "Eelkat" accounts appear to be the source of a lot of what this blond woman says and is suspected that she may be one of the people behind writing them.

Keep in mind, Brucie is dead. He may have started those Facebook accounts, but he ain't the one writing them. He died 3years ago.

Mervin Bruce Atwater died from Covid19 on November 24, 2019.

The fact remains you ARE impeding an FBI investigation into the murder of my family, and only someone involved would have any reason to do that. ONLY someone connected to the murderer would have a motive to try to stop the FBIs investigation. That makes you an accessory to murder. You make yourself look VERY GUILTY of being involved every time you spread slanders about me, my car, or Etiole. 

Do consider that the source of your slander in all likelihood is the murderer, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street, the name of the person who is telling you to slander me.

And now tomorrow is Easter. 

A day when mothers take their children on Easter egg hunts.

My children are dead.

My children were murdered. 

And you people have spent the last 9 years making fun of that.

Think about THAT tomorrow when you are out on Easter egg hunts with your babies.

Think about how YOU would feel if it was YOU. How would YOU feel if it had been your baby who was murdered and this entire town was spreading bullying slanderous lies about YOU.

If you know who this blond woman is, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street. She is wanted for questioning about her connection to the November 14, 2013 murder of my baby and attempted murder of me, and the April 10, 2015 murder of my foster children and the September 26, 2016 hit and run attack on my car and the February 2019 vandalism to 27 High st apartment building, and the November 2021 attack on my Volvo and the March 10, 2022 attack on my Volvo and the April 10, 2022 ATM attack on my parents. 



Update April 11, 2022: Do you know who this woman is?

This woman that my mother is talking about, have any of you ever seen her? Does anyone know who she is?

It isn't that woman who keeps coming on the porch and yelling at my car is it? Do any of you know who the woman attacking my car is?

The location is 409 Main Street, the big white farmhouse Victorian on the 3way corner of Harvey Lane and Cutts street, right at the train tracks. It has 2 driveways one on Main Street and one on Harvey. There are multiple porches. It's the porch on the Main street side, that goes up the driveway alongside the abortive cedar tree hedge, where I park my painted Volvo. That porch is the one this woman shows up on. 

It's an elderly couple and mother in law who live there at that porch.  When they leave for work, this woman shows up when they are not home and stands on the porch bellowing like a fog horn screaming death threats at me, yelling crazy demon and alien slander about Etiole, making the claim of putting a bomb in the tail pipe of my car, screaming about suicide demons and evil eye curses, and yelling about someone named Todd Murphy (I don't know who that is, I get the impression he's a relative or boyfriend or ex of hers or something, but I don't any one by that name, so I don't know who he is. I don't know who she is either.) She looks to be maybe 30s to 40s aged. 

She was here again yesterday. She was bragging that she got a fight started with my mother and the Atwaters on Facebook, laughing about how easy it is to get my mother and her ex fighting and the old woman was giving her hell and telling her to get off the Atwaters Facebook and leave them alone. 

This happened less then an hour after my mother made the claim that a woman of the same short haired blond description, assaulted her and my father at an ATM machine, the blond woman claiming to my mother to be my father's girlfriend, my father claiming he never saw her before. 

All this happened on April 10, 2022, the 7 year anniversary of the murder of my foster children, and the blond woman who was here in my driveway after the ATM attack was bragging the anniversary is why she is instigating the fighting between my parents. 

I did not see the ATM attack, so, I do not know what happened other then what my mother and father are saying. 

I did however see her here in my driveway.

She's the one who keeps saying my car has a suicide demon in it and yelling about Todd, saying my car caused him to die.

I don't know who she is, but she's the same one who used to show up at 27 High st, also Biddeford and scream "nasty bitch" at me and accuses me of being an Erotica author and porn star. (Which she did during several Witcher 3 livestreams on Twitch, you can see her doing it if you go back and watch my VOD). I am neither an Erotica author or a Porn star, and she had throughout 2016 to 2019 arrived at High st with 5 others, one a blond man with a silver pick-up truck, one a black man with a yellow Mitsubishi with new York plates, one a very obese woman with blond Shirley Temple sausage curls, and the other two hooded men with a navy blue Buick sedan. If you remember the Christmas Eve 2016 livestream when the gang attacked my high st apartment and screaming "transvestite freak" that's them. This that same woman who also slanders me by calling me transvestite and transgender, which I am neither. I am a cis female, I've had 7 miscarriages, and the 1 baby that made it full term was murdered November 14, 2013 by 3 people with golf clubs, who are suspected to be, these same people. 

One day when I went downstairs to get the mail on high st, a mailbox that was in the lobby and you had to go through 2 sets of doors and foyers to get to, she had her hand in the mailbox and when I came out the door she yelled "I wasn't stealing your mail" threw our mail on the ground and ran off.

She knows the Martals, (Barbara ex, uncle Paul Martal,  the one in prison for building the Boston Marathon bomb in 2013, Mike's father, those Martals) she was staying with them for a few months in 2016. Is somehow connected to Barbara (the one who wrote all those emails in 1997 pretending to be me, when I did not yet have email or internet or a computer at the time, and I had not yet heard of email and didn't even know what email was, back when Barbara wrote all those alien abduction emails about Etiole and pretending I wrote them.)

She has short straight blond hair and sometimes dyes it dark red or purple. I know she follows both me and my mom and most of the Atwaters and my 3 younger brothers (though not my 2 older brothers as the oldest is in prison and the 2nd oldest is dead) on Facebook because she keeps saying that "I read on Facebook…" when she's in my driveway.

She shows up at Walmart to yell at me sometimes, and sometimes shows up while I'm walking Mickey. She talks about Etiole and White Monkey a lot when yelling, which is strange because that's stuff Brucie and Daddy used to write in their letters to Bishop Morgan back in Cape Elizabeth in 1990s. 

I'm not the one who calls him Etiole that's always been Bruce and Barbara who did that. I know his real name and use his real name.. They don't know his real name. And my father is only one who uses the term White Monkey. The white monkey was Helen Pearlys pet back in 1970s, it had nothing to do with Etoile, I don't know why he keeps saying it does.. My father is the only one who ever makes that connection. I've never called Etiole a demon or alien, again that has always been my father, Barbara and Brucie who said the alien and demon stuff. I don't believe in aliens or demons, but they do.

(Etiole if you don't know is a local elderly homeless man who has backpacked around New England since 1953, and since 1978 I let him camp on my farm in Old Orchard Beach when he's in the area. He's covered with scars from WW2 and they call him an alien and demon because of his scars. They refuse to believe he is a human, which just goes to show how absolutely stupid they are.)

In November an elderly man came over and started asking me why I was emailing him about Etiole and I'm not, I don't use email. He said he was getting over 300 emails a day about Etiole all claiming to be from me. He said there are hundreds of email addresses getting copies of this email. You remember when Barbara and Brucie used to send emails back in 1997 claiming they were from me but we didn't have computer or internet back then? I think it might be Barbara sending those emails again like she did back then. I can't think of who else could be doing it.

This sometimes blond, sometimes red hair, sometimes purple hair woman, also mentions these emails when she is in my driveway yelling at my Volvo at 409 Main street. 

FBI agent Andy Drewer has found and shut down, so far 27 Facebook accounts, all pretending to be me. He said all of them were owed by Brucie. These fake "Eelkat" accounts appear to be the source of a lot of what this blond woman says and is suspected that she may be one of the people behind writing them.

Due to the incident yesterday it is now also believed that she is the mystery blond woman who pretends to be my father's girlfriend and harassed my mother for no reason other then to get a laugh on watching my mother fight with my father (something they do quite violently in public places, in stores, just everywhere.)

If you know who this blond woman is, please tell FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street. She is wanted for questioning about her connection to the November 14, 2013 murder of my baby and attempted murder of me, and the April 10, 2015 murder of my foster children and the September 26, 2016 hit and run attack on my car and the February 2019 vandalism to 27 High st apartment building, and the November 2021 attack on my Volvo and the March 10, 2022 attack on my Volvo and the April 10, 2022 ATM attack on my parents. 



Update: April 10, 2022, big violent attack, as police and FBI expected.

Today is the 7th anniversary of the murder of my family. Remember I said to watch who does what today?... My father just beat the hell out of my mother, tried to kill her. She is right now refusing to call the police. My mother claims she caught my father with a girlfriend he's had for several years now. But near as I can tell, all he did was stop to tell some random stranger how to use the ATM machine. Note, they got divorced in 1994, my mother left my father for another man, left the other man for another man after that, and left the next man for Wayne. She's been with 2 other men (possibly more) since Wayne. She has not been a part of my father's life for 30 years, but feels the need to control his life and harass him on extreme violent levels. If he does have a girlfriend, so what? She left him 30 years ago.

Wayne died during the cat court case, the 2nd one, when he sued my mother for stealing his cats and putting them in my motorhome. Wayne's father, 8 of his cats, and then Wayne himself each died a few weeks apart all from rat poison. Wayne's daughter sued my mother claiming my mother put rat poison in their food.

The fbi believes my mother did kill Wayne and his cats and believes that's why she put his cats in my motorhome. Fbi believes my mother was one who called police April 10, 2015, expecting them to arrest me, take the motorhome, and return the cats to her. She did not expect police to take cats. All the harassment and vandalism of my mom's cars is believed by fbi to be Wayne's daughter friends and relatives and family.

My family, my children were murdered in 2 attacks, one on November 14, 2013 and one on April 10, 2015, both attacks are believed by the FBI to have been attacks that were intended on my mother and the people hired mixed me and her up.

April 10, is my mother's father's birthday by the way, David Henry Atwater, it's WHY she does everything she does, all her wild crazy vandalisms to people on April 10 every year since the 1950s.


April 6, 2022 update, as the attacks on my family and property continue and now more people are in the hospital

Daddy has sepsis and they keeping him in hospital for a few days.

Sepsis is very bad.

That's what I had.

You can die a few hours after it sets in if not treated.

When I was in the hospital in 2014.

That's why I was in the hospital.

I had surgery for it in march 2015.

That was the surgery on my arm.

Sepsis was in a major artery in left arm to heart. 

Side effect from when I was in hospital November 2013 when I was in wheelchair and February 2014 when I was on crutches relearning how to walk. Doctors was focused on my hip and not my spine. They didn't find the source of infection until until the mri in June 2016. 

Sepsis is why I can't walk without cane and why my lungs are messed up and why I have tremors and can't use my hands good anymore. Sepsis infection was so back it damaged my nerves. I was scheduled for spinal column surgery September 2016, they sent me to a neurosurgeon who was supposed to be top brain surgeon in New England and he did more mri and then canceled surgery because damage to my vertebrae (from golf club attack November 2013, which is what caused all of this, including the Sepsis and is the attack that brought the fbi here they think Mark wife did it but college had no security cameras at the bug light parking lot, they investigating Mark family, Barbara family,  and Brucie family. Charges of murdering my baby and attempted murder of me) is so bad. Shattered vertebrae bone fragments are severed into my spinal column nerve bundle at the sacroiliac joint where the hip and pelvis connect to spine. Neurosurgeon said he can't operate because of how nerve damage is, said if he removed bone fragments I would be paralyzed from neck down. But that is also when the source of Sepsis infection was found to be in my spine and not my hip, and that is when it finally went away because they were able to target the correct place to fix the infection.

Mark’s wife is the #1 suspect the FBI is watching, because, according to the FBI, this mysterious Mark guy, whom I have never met, never heard of prior to this, have never talked to, and have never seen, so I have no clue who he or his wife are… according to the FBI, he is friends with my mother, but only via her FaceBook account, where she hired him to put in a septic system, then gave him MY address in Old Orchard, while making the claim that SHE owned both MY land and MY motorhome, and when he asked for a picture of her so he would know who she was, she gave him a picture of ME, not herself.

According to FBI agent Andy Drewer THIS is the reason why the backhoe was driven over my house August 8, 2013 and why the golf club attackers attacked me on November 14, 2013.

According to the FBI, my mother was trying to get my land so she could sell it to use the money for a down payment on a house in Kennebunk and she used this Mark guy as her pawn to do it, by fighting with him on social media using “fake EelKat” accounts to convince him that he was dealing with me, even though I had never heard of him before.

According to the FBI, my mother started sending his family death threats, in the same way she is currently sending Todd Murphey’s family death threats, and that this is why Mark’s wife attacked with the golf clubs, murdering my baby and crippling my spine. According to the FBI, Mark’s wife thought she was attacking my mother and was unaware that both my mother, her sister Barbara, and her brother Bruce’s wife Doris were all impersonating me, using 27 different “fake EelKat” FaceBook accounts to scam Mark’s family about a septic system.

This was confirmed by the Old Orchard Beach police in October 2016, when Mark attacked my mother in person and was arrested by OOB police, that day. He made the claim, that she, my mother, was me, but the officers in question, Robin and Will, both know me and my mother and informed Mark that this was not me that he was fighting with, it was my mother, to which he said this was the woman he had been dealing with since June 2001 who had called herself EelKat in every correspondence. The police showed Mark pictures of me and he said he had never seen me before and had no clue who I was.

This event October 2016, is when both the police and FBI started expanding their investigation, now looking for people who were friends of my mother, her sister Barbara, and her brother Bruce, and that is when they found the identity of long time stalker and bomb builder Kendra Silvermander who turned out to be a FaceBook friend of all 3 of them.

After Mark’s gang found out October 2016 that I was NOT the person they had been fighting with online, but rather it had been my mother impersonating me, the attacks on my family stopped but the attacks on my mother’s family started February 2017 when a road grader drove 75 feet up her driveway and flattened her car. Since then this event was repeated with 3 more cars.

In August 2021, My mother and her sister began impersonating me on FaceBook and with emails, yet again, and as they had done in the past, used my friend Etiole to do it. Once again, calling him a demon and an alien and a cryptid, and once again pretending to be me, they wrote a lot of emails and started mass spam sending them to every Maine email address they could find, at a rate of sending them to several thousand people a day.

I found out about this in November 2021, after Etiole was shot, gunned down by 6 people at Rotary Park in Biddeford, Maine on November 21, 2021, by people who claimed to be from Scarborough, Maine and claimed to be the mother and in laws of some guy named Todd Murphey.

I still have no clue who Todd Murphey is, but apparently he used to work with my mother and commit suicide recently and my mother and her sister took advantage of his suicide to yet again pretend to be me, and this time, calling Etiole a suicide demon, started harassing this Todd guy’s ex wife, son, and mother on FaceBook and via emails while pretending to be me. Which caused these people to show up at my 409 Main Street/Harvey/Cutts street Biddeford apartment to vandalize my car and cut all the wires off the apartment building, not once, but twice: on Thanksgiving day 2021 and again on March 10, 2022, because these friends and family of this Todd guy are 100% convinced the nut they are dealing with on FaceBook is me, when in fact, the one they are dealing with is no me, but rather my mother yet again pretending to be me.

This is also what led to the December 2021 and January 2022 FBI raids in the Cutts Street are of Biddeford, just a few weeks ago, which led to the arrests of 8 people.

Back to sepsis…

On December 24, 2021, my mother arrived here at 409 Main street and stole my father’s 14 medications that he takes for his triple by pass, his kidney dialysis, his diabetes… and then, she took him in her car, drove to his doctor, and told his doctor, he’s not allowed to have medicine, because he has to do what she says.

He has not taken his medicine since December 24, 2021, it is today April 6, 2022, and he is struggling to stay alive.

All of this is because she is hell bent on a house in Kennebunk and doesn’t give a shit that she has caused my baby to be murdered November 14, 2013, my foster children to be murdered April 10, 2015, me to be going through a decade long medical nightmare after being crippled November 14, 2013, 5 of my cars to be destroyed including The real Cristine The World’s Most Haunted Car that Stephen King based his Cristine off of, my house -the one that was in the Thinner movie- to be driven over by a back hoe, and now my father dying in the hospital.

Death and destruction at every turn, and she doesn’t give a shit because, as she puts it: “What are we going to do about Wendy? She can’t keep that land, I need a house in Kennebunk!”

Her obsession with getting a house is utter ludicrous insanity, that needs to be stopped before anyone else dies at the hands of her fucking retarded FaceBook friends who blinding attack, vandalize, and beat up anyone and everyone on her command.

I am so fed up with her blind devotion to a fairy tale house she thinks she has to have, at the expense of the lives of everyone around her.



March 30, 2022, update on yet another attack on my family and land

Police take notice. 


Scam artists have been bringing real estate agents onto my property in attempt to illegally sell my land. They have no right or permission to be here. My land is NOT for sale. If you see them doing it, please arrest them.

These are the Scottish Travellers. They arrive here every summer, harassing my family for four decades now. They are the same ones who drove a backhoe over my house August 8, 2013. The same ones who crippled me and murdered my baby November 14, 2013 with golf clubs, leaveing me paralized with a broken spine ever since. I am cripled with a shattered spinal column since the golf club attack and am bedridden weeks to a time unable to sit up or get out of bed. I have rebuilt my house 5 times in the past 9 years, and their attempts to steal my land and sell it have been barbaric and violent, and icluded a bomb that blew up my house October 18, 2006, and most of my family is now dead, murdered at their hands. These are the same people who cut my 1964 Dodge 330 in half May 10, 2010. They arrived back here September 19, 2020 and illegally cut down most of the trees across my lawn, and arrived again November 19, 2021 and for the last 20 years they arrive every summer with a green dump truck and dump garbage on my lawn. In 2014 they left a pile of garbage 175 feet long, 30 feet wide and 12 feet tall and it cost me $12,000 to have it removed. I am crippled and elderly and there is no one to help me against their harassment.

There should NEVER be anyone other than me EelKat Wendy C Allen (with the painted Volvo) or my partner Benjamin Wildes (with the blue Honda) in my yard at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where the ink motorhome is parked. If you see ANYONE ELSE or any other car in my yard, please call the police immediately. There is no one else who has permission to be on my land.

My land is NOT for sale, if you see real estate agents, please inform them they are being scammed and the people trying to sell my land are NOT the legal land owners.

The FBI are on the look out for them as are the local police. If you see them in my yard, please notify both the Old Orchard Beach Police Department at 207-934-4911 and FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 at the Portland FBI office on Middle street.





March 10, 2022 update on the most recent vandalism of my car

This is a copy of the letter that has been forwarded to the police departments involved. For this online edition some parts have been removed (so if you get to a place that seems like the topic changed abruptly, that is why) and the names are removed from the online version, but the version the police have, includes all the full names and contact info of all the people in question. And for those who have asked: yes, the police and FBI have talked to Etiole, they are fully aware of him, his health, his homelessness, etc.

Dear Sirs,

I feel I need to tell you what has been happening as it has gotten very much out of control the past few weeks. It's been slowly escalating for a few years and, if you look at my police record for both Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, you will see dozens of reports for vandalism of my 1992 Volvo 240 (the painted one) at now 3 apartments in Biddeford, and vandalism of my land in Old Orchard Beach. In the past 6 months, a hyper escalation started with has become very out of control the past couple of weeks.

Last night, my car was vandalized again.  

As these events are taking place in both Old Orchard Beach and Biddeford, I'm giving this same letter to both departments, so events from both towns are listed.

I am Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine and 409 Main Street apartment 101 Biddeford, Maine.

There appears to be someone fairly local impersonating me online, and is raising hell with a lot of local people, inciting them to do very violent physical attacks on me, my Biddeford apartment, my Old Orchard land, and my car.

It's reached the point where I can not go to the store without having my car towed home, because it gets vandalized so bad while I'm n the store shopping. EVERY TIME I go to the store. I've been at a loss to understand why this is happening. I don't know who these people are or why they are attacking. On Thanksgiving day they cut all the wires off the Biddeford apartment building so we had no internet or heat or anything for a while. There is a "redhaired" woman who shows up on the front porch to cream at my car, every time the family who lives in that apartment goes to work. She stopped a few weeks ago, because the man who lives there fell on the ice, broke his shoulder and has not gone to work since. It appears she knows that family who lives there and does not want them knowing she does this while they are not home.

A few weeks ago an old man walked up to me, asked if I was EelKat and then asked me why I kept emailing him, and I said I don't email anyone cause I don't use email. He said some days he gets over 300 emails a day from someone claiming to be EelKat.

 

We are Gypsies, and though I've lived in America my whole life, I know very little of American habits and laws or what specifically to do in this situation. We are the Gypsies who were in Stephen King's Thinner movie and my 146 Portland Ave land was one of the filming locations of the movie and, the cars in the opening scenes were our cars, one of which I still have. I mention this, because, there are two Gypsy clans, The Atwaters (Scottish Travellers) and the Cyrs (Irish Travellers) fighting over my land and the fight centres largely around the fact that it was the filming location of Stephen King's the Thinner movie.

I own the land. From the 1940s it was owned by my grandmother Helen Ricker Allen. She left it to me in her will in 1983. Unknown to me, at some point after 1983, the Atwaters had the land illegally transferred into their names -they steal land this way as a full time career and many of them have illegally deed swapped land in all 50 states in America.

In 2014, I found out they are done an illegal deed swap, when an auction group showed up on my land to sell it. Upon discovery I had been living on the land since 1975 and paying taxes on it since 1983, but my name was not on the deed, the auctioneer (and member of the OOB town hall) cancelled the auction and ordered a town hall meeting to review the situation. Upon investigation it was discovered that when the land went from my grandmother to me, my father signed as "joint witness" and then a year later, went back to the town hall to have my name removed from the deed and his put on it, even though he had no legal write to do so. After that, the record shows that every 3 to 5 years, he and my mother swapped names on the deed, sometimes his name, sometimes her name. The land changed ownership names more then 30 times between 1983 and 2013. 

Because I have severe agoraphobia, I had not set foot off of my land since the 1970s. When it came time to pay the taxes, I gave my father the money and he delivered it to the town hall, or so I thought. In 2014, I learned that in spite of my paying my taxes like clockwork, since 2006, the town hall had no record of receiving any money. It is unclear where the money went. On one hand it looks like my father spent the money and never paid the taxes. On the other hand it looks like he sometimes did pay the taxes but instead of going to the tax office he gave the money to Kathy BR in the permits office and she gave the money to a guy called JB who went to prison for embezzling $3million in OOB tax money from the town hall. JB did not work for the town hall, he was a software designers who built the online banking security for the town hall to direct deposit money to the bank, and according to the FBI the money was going to his bank account not the town hall bank account, but he was only found with $30k not $3million. I don't know the full details, I only know this part, because when we tried to find out why my land was being auctioned this is the info we were given.

In any case, at some point my dad stole my land via just walking into the town hall and asking the desk clerk to remove my name from the deed and put his name on it instead. The whole thing was done illegally and without my knowledge or permission.

There were 3 lands originally. 144, 146, and 146a. My father stole all 3 of them. 144 was auctioned off to the Collard family in 2007, even though I was still living there until 2015 without any knowledge of the auction happening. No one informed me. I've since spoken with the Collards and they were unaware of the situation. They actually bought the land legally even though it was stolen land they had bought, they were unaware the land had been stolen. Everything has been straightened out between me and the Collards, they are not part of the current problem.

My mother owns 146a, but she owns it illegally. She claims it's rightfully hers because my father gave it to her, but, he stole it from me via illegally rewriting the deed, so he had no right to give it to her.

In 2014 and 2015, all the court and legal work was done to restore 146 back to me.

The current situation is my parents are in an active attempt to remove my name off the deed again, like they had done back in 1983.

On a daily basis my mother shows up and first words out of her mouth every day is: "What are we going to do about Wendy? She can't keep that land. I need a house in Kennebunk." to my father.  She started doing this in August, originally bragging that she was going to take my land out of retaliation for my refusal to cast death curses on Chris at work. I don't know who "Chris at work" is. It was one of the names on her list of people she wants me to kill via death spell curses. I was live streaming on Twitch the day she came in yelling about "Chris at work" and my need to kill him for her, so a lot of people online heard her saying these things. I'm a YouTube gamer, I have a livestream going almost daily for 12+ hours a day, so when she comes in, #1 it's breaking and entering because I didn't let her in, and #2 she is interrupting my live streams quite regular so I have hundreds of video footage clips of her saying these things and making these threats. The day she and my father cut the cable/internet wires off my apartment building - I have that on livestream footage as well. My father cut the wires off the house while my mother was ordering him to do it. In November 2021 and again 2 days ago March 9, 2022.

They both make the claim I don't need internet, because I am as they put it "being a bad daughter" because I "won't sell your land and give me the money for a down payment, I need a down payment, you are supposed to give me the down payment money for a house, I'm your mother!"'

As for what happened to my car March 9, 2022 - my father, my father vandalized my car and tried to make it look like my brother  did it. My father stuffed the tailpipe full of McDonald's ketchup packets that he stole from the Biddeford McDonald's where my brother works, which is what caused the fuel line to blow up. I could have died. My car is now being repaired again, for the exact same thing I had to have it repaired for in November 2021. My father tried to kill me and make it look like my brother who works at McDonald's did it so my brother would be blamed. Twice. Once in November 2021 and again 2 days ago.

My father did the same thing in November, because of some guy named Todd who I supposedly convinced to kill himself via may painting a "suicide demon" on my car. There is a picture of Etiole on my car, that is what they are calling "a suicide demon"

I don't know who Todd is, but I assume the Biddeford police know as they did spend a week scrapping the thousands of exploded parts of him off all the houses around Cutts st and South st, after he jumped in front of a train November 19, 2021 at 6:27PM. I was walking my dog and saw him, he was gibbering a lot of wild nonsense stuff like: "fibbery-gibbit-beebydi-booop-bop-boop-bop-booop-beeeeeeeep!" I amused he was either very drunk or very high on drugs or both and was attempting to make train sounds while he ran up and down the train tracks. I thought nothing of it, as he did this on a daily basis all summer long, he was a homeless man who lived in the ravine by the train tressal bridge over the river, the one the police kept chasing out of the black grain building turned storage units. There were 4 people on bicycles, driving circles around him bullying him, teasing him, taunting him daily around 3AM every morning. I saw them while I was walking my dog. It appeared to be his girlfriend and her friends based on the stuff she was yelling at him. Stuff like "You run off with that whore will you! WW I showed you! I killed your dog! Hahahahahaha! I killed your cat! Hahahahaha! And you ain't never gonna see your baby again! Hahahahaha!" I know every one says he commit suicide, but I think he was just running to get away from the harassers on the bikes and was too drunk to see the train. That's certainly what it looked like to me.

THAT was not a suicide, not what I saw happen. That was a man being bullied and chased down by four harassers riding bicycles up the tracks, driving him head on into a train on purpose to try to kill him so they could laugh about it. I wouldn't call THAT a suicide.

Anyways, I didn't know his name or that my mother was best friends with him. Though I had told her about the homeless man being bullied and her response was "Why should I care? It's just a homeless man!" She changed her tune quite a lot after he got hit by the train, and found out his name. The police contacted her or something, when they were trying to find his family. I guess she knew his family on FaceBook or something.

Since his death, me, my car, and my apartment have been attacked on a near daily basis from people who are making the claim that I am online spreading rumours and lies about Todd. I kept asking them who Todd was (because at that point I did not yet know they were talking about the homeless man hit by the train - though I saw him daily for about 4 months, ever since the police kicked him out of the storage until he'd been living in and he lived under the train bridge and in Rotary Park instead - he only ever spoke to me a few times - once to pet my dog and say "they took my dog" and saying "hi" as we passed on the sidewalk. So I never knew his name. He lived in a yellow pup-tent beside the tracks for a while, but one day it was laying out there cut to ribbons by a knife or scissors.)

Even though I only knew him from saying "hi" each night as we passed each other on the sidewalk and I never knew his name until after his death, more then a dozen people have arrived in my driveway (both the Biddeford and Old Orchard addresses) to accuse me and my friend Etiole and the words painted on my Volvo of being the cause of this Todd guy's train death.

They are focusing heavily on the words on my car, which say: "Have information about the murder of my family? Call FBI @ 207-774-9322"

There is a sign in my Old Orchard driveway which says: "Have information about the murder of my children? Call FBI @ 207-774-9322"

On November 14, 2013, at Southern Maine Community College, while I was 8 months pregnant, I was attacked by 3 people with golf clubs. A man and 2 women.

There is no reason for anyone who is NOT involved in the murder of my baby, to be upset about either the sign in my yard or the sign on my car, both of which are nothing more then the FBI phone number with the request for anyone who has information to call.

I don't understand why me asking for people to help find my baby's killer, is seen by my parents as such a huge threat. The only person who who feel threatened by that would be the person who hired the golf club people - Claire, Kendra, and the bald man - who have still not yet been found/caught/identified to this day 9 years later.

Both my mother and my father keep saying and I quote "take that shit off your car, you are only trying to start trouble!" and "get that sign out of your yard, you are only trying to stir stuff up". I'm trying to find the people who murdered my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not trying to cause trouble. How is me asking people to help identify the murderer, me trying to start trouble?

I was paralyzed for 5 months. I had to relearn to walk. I crippled the rest of my life, and my baby is dead. No one should have to live through this type of agony. And no one who commits crimes like this should be allowed to walk free. Would you stand back and do nothing, say nothing, while a criminal like that walked free? How is my asking people to come forward with any information they know, me trying to start trouble? You tell me that!

I'm not allowed to ask for help in finding the psychopath who murdered my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life? What kind of logic is that?

Someone out there knows the names of these people. The older blond woman they called Claire, the younger blond woman with the Shirley Temple sausage curls, the red haired woman they call Kendra, the white haired man with the green pick up truck, the bald man with the 4door white pickup truck, the new redhaired women who screams on the front porch. These people, this group, they are the ones who were wielding golf clubs and murdered my baby. They are being allowed to get away wit murder and I'll spend the rest of my life demanding justice if I have to. You tell me, how is my asking if you know who they are, don't let them kill again, tell the FBI everything you know, by painting that request on my car and a sign in my yard, me looking to start trouble? My mother's priorities are fucked up. All she cares about is money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money! 

I'm the bed ridden, crippled by multiple attacks. The November 14, 2013 golf club attack, I was almost healed from, but the June 2016 shopping cart attack at my workplace at Scarborough WalMart re opened the 2013 injury and doctors can't operate this time because of the bone shards severing my spinal column. I'm crippled for the rest of my life and no one in this family ever cared. 

Both attacks the FBI wanted to talk to my parents and they refused to talk to him both times. My baby was murdered in the first attack. I was 8 months pregnant and all any of them would do was gibberish about "rosemary baby" and say there was no baby because it was a demon because it was Etiole's. My parents and the Atwaters hate Etiole that much, that they shun the existence of my baby and act like it was never there. That's how much they hate me. That's how cruel and hate filled they are towards me. They spent the last 50 years calling me demon possessed and them saying that is WHY local people attack me and killed my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. 

I am in bed 15 or more hours a day, I can barely sit up, I can barely stand up long enough to cook, I have to wear adult diapers since 2013 because half my organs don't work any more because the nerves from those organs to my spine are cut off. My hands shake so bad that it takes me hours to eat a single meal. I can't go back to college, I can't go back to work. But do they care? No. Not my mother. Not my father. Neither of them give a shit. They are both too damned selfish thinking about their own greed to ever once lift a finger to help me. Daddy treats me like a fucking slave and my mother is so far out of my life shunning me because bishop kenning in Saco ward told her too that she hasn't got a clue how bad things are.

I'm not doing a damned thing to any of them. I mind my own business. I write my novels. I don't contact them. I don't talk to them. I don't talk about them.  Someone is clearly pretending to be me online and is slandering me and getting sick of it. My mother flips out about everything thing under the sun and I never have a clue what she's talking about, because I never did or said any of the things she accuses me of. And my father and the Atwaters do the same thing. Some one is out there pretending to be me to get them worked into a frenzy just to sit back and laugh while watching my mother, my father, and the Atwaters be too damned stupid to think. My mother and my father and the Atwaters are all filled with so much pure hatred for me that it takes nothing to convince them to attack me. And whoever it is posting online pretending to be me, knows that and is taking advantage of it. 

They are obsessed with my land, because my mother's father used to tell people there was $7million in gold buried on my land. Several times over the years the Atwaters have invaded bringing with them shovels, pickaxes, and construction equipment, to illegally dig up my land. They've ripped up flowers, dug up bushes, cut down trees... usually they do it while I'm gone to the store, so I come back to find my property ripped to shreds. They've been doing this on an almost yearly basis since Grammy Helen died in 1983. According to what David Henry Atwater claimed, pirates buried treasure on my land in the 1500s. There is ZERO evidence that pirates ever buried anything on my land. Later he changed the story and said that the gold plates of the Book of Mormon Part 2 were buried on my land, this time he claimed an angel from god told him. So the Atwaters have multiple excuses for why they arrive to dig everything up, but it's always that they are gold crazy and have gold fever and are convinced if they dig long enough they'll find gold on my land.

The other obsession they have with my land is a homeless man they call "Etiole". They sometimes claim he is a demon, they other times claim he is an alien, for a few years they called him a cryptid, they often say he's the Mememegwasi spirit of the Saco River Curse, a few of them say he's a watcher/fallen angel, some say he's a ghost of an Indian chief, some say he's the ghost of a French solider, some have called him a Faerie/Leprechaun/FarDarrig ... and a whole slew of other claims. Regardless of what they call him, they all adimintly refuse to believe that he is just an ordinary human, an elderly homeless man who keeps to himself and desperately wants them to leave him alone. That's all he is. He's just a homeless man who lives in the woods and wants them to leave him alone.

The Atwaters are obsessed with Etiole on severe levels and have gone to alarming levels of monstrous harassment of him through the past 50 years. Part of their obsession with him, is caused by their previously mentioned gold fever. You see, Etiole travels all over Maine, I never know where he is at any given time, but when he's in the local area, I let him camp out on my land. I've let him stay with me like this for over 40 years. In the 1980s, one of the times they arrived to dig up my land, Etiole was sleeping in my 1964 Dodge 330, and according to them, he jumped out of the car and "threw blue lighten bolts" at them causing a tornado to destroy their construction equipment. They claimed he turned into a black serpent with red eyes and 6 blue wings that was hundreds of feet long, surrounded them and killed several of them by summoning lightning bolts. . . . uhm . . . yeah. I wasn't home so I didn't see this event, of Etiole supposedly attacking them. But it's pretty clear they had some sort of massive LSD hallucination, given many of them heavily used LSD back in the 1970s and 1980s when this event happened. According to Etiole, he just jumped out of the car and ran into the swamp to hide, he didn't see any of the stuff they described.

After that they got it into their heads that I had summoned a demon (and that Etiole was said demon) to protect my secret cache of pirate gold, and their battle cry of "kill the demon" is what caused them to blow up my house with a bomb October 18, 2006, drive over my house with a backhoe August 8, 2013, beat me up with golf clubs and murder my baby November 14, 2013, cut my 1964 Dodge 330 in half May 10, 2010. All those things you have all those police reports about.

They are convinced Etiole is in my yard to keep them from my gold. The only problem is, there is no gold on my land. Etiole is not a demon, and their extreme levels of harassment are utterly insane! 

But then, when they get caught on my camera, because I'm a daily vlogger, so the camera is running all the time, them they accuse me of harassing them, because their faces showed up on my livestream. Uhm... I'm on y own land, in my own bedroom, usually a few hours into my daily livestream when they get caught in the background trespassing. That's NOT me harassing them. That's them trespassing and vandalizing, and breaking and entering while not realizing I was home and them getting caught in the act of vandalizing and trespassing.

Then they run to FaceBook and make all kinds of wild claims about me stalking them. I'm crippled. I can't even get out of bed. Every time I have them on camera, it's because they were trespassing and breaking and entering. I'm in my bedroom livestream a game on my computer and they'll be smashing out windows and get mad that it happened to be the window in line with my livestream webcam on my computer. That's NOT be stalking them. That's me laying in bed playing Witcher 3 and them breaking in.

I'm too damned sick and crippled to even attempt to do half the crazy shit my mother and my father are accusing me of. And what's worse, my father is right here in the same apartment with me. He sees me every day, he knows how bad off my health is. 

Look how much I'm bleeding all over the house every day. Massive nose bleeds that last for hours to a time, not bleeding from my nose. Just coming out of my nose. I'm so dizzy I can't sit up for weeks to a time. I faint and blackout when I try to get up to go to the bathroom. The pain in my hip and pelvis and knee and spine is so bad I can't even move my fingers to type my novels. 

And look at what they do. Do they really think I'm physically capable of doing the things they accuse me of? They are so damned self centred and paranoid. It's all I can do just to sit up and eat something, how the hell do they think I can do the stuff they accuse me of? My day is spent focusing on trying to get my leg to move so I can make a meal, I don't even have time to think about them. 

It looks more and like my mother and my father are doing this stuff on purpose to try to kill me. My father knows how bad off my heart and lungs are and how difficult it is for me to breath after just a couple of steps. His mother left that land to me in her will in 1983. He stole it, had it put into his name illegally. He's been pissed ever since her death, because she gave everything to me not him. That's been a big problem for him for the last 40 years. He raves about it alongside his ravings about going to Utah taking him off the fire department. He hates my mother because of Utah, blames her every day for losing his fire department pension. He raves about it all night long every single night. He blames me for his mother disinheriting him. He raves about that all the time too. I was only grandchild That's why she left everything to me. Including the land that he stole and put in his name. That land is rightfully mine, his mother gave it to me, and he can't stand it. He's needling my mother about the land just to spite his mother.

He's only trying to get the land away from me because he is mad that the town didn't take it. His mother wanted it to stay in the family. It had been in her family since 1530. Her family was the original settlement family of Old Orchard and my land is that spot that the first house in Old Orchard was built.  My father stopped paying taxes to spite his mother and lose the land. He said so many times. He was angry when I bought the land back from the town. He still is. He wants it out of the family because his mother wanted it in the family. That's why he's trying to turn my mother against me over the land. Because he gates his own mother that much.

Keep in mind the 4 door white truck showed up at my workplace daily. Even though I never knew ahead of time what store I would be working at. I was a retail merchandiser and stocked shelves at dozens of stores all over the state. Walmart's every where, CVS, khols, sometimes local, sometimes as far as Freeport and once in Vermont and once in Massachusetts.  I got the notice of which store to be at 15 minutes before I left. So the only person who ever knew where I was going was my father. 

And yet the 4 door white truck would also arrive ahead of me and be waiting. They didn't follow me, they got their first.

And the police caught the truck and the driver in 2017. Kathy BR owned the truck. Her son was the driver.

The smith's are my parents friends. My mother's visiting and home teachers for years.

Kathy was the district emergency dispatch for all the towns in the area, not just old Orchard. That's why none of the 911 calls went through during the attacks by the 4 door white truck. He only attacked while she was on duty. She never forwarded any of the calls so officers never were told to come help me.

That includes the November 14, 2013 golf club attack in South Portland. But the college security officer made a report even though the police never arrived. That big black officer who was head of security was on duty and him and 2 student officers from the police academy made the report.

And FBI found the data from the calls, that never got forwarded to police, that's why Kathy BR lost her job. Because she's the one who tampered with the 911 call files.

Tim and Kathy BR both, not together, individually, arriving separately, both arrived at my tent multiple times throughout the entire year of 2013, saying they were coming to speak to me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous. So I never knew who sent them. Each time they arrived all they would say was that I had to tear down "the little yellow house" as they called the shop. 

August 8, 2013 the backhoe drove over the shop while I was at work on the food truck down by the pier.

I never saw Tim or Kathy again after that. Not once. And these were people who stopped by to visit my parents daily for over 40 years. Since August 8, 2013 and the backhoe attack on my house, Kathy and Tim have gone to alarming extreme levels to avoid running into me. They just down the street, on one of the private drives, so it's difficult to avoid running into me, and we used to see them a few times a week at local grocery stores. They both, if they see me in a store, literally throw whatever they are carrying across the store and run out of the store like they have a pack of rabid wolves on their heels. It's pretty fascinating thing to see.

My cousin and next door neighbour Tim Murphy was murdered that same week, a few days before the backhoe. His body was left at the cascade Ross road crossroad. 14 days later his head was left at the Portland Ave Ross road crossroad road. His mother put up the big white cross a month later. 

Note that there were THREE 4-door white trucks, a smaller one, a larger one, and a mega-sized giant one -like a Dodge Power Wagon type only it was not a Dodge Power Wagon it was one of the look alike brands, possibly a Nissan. The owner and driver of the big-big-super sized one is still unidentified. The other 2 were both caught in 2017, Kathy BR's truck being the larger of the 2. The 3 trucks often showed up together and drive circles around me, on Rout 1/Portland Rd, while I was driving. They would slam my car from back and sides and push me off the road. Several times they did damage to the frame of my car with had to be repaired multiple times. They've done several tens of thousands in damages to my Volvo over the years. You already have a lot of the smashed up car photos on file, at both Biddeford and Old Orchard police departments, you each have more then a dozen reports for attacks on my car -though the FBI has said someone attempted to destroy several of the records with my name, at the Old Orchard police department. FBI said they arrested the officers who did that. I don't know which files were damaged or how. 

For several years/decades now, I have had multiple people trying to buy my land. The same people over and over again. Only buying my land is not what they are asking for. Rather, they claim my land is cursed and I have to sell it to break the curse. Crazy, I know, but that's what they say. The crazier part is they say that after I sell my land I have to hand the money over to them so they can use it as a down payment on a house they want to buy in Kennebunk. The people in question are my parents and they've been doing this for well over 20 years now. I've always said "no, I'm not selling my land" and left it at that.

My mother (she changes her last name often, I'm not sure which she currently uses) and my father my father both have become extreme hostile and violent the past 2 weeks, and I'm not sure what set them off, but they are hyper infuriated on my refusal to sell my land and give them the money for a down payment of a house in Kennebunk. 

I did not suspect them, all these years, because always been other people showing up and say they were contacting me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous, but now they are directly doing it themselves.

Starting in June 2001, lots of harassment started and at first, I did not suspect them, or think there was a connection. But now they are outright bragging to my face, that they are the ones behind the vandalism. Like I said, check the police records for 144, 146, 148 Portland Ave from June 2001 til current date. There have been dozens of attacks, including drive by shootings, the bombing of my house, the backhoe driving over my next house, me being beat up with golf clubs which is why I am crippled now for the rest of my life and how my baby died.

The FBI is involved. If you need more information beyond what I've written here,  FBI Agent Andy Drewer can be reached at 207-774-9322 he is at the Portland Office on Middle Street, he is in charge of the investigation, of several events, namely the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, which my uncle Paul Martel went to prison for building the bomb and selling it to ISIS. The 2006 bombing of the house at 144 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine. My baby was murdered November 14, 2013, a backhoe drove over my house at 146 Portland August 8, 2013 that's why I'm at the Biddeford apartment right now, because we can't get Kathy BR at the town hall to get a building permit, even though she's not the one in charge of that, she takes over our application and won't let it be approved, because she claims I shouldn't be allowed to live in Old Orchard, due to my having left the Mormon church to become a Voodoo Priestess, she says that makes me a witch and I'm not allowed to apply for a house building permit on those grounds, so, it's been 9 years and I'm still without a house on my land in Old Orchard and still stuck in a Biddeford apartment.

It is a long list of a lot of things happening. I'll try to organize it all in order:

At it's start, the whole thing goes back to a homeless man who wishes to remain anonymous, so I'm not using his real name here, nor have I ever used his real name anywhere online or offline or with any conversation with any one.

He, didn't do anything wrong. Quite the contrary, all he's ever done is live in the Ross Forest and surrounding swamps and marshes along the Saco River in Pine Point, OOB, Saco, Biddeford, and probably other areas, he moves around a lot rotating where he sets up camp, something he's done since 1953. I know quite a few people have seen him and talked to him, I don't know if any police officers have ever encountered him or not. Because he is elderly and in frail health, I often let him stay on my land. He's the ONLY person who has permission to be there. Herein lays the problem: he's deformed from acid burn scars covering most of his body. Churches around the area have spent decades accusing him of being a cryptid, alien, demon, watcher, fallen angel, you name it, someone has called him some weird conspiracy. According to him, himself, he was a Jewish WW2 concentration camp survivor, who arrived in OOB with a bunch of other refugees in 1953. Because he's so deformed by his scars, he was bullied by the locals who refused to believe him a human, and that's why he fled into the forest and never set foot in society again. The problem is, the people harassing me have made up this wild conspiracy that he's a demon and I'm protecting him, and they claim they need to get me off my land in order to get to him.

This all started in 1978.

My parents (my father and my mother), uncles (12), aunts (12+), and cousins (64 at the 1970s/1980s time - more then 400 today), teased and bullied me throughout my childhood about him, but they teased and bullied everyone about everything, so I didn't think that much of their bullying back in the 1970s and 1980s when it first started happening. It was just them being the toxic bullies that they are to everyone.

It wasn't until the 1990s and 2000s that it started to become a problem. And 207 is when I first realized how big of a problem it really was.

In 1996 and 1997 Aunt aunt B sent out lots of emails to the family claiming the emails had been written by me. I did not have email, internet, or even a computer yet. She got Dickie (Richard Merlin Atwater) and David (Atwater) and Joey (Atwater -the one who lives in Australia and is wanted by the FBI for kidnapping and selling babies back in the 1980s- FBI can't arrest him until he leaves Australia -I'm not sure why- so he became a citizen. I don't know the details of what he's wanted for.) in raving warpath over it. All three of them showed up in OOB -even Joey from Australia-though I didn't know he was wanted by the FBI back than. But they arrived here in OOB to yell at me in person, because aunt B made the claim that the emails were from me, so they were all mad at me for having written them, but I never did know the contents of the emails because I didn't write them.

I did not see the emails. I didn't have access to a computer back then ad I didn't have internet until 2007 a full 11 years later. Dickie had several of them printed out and waving them around, but I never got a chance to read what they said. One of the emails was 64 pages long, and according to Dickie was all about aliens. I know nothing about aliens, so most of what he said was just gibberish nonsense to me. This was in 1996, shortly before Heaven's Gate killed 39 people in California and at the time, all 3 of those uncles, plus a few other uncles were members of Heaven's Gate, and one uncle -Mervin Bruce Atwater-made the claim to be "the leader of the Maine division of Heaven's Gate"- I don't know if he actually was a Heaven's Gate leader or not, but he maintained that he was right up until 2019, and in April 2019 he was making the claim to be following Comet Wormwood because HaleBop was the wrong one. Like I said, they were coming up with some pretty wild alien and UFO claims and I'm not sure how much of what they claimed was true.

Well, this was the first time I heard the word "Etiole" which was the nickname they had given to the homeless man who sometimes camped out on my yard. Etiole is not his name, it's always been just the word the Atwaters call him (they say it means man from the stars or alien and that it's a French word. I don't know French, aunt B is the one who knows French, so I never would have given him a French name.) Somewhere in the emails, aunt B had called the homeless man "Etiole" and "amphibious alien" and made the claim that he was an "alien grey" who had abducted me to some mother-ship.  

I have never been abducted by aliens and never made such a claim. I never heard such foolishness. But, that this point, I wasn't fully aware of what they were talking about, so I didn't yet realize they were saying that I was making the claim to have been abducted by aliens.

That's the summer they all showed up talking about Etiole and amphibious aliens and alien abduction. aunt B was the one who started all of that stuff about Etiole, who I never called Etiole. But that was how it got started...all this stuff that is happening now with the vandalism and threats going on this week March 2022.

Bruce and Dickie went to a bunch on MUFON forums from 1996 to 2007 spreading lies about me and Etiole calling him a demon and alien and claiming I was an alien abducted. I found out about what they were doing in 2007 after they'd already been doing it for 11 years. 

I don't think aunt B has ever stopped sending out emails about Etiole while pretended to be me, I think she is still doing it. I think this, because in December 2021, I was at the Biddeford library when an elderly man came over to me, asked if I was EelKat and asked me why I was sending him hundreds of emails about Etiole, and who was Etiole? I told the man I don't use email, I've never emailed anyone, I don't know what he's talking about. He says he gets over 300 emails a day about Etiole from someone claiming to be EelKat. But here's the thing: EelKat is not something I call myself. I'll explain that in a bit.

First, let's go back to 1994. Before aunt B started sending the emails out, while claiming they were written by me. My father (my father) was the one who told the Atwaters about Etiole. My father and Dickie both called him "the white monkey". 

In 1994 and 1996 Bishop Paul Morgan asked me to his office and showed me a bunch of letters, all of them signed "The White Monkey, OST". He said the letters were written to sound like I had written them but he said he'd seen my handwriting before and knew I hadn't written these. The Bishop wanted to know if I recognized the handwriting. Some had been written by my father. Others had been written by Dickie. One was written by my mom's father David Henry Atwater who died several years ago now. This was the Mormon bishop in Cape Elizabeth. This bishop had more then one hundred letters laying on his desk, and he had several boxes more around his desk. He said he received no fewer then 5 letter every day for several months, and was quite concerned for my safety as he felt the letter writers may be "mentally unhinged" and "highly dangerous" based on what he called "several homicidal rants" contained in the letters. He said he was giving the letters to Paul Peterson, at Pine Land Centre Mental Health Institute in New Gloucester, because he felt my father and my uncle Dickie should be committed due to the contents of the letters.

The letters looked physically bizarre. Each one started like a normal letter, straight across sentences, line by line, but upon reaching the end of the page, the words spiralled around the outer edge and into a circle around the page, then upside down bottom to top between the first rows.

Each letter contained codes and cryptographers, and large portions of the letters were unreadable unless you cracked the "secret code" that was included with them.

Both my father and my uncle Dickie frequently wrote in that weird spiral and zigzag of lines fashion. My father's letters were the ones that included the cryptography and hidden codes. Dickies letters were just weird spiralling but no codes to solve.

I did not read any of the letters, but the Bishop was deeply upset by them, and stated that he used to be Catholic before becoming Mormon and said that if he was still Catholic he'd recommend my father had an excorsim down, because as the Bishop put it "the white monkey letters are the closet thing I've ever seen to demon possession".

Later that same year Paul Peterson from Pine Land Centre arrived at church and asked to talk to me. He had with him, some of the White Monkey letters and like the Bishop asked me to id the handwriting.

Stake President Earnshaw (of the same church) later called me in to his office for similar letters he had also received and again the white monkey letters were written by mostly daddy and some Dickie all pretending to be me, trying to make it look like I was pretending to be Etiole. 

In total 16 Bishops and 2 stake presidents had contacted me over the years about white monkey letters, all citing they were receiving them daily. Some said members were receiving them. When I stopped attending the Mormon church, my mother's minister's at the 15 churches she was attending at the time, all started getting the letters. (At the time my mom had a belief that she had to be in church as close to 24 hours a day as possible, so she was attending week day church services at every church that had them, even though she was not a member of most of those churches. She became an atheist last I had heard and attends no churches at all anymore as far as I know.) 

My father was in and out of the hospital a lot during this time period (1991 to 1996-ish), due to the violent fights between him and my mother which included him twice being hospitalized due to blood gushing head injuries from a brick, which also included OOB police arresting my mother for beating him said brick. The psychiatrist from Pine Land Centre felt that my dad suffered serious brain damage from one of the brick beating attacks, and wanted him to press charges against my mother, but he refused. The psychiatrist said he felt that my dad's White Monkey letters was a side effect of the multiple head injuries he was hospitalized for. 

The white monkey letters stopped in 2007 when the psychiatrist at Biddeford hospital diagnosed my father as having schizophrenia and put him on psychiatric medicine. The Biddeford police have this arrest on record. We were living at Water st at the time and my father had tried to kill me and my brother Joshua and also himself. The police arrested him. He was in the psych ward for around a week, and released because of the drastic change in his personality that was caused by the medication. He was only released on the condition that he maintained the meds.

Since 2007 no one has mentioned Etiole or the white monkey, until November 19, 2021, when things (the vandalism and harassment and threats) started escalating, the week Todd Murphy died when people started showing up in Biddeford driveway yelling about Etiole and calling him a suicide demon, claiming my Volvo was demon possessed, and accusing me of driving my car around town to drive people to suicide. I don't know who these people were. The one doing most of the yelling has very unique and very identifiable hair: it's a "high fashion" stick straight bob, like what you see in Italy Runways, super stiff as a board, stick straight, like she uses a few jars of jell to get it so straight. And a weird dark-purple tinted red. Very anime cartoon looking hair. You can't mistake it. She always wears big dark glasses, and usually has a little skinny blond man with her, who appears to be her husband or boyfriend. She frequently is beating him over the head with a baby car seat, while yelling at me and my car, while standing on the front porch of our building. They don't live here, I don't know who they re or where they come from. She did it almost every day of December, and most of the last week of November 2021.

This is the first time anyone has mentioned Etiole in years.

They call him Etiole sometimes, White Monkey other times. 

I should tell you where the term "white monkey" come from.

There was a white monkey, in OOB in the 1970s. It belonged to Helen Pearly of Pine Point and was part of her "White Animal Farm" zoo that she ran, which was a little petting zoo of all albino animals. I think it shut down in the early 1980s. Most older folks of the area remember Helen Pearly and her albino zoo animals - which included an elephant, and other such animals. Well, one day the white monkey escaped and Helen Pearly was a friend of my grandmother's (Helen Ricker Allen) and Helen Pearly showed up at 146 Portland Ave (than 862 because the road was renumbers in 1982) to tell my Grammy Helen the monkey had been seen nearby and to let her know if we saw it. Well, after that me and the other neighbour kids started going out into the swamps looking for the white monkey because Helen Pearly was offering a reward for it being returned. And one day we saw it, and tried to catch it and we followed it into the swamps and we found a homeless man out there. He was sick and starving to death. 

The white monkey belonged to Helen Pearly and has nothing to do with Etiole at all. In 1978 Helen Pearly had a pet white monkey that got lost. Me and Atwater cousin Micheal and my Murphy cousin Timmy (the one whose white cross is on the Ross rd he died in 2013) saw it in the woods out back and tried to catch it. We found Etiole the same day. Etiole is a homeless man who lives behind my land in the woods. Me and Micheal and Timmy took him food. And to this day, we still do, except Michael moved away and Timmy died in 2013 so that left just me taking care of Etiole today. Etiole is very old, probably 80s or 90s today. He's very small, not much bigger than a child, maybe around 5'1"-ish. He's covered with acid burns, scars, and tattoos. He has extreme PTSD and is terrified of the sight of people. He's very skittish, almost mute, speaks mostly with his hands, and run terrified from any people who try to get near him. The only reason he didn't run the day we found him, was because he was very sick, probably pneumonia or something like that. Had we children not found him and taken him food for the next several weeks, he probably would have died that same summer. He must have been in his 50s or 60s back then in 1978.

We told the adults about him, and they went to find him, but, they found some plants instead out there in the swamp, and my mom called the police, and the OOB police called the state police, and the state police called the FBI and the entire rest of the week was lots of police digging up lots of plants. Adam and the Babe, were 2 police officers who were left to stand watch over us children while every one else hauled out the plants. News reporters showed up and the news stations called it "Maine's largest drug raid". I don't know what drug plants look like so I don't know what kind of drugs they were. According the the FBI agents who talked to use kids (we were all 5 to 10 years old at the time) a "bad name named Bryan Cyr put those bad plants in the swamp". The FBI agents said they had been looking for Bryan Cyr and his Cyr Clan from Connecticut for several years and wanted to know had we seen him.  We had not, though we did see him about a year later when the big shoot out happened at 142 Portland Ave in front of the Dome house - the day the dome house blue up because Anne Cyr set fire to the meth lab inside- I saw her poured 3 gas cans on the house then throw several matches. Bryan fled in a robin egg blue micro-mini pick up truck, screaming that the meth lab was gonna blow. The whole house went up like a mushroom cloud. It's the only time I ever saw the Cyr Clan.) 

Adam and the Babe went with us kids to look for the sick homeless man/Etiole as he's now called by locals, but he was gone by then, because it had been 5 or 6 or more hours since the adults found the plants. The 2 police officers looked all over the forest for him, and stopped when they found a human leg bone in the Bachelder Brooke and took that with them and left to join the other officers. (144, 146, and 148 Portland Ave and the swamps and forest behind it is a massive Native American grave - there are at least 500 graves, that back in the 1970s all still had markers, most of the dates are 1400s to 1500, but in the mid 1980s someone stole most all of the slate grave markers, so they are unmarked today. I assume the leg bone was from one of those graves - human bones wash up out of the ground all the time on these sections of land because there are just so many Native American graves all over the place here, on my land and the lands abutting me. It's why the Powder Horn campground can't expand any closer to my land - they hit Native American graves last time they expanded the campground.)

So, because they got sidetracked by all the drug plants and all the police everywhere for the rest of the week, the adults never saw the homeless man or the white monkey as both had been scared off by the huge crowd of drug raid crews.

For some reason because we found him while looking for Helen Pearly white monkey my father and the Atwaters got it in their heads that Etiole was a demon alien shape shifter who turned into a white monkey to lure me and Micheal into the woods. And that's how their stupid ass alien and demon rumours got started.

I should point out, her family, The Atwaters, are the Scottish Traveller Gypsies, aka as The Scottish Mafia by several white Americans, her brothers Bruce and David and several of Davids adult children, grandchildren, and great grand children call themselves Scottish Mafia  and act every bit fitting on that title, which is both why the FBI is investigating and why I have nothing to do with them.

Right after the June attack on her car, a large group of Irish Travellers showed up from the Carilinas and Tennessee and were setting up squatting camps all around the area, The had set up a large camp on BB street behind my Main st/Cutts St apartment in Biddeford, setting up in the big chain link fenced yard on the corner (which is why the owners have since roped the land off.) I didn't think anything of it at first, because the Irish Travellers show up in Southern Maine every year for decades now, so there's nothing unusual about seeing them setting up camps on any space they can find, you see it every year. Usually they camp on the cow farms in Dayton/Buxton/North Saco area, so seeing them in Biddeford was a bit strange.

I point this out because the week they arrived on BB, my mother and her Atwater siblings and their families flipped out big time. They put heavy focus on "the brown house on the corner and the chain link fence yard across the street" and laid out to harassing the landlords of those two locations. They had a list of around 100 addresses in Biddeford, Cape Elizabeth, and many other places included Rhode Island and Connecticut. I saw the list because my mother showed up at my yard waving it around and demanding I help her and the Atwaters stage an attack on the Irish Travellers, whom she claimed was family of the man in the green truck with the 2x4 attack on her car.

A war between the Scottish Travellers/Scottish Mafia/The Atwaters and the Irish Travellers -which include The Cry Clan drug gang from Connecticut - the one the FBI is here looking for-, is the last thing I want to get involved in. Those same two clans are the ones who did the 4-5-8 shoot out back in the 1970s/1980s, when they blew up the dome house at 142 Portland Ave. They were armed to the teeth with truck loads and school bus loads of illegal military guns back in the 4-5-8 shoot out and I don't want to see what kind of weaponry that same group lugs around now 40 years later.

I am a Voodoo Priestess. Voodoo is also known as Folk Catholicism. It is a branch of the Catholic Church. Voodoo is a Christian religion, that focuses on reverence the ancestors. Hollywood Horror movies have slandered our religion to such an extent that the average person thinks Voodoo is dark magic, death spells, curses, and voodoo dolls. Those are all things that exist only in Hollywood and do not exist in real world Voodoo. The problem is made worse, when teens and young adults, not knowing the actual religion, call themselves Voodoo while practising things they see in movies.  While the older generations of Gypsies and Travellers know the difference, younger generation have fallen far from the old traditions, especially the old religion, and sadly, even among Gypsies and Travellers today, many in the age group of 60 years old and younger, only know Voodoo from Horror movies and not from their grandmother's actual practice.

I say this because my mother and her Atwaters wanted me to join then as a "figure head" for their cause. They specifically demanding I summon demons, make voodoo dolls, cast curses, and use magic to kill the list of people living at the addresses on the list they had. In short they attempted to hire me to be a quasi-hit-man for them.

When I explained to them that this is not what Voodoo is about, Voodoo is peaceful, non-violent, we shun weapons and hurtful acts of all types, they lashed out at Etiole -who was not here, it was just me they were yelling at, yelling about him. My mother called Etiole a demon, said he was my familiar, said "I know you work with demons, you can't lie to me" and "you cast death curses on people all the time you lying little bitch, you just won't do it for me because you want to spite your mother, after all I do for you!

I made a Twitch livestream video that same day, telling what was going on and what I feared was about to happen, because I have seen these same two Gypsy clans go to war with each other before.

Well, I have too much to deal with with my health. I'm bedridden 15+ hours a day, so I do nothing but play video games and write novels and edit novels, ALL of which I do on livestream - yes, I livestream for 12 to 15, sometimes 19 hours each and every single day, and I have 92TB of hard drive full of that video footage all the way back to 2015 - I have every minute of every day of my life not only live streamed on Twitch, but I have ALL the video footage files, which mean I have footage of all the attacks, all the yelling at my car, all the demanding I cast death spells, all the trying to hire me as a hit man - all of it. I have over 15k hours of video footage. And because most of the attacks happened during a livestream, there are also hundreds of witness online who saw and heard the attacks and threats already, seeing and hearing them as they were happening.

Going back to the suspecting someone is impersonating me... My mother makes the claim that it is her right to cut the wires off my Biddeford apartment building, because she claims I've put her name, address, and where she goes online. I've never put her address or name or where she goes on the internet. Don't know what she's talking about. I gave her the FBI contact info and told her that if she actually is seeing "me" posting this stuff she claims I'm posting online, then she needs to forward that stuff to the FBI because it's someone impersonating me, and that was one of the things the FBI has suspected was happening so they are actively looking for that kind of stuff. They are trying to get to the bottom of who it is spreading these wild, crazy ass rumours and lies, both doing it in my name and doing it about me.

They've already located a shut down a few dozen impersonation of me, social network accounts, and so far, to date, all of them have belonged to just one person: my mother's brother Mervin Bruce Atwater. Well, it makes sense that HE would know her home address and where she goes, seeing how, for the past decade they were kind of joined at the hip and did everything together. Yeah, of course he knows where she lives and what car she drives and where she goes. 

Also, I never went to school, she did not allow it, There were several legal/court battles between my mom and the OOB school and the state of Maine ad the department of education throughout the 1980s, over the fact that she was actively refusing to allow me to attend school. So I never learned to do math or numbers. I don't know how to count or do money or any stuff like that. And numbers don't register in my head for some reason. People will tell me a phone number or home address and 5 seconds later my mind is blank on the numbers. I can't remember them. That's why when something like an attack happens I write down the tie and date immediately and keep it on a chart - I have a list, day by day, all times and dates of every attack since June 2001. I wouldn't be able to remember what happened when if I didn't keep a list like that.

Well, my mother knows all of this, so she knows even if she had told me her address, which she didn't, I wouldn't have remembered it long enough to even write it down.

In June 2021, I found out she moved, because I was walking my dog -we walk 3 to 4 miles a day, all over Biddeford, Old Orchard, and Scarborough, because I am trying to rebuild my leg muscles after having been bedridden since 2013, with only minimal movement- Doctors said I would never walk again and I aim to prove them wrong and well I have, because I am at least walking enough to walk my dog each day, but it is very difficult, and every step I take feels like a sword stabbing up my right leg and into my spine, because of the nerve damage. It is why I walk so slow and limp so bad, because it hurts terrible to step down.

Well, one day I was walking my dog and all of a sudden, there's my mother, telling me that I'm standing in front of her house and I was surprised, because last I knew she lived several miles away. I had no clue she lived 2 streets over from me and that she had done so for 3 years!

I don't know how she expects me to even know where she goes considering I've had no contact with her in almost a decade now, not since the stunt she pulled April 10, 2015 when she broke into my motorhome, filled it with feces, and then locked her 13 cats in it to frame me for animal abuse. She did not expect the Old Orchard Beach police to arrive and confiscate her cats and then not give them back to her and she has been in a social media battle with several animal shelters, veterinarians, animal control officers, and police officers ever since. Most of her harassment of these people has been targeted at former OOB town hall worker DF  and OOB police officer WW , both of whom she has been harassing on FaceBook for the past 7 years. You can ask DF  and WW  and their family and friends on FaceBook, how bad it has gotten. In recent months she added a new person to her FaceBook harassment, I don't know their name, just that it's the ex-wife and 15 year old son of someone named Todd Murphy who recently died from being hit by a train in front of my Biddeford apartment on Nov 19, 2021. Sometimes she says his death was a suicide, other times she says he was murdered and thrown in front of the train. I don't know which it is, I didn't know him, and only have her word for any of it.

In her mind, the way the whole thing was supposed to happen was: you police were supposed to confiscate my motorhome and she would take her cats and go home. 

What actually happened was: you police confiscated her cats, and I kept my motorhome.

She has spent the last 7 years harassing every pet shelter and rescue in New England, trying to find the cats.

In answer to questions about the cats from April 2015—those were cats belonging to Wayne Whitten of Biddeford, Maine. I was never able to talk about it because of the court case going on between Wayne's family and the Atwaters.

To make matters even worse, the cats were not hers, either. Rather, they belonged to Wayne Whitten and his daughter. My mother had stolen the cats from Wayne, in an act of retaliation, after Wayne refused to hand over to her, his father, William's land.

If you do not know, there are several polygamists in my family, all on the Atwater side. My mother is one of them. Wayne Whitten is one of her many Husbands, and therefore Wayne Whitten is also my stepfather.

In May 2010, my mother took a chainsaw to my 1964 Dodge 330. But it was not the ONLY car she attacked that week. Two days earlier, she took a chainsaw to Wayne's black 1970s vintage Dodge. AFTER, she locked her Old English sheepdog in the trunk and left it there for 6 months, and then tried to say that Wayne killed her dog, when in fact, she had.

Many people in Biddeford, Maine knew Wayne Whitten and his father William Whitten, and both men were known for the wild tales of Wayne's 5th wife, Jeannie, who daily beat him, gathered her older brothers to beat him, and hospitalized him several times, multiple times nearly killing him. That wife is also my mother.

Unfortunately for Wayne Whitten, no one would believe him about how violent and psychotically deranged his wife was and in the space of only a few weeks, his father, then his cats, and then Wayne himself all died. Because of the violent nature of Wayne's death, details were withheld from the public.

Three cats—the white cat Old Lady, and the 2 tabby's Trouble and Sassy, were already dead before the police arrived, and all three were diagnosed as having been force-fed rat poison. This is why, even though my mother put 13 cats in my motorhome, the police only took 10 cats.

Wayne's father, William, owned the cape house next door to Ben's Flooring in Biddeford, behind Walmart. In his 90s, with his health failing, my mother arrived demanding William sell his house and give her the money for a down payment on a mansion in Kennebunk. The exact same demands she is now making at me, these 7 years later. She did this to William Whitten in 2015, and Wayne's daughter to this day maintains that my mother's threats, demands, and harassment were the major contributing factors of William's death.

My mother took the Whitten cats, intending to hold them hostage, until William sold his house and gave her the money. This was why she hid the cats in my motorhome. This is also why when the police showed up asking about the cats, I had no clue what they were talking about and let them search the motorhome telling them there were no cats in it. My mother broke into my motorhome and hid the cats in there, apparently 3 days earlier, and I was unaware she had done this so was unaware the cats were there.

This is also why, when police officer Will Watson asked how many cats there were and what their names were, why I did not know how many cats there were and only knew the names of a couple of the cats that I had heard Wayne talk about.

William Whitten died while the cat fiasco was going on.

Wayne, realizing what my mother had done to his cats, tried to get them back, but he died a few weeks later.

Wayne, his father, and his cats all died a few weeks apart from each other.

My mother went around triumphantly bragging that she had gotten Wayne's father's land, via being Wayne's wife, and set about to the process of buying the house in Kennebunk. And got slapped with a reality check when the two wills got read and both William and Wayne had left everything they had to Wayne's daughter.

In raging inferno, my mom lashed out at Wayne's daughter, and a lawsuit happened, with Wayne's daughter charging my mother with kidnapping the cats, and using rat poison to slowly poison Wayne. A massive Facebook war happened between the Whittens and the Atwaters as my mother got her Atwater thugs involved, and the Whitten's fled in terror once they realized the rumours that my mother was part of the Scottish Mafia, was in fact, very, very, very true.

To this day, the remains of Wayne Whitten's surviving family live in mortal terror, daily vandalism, and barbaric levels of harassment at the hands of my mother, and her brothers Bruce and David and David's sons and grandsons.

More details of what happened can be found here: Amphibious Aliens: https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html

And no, for the people who are confused, Amphibious Aliens has nothing to do with aliens. It is about a homeless man whom my mother and her brother Bruce, over hyper focused on, and together my mother and Bruce created an elaborate alien abduction and demon possession hoax, so they could try to scam several dozen locals out of their houses.

This cat stealing, house stealing scam is something they have been doing to people all over Southern Maine since BEFORE I was even born. The earliest known attempt at this house stealing scam dates back to their father David Henry Atwater and a house he stole in the 1930s in Rumford Maine. At the time, my grandfather used the hoax of an angel from heaven coming down and telling him to take the Rumford farm. And at the time, my grandfather was a transport driver for Honey Fizt's ACTUAL Boston Mafia, which is WHY, the Atwaters make the claim to be the Scottish Mafia. Their claim is that because they are Scottish, and their father worked for Honey Fitz that they are Mafia. But the Atwaters are neither Scottish nor Mafia, both claims are outright lies that are nothing more than part of the scam they run.

As can be seen with BOTH what she has spent the past 5 decades doing to Etiole and what she is currently doing to Todd Murphy's family on and off FaceBook, you can see how much my mother hyper focuses on homeless people and abusing their friends and relatives and using the homeless person's homelessness as excuses for the scams she runs.

That she spent decades running a land stealing scam in Etiole's name, and now is running another land stealing scam in Todd Murphey's name is utterly deplorable.

And you people who wonder WHY I've not had contact with my mother in 30 years, WHY I shun her. WHY I hate her and her Atwater thugs so much... you are right now witnessing it live as they do it all over again, this time taking advantage of the pain and suffering of Todd Murphy's family to try to steal land from people in the name of a homeless man who was killed by a train.

I am thoroughly and utterly disgusted with my mother's vile abuse of the Murphy family and what she is doing in the name of a dead man.

I've said it thousands of times before and I'll say it again: The Atwaters are scum.

The Atwaters devote their lives to abusing homeless people and the families of those homeless people, just so they can run their filthy scams, and I’m fucking sick of the Atwaters and their filth.


She has had several retaliation attacks happen to her, done by family and friends of the people she's harassing on FaceBook. the retaliation attacks included a Biddeford Public Works road grader being driven into her yard and over her car in 2017. Two additional attacks on her next car, the following year. And in June 2021 a man driving a green pick up truck drove into her yard and beat her car with a 2by4. (Note, I did not witness any of these attacks on her cars and only have her word on what happened.)

All of these people she is fighting with on FaceBook, I don't know, they are people she knows and they are not on my FaceBook and I blocked her and all the Atwaters from my FaceBook back in May 2015, when her and her nieces and nephews and siblings were posting death threats on my FB profile. One cousin cousin name, posted pictures of herself carrying a machine gun (not automatic rifle - but a machine gun - the big type you put on a tripod and have a belt full of hundreds of bullets slung over your shoulder- similar to a gatland gun but not as big, though she had pictures of her gatland gun too that she was also posting on my FB) She'd write under the pictures "This is the gun I'm going to shoot you with"... her husband was one of the guys arrested after the Jan 6 attack, by the way - the guy in Florida with the Nancy something's ( forget her last name, I think it began with a P? I don't know American politics, I find it all confusing so I'm not sure who the Nancy woman was). He stole her pulpit and  he was posting pictures of him stealing on FB. Her mom is aunt L, and she and he were among the 23 cousins that the FBI has been trying to find because they supplied a lot of the guns for the Jan 6th attack, according to posts they made on FB. I don't know, I never saw any such posts because I have them all blocked n FB since 2015. Her brother cousin name was also posting pictures of him carrying guns and writing death threats underneath on my FB wall. His messages said: "I'm an ordained Aaronic Priest and god has given me permission to blow your brains out with this gun". cousin name and cousin name are 2 of David and aunt L's 15 adult kids -all are 40 to 60+ years old. David is my mom's oldest brother, he's in his 80s. He is very violent, there has never been an occasion of him arriving on my land in Old Orchard, that did not involve his trying to kill me, usually by strangling me. He is the most violent of all the uncles. Several times while he's been here he beat up his adult kids by hitting them in the face with weights off of dumbells. 

Most of the Atwater men are retired Marines, and all of them are over 6'2" the tallest, is 7'3". These guys are HUGE and are all weightlifters. You don't want to cross one of the Atwater uncles, they are former Marines trained in weaponless combat. David runs a compound in Palmyra.. . and you might have just seen his crew in the news - they were doing a squatter's rights takeover of that big mansion next door to Stephen King in Bangor and somehow the place caught fire. The news reports didn't mention Stephen King and went out of their way to get camera angles that kept King's house out of the news, but I'm as familiar with Bangor streets as I am Old Orchard and Biddeford streets, so I recognized which house it was on the news, that got attacked by the squatters doing a take over war. 

My uncle and his kids are trying to confiscate the land all around Stephen King - they say they have the right to because no one was ever paid any money for being in The Thinner movie. That happened about 2 weeks ago, the news did not list the squatters name, but like I said, it's my uncle and his crew, they been focusing on the 20 or so houses around King's big red Victorian, for over a decade now. They tried to get me to help them do it, that's how I found out. They made the claim that because I'm an author I should be able to reason with Stephen King and convince him to hand over his red Victorian house in exchange for his never paying them for being in The Thinner. I told them to get lost and burn in hell. Just because I'm an author and King's film crew filmed a part of Thinner on my land in Old Orchard doesn't mean I know King himself, I never even met him, and them being obsessed with stealing land from people is just out of control. 

The whole Atwater clan does this. They don't see anything wrong with moving in, setting up camp, and driving the rightful land owners off their land at gunpoint.

They act like it's a family tradition to steal land from people, via squatting, harassment, corrosion, death threats, and outright just forging deeds and switching the files, like they did with my land.

And that's the issue we have going on right now. My mother has gone on a psych crazed warpath vendetta of taking my land or else, and or else so far has included her twice now having my father shove things up the tailpipe of my car, both times doing lots of damage t the car when I started the engine and everything inside blew up because of the fuel line blocked. And twice now - each time the same day as attacking my Volvo cutting the wires off the Biddeford apartment as well, in the same driveway where the car was parked.

Both times they admitted to doing it and both times used the justification that I deserved it because I was refusing to sell my land and give my mother the money to buy a house in Kennebunk. She says she has to move to Kennebunk to "get away from the niggars invading Maine, Kennebunk is all white they don't allow no niggars". She's very crude and vulgar and has an extreme hatred for black people and hangs around online with some group that calls itself "the workers of iniquity" which claims to be "a branch of the Ku Klux Klan because the original Ku Klux Klan is not strict enough".

Throughout 2016 people wearing KKK-like white robes and hood showed up in Old Orchard to make threats about my land. Back then I was unaware that my mother was friends with such a group. The robes are NOT KKK robes, the KKK robes are very distinctive, covered with fancy bead work and embroidery, and are not white, but are usually green or red or blue or yellow. It's a Hollywood myth that the KKK wears white, and that's how you can tell REAL KKK from fake wannabe's pretending to be KKK. Real KKK is not wearing white sheets and white pillowcases. The real KKK is a church that is organized similar to Catholic church and all their robes mean specific ranks, also they don't wear hood, they wear mitre hats like the pope does, and have a veil mask over their eyes. So its pretty easy to identify real KKK from fakers in white sheets, and the people showing up in my yard were not real KKK, they were fakers literally wrapped in white bed sheets with pillow cases over their heads. 

Well, various white-power groups show up in the area, that's nothing unusual. Neo-Nazi, Sovereign Citizens, ect. They've always been around Maine, so much so that there are KKK and white power history museums in Maine -one is in Saco. So, I didn't think much of the white hood idiots in my yard. We are Gypsies, white hooded idiots are a part of our non-white life.

Well, here's the thing: we are not white. My mother's mother was not a Gypsy. Eva Viola Little John Dyer Atwater was half Kickapoo Native American and half black. He mother was 100% Native America. Her father 100% black. My mom is 1/4 black, 1/4 Native American, and 1/2 Gypsy of Roumania/Arabian/Middle Eastern descent. There is not one drop of white blood in her. Which is why I was surprised to hear her say: "I gotta move to Kennebunk to get away from the niggars invading Maine, Kennebunk is all white they don't allow no niggars". Yes, Kennebunk is all white, and look at the news, the black school teach who lives in Old Orchard Beach and worked at Kennebunk schools is daily bombarded with swastika painted on her car while she's teaching class. I can't drive my Volvo down main street Kennebunk with out getting pelted with rocks and crowds running off the sidewalks screaming "death to Gypsy scum!" It's dangerous t drive through Kennebunk and not be white -they pull us coloured folks out of cars if we get stopped at a red light. Kennebunk is legendary for being the most white power town in the state of Maine.

One has only to look up the international news reports of the 10 year old school children dragging their black teacher into the streets and almost beating her to death -in 2020. That happened barely a year ago. Kennebunk is the most hostile anti-black town in America and they are proud of it, brag about it, and since the BLM stuff of 2020, Kennebunk has gotten ten times worse. And, she's been seeing all that in the news and wants to live there, and I'm not sure why, because like I said,  my mom is 1/4 black, 1/4 Native American, and 1/2 Gypsy of Roumania/Arabian/Middle Eastern descent and if she tries to buy a house there, and they find out she has black blood, they'll kill her. But she's all hyped up on a white power kick and wants to join Kennebunk's anti-black movement, and... I... I just don't understand it and I'm sure if that's actual why she wants to go thee or not.

There was a court case about the cats (3 different ones because the town hall dropped the case after evidence proved the cats were not mine and my mother had snuck them in my motorhome a few days earlier to try to frame me and then some MB guy crawled out of the woodwork to reopen the case a month later), which, for some reason was in my name, not her name, because the motorhome was mine, even though the cats were hers. Weirdly, half way through the court case the town hall dropped the case and some guy named MB Bureau took over it instead. Thing is, I don't know who this MB guy is. He's not anyone I have ever even met before and he was not at the court so I didn't meet him there either. He came in with lots of wild accusations about me harassing him, even though I had no clue who he was and had never heard of him before. MB's lawyer took photo copies of a conversation on Twitter between me and JB (the guy the FBI arrested for embezzling $30k out of the OOB town hall bank account - $3million in OOB tax money went missing, the rest was never found as far as I know. The Twitter conversation was this JB sending me death threats because he had just been released from prison, and he was claiming I had put him there, even though I didn't know him or that he'd been in prison or that he had stolen money from OOB town hall. According to FBI, JB was a church friend of my mother's and he and town manager Jim Thomas, had been Bishopric counsellors to Mormon Church Bishop DK and the 3 of them and several others from the Saco LDS church had taken over the OOB town hall in around 2010 and embezzled $3million in town taxes. Apparently my Uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater, Richard Merlin Atwater, and aunt B had been involved, been involved and they had used fake social media accounts in my name to contact JB so he thought I knew him, that's why he contacted me on my real account after getting out of prison. I don't know the details I only know the small bit of info the FBI told me to let me know why this JB guy was contacting me.) For some reason, this MB guy, said the Twitter conversation with this Joel guy was about him. 

And apparently according to the FBI, this MB guy owns the old abandoned logging road across the street from me, which is numbered as 139 Portland Ave. I don't know, that road has been abandoned at least since the 1970s, I had no idea any one lived down there, but FBI says this MB guy does. I've been at 146 since 1975, and I've never see any one live there. FBI says there is another driveway on a different side that they probably use. Any ways, for some odd reason this MB guy took over the court case with the cats, only he suddenly said it was about me being transgender (but I'm not transgender, so I don't know why he said I was) His lawyer came into court saying I was a man pretending to be a woman, and here's where it got really weird, the lawyer copied what he SAID was an "About Me" page off of my website (eelkat.com) only what he copied was the about page for the main character of the novel series I write (I'm the author of 138 published novels). The series is about a male Elf who is possessed by a female parasitic alien jellyfish. So it's a female jellyfish wearing the body of a dead male Elf like a coat and passing herself off as him.

Well, this lawyer (Gene Libby) for this MB guy is waving THAT fictional character profile around in court, saying it was my personal about me page, and making the claim that I was a male to female transvestite who believed I was an Elf... and here's the kicker... his whole spiel was trying to convince the judge that I was insane so this MB guy could confiscate my land at 146 Portland Ave! It was the most bizarre thing, and the judge thought so too, because the judge tossed the whole thing out of court because the charges this MB guy had against me were so oddball off the wall nut job ridiculous. But the thing was, again, it was someone making wild claims that I had to hand them over my land, which is what keeps happening with every one of these weird attacks. And always, like both these 2 guys: JB and MB Bureau they are creepy ass strangers who crawl out of the woodwork, people I've never heard of before, making claims to being my friend (JB made the claim he was my best friend and said we talked all the time on FaceBook, but he wasn't on my FB and I'd never heard of him before. While MB Bureau in his court papers made the claim to be one of my uncles -he is not-and)

aunt B and aunt L of Bangor used to be putting stuff online about me and my brothers and JB would get it from aunt B and aunt L and forward it every where. This was in 2010 era, but I did not see the posts, because none of them is a FaceBook friend of me. The FBI however said they saw a lot of the posts, these people made, including several death threats. Seems likely something like that is happening again given the way people keep showing up here at the Biddeford apartment when no one even knew I was here.

I met aunt L about 3 times during my childhood, it's been 30+ years since I last saw her, and I've never spoken with her online or offline not once in my entire life.

aunt B I meet 10 or 12 times during my childhood, and likewise it's been 30+ years since I last saw her, except for 2 times. One in 2013 she showed up at my Biddeford apartment on Water St, with some medical scam idea she had that she wanted me to help her with. She said she was working at Blue Cross/Blue Shield and had found a way to get people's insurance money because a lot of people didn't file claims; she said she was also an EMT, and she could take the records from one job to cross with the other job, to have people's insurance money forwarded to a POBox she owned. I told her I wanted nothing to do with it and to get lost. I don't know how true any of the stuff she said was. I don't know if she worked at those places or could do the scam she was claiming or not.

aunt B showed up again in 2016, at the Gazebo Park (might be named Mechanic's Park?) on the Saco River by the water treatment plant. I was there walking my dog, and my mother showed up with an uncle Peter (now deceased) who was visiting from Utah. They were having a picnic. aunt B and Bruce showed up to trash everything, steal the food, and then leave. They were yelling and screaming the whole time. They acted drunk, except I didn't think they drank. I don't know. Mormons don't drink, not usually.

So I don't know aunt B and aunt L otherwise. I know nothing about them. Have never had contact with them, have never spoken with them online or offline. So, I'm puzzled as to why they were posting things online about me in 2010, or why they were acting like they knew me, when neither of them has ever been a part of my life or know anything about me.

But, they make claims that I say and do various things that I don't say or do. The list of things they've accused me of is massive and kind of crazy and include the claims that I am a prostitute, and that I am a Mafia gang leader ... like I said, it's just wild and also very slanderous and I'm sick of it.

Back in 2019 when my mother got her car, she had it over a month before I even knew she had gotten a car. I found out she had it when she flipped out saying I was online telling people she bought a car. And it turned out is was aunt B and Brucie online telling everyone she got a car, but I had told them,  even thought I had never talked to either of them since 2013 when FBI told me cut off all contact with them

aunt B and Bruce and aunt L all 3 are constantly telling people I said things, that I never said. 

I told you people been showing up talking about Todd and claiming I said things online about him, but I don't even know who he is or what they are talking about. It almost looks like someone is online impersonating me.

A few weeks ago an old man walked up to me, asked if I was EelKat and then asked me why I kept emailing him, and I said I don't email anyone cause I don't use email. He said some days he gets over 300 emails a day from someone claiming to be EelKat 

Last time my car had this problem was same day my father cut the internet on my mom's orders. Suspicious my car has same problem again, same day internet goes off again. It went off while my mother was here

aunt B showed up at water st day after golf club attack, but I never knew how she found out , I never told anyone online about it . Her and Bruce knew about it some how before any one else.  They wanted me to use my injury to help them run a medical scam and they were pissed when I refused to. They started spreading lies about me online because of that. That was Nov 2013

aunt B and Bruce knew about the cats and DAY BEFORE it happened. aunt B posted on my FaceBook wall "the next head nailed to the door will be yours" the day before any heads were nailed to door

I think it's aunt B online saying stuff about me and my mom, because she did it before and because FBI was here asking about her going down to Washington Jan 6 attack, but I didn't yet know the Jan 6 attack had even happened. They said aunt B aunt L and 23 cousins had been down there and they FBI was trying to find them. 

Old Orchard police and Biddeford police and a detective have all shown up asking about aunt B and aunt L and 23 cousins as well. But again I don't know anything because I not had contact with them. But FBI, 2 police departments and a detective are all saying aunt B and aunt L and 23 cousins are making claims about me, in connection to bombs and ISIS .

That's how I found out Paul Martel was in prison. According to FBI agents, Paul Martel built the bombs for the 2013 Boston marathon and the 2013 bomb at South Maine Community College and put the college bomb in my class to make it look like I made the Boston bomb. That's why the FBI showed up to begin with. They were at the college investigating both bombs that happened the same day

FBI said they believed the whole thing was aunt B and Bruce idea, but Paul martial was the one who actually built the bomb and sold it to ISIS, and put the second bomb in my class at college so Paul Martel was the only one they could arrest. FBI is trying to arrest aunt B because they think she's the one behind it. They said the whole thing seems to have started because Scott went to prison for selling drugs at Scarborough downs and for some reason aunt B thinks I'm the one who turned him in, even though I've not seen or heard from Scott since he was 8 years old

FBI thinks the attack on the cats was aunt B retaliating because Paul Martel got arrested. 

When Dickie died also in 2013, after the bomb in Boston but before the golf club attackers aunt B was with him taking charge of his medicine and his official cause of death was an overdose of his medicine, with a not saying unable to determine if accident or suicide. I found out this 2 days after he died when Jacksonville County state police from Florida showed up here in Maine to interview me about where I was the day Dickie died  because when he died aunt B called 911 and told the police I had killed him. 

The FBI thinks the golf club attack was aunt B retaliating because police didn't arrest me for murdering Dickie like she had demanded they do

FBI is full focused on arresting aunt B and Bruce. There's no evidence Bruce is dead. All evidence points to him being in New Zealand. 

FBI believes Bruce faked death because FBI was moving in to close and he didn't want to take the fall for what aunt B is doing 

In 1996 and 1997 aunt B sent out lots of emails to the family claiming the emails had been written by me. I did not have email, internet, or even a computer yet. She got Dickie and David and Joey in raving warpath over it. That's the summer they all showed up talking about Etiole and amphibious aliens and alien abduction. aunt B was the one who started all of that stuff about Etiole, who I never called Etiole. Etiole is not his name, it's always been the word the Atwaters used to describe him (it means man from the stars or alien it's a French word. I don't know French, aunt B is the one who knows French, so I never would have given him a French name) Bruce and Dickie went to a bunch on MUFON forums from 1996 to 2007 spreading lies about me and Etiole calling him a demon and alien and claiming I was an alien abducted. I found out about it in 2007 after they'd already been doing it for 11 years. I don't think aunt B has ever stopped sending out emails about Etiole while pretended to be me, I think she is still doing it.

My father was the one who told the Atwaters about Etiole. My father and Dickie both called him the white monkey. In 1994 and 1996 Bishop Morgan asked me to his office and showed me a bunch of letters, all of them signed "The White Monkey, OST". He said the letters were written to sound like I had written them but he said he'd seen my handwriting before and knew I hadn't written these. He wanted to know if I recognized the handwriting. Some had been written by daddy. Others had been written by Dickie. President Earnshaw later called me in for similar letters he had received and again the white monkey letters were written by mostly daddy and some Dickie all pretending to be me, trying to make it look like I was pretending to be Etiole. In total 16 Bishops and 2 stake presidents had contacted me over the years about white monkey letters

The white monkey letters stopped in 2007 when the psychiatrist at Biddeford hospital diagnosed daddy as having schizophrenia and put him on psychiatric medicine. Since 2007 no one has mentioned Etiole or white monkey, until the week Todd died when people started showing up in Biddeford driveway yelling about Etiole and calling him a suicide demon

The white monkey belonged to Helen pearly and has nothing to do with Etiole at all. In 1978 Helen pearly had a pet white monkey that got lost. Me and cousin Micheal saw it in the woods out back and tried to catch it. We found Etiole the same day. Etiole is a homeless man who lives behind my land in the woods. Me and Micheal took him food. For some reason because we found him while looking for Helen pearly white monkey my father and the Atwaters got it in their heads that Etiole was a demon alien shape shifter who turned into a white monkey to lure me and Micheal into the woods. And that's how their stupid ass alien and demon rumours got started.

I used to let him sleep in the Dodge at night, that's why people started saying the car was haunted. They said Etiole was a demon and the car was demon possessed. My father and Bruce used to stay up all night debating what kind of demon Etiole must be and kept calling me a demon child and a witch and saying I was demon possessed and they called Etiole my familiar and said I summoned him to cast curses and death spells. Bruce believed all that stuff as actual fact and after Bruce left for the night my dad would joke about how gullible Bruce was and how easy it was to convince him demons lived in my car. From there the rumours ended up on the internet through the Heaven's Gate group, that Bruce was a member of at the time. They were a group of around 200 people who went from one UFO forum to the next spreading rumours about me and Etiole. They did that for 11 years before I found out Bruce and his UFO friends were doing it. 

I found out when people started showing up in Old Orchard with beeping equipment claiming they were here the capture Etiole while calling him an amphibious alien and EBE and calling me "EelKat Etiole's friend" I did not use the username EelKat online and none of my books about EelKat (the black bobcat) had ever been published so there was no reason for internet people to know either the name EelKat or Etiole.  I was using the username xavychup online not EelKat, that's why my email address is xavychup not EelKat. EelKat is something Grammy called me back in the 1970s because she said eels and cats were my spirit animals. I never called myself EelKat online or offline so only the Atwaters had ever heard that word before and yet in 2007, I spent the entire summer with endless people showing up in my yard at my tent and all calling me EelKat and all looking for Etiole. 

Because I was living under the tarp I had no access to internet yet so had no clue what was going on online. I went to the library and searched Etiole and EelKat to see what came up and I found tens of thousands of forum posts and interviews and articles all written by Bruce and Dickie, including interviews with Buddy Hopkins, David Mack, and David Icke. All the stuff they said was how they had this demon possessed niece who had been abducted by aliens and has brought an alien back from the mother ship with her and was now protecting him. Every one of the forum posts. Interviews and articles had my full name, my old Orchard address, my email, and my old Orchard phone number listed. That was why so many people were showing up at the tent. In 2006 to 2009. The whole thing of people calling me a Witch and saying about curses and death spells and aliens and demons was started by daddy saying that stuff to Bruce and then Bruce and Dickie spreading it online for 11 years from 1996 to 2007

I started using the name EelKat online BECAUSE my uncles had spent 11 years calling me that on MUFON forums, and when I found out about it and started contacting all the forum admins, I had to tell every one:

"I'm Wendy Christine Allen. I'm the one you all call EelKat, Etiole's friend, the REAL EelKat, friend of the REAL Etiole,  and I'm here to slap every damned one of you with protection from harassment orders. I'm tired of the slander and lies you people are spreading about me of fucking UFO websites. I'm not an alien abductee, I've never claimed to be, until this morning I didn't even know what an alien abductee was. Etiole is not an alien. Etiole is not a demon. He's a local homeless man who has a skin deformity, so he hides in the forest because people are scared of him because of what he looks like, and they beat him up and bully him. The people telling you he's an alien are my uncles, who the ring leaders behind beating him up and bullying him, and I'm quite upset to find out they've been doing it online for quite some time and I'm only just finding out about it now, because earlier this week, I had 30,000 people in my driveway, trying to catch him while screaming that he was an amphibious alien and EBE. You UFO crazies are insane, and I want you people out of my yard. My uncles are lying to you about me and Etiole and you'll idiots for believing them."

I created an EelKat username EVERYWHERE just so I could post that message to every place my uncles had posted that fucking ass alien abduction shit about me and Etiole. THAT, is why you saw me start to use the EelKat username in 2007, when I was always xavychup everywhere before that.

And that is also why I do NOT have an EelKat email.  I've had the xavychup email since 1994, I still have it. And anyone using an eelkat email to contact you isn't me, because I don't have an eelkat email. It always has been and still is xavychup.

Last I knew aunt B and Bruce and aunt L and Bruce's daughters and David's kids and grandchildren were all still continuing to spread demon and alien lies about me and Etiole and were still putting my real name and address on everything. In 2019 they were putting my old Orchard address my high street address and also my water st address even though I was no longer at water street on thousands of forum posts and Facebook posts. In 2019 they were making several hundred posts daily across all there accounts and I found 27 fake EelKat accounts owned just by Bruce himself alone. They were all things like eeelkat, ee1kat, 33lkat, etc. Slightly spell different to look like it was me, yo someone looking quick and not paying attention.  They are likely still doing it and I assume they are doing the same to my mother as well. 

Also I don't even know what mothers address is. How could I put it anywhere? I didn't even know she moved until last summer and apparently she moved a few years ago. No one ever told me she had moved. 

Just like the saying about me saying she got a car. I didn't know about the white car until she came over in it to see Mickey last may and apparently she had a few cars in between. Last car I knew was the black one. I didn't even know she had a new car, let alone more than one.

No one ever told me those things, not her or any one else so it's utterly stupid for her to think I could put her address or cars online. Only people who knew about her address and cars could put them online.

Don't forget she never even told me when Dickie or Bruce died. Both times I found out from the FBI showing up to investigate accusations that I had murdered them

I'm the bed ridden, crippled by multiple attacks. The November 14, 2013 golf club attack, I was almost healed from, but the June 2016 shopping cart attack re opened the 2013 injury and doctors can't operate this time because of the bone shards severing my spinal column. I'm crippled for the rest of my life and no one in this family ever cared. 

Both attacks the FBI wanted to talk to my parents and they refused to talk to him both times. My baby was murdered in the first attack. I was 8 months pregnant and all any of them would do was gibberish about "rosemary baby" and say there was no baby because it was a demon because it was Etiole's. My parents and the Atwaters hate Etiole that much, that they shun the existence of my baby and act like it was never there. That's how much they hate me. That's how cruel and hate filled they are towards me. They spent the last 50 years calling me demon possessed and them saying that is WHY local people attack me and killed my baby and left me crippled for the rest of my life. 

I am in bed 15 or more hours a day, I can barely sit up, I can barely stand up long enough to cook, I have to wear adult diapers since 2013 because half my organs don't work any more because the nerves from those organs to my spine are cut off. My hands shake so bad that it takes me hours to eat a single meal. I can't go back to college, I can't go back to work. But do they care? No. Not my mother. Not my father. Neither of them give a shit. They are both too damned selfish thinking about their own greed to ever once lift a finger to help me. Daddy treats me like a fucking slave and my mother is so far out of my life shunning me because bishop kenning in Saco ward told her too that she hasn't got a clue how bad things are.

I'm not doing a damned thing to any of them. I mind my own business. I write my novels. I don't contact them. I don't talk to them. I don't talk about them.  Someone is clearly pretending to be me online and is slandering me and getting sick of it. My mother flips out about everything thing under the sun and I never have a clue what she's talking about, because I never did or said any of the things she accuses me of. And my father and the Atwaters do the same thing. Some one is out there pretending to be me to get them worked into a frenzy just to sit back and laugh while watching my mother, my father, and the Atwaters be too damned stupid to think. My mother and my father and the Atwaters are all filled with so much pure hatred for me that it takes nothing to convince them to attack me. And whoever it is posting online pretending to be me, knows that and is taking advantage of it. 

I'm too damned sick and crippled to even attempt to do half the crazy shit my mother and my father are accusing me of. And what's worse, my father is right here in the same apartment with me. He sees me every day, he knows how bad off my health is. 

Look how much I'm bleeding all over the house every day. Massive nose bleeds that last for hours to a time, not bleeding from my nose. Just coming out of my nose. I'm so dizzy I can't sit up for weeks to a time. I faint and blackout when I try to get up to go to the bathroom. The pain in my hip and pelvis and knee and spine is so bad I can't even move my fingers to type my novels. 

And look at what they do. Do they really think I'm physically capable of doing the things they accuse me of? They are so damned self centred and paranoid. It's all I can do just to sit up and eat something, how the hell do they think I can do the stuff they accuse me of? My day is spent focusing on trying to get my leg to move so I can make a meal, I don't even have time to think about them. 

It looks more and like my mother and my father are doing this stuff on purpose to try to kill me. My father knows how bad off my heart and lungs are and how difficult it is for me to breath after just a couple of steps. His mother left that land to me in her will in 1983. He stole it, had it put into his name illegally. He's been pissed ever since her death, because she gave everything to me not him. That's been a big problem for him for the last 40 years. He raves about it alongside his ravings about going to Utah taking him off the fire department. He hates my mother because of Utah, blames her every day for losing his fire department pension. He raves about it all night long every single night. He blames me for his mother disinheriting him. He raves about that all the time too. I was only grandchild That's why she left everything to me. Including the land that he stole and put in his name. That land is rightfully mine, his mother gave it to me, and he can't stand it. He's needling my mother about the land just to spite his mother.

He's only trying to get the land away from me because he is mad that the town didn't take it. His mother wanted it to stay in the family. It had been in her family since 1530. Her family was the original settlement family of old Orchard and my land is that spot that the first house in Old Orchard was built.  My father stopped paying taxes to spite his mother and lose the land. He said so many times. He was angry when I bought the land back from the town. He still is. He wants it out of the family because his mother wanted it in the family. That's why he's trying to turn my mother against me over the land. Because he gates his own mother that much.

Keep in mind the 4 door white truck showed up at my workplace daily. Even though I never knew ahead of time what store I would be working at. I was a retail merchandiser and stocked shelves at dozens of stores all over the state. Walmart's every where, CVS, khols, sometimes local, sometimes as far as Freeport and once in Vermont and once in Massachusetts.  I got the notice of which store to be at 15 minutes before I left. So the only person who ever knew where I was going was my father. 

And yet the 4 door white truck would also arrive ahead of me and be waiting. They didn't follow me, they got their first.

And the police caught the truck and the driver in 2017. Kathy BR owned the truck. Her son was the driver.

The smith's are my parents friends. My mother's visiting and home teachers for years.

Kathy was the district emergency dispatch for all the towns in the area, not just old Orchard. That's why none of the 911 calls went through during the attacks by the 4 door white truck. He only attacked while she was on duty. She never forwarded any of the calls so officers never were told to come help me.

That includes the November 14, 2013 golf club attack in South Portland. But the college security officer made a report even though the police never arrived. That big black officer who was head of security was on duty and him and 2 student officers from the police academy made the report.

And FBI found the data from the calls, that never got forwarded to police, that's why Kathy BR lost her job. Because she's the one who tampered with the 911 call files.

Tim and Kathy BR both, not together, individually, arriving separately, both arrived at my tent multiple times throughout the entire year of 2013, saying they were coming to speak to me on behalf of someone who wanted to remain anonymous. So I never knew who sent them. Each time they arrived all they would say was that I had to tear down "the little yellow house" as they called the shop. 

August 8, 2013 the backhoe drove over the shop while I was at work on the food truck down by the pier.

I never saw Tim or Kathy again after that. Not once. And these were people who stopped by to visit my parents daily for over 40 years. Since August 8, 2013 and the backhoe attack on my house, Kathy and Tim have gone to alarming extreme levels to avoid running into me. They just down the street, on one of the private drives, so it's difficult to avoid running into me, and we used to see them a few times a week at local grocery stores. They both, if they see me in a store, literally throw whatever they are carrying across the store and run out of the store like they have a pack of rabid wolves on their heels. It's pretty fascinating thing to see.

My cousin and next door neighbour Tim Murphy was murdered that same week, a few days before the backhoe. His body was left at the cascade Ross road crossroad. 14 days later his head was left at the Portland Ave Ross road crossroad road. His mother put up the big white cross a month later. 

The 4 door white truck showed up a few days later. 

Tim Murphy had an identical truck. The police and FBI initially thought it was his, but his truck was later found.

Tim Murphy owned Etiole's swamp and was the one buying most of the food and supplies for Etiole. 

Tim Murphy was with me and Micheal the day we tried to catch Helen pearly white monkey and found Etiole. 

The FBI believes that Tim Murphy was killed by someone trying to frame Etiole and believes the murder was a retaliation over Tim Murphy refusing to sell the swamp land behind me. 

At the time the FBI was looking at DF Feeney as a suspect but DF Feeney's family was killed in a murder suicide and he too is now seen as someone who was being framed.

The swamp, sandpit, and pond behind me, the Murphys own that, and 3 people in their family have now died horrifically violent deaths because they, like me were protecting Etiole from the people who would kill him because they believed Bruce's demon and alien lies about Etiole. 

Look at what is being done to me. They drove a backhoe over my house and they murdered my baby and they crippled me, all days apart.

Look at what is being done to the Murphys. And they're massacring the Murphy family. Tim's death the same time as the attack on me.

And look at who screams the loudest hate for Etiole. Look WHO calls him a demon.

And look at WHO the FBI's number one suspect in all of this is.

My family laughs and jokes about this whole thing like they think it's a fucking game. People are dying and the FBI is not laughing. 

Look at WHO keeps attacking my car. Look at WHO keeps cutting the wires off the apartment. Vandalism. Harassment. Bullying. Threats. Evil people Evil things. By their fruits yea shall no them, for no good thing springs from dead wood. Those are small petty crimes, but they are still crimes. But it's far beyond petty crimes. The list of people who have been murdered is quite long now. 13 died just at the Boston marathon bombing. I'm crippled for the rest of my life, and so far, I'm the only person who was attacked who lived through an attack. Every one else they've attacked is dead. Most of them beheaded or killed in a bomb. 7 different bombs, including one in my classroom at college in 2013, two in my workplace in 2015 and 2016, the house in Old Orchard in 2006, and my doctor on Saco Ave in 2003 where the doctor the nurses and 21 patients were killed. And the FBI was on site for every one of them, and my family thinks it's funny to laugh and make jokes about all of it. Because that's they do since the day me and Micheal and Tim Murphy found Etiole

Do you realize for all the shit my parents have pulled,  they've never once apologized for anything. And you know why? Because they aren't sorry. They feel no guilt. They feel no shame. They feel no remorse. Why? Because they hate me. They always have. From the time I was old enough to walk both of them reminded me daily that I was supposed to be a boy to replace the baby boy that was born before me. That's why Grammy Helen was the one who was always with me until I was 8. And after that it was Grammy Eva. And then BW. 

Do you know how I found out Santa wasn't real? Grammy Helen died when I was 8. That year for Christmas there were no Christmas presents. There was just my parents arguing over which one of them should have lowered themselves to buy a gift for the mistake that committed the sin of not being born a boy. I remember that Christmas better than any other. Because that's when found out exactly how much my parents hated me and thought I was worthless because I was a girl.

Look at my MRI scans at the damage the foundation nail through my hip did. The mutilated bones that were shattered when I was 6 years old and no one took me to the hospital. I've walked on a broken leg for almost 50 years. 

Look at the jaw surgery I had to have when I was 42 to repair an injury done to me with a brick when I was 14. 

Look at the Gremlin, 1974 orange, obliterated by a sledgehammer. 

Look at what happened when I was awarded phi theta kappa. No one went to the award ceremony. My mother said it was stupid. My father spent the day raving calling me an educated damned fool. BW was at the temple with Rick. And people with golf clubs were waiting at my car.

Do you realize if just one single person had cared enough to be at the phi theta kappa awards my baby might not have been murdered and I might not be crippled now. 

Grammy Helen would beat my dad's ass for the shit he does to me. And Grammy Eva would be ashamed of the stuff my mother does. Neither Helen or Eva would have let them get away with the constant abuse and harassment.

As for what happened to my car March 9, 2022 - KRA vandalized my car and tried to make it look like my brother did it. KRA stuffed the tailpipe full of McDonald's ketchup packets, which is what caused the fuel line to blow up. I could have died. He tried to kill me and make it look like my brother who works at McDonald's did it so my brother would be blamed.

KRA did the same thing in November, because of some guy named Todd who I supposedly convinced to kill himself via may painting a "suicide demon" on my car. There is a picture of Etiole on my car, that is what they are calling "a suicide demon"



UPDATE: February 27, 2022:

Do not underestimate either my willingness or how far I will go to protect my murdered son's grave from being destroyed by the bastards who are the @FBI s number one suspects in having killed him. The ONLY reason that bitch is hell bent on digging up my farm is because she wants to destroy the evidence of my baby having been murdered by golf clubs.

I'm sick of my mother and my mothers shit head Atwater relatives. They won't stop focusing on the cats. They are lost in a delusional refusal to face reality and that is impeding the fbi investigation of the murder of my baby and the crippling of my spine, because all either of them will do is say there was no baby and tell everyone lies about me and I don't like it. My baby is dead and that has nothing to do with the cats and I'm sick of my mother and her filthy Atwater thugs both ignoring what happened at the college 2 years before the cat event happened AND daily arriving to bully me and say it was “RoseMary’s Baby” and not a real baby because it was a demon, because Etiole was a from.

 

Etiole is not a demon, my baby with him was not a demon, you murdered my fucking baby because you are retarded religion crazed jackasses. Get the fuck out of my life and go burn were evil people like you belong!

 

I'm tired of every time I mention the baby that was murdered November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College,  they wave their hand in my face and say, "no you're just upset about the cats". The cats happened May 14, 2015 and those cats were not mine, they were my mother's cats, that she hid in my motorhome because her landlord Nick didn’t know she had 13 cats in her Birch St apartment. And he evicted her a year later when he found out the cats were hers.

That's why SHE is the one making a fuss about them, not me. I'm not the one running around yapping about the cats constantly,  she is. I'm talking about my son. 

 

My baby boy that was murdered by 3 attackers wielding golf clubs in the SMCC parking lot. A blond woman whom the redhaired woman called Claire, a redhaired woman who the blond woman called Kendra, both in their 60sish, and a bald man in his 30ish.

 

I'm not talking about my mother's cats, I'm talking about my child. What the fuck is wrong with these people? 

 

As for my car … did you all forget when and why I painted it? May 12, 2014. Mother's day. The first mother day after my baby was murdered. I painted my Volo on mother's day to divert my mind from killing myself. That's why I painted my car 9 years ago and you all know that, I've said as much hundreds of times.

Ty Mother and the Atwaters are refusing to acknowledge the baby because also refuse to acknowledge Etiole, a local homeless Jewish man who is the baby's father. 

My Mother and the Atwaters are so damned bigoted and religion crazed that all they’ve ever done is call Etiole a demon or an alien, since the first day they ever saw him: September 23, 1978.

It’s been almost 50fucking years that they’ve harassed him because of what he looks like and harassed me because I won’t let them beat him to death. 

They fully 100% believe he is not human and they run around slandering him every chance they can get and they’ve been doing it for 50 fucking years now. 

And THAT is the ONLY reason, they are doing what they are doing right now. 

 

They have NO RIGHT to be on my land. They are fucking trespassing.

Because they are so damned brainwashed by their fucking religions, that they can’t stop believing anyone who is physically deformed MUST be a Demon.

 

And they’ve spent the last 9 years daily hounding me and whooping and cheering joyous celebration over “killing the demon” as they refer to my baby.

 

In you hadn’t watched the local news - January 2022 - there was a massive FBI raid on Main Street and Cutts Street Biddeford, Maine. 8 of the men who have been roaming Southern Maine beating up pregnant women with golf clubs, were arrested and are now in jail where they belong, soon to be moved to federal prison.

And THAT is what has got the Atwaters in a frenzy now, digging up my land in Old Orchard Beach. They are desperately trying to find my dead baby’s unmarked grave, because they know his gold club shattered skull is very damning evidence for them, now that the FBI made a move and started arresting a bunch of their thugs.

 

And those arrested that just happened, they happened because the FBI phone number was painted on my car and locals in Biddeford, came forward with witness testimony of the attacks.

 

What my mother and the Atwaters are doing is cruel and evil and hateful, and I’m sick of it.

They don’t care about or my life, and my baby or his life. As can be seen by the fact of how he died.

The FBI is still trying to ID the bond Claire woman and the redhaired Kendra woman. They caught the bald man with the 4 door white pick up truck, we now know who he is - the son of the Old Orchard Beach police dispatch woman, the woman who would never let any 911 calls begging for help while these attacks were happening, go through.

Don't be surprised if you see the signs - all 144 of them - go back up in my driveway. Because I'm fucking sick of being harassed, and the agreement to keep the signs down, specified that EVERYONE in Old Orchard Beach - ALL RESIDENTS would NEVER HARASS ME again. You people have broken your agreement. I'm painting new signs as we speak.

EVERYONE - includes real estate agents, developers, contractors, construction workers, and any Atwater bitch who thinks they have the right to daily show up at my Biddeford apartment to say: "What are we going to do about Wendy, she can't keep that land, I need a downpayment on a house, she is going to sell her land and give me the money or else!"

Burn in hell you fucking bitch, and take all your fucking Atwater shitheads with you.

There are more then 500 graves on my farm - more than half of them Native American, some of them buried as far back as the 1400s. I WILL NOT let you touch those graves. I take my job as the guardian of these graves VERY SERIOUSLY. And you WILL have an all out war on your hands if you dare touch them.

Now she's threatening to dig up the graves on my land.

My dead baby means a hell of a lot more to me, then her fucking house. She never gave a damn when my baby died, but look at what she did when the cats died. Her priorities are fucked up.

My dead baby means a hell of a lot more to me, then her fucking house. She never gave a damn when my baby was murdered. But look at what she did when the murderers returned and killed the cats!

Look at what she is STILL doing about the fucking cats!

That's all she cares about. Those damned dead cats and her glut lust to have a mansion in KennebunkPort.

Her priorities are fucked up.

She doesn't give a damn about Human life.

And you know what's worse, the FBI thinks she, her sister Barbara, her brother Bruce, and their friends Claire and Kendra, where the people wearing the fake KuKluxKlan robes and hoods on November 14, 2013, when they used golf clubs to beat my baby to death and break my spine leaving me crippled for the rest of my life. 

Her, Barbara, Bruce, Claire, and Kendra - those are the FBI’s #1 suspects in the murder of my baby, November 14, 2013.

And what the hell is with people mixing up me and my mother? 

I'm NOT the one hell bent on a house. I have been willfully homeless for decades I have no desire for the confines of a house. The one running around yapping hysterics about a house IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about cats. The one running around yapping hysterics about cats IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Todd, I don't even know who Todd is! I don't know any one named Todd! The one running around yapping hysterics about Todd IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Mark and Dan and Watson, I don't even know who Mark and Dan and Watson are! I don't know anyone named Mark or Watson and the only Dan I know is my cousin and it's clearly not him she's talking about. The one running around yapping hysterics about Mark and Dan and Watson IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one putting curses on people. I don't believe in curses. The one running around yapping hysterics about curses and claiming she's casting death spells on people IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about demons. I don't believe in demons. The one running around yapping hysterics about demons and calling Etiole a demon IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one calling Etiole a demons. I don't believe in demons. Etiole is a local homeless man and Etiole isn't even his name, I don't use his real name online to protect his identity. I'm not the one who calls him Etiole either. Etiole is the name the Atwaters call him. The one running around yapping hysterics about demons and calling Etiole a demon IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about aliens or UFOs or alien abduction. I don't believe in aliens or UFOs or alien abduction. The one running around yapping hysterics about aliens or UFOs or alien abduction IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one calling Etiole an alien. I don't believe in aliens and besides that, Etiole is a local homeless man. The one running around yapping hysterics and calling Etiole an alien IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

I'm NOT the one talking about Voodoo dolls and Voodoo curses. Voodoo has nothing to do with Voodoo dolls and curses. Voodoo dolls and curses are mumbo-jumbo made up by Hollywood movies and have nothing to do with the Voodoo religion at all. Voodoo is a branch of the Catholic Church. Look it up. Voodoo is a Christian religion. A Voodoo Priest is a type of Catholic Monk. A Voodoo Priestess is a type of Catholic Nun. Voodoo does not cast curses or use voodoo dolls. The one running around yapping hysterics about Voodoo dolls and Voodoo curses IS MY MOTHER NOT ME!

Open your eyes people. Me and my mother don't look that much alike. You should be able to tell the difference between me and her.

Stop showing up in my yard to to attack me because of some fucking shit you argued with my mother about.

If you've got a problem with my mother, take it up with her not me.

Her, Barbara, Bruce, Claire, and Kendra - those are the FBI’s #1 suspects in the murder of my baby, November 14, 2013.

No, I have no updates on Etiole.

He was shot, by a local lunatic.

No, he's not okay.

And I am getting sick of this fucking ass rumour of Etiole being an alien or a demon.

The fact of Etiole being an alien is a stupid urban myth started by some crazy ass locals.

The fact of Etiole being a demon is a stupid urban legend created by some religion crazed nuts.

Etiole is an old man covered with acid burns. His skin is white and face disfigured from acid burns. He's not an alien and he's not a demon. And you people who call him an alien and call him a demon, you're all fucking crazy. 

Etiole is a homeless Jewish man who has no skin because he was tortured in a Nazi concentration camp in France during WW2. He came to Maine in 1953 with a bunch of other refugees, He has post traumatic stress disorder really bad and he's terrified of people. He can't function in normal society, so hides in the forests. He's not an alien, he's not a demon, he's not a cryptid. He's a disfigured old man, now in late 90s. He barely get around. He doesn't you people harassing him like this. Why can't you people leave him alone? Why are you all so damned desperate to believe in aliens or demons that you have to harass a helpless old man? Leave him alone. Why can't you leave him alone? What is wrong with you people?

Read The Amphibious Aliens article, https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html where way back in 2007, I DEBUNKED every one of you stupid ass alien, cryptic, demon, and haunted car rumours. Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World's Most Haunted Car, goes over every event from the 1970s, that started the fucking rumour, and lists off how every alien, demon, and haunted car rumour was proven to be nothing but a hoax started by my mother's brother  Mervin Bruce Atwater. Every single one of those rumours was started by that one man, and were proven to ALL be hoaxes he perpetrated to try to get money out of Dr Larochelle, the man who hit Mervin's younger sister with a car. They tried to convince the old doctor his car had a demon living in it and they scammed the doctor out of $20,000 back in the 1970s. THAT is how and why the demon car rumour got started. I bought the car in 1975. Etiole started living in it in 1978. And that is how me and Etiole got dragged into the fucking ass rumours about a demon car.

The article Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World's Most Haunted Car DEBUNKS ALL of the alien, cryptid, demon, and haunted car rumours. Every last one of them.

The car is not haunted and Etiole is not a demon.

You people who believe my car is haunted or think that Etiole is a demon, you are all fucking retarded.

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I'm sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I'm sick of you people harassing me and Etiole over stupid shit started by brain dead idiots.

If you are having problems with my mother, tell FBI agent Andy Drewer about it not me. Have information, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about the murder of my baby, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about any of the attacks on my family, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

Have information about the people who shot Etiole, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322

If you have information about anything, call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207-774-9322 and give it to him, not me.

https://www.eelkat.com/AmphibiousAliens.html





UPDATE March 8, 2022

One sign is back up. 

How many more go up, is dependent upon YOU.

From now on, every time one of you Old Orchard Beach, Pine Point, or Biddeford shitheads decides to harass me, I'm going to put up another sign.

If you want no more, then you better make dammed sure you keep your friends and family and neighbors out of my yard and out of my life. I'm not selling my land, and I'll not let you dig up those graves.

Burn in hell.

No means no.

And I'm tired of saying no.

Just like rapist, you refuse to take no for an answer.

No. I'm not selling my land and giving you the money so you can buy a house in Kennebunk.

I've said no to you every single week since August 2021. And your current threats to dig up the graves on my land and move them to your land, is why the signs are going back up.

I'm tired of you bullying me.

I'm tired of your threats.

I'm tired of your gaslighting.

I'm tired of your lies.

You keep saying "After all I've done for you!" What have you done for me? When I was 8 years old you locked me in a racoon trap and left me there for 27 years, only letting me out on Sundays so you could parade me around in the Cape Elizabeth and Saco Ward Mormon churches to pedophile priests who paid you so they could rape me. That's why you never had a job until 5 years ago, because you made plenty selling your pre-teen daughter for sex to dirty old men.

You drove a foundation nail through my hip when I was 6 years old.

From the tie I was 14 until I was 42 years old I was near mute, because you broke my jaw with a brick. I was 42 when I had surgery to rebuild my jaw, that's why I can talk today.

You never allowed me or my bothers to go to school or doctors.

YOU took a sledge hammer to my 1974 AMC Gremlin, my 1976 AMC Gremlin, my 1976 AMC Hornet, my Olds station wagon, and you took a chain saw to my 1964 Dodge 330 the worlds most haunted car, the real Christine. YOU did that.

Since 1978 you have harassed me and me boyfriend, the one you call Etiole, because YOU believe he's a demon because of his skin deformities. You and your sister and your brothers contacted MUFON and told them lies about me and Etiole both. You called him the amphibious alien and claimed he had abducted me. Your alien abduction hoax, almost got him killed in 1997 and again in 2007 when ufo crazies arrived in my yard calling him an EBE and trying to shoot him "for science". An elderly man, a French, Jewish Nazis concentration camp survivor who lives in the forest because his PTSD and fear of people is so bad. A man who is scarred with acid burns from being tortured in WW2 and is neither a demon nor an alien and who deeply traumatized by YOUR endless harassment.

It was YOUR friends who drove a backhoe over my house August 8, 2013 because YOU paid them $600 to do so. Because you thought without a house I would sell my land. But I wasn't the one living in that house. My dad lived there. All you did was put him in a Biddeford apartment. I was already living in the tent since May 9, 2006, and I had the Biddeford apartment since February 13, 2007. 

It was YOUR friends who attacked me with golf clubs at Southern Maine Community College, November 14, 2013, while I was 8 months pregnant with Etiole's baby. That they murdered, on YOUR orders, because as YOU put it "It's RoseMary's Baby" while you gibbered about some horror movie about demon babies.

That was YOUR own grandchild that YOU hired those people to kill.

April 10, 2015, YOU broke into my motorhome, put YOUR 13 cats in it, them then brought YOUR friends to attack my family.

We now know the owner of the 4-door white truck, was YOUR visiting teach, Kathy, the driver who tried to kill me, was her son, and the reason the 911 calls didn't go through during each attack, was because she was the 911 dispatcher and her son, driving her 4door white pick up truck, only attacked me she was on duty. They were YOUR friends from the Saco Ward church, YOUR church, attacking YOUR daughter on YOUR orders.

Since August 2021, you arrive at my apartment 3 times a week, to tell me I need to put curses on people at your workplace, citing that I have to, because you're my mother and I'm demon possessed and I should be putting my demons to good use by helping you kill three people you don't like at work.

I'm sick of you calling me demon possessed.

I'm sick of you demanding curses.

You have a severe mental problem and you need psychiatric help.

I'm sick of you spreading slanderous lies about me telling every one around town I cast curses and death spells, when I've never done either.

November 19, 2021, YOU friend Todd commit suicide and YOU told YOUR friends, that me and Etiole used suicide demons to drive him in front of a train.

YOUR friend Todd, who I did NOT know and had never heard of until 6 of YOUR friends showed up at Rotary Park November 21, 2021 to gun down Etiole while screaming that they were "killing the suicide demon", while we were walking my dog.

Something YOU now brag that YOU tricked YOUR friends into do, because you needed to get Etiole off my land in order to convince me to sell it and give YOU the money for a down payment on a house in Kennebunk.

Christmas Eve 2021, you arrived at MY apartment in Biddeford, STOLE my father's psychiatric medicine, medicine he needs to keep him NOT violent, because he has extremely violent schizophrenia and one hell of a criminal record that requires him to never be in the same room with a gun, let alone never have one. He was committed to a mental ward in 2007, and they ONLY let him out because he came to Biddeford to live with ME in MY apartment, and I was monitoring his meds.

After YOU stole his medicine, you took him with you daily to Kennebunk, to a mansion by Bush's house, to daily tell him, you would give him that house if he forced me to sell my land and give you the money from my land to buy that Kennebunk house.

Tell, me, what of THOSE things, is YOU doing anything FOR me?

No, means, no.

I'm done saying NO to you.

You are nothing but a land rapist.

Just like a rapist you refuse to accept No for an answer.

Every week since August 2021, I've said no to you.

No, I will not sell my land and hand you the money so you can buy a house in Kennebunk.

No, means no.

And no, I'm not happy with the fact that because I won't sell my land and give you the money, you are now threatening to dig up the graves on my land and move them to your land.

No, I'm not happy with you saying "You don't need the land, you don't use it, I need a house in Kennebunk, you ought to want to sell your land and give me the money!"

Yes, I do use my land.

Yes, I did see the car YOU dumped behind my motorhome. You have till the end of summer to get it off my land or the police are taking it.

What I do with my land is none of your damned business.

And for your information, my land is where I write my novels. I sit on the hill, and I write every day, all summer long. The only reason I didn't in 2021 is because I had Covid for 3 months.

No, telling me that my grandmother's evil spirit is haunting my land. also does not inspire me to want to sell it.

YOU are an evil, hate fill, mean, cruel, sadistic, child abusing, vindictive sociopath.

Get psychiatric help.

You need it.

What you are doing is wrong and you know it. You won't be so upset about what is painted on my car, if you didn't know it.

You can't hide from the truth forever. 

You can't hide your sins, your crimes, your cruelties forever.

Good things will never come to you, until you stop doing evil things to those around you.


Don't forget, my camera runs 24/7 and it's a simple matter of my uploading the video footage of you doing and saying things thing. Plus a lot of it, you said and did while I was livestreaming so people online have already seen and heard you say and do these things.

Yes, I even have video footage of the 4 bicycle brats who chased the homeless man into the train November 2021.

EVERYTHING, I have said here I have video footage of. That is WHY the FBI have been able to arrest so many people these past few months, in Biddeford.

Cutting the wires off our house November 2021 - you did on a livestream. People saw you do it WHILE you were doing it. 

All 2 of the FedEx workers you demanded death curses for - you did on a livestream.

Stealing my dad's meds - you did on a livestream.

Saying "What are we going to do about Wendy, she can't keep that land, I need a house" - you did on a livestream.

Threatening to dig up the graves on my land - you did on a livestream.

All that n-word stuff you said about the black men at your workplace - you did on a livestream.

People been seeing and hearing you live. They've already seen and heard a lot.

How do you plan to explain away all the hundreds of hours of video footage I have of you breaking into my bedroom during a live stream to threaten me, my family, my land?












To the people who asked about weird emails that you claim you got from someone claiming to be me, here are a few things to consider:

#1: I DO NOT use email and I NEVER have. if you get a letter from me it is going to be written in ink on paper, and in a stamped envelope the mail truck delivered to your mailbox at the end of your driveway. Since 1997 my aunt Barbara has been sending emails out to people CLAIMING they were from me, so in all likelihood whatever you got was actually from her. Her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater did the same thing throughout the early 2000s. And 57 of their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren have done it at well. No, I’m not special. They do this to THOUSANDS of people. They run a medical scam and pretend to be LOTS of big name famous authors, hoping you’ll click whatever link they put in the email, because the link is going to open a .exe phishing program to steal your credit card data and medical records. The FBI is currently investigating their medical fraud, email fraud, scam operation, so if you ARE getting emails claiming to be from me, PLEASE print up the email ad take it to the FBI office on Middle Street in Portland, Maine. FBI Agent Andy Drewer is in charge of not only the investigation of the 2015 murder of my family, but he is also in charge of the email impersonation fraud, and the stalker doing the email fraud.

#2: As you have stated, the topic of the emails is Etiole... do know that I have NEVER talked about Etiole, with ANYONE, online or offline. Unlike my mother, and her sister, my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, I happen to respect people’s privacy. As I have said before: Etiole is a Jewish, French, Nazi concentration camp refugee who came to Maine in 1953 with a boatload of about 300 other concentration camp survivors. He is covered with acid burns, so his skin looks ghastly white and horrifically disfigured, which is why he lives in the swamps around the Saco River. he is now in his 90s and is still as homeless as he was in the 1950s. He has severe posttraumatic stress disorder, can not speak/is mute, does not have the mental capacity to function in normal society on any level what so ever, and me and a few others have been taking care of him, giving him food and clothing and supplies and medical attention since 1978. There is nothing else you need to know. You do not need to know where he is or how to find him. If you want to see him, go to y livestream/video archive and watch the VOD where I visited him on livestream so you could see what he looked liked and how crippling his metal condition really is.

#3: I feel I shouldn’t have to say this, but apparently I do NEED to say this: Etiole is NOT an alien, nor is he a demon. The article Amphibious Aliens is free to read online. It goes over all the details of both the alien rumours and the demon rumours and debunks them all, while proving all the proof, including medical records and documentation of the people behind the rumour.

#4: The ONLY person who ever claimed I was abducted by aliens was my uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater, who was the leader of the Mane division of Heaven’s Gate for over 40 years. Heaven’s Gate if you do not know, was the UFO suicide cult who murdered 39 people with poisoned Kool-Aid in California in 1997, because Comet HaleBop flew over that night.

#5: I found out about my so-called alien abduction in 2007, when a MUFON tour group showed up in my yard asking to interview me. They carried with them more than a dozen books by various UFO/alien experts and over 100 newspaper articles, all featuring interviews with my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, interviews all from the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, all of them telling of how I was supposedly a demon possessed child, whose best friend was an alien named Etiole. It was 2007, and it was the first time I had ever heard the term “alien abduction” I didn’t even know what it was. The MUFON group - a group of 30,000 people - standing in my driveway 2007 all wanted to interview me as they pointed out NONE of the 30+ years of several hundred interviews with my aunts and uncles, not ONE of the interviews was WITH ME. This was the source of the April 2007 article titled Amphibious Aliens, where I shocked the MUFON world with the revelation that I was NOT an alien abductee, nor had I ever claimed to be one. It also infuriated me to find out that my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater had been running around telling people about Etiole, as I had never told ANYONE - NOT EVEN THEM - about Etiole. It turns out my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater go their alien and demon stories about Etiole from my mother and THIS is WHY I disowned my mother, shun her, and have had nothing to do with her, or her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, since 2007. The slanderous alien and demon, gossip, rumours, and lies my mother and her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater spread about me and Etiole are deplorable and I HATE my mother and her sister my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, and I hope they burn in hell for the alien and demon shit they pulled on me and my homeless boyfriend.

#6: That same Amphibious Aliens article ALSO debunks the stupid ass haunted car rumours. My 1964 Dodge 330 is NOT haunted and we fucking proved that. And AGAIN, the haunted car rumour, is sourced to my aunt Barbara and her brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater. That car ran over my aunt Barbara when she was 2 years old. At the time, the car belonged to Dr. Larochelle of Ocean Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine. My than 2-year-old aunt Barbara almost died and her older brothers Richard Merlin Atwater and Mervin Bruce Atwater and David Atwater, came up with a haunted car/demon possession hoax to scam that elderly doctor out of $20,000, which my grandmother Eva Viola Atwater spent on a 3 year trip to Hawaii in 1973. The Atwaters scammed and terrorized the doctor so badly, that he sold the car to me in 1975 for $5 because he was convinced it was attacking people. The car became famous in 1983 when my then neighbour Stephen King used the demon possession story of my car as the basis for his book Christine. He named the car Christine because Christine is my real name and I owned the actual car. Stephen King returned 10 years later in 1994 to film the Thinner movie in my yard, because I’m the real world “Gypsy Witch” (priestess) that he based his fictional Gypsy Witch in Thinner off of. The movies Christine and Thinner are what in turn made ME famous, and started locals accusing me of being a witch with a demon car.

And as for the fucking Thinner movie - those bastards were trespassers. They just showed up unannounced, barged in, set up filming, without permits or licenses or contracts or permission or even telling us ahead of time that they were coming. No one in Stephen King’s crew acted legally, we are not in that movie willingly, they were not on our farm legally, no one ever received a penny for any of it, and to make things worse, Steven King had no right or permission to go o late night television and tell people my home address and tel his fucking fans to “go visit the Thinner Gypsies of Saco Maine”. They had no right to be on my farm, they had no right to be filming my family. They just dropped in one day. We had no clue who they were or why they were there and it took us fucking 5 hours to chase those trespassing bastards and their film crew off our farm.

In short: I don’t use email, so you NEVER got an email from me. I’m not a witch. My car isn’t haunted. Etiole is not a demon. Etiole is also not an alien. And I was never abducted by aliens.

Also, I don’t know what you are talking about with the house stuff. I’m NOT trying to build a house, I’ve NEVER tried to build a house, I have never applied for a house permit, I’ve never been denied for a house permit because I’ve never even tried to get one. You clearly have me mixed up with someone else.

I’m at 146 Portland Ave. I have 2 neighbours who are building a house: 144 Portland Ave next door to me and 139 Portland Ave across the street from me. I think you mean one of them. My neighbour at 144, has been trying to build a house for 17 years and the town hall has been giving them the runaround. I think SHE at 144 Portland Ave is the one you mean, not me at 146. You seem to have us mixed up somehow.

SHE at 144 is the one putting in a septic system, not me at 146. I’m the one with the pink motorhome and the 35-year-old black Volvo. she’s the one with the brand new big black car and the log cabin house.

You have seriously mixed the two of us up big time.

Understandable considering it was HER family at 144 fighting with the Cyr Clan over a septic tank in 2014, and the Cyr Clan hired a hitman who accidentally murdered MY children, ten of them and nailed their heads to my motorhome door, at 146 than the white-haired man with the green pick-up truck has spent the last 7 years TELLING YOU via running up the street knocking on doors, tell you that it was EelKat trying to build a house, ONLY telling you that to try to cover his ass for mixing up my children at 146 when it was my neighbours children at 144 that was the ACTUAL target.

This is not speculation, the FBI have 100% positive proof that she and her children, not me and my children were the intended target because her family was having a fight with some Connecticut based heroin drug gang that calls itself the Cyr Clan over the septic tank. The hit men the Cyr Clan hire got the wrong house when they murdered my family. And now the Cyr Clan’s trying to convince you that I was the one building a house. I have no interest in a house. Why would I? I’m a Gypsy, I’ve never lived in a house. I’ve always lived in cars and tents my whole life. I have no interest in a house on any level whatsoever. I don’t NEED one, I never have. And you local people should know that. When my health is bad, I rent apartments in Biddeford. I’ve done this for 50 years now. You know that. You ALL know that. I’ve owned 146 Portland Ave since 1975. You people know me. Why are you pretending you don’t?

I’m the feral child who lived in a cage in a woodshed from the time I was 8 until I was 31. Did you all forget that? Etiole was the local homeless man who used to break into the woodshed and break the lock off the cage and take me out into the swamp to hide me from my bastard uncles. Did you forget that too? The ONLY reason any of you spread your fucking rumours and lies about me and Etiole, calling me a witch and Etiole a demon or alien, and spreading lies about me building houses, is because my Uncle Bruce and his Heaven’s Gate friends, told you those lies.

Did you forget what Heaven’s Gate is, what they fucking did? They are an UFO Alien Cult, who murdered 39 people with poisoned koolaid, because they comet Hale Bop was God’s fucking mother ship. They see fucking aliens EVERYWHERE. In everything. And THEY are the ones who started the stupid ass rumour of Etiole being an alien.

Look at the SOURCE of the alien abduction rumour. My Uncle Mervin Bruce Atwater. One of George Applewhite’s thugs. George Applewhite, a follower of Jim Jones, that’s WHY they killed everyone with kool-aid, because they were fans of Jim Jones, and they wanted to jump onboard God’s mothership like Jonestown did! Did you forget that? THAT fucking lunatic, a fan of Jim Jones, who worked for George Applewhite, called Etiole an alien, because Bruce CALLED EVERYONE aliens.

Bruce locked me in a cage, and Etiole broke me out of it and hide me in the swamps, and THAT is what Bruce called an alien abduction. But Etiole is no alien. He’s just a local homeless man. Etiole’s not even his name. I don’t tell anyone his name to protect him from you fucking jackasses who are too stupid to believe he’s just a normal man. My uncle Buce is a fucking lunatic who spends 24 hours a day gibbering madness and nonsense about aliens and demons.

As for the garbage that keeps being dumped on my land… you have all SEEN the big green dump truck with the black and silver striped nose, that illegally trespasses on my land and dumps that fucking garbage.

Open your eyes and look around. You can SEE the truth. The house being built is at 144 Portland Ave NOT 146. You can SEE that, now that the house is up.

Like I’ve been saying right along, it is NOT me building a house. It NEVER has been. I don’t know why you let that idiot try to gaslight you with lies about me building a house, when you can SEE the house is NOT going up on MY land. It’s going up on my NEIGHBOUR’S land.

I know you people are NOT THAT stupid. The white-haired man with the green pickup truck is LYING to you, and you can SEE that for yourselves, just by looking at WHICH property the house is being built on.

Look around... does it LOOK like there is a house being built at 146 Portland Ave where the pink motorhome is? Use your brain and open your eyes. See the truth. The truth will set you free.

Now look next door to 144, you CAN SEE that THEY NOT ME are the one building a house, now that it’s almost finished.

I’d say the white-haired man in the green pickup truck has a lot of explaining to do, like explaining WHY h’s hell bent on trying to convince the town I’m the one putting up a house, when I’ve never even applied for a building permit. Building permits are public record. Go look at the town hall for yourself.

Also, please explain to me HOW the white-haired man with the green pick truck has such very detailed info about the murder of my family, when the records are sealed, not public access, and about 90% of the details were withheld from the public and are know ONLY to myself, the murderer, the police, and FBI? There is ZERO public access to the stuff h is saying happened on April 10, 2015... you know that, right? So HOW did he get the info he has? Explain THAT.

please report any future such emails you receive to FBI agent Andy Drewer 207-774-9322

>>>I’m just more cowardly than they are and I’m afraid of the truth and criticism. In your opinion, what makes someone mean?

When I think of mean, I think of my uncles. 3 in particular. My mother had 12 older brothers and 3 of them all claimed to be “king” (we are Gypsies, Gypsy Kings are a thing). And they fought over it badly. They ended up jointly ruling over the clan, each competing with each other to out-king the other, each doing progressively meaner things to the clan members, especially the female children.

Things they did, just to me, included:

When I was 4 Uncle Bruce stabbed me with a foundation nail - an iron rod over 2 feet long - he drove into my hip, through my pelvis and out my other thigh. I have been crippled and walked with a cane since I was a toddler, because of it. His reason? I was unable to memorize the entirety of chapter 1 of the book of Genesis.

When I was 8 years old, same uncle locked me in a cage that was made for trapping raccoons. He gave me 1 salted herring fish to eat once every 12 days. He let me out only on Sundays to go to church. I lived in that cage for 27 years, until the Heaven’s Gate FBI raid shut down Heaven’s Gate in 1997, after they killed 39 people with Kool-aid. Yes, I am THAT EelKat, the child who lived in a cage, the feral child you see pictures of in almost every college Psychology book. I am the child who survived Heaven’s Gate because I was locked in a cage in a woodshed when they drank their kool aid under the shadow of comet HaleBop. I was 31 years old when the FBI raid rescued me from that cage.

When I was 14 years old, because I was unable to recite from memory the entire book, all chapters of Ecclesiastes, that same uncle beat me in the face with a cinder block brick, breaking my jaw, and cause me to be “mute” until had surgery to fix my jaw when I was 42 years old. From the time I was 14 until 42, I was unable to speak due to the damage of my jaw.

In those 27 years from age 8 to age 31, I was let out of the cage every Sunday to be taken to church and sold or $12k to the priests, who raped me repeatedly, weekly, for 27 years.

While my uncle helped Applewhite to run Heaven’s Gate, he fled the night of Hale Bop. He did not kill himself with everyone else.

Social workers took me after the FBI raid. It took them years to teach me how to not be terrified by the sight of Humans. They say I suffer from having no outward sign of emotions, and that it was caused by my never having experienced a single good event in my early life.

At the time of the FBI raid at 144, 146, and 148 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, I was one of more than 120 girls the FBI rescued out of cages. All of whom had been raped hundreds of times by priests from Cape Elizabeth, Saco, and Sanford wards of the LDS/Mormon church. Including 16 bishops, an OOB town manager, and several OOB motel owners, all of whom were in the habit of paying $12k to rape girls under the age of 10 years old.

The man with the green truck, who likes to spread rumours about me and Etiole and my house, was one of Bruce’s top customers. He had a thing for numbers and raped 7-year-olds, 14-year-olds, and 21-year-olds because he was obsessed with doing everything in 7s.

After years of social workers teaching me how to live with normal, not abusive Humans. I was 37 when I got my GED and while I was at the high school doing that, those uncles built a grease fryer bomb burned my house down to punish me for getting a GED.

2 years later, while I was in college taking classes to learn grammar and writing, three of them, that same uncle and 2 women I had never seen before, arrived at the college armed with golf clubs and attacked me when I was coming out of the college. I was 8 months pregnant at the time. They killed my baby, broke my spine, broke my hip, broke my pelvis, broke my knees. I was paralyzed for 5 months. It took me 18 months to get out of the wheelchair and relearn to walk, and to this day I am still crippled.

That’s the price I paid to learn how to read and write, in a culture that believes it is okay to execute women who commit the sin of learning how to write.

August 8, 2013, that same uncle paid a local construction worker $600 to drive a backhoe over my house.

April 10, 2015, that same uncle and a group of 74 members of the new reorganized Heaven’s Gate, attacked my farm. 14 men held me down with guns to my head, while the others used hand band saws to kill and behead 10 of my 12 children and then nailed their heads to my door.

And it’s very easy to Google the news reports and photos of all of it.

That is what I think of when I hear the word “mean”. My uncle Bruce was a very mean person.

My uncle Bruce Mervin Atwater is a monster. And he calls EVERYONE an alien abductee or a demon. Did you fucking forget that?

No, I have no updates on Etiole.

He was shot by a local lunatic.

No, he’s not okay.

And I am getting sick of this fucking ass rumour of Etiole being an alien or a demon.

The fact of Etiole being an alien is a stupid urban myth started by some crazy ass locals.

The fact of Etiole being a demon is a stupid urban legend created by some religion crazed nuts.

Etiole is an old man covered with acid burns. His skin is white and face disfigured from acid burns. He’s not an alien, and he’s not a demon. And you people who call him an alien and call him a demon, you’re all fucking crazy.

Etiole is a homeless Jewish man who has no skin because they tortured him in a Nazi concentration camp in France during WW2. He came to Maine in 1953 with a bunch of other refugees. He has posttraumatic stress disorder really bad and he’s terrified of people. He can’t function in normal society, so hides in the forests. He’s not an alien, he’s not a demon, he’s not a cryptid. He’s a disfigured old man, now in late 90s. He barely get around. He doesn’t you people harassing him like this. Why can’t you people leave him alone? Why are you all so damned desperate to believe in aliens or demons that you have to harass a helpless old man? Leave him alone. Why can’t you leave him alone? What is wrong with you people?

Read The Amphibious Aliens article, where back in 2007, I DEBUNKED every one of you stupid ass alien, cryptic, demon, and haunted car rumours. Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World’s Most Haunted Car, goes over every even from the 1970s, that started the fucking rumour, and lists off how every alien, demon, and haunted car rumour was proven to be nothing but a hoax started by Mervin Bruce Atwater. Every single one of those rumours was started by that one man, and were proven to ALL be hoaxes he perpetrated to try to get money out of Dr Larochelle, the man who hit Mervin’s younger sister with a car. They tried to convince the old doctor his car had a demon living in it and they scammed the doctor out of $20,000 back in the 1970s. THAT is how and why the demon car rumour got started. I bought the car in 1975. Etiole started living in it in 1978. And that is how me and Etiole got dragged into the fucking ass rumours about a demon car.

The article Amphibious Aliens The Story of Etiole and The World’s Most Haunted Car DEBUNKS ALL of the alien, cryptid, demon, and haunted car rumours. Every last one of them.

The car is not haunted and Etiole is not a demon.

You people who believe my car is haunted or think that Etiole is a demon, you are all fucking retarded.

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I’m sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I’m sick of you people harassing me and Etiole over stupid shit started by brain dead idiots.

And the same goes for the so-called World’s Most Haunted Car. That rumour was started by the same person. That car was proved years ago, to have a mechanical issue that caused it to start and drive ahead until it hit something. No one ever thought to look at the starter. I’m the 3rd owner of the car. I changed the malfunctioning starter and a so called ‘haunted” stuff the car did, went away. It was a problem with the starter, only that and nothing more.

And these people in Biddeford right now, getting you all worked up - if you hadn’t noticed they ARE Mervin Bruce Atwater’s family.

So it’s STILL the same one fucking person running around getting things stirred up. The Atwaters. My fucking uncles. Like usual.

Yesterday at Rotary Park, Biddeford, Maine, a group of people armed with rifles, went down the track team trail behind the soccer field and started shooting... scared the crap out of the 50 or so children and their 100+ parents, got the 30+ dogs in the dog park howling... the sky filled with thousands of Canadian geese, and the park goers assumed the group was hunting geese and started commenting on the fact that hunting was not allowed in Rotary Park.

A few minutes later, a grey/white haired, bearded man, who looks a lot like Kenny Rogers, but not as fat, with a black dog of a German Shepard-Lab mix look, and a woman with pageboy greyish-blond hair, both about late 60s, marched up to me in the park, bragged they had killed Etiole, stating that he has caused their son whom they called “Todd” to jump in front of a train 3 days earlier.

You know what, I knew that homeless man and HE never mentioned it.

You people are just looking for someone to blame, and think because I’m not white, I wear a hijab, and I have a mural painting on my car, you think you are justified on pointing blame at me for something I had no part in.

That homeless man was obsessed with the fact that his dog and son had been taken away from him.

It’s NOT the evil eye as they called it. It’s The eye of The Grigori Archangels aka The Watchers, from the Apocrypha in the Bible. It’s the blue wings of the Seraphim Archangels aka The Watchers. The Watchers are my Guardian angels. I paint them on everything, I sew it on tapestries, it’s on my car, my motorhome, I embroider it on pillows and clothes, paint it on mirrors, paint canvases art for art galleries with it. It’s the blue eyes wings of the archangels as described in the Bible. I’m not sure why they were calling it the Evil Eye.

It’s the Eye of God, the hamsa. A Jewish protection symbol. Etiole’s Jewish, he draws it on everything, so that’s why I do as well.

I’m sick of you jackasses spreading you wild ass rumours about me.

You’re nothing but a bunch of trouble making busy bodies who can’t mind your own fucking business.

I’m not bothering a single damned one of you, so why the fuck are you bothering me?

Why can’t you stupid ass people leave me alone?

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be in my yard.

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be chasing down Etiole.

There is no reason for a damned one of you to be having psychotic meltdowns over my car!

What is wrong with you people?

Fucking brain dead herd mentality that’s all this is.

One of you ran around screaming like a lunatic and rest of you all decided to join in.

But I also ask... WHY would you be scared of me or Etiole? It makes me ask who has been feeding you lies about me? Who has been feeding you lies about Etiole?

I am a crippled elderly woman. I can barely stand up. I’ve been paralyzed and bedridden since the golf club attack November 14, 2013. I’m only just now in 2021 just starting to walk again, and I can barely do that. I have no grip strength so I struggle to even hold me cane. The golf clubs damaged my spine, my nerves, most of my organs don’t function because of the nerve damage to my spine. I struggle to even breath, just sitting up in bed is enough to collapse my lungs. I have no bladder or bowel movement control, I have to wear diapers. What exactly is it you think I can even do?

And Etiole? The old hermit Nazi concentration camp survivor? He’s over 100 years old now, he hasn’t been able to walk, or sit up, or eat on his own, in almost 20 years. He’s dying. What exactly are you expecting him to do?

Etiole is NOT an alien.

Etiole is not a demon.

I am not a witch.

None of my cars are haunted.

I’ve been saying it for years. Why won’t you listen to me?

You are slandering me!

You are slandering Etiole!

You are slandering my cars!

I’m sick of it!

Grow up and go get a damned fucking brain!

I’m sick of you calling Etiole a demon.

I’m sick of you calling Etiole an alien.

I’m sick of you calling me a witch.

I’m sick of you saying one car after another is haunted.

This whole thing boils down to your fucking white privilege. You know that right?

Your white ass can’t stand the fact that we non-white Gypsies live here, so you have to make up stupid ass supernatural spooky shit about us.

You don’t like that I wear the traditional dress of my people instead of dressing like an American, so you feel justified in calling me a witch and making up spook occult lies about me.

I wear hijab and veils and caftan and silk and it bother’s you that I’m not scum diving in trashy t shirts and jeans like the rest of you.

I paint my cars, same as we painted our wagons and vardos for centuries, and it bothers you because it looks different.

Etiole is a Jew, and your anti-Semite white privilege kicks in to hate him for being born Jewish.

Etiole has scars, so you’re scared of him

I’m different.

Etiole’s different.

My cars are different.

And when you get right down to it, that’s ALL any of this is about.

Me, Etiole, and my cars don’t fit in with your fucking ass white privileged ideas of “normal” and that makes you uncomfortable and you try to make the uncomfortable go away by dehumanizing us with your stupid ass rumours.

There are no witches.

There are no aliens.

There are no demons.

There are just a bunch of whinny ass white privileged brats running around making trouble for anyone who’s not white enough for them.

Grow the fuck up!

My Editing Process:
A Look At How My Novels Go From Draft To Publication



Here is the June 1, 2021 update to this:
(The original article from 2018 is below this update.)

(You can see the difference in what I do now from what I did than, and it'll probably change some more if I update this again 3 years from now.)

When should I start rewriting? 



>>>When should I start rewriting? 

After you have finished your first draft.

If you start editing, revising, and rewriting BEFORE you finish the first draft, how will you know what to revise, what to rewrite, what to edit? Sure, grammar and spelling, can be fixed as you go, but when it comes to characters, plot, world building, and loss ends, you won't know which ones need work until you have finished the first draft.

If you start trying to fix things before you finish writing, you may end up creating more problems than the ones you fix. So write first and fix later after you can see the entire draft as a whole.

>>>I’m about 32,000 words (~30-40%) into my story. 

Uhm... so you are aiming at 60k to 85k words?

And you are talking about world building which means you are writing Fantasy because you don't world build in any other genre.

Which indicates that you think 50k is a novel and Fantasy is longer than normal novels, so you are aiming at 75k. I've been seeing A LOT of that the past 4 or 5 years. I hope you are planning to SELF-PUBLISH and NOT submit to a trade publishing house, because they look for around 200k for a Fantasy novel with world building.

You DO know that 50k words is NOT a novel... right? It's not even a novella, according to Harlequin who publishes short story collections that are 150k words long and contain 3 short stories that are 50k words each.

And yet, millions of wannbe, newbie writers who know nothing about the publishing industry, bounce around the internet saying stuff like:

>>>“How Long Is a Novelette? Any work of fiction with a word count between 7,500 and 19,000 is generally considered a novelette. A novelette is longer than a short story, which usually has a word range of between 1,000 and 7,500 words, and flash fiction, which is usually under 1,000 words.” (You can read the full article here.)

You know the funny thing about that is: Stephen King's shortest short story is 47,000 (forty seven thousand) words and his longest short story is 75,000 (seventy five thousand) words ... yet many people would call those numbers novels... and both those where published in magazines that had stated a short story was anything 25k to 75k, while short-shorts were listed as 10k to 25k and flash fiction listed at anything under 10,000 of course that was also in 1983 when most novels were 200k minimum Of course most of his novels top 300,000 words so, I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.

I am fascinated though by the fact that what we called a short story in the 1980s is considered a novel by today's standards. I think it's weird how everything in publishing - novels, novellas, short stories, is about 3/4 the word counts they were in the 1980s. I'm wondering what caused it? Do writers just write less so publishers changed the definitions to match or did publishing houses change the definitions first and writers wrote less to make new shorter publisher guidelines?

Bailey School Kids, easy reader chapter books for 5 to 8 years olds, are 30k words by the way, and the teeny little skinny Nancey Drew Books for 10 to 12 year olds are 75k words. While Harry Potter is 230k words. So kids books are still published by the old word counts of the 1980s... it's only stuff for adults that have deeply warped shorter numbers these days.

I think it's probably a reflection of adults reading less these days so publisher guidelines for word counts are being drastically cut down just to try to keep books marketable to people who don't read much anymore

Either way, it feels strange. Back in the 1980s I was constantly struggling to get my short stories long enough to reach the 30k to 75k that literary mags wanted, and now today, I can submit novels to publishers that are shorter than the short stories lit mags in the 1980s wanted. It feels weird looking back on that. I'm still writing stories stories in the 75k range, but in the 1970s and 1980s those were short stories, now today I still write that and they are published as novels. Weird.

Back to your question of editing though, after all, editing is what we are supposed to be talking about here.

Of course, you can't edit a novel if you don't even know what constitutes a novel, right? So knowing what word count = a novel, should be a good place to start.

Of course if you are planning to self publish, than who cares about word count, right? You can self-publish in the knowledge that you will be publishing things that are too short to be called a novel, along side around 20million other self published authors on Amazon who also had no clue 50k was NOT a novel either. So you certainly will not be alone in your ignorance.

I point all of this out, because you said this:

>>>I’m about 32,000 words (~30-40%) into my story. 

...and implied that you are writing an Epic Fantasy novel (which was confirmed by reading your profile and other posts on Reddit) and yet, you seem to be of the delusion that 75k words is a LONG or EPIC sized novel, when in fact 75k words is considered ONLY A SHORT STORY by the ACTUAL publishing industry.

Remember, any idiot can say a thing, but that doesn't make it true, so just because 20million brain dead idiots on NaNoWriMo call 50k words a novel, doesn't mean it's true, and heaven help you when you submit a short story as a novel to a publishing house that is going to laugh in your face while they toss rejection slips at you.

I'm sorry to be a barer of bad news but, if you want to PUBLISH your Epic Fantasy novel, than 32k words is closer to only 5% of the word count you should be aiming at, not 40% of it. 

You want to know how to edit your novel and you don't even know what word count publishing houses classify as a novel. I think you might have bigger things to worry about than editing, and I think your Fantasy may be a Novella not an Epic Length Novel.

Now, there is nothing wrong with writing Novella length Fantasy. There is a market for it, and in fact, that's the market personally write for. The Quaraun novels are VERY SHORT most of them only 80k to 115k words each, so classified as long novellas by most publishing houses, which is WHY I self publish the Quaraun books, because they just ain't long enough for publishing houses, who expect 150k to 300k for a Fantasy novel.

There is nothing wrong with your story being just as long or as short as it needs to be, but, from your posts, you seem to be aiming at trade publishing an Epic Fantasy and that means a publishing house like TOR and that means you should read their publishing guidelines to find out what THEY classify as an Epic Fantasy, because they want 150k to 300k PER VOLUME of a trilogy, meaning the full story you are writing should end at around 900k words. Yes, just short of a MILLION words for ONE story.

And you say this?

>>>I’m about 32,000 words (~30-40%) into my story. 

Yeah. You haven't got a clue. You might want to try READING some ACTUAL Epic Fantasy novels to find out how big those things really are.

Again, writing short Fantasy is not a bad thing, I just think you are quite a bit ignorant of which word counts = which book sizes and which genres = which word counts.

EPIC in Epic Fantasy means NUMBER OF PAGES in the book, not wizards and dragons. You seem to be confusing EPIC Fantasy with HIGH Fantasy. EPIC Fantasy means a novel with 800+ pages per volume. HIGH Fantasy means it has wizards and dragons. This is why there is also EPIC High Fantasy and EPIC Low Fantasy and EPIC Dark Fantasy and EPIC Historical Romance (aka The Fabio books) and EPIC Paranormal and EPIC Horror (think Stephen King) genres as well.

Remember EPIC means the printed paperback is 800+ pages long and if you are 40% finished at 32k words than your story isn't even close to Epic length.

And perhaps this seems off topic to a page on editing, but, part of the editing process involves editing your manuscript to be what the publisher wants and if you don't even know what word counts trade publishers expect from your genre than you are in for one hell of a surprise after you spend months of editing, only to find out no one will publish it because you seriously misjudged what wordcounts publishers look for because you believed lies taught to you by NaNoWriMo.

Moving on...

>>>The issue is that as I’ve gotten further into the book, I’ve noticed how I failed to flesh out a lot of characters and do important world-building. I’m not sure if I should keep writing or start rewriting.

The fact that you have noticed it is good.

TYPE RIGHT INTO THE DRAFT ***So I noticed I failed to flesh out this character; flesh out this character during editing*** than move on and keep on writing. 

And when you notice you've missed some world building, TYPE RIGHT INTO THE DRAFT ***So I noticed I need to add more world building details here*** than move on and keep on writing.

This is what I do.

That way I won't forget that I wanted to improve the character and I'll have a note typed right in the draft, to remind me to fix this character. At the same time, it doesn't stop me from writing. I just keep writing the story.

>>>I’ve done a rough outline and I know where the plot is going, so I’m not worried about losing myself in the editing, so to speak. It’s sort of difficult to keep writing when I keep running into issues related to earlier chapters. I feel like I’m creating more problems, but I’ve always heard that it’s best to finish before editing. Thoughts?

Yep. This is what I was talking about before, back when I said if you start trying to fix things before you finish writing, you may end up creating more problems than the ones you fix. So write first and fix later after you can see the entire draft as a whole.

Personally, I like to just rush through and finish writing down the whole thing, so that I get the entire idea down on paper before I forget it. For me, writing is like reading and I never know ahead of time where the story is going to go. I just give the characters free reign and follow them where they go.

So, yea, I finish it before I start editing it, but my 1st drafts are usually a total mess, full on shit, because I just write it out as fast as I can to get the whole thing out on the page. It generally takes me 3 to 7 days to write the first draft. I don't pay attention to grammar or spelling or logic. At this point nothing matters other than getting the full story out on the page. I can fix everything later. 

Now, this next step, I'm not sure if YOU would classify it as rewriting while writing... I do not, but I think some people might see it that way.

Anyways... here is a thing that I do WHILE WRITING the first draft...

When I write, I get into a "ZONE" a mind set where I just zone out everything around me and I get full focused on my writing, to the point that I literally can not see or hear anything going on around me. People have had to physically shake me to break me out of it so that I could see them in the room or hear them talking to me... I have Kannar's Syndrome aka ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers which is in no way, shape or form related to Autism. NO illness on the "Autism Spectrum" has ANY relation to Autism. The Autism Spectrum simply means "an illness that is sometimes misdiagnosed as Autism because of similar symptoms". Zoning out and becoming fully focused on what you are doing, to the point you can not see or hear anything around you is a symptom of Autism.

Well, when I write non-fiction, this zoning out doesn't happen.

Zoning out like this ONLY happens when I write fiction.

And here's the "weirder" part of it... I CAN NOT write fiction UNTIL after I have already zoned out.

This means, that before I start writing a novel, I have to meditate for several hours to trigger this state of mind to begin with. This is WHY I never know what I am going to write ahead of time.

But than, even with my 91 words per minute typing speed, at best it takes 3 or 4 or 5 or more sittings to finish the first draft.

Well, this means I need to get back into the zone before each writing session, BUT, it'll be a different novel that I write each time, and NOT a continuation of the one I started the day before.

So... to avoid starting a new 1st draft each day and instead finish the one I started yesterday, I start out day 2, day 3, etc. of writing the first draft, by reading everything I wrote so far.

Yes. I start at the beginning of the draft and read the entire manuscript, fixing grammar and spelling as I go, adding things as I think of things to add, and by the time I get to the point where I left off, I'm back in the zone and start writing again, like I had not stopped at all.

I suppose you could say it helps reimmerse me in the story?

So, that may seem like rewriting to some, but, I don't see it as rewriting. I see it as part of my personal method of how I write my first draft to completion.

In the end, this means the 1st draft will have a lot of plot holes and things not fully fleshed out or well explained, and some lose ends will not be tied up at the end either. But, I've got the whole idea down and now I can go back and flesh it out.

Usually my 1st draft ends around 50k to 80k words (I average 17k words a day; but I'm also doing this as my full time "9 to 5" job and write 8 hour work days, and have been doing this for 42 years now - I don't recommend striving towards those kinds of word counts when just starting out, build up to is slowly over time, just like you would for lifting weights in the gym).

In the 2nd draft, I read the whole thing, and as I get to points that make me think: "Wait, shouldn't this happen?" I add new scenes in those points. In places where I think characters are lacking, I add more info. In places where the world seems empty I add more life to it.  

While it took me under a week to write the 1st draft, each rewrite may take 3 months or more of 8 hours a day of doing nothing but editing and revising and rewriting. I usually end up adding 17k to 25k words to the story during each rewrite I do, but I also end up removing a lot of scenes, and saving them in a new file for maybe using later in another novel.

I repeat the whole thing again in the 3rd draft.

I often do 7+ drafts of each novel, editing out errors, fixing mistakes, added scenes, removing scenes, reordering scenes, fleshing out characters, changing up dialogue, building the world, and fixing plot holes as I go. I don't set out to do a planned amount of drafts, I just do a full rewrite and if when I'm done, if it feels like it needs more work I rewrite it again. And I just keep doing that until the story feels completed and polished as best as I can make it.

Usually my final published novel will be around 115k to 120k words, even though my 1st drafts usually ends around 50k to 80k words. 

Also, I usually put the 2nd draft away for a full year, before going back to start work on the 3rd draft. But again, I'm doing this as a full time job so I usually have 12+ novels I'm working on at any given time, so I have other drafts to work on while that one sits for a year.

This method may not work for everyone. I'm a full on pantser, so it probably won't work for people who plan ahead and outline. But for me, this is what works so this is how I do it, but yes, I finish writing the full first draft before I start editing, revising, and rewriting.


At what stage do you pull in beta readers?



>>>At what stage do you pull in beta readers?

>>>I've been working on a project for a while now and have spent some time charting the plot and getting a feel for the characters. Now I've actually started writing and working through the story, but I can't help but wonder at what point I need to start thinking about beta readers. Are beta readers only sought out after you've completed the first draft? The second? Is it ever beneficial to have a beta reader work through your draft as you draft? Do you even need a beta reader or is it possible to self-edit well enough to by pass one?


I see different people do it different ways.

I feel, if you want beta readers before the first draft is done, go ahead, just make sure they are aware they are reading a WiP. 

Do know that what Reddit users CALL a beta reader, is NOT what the actual publishing industry calls a beta reader.

Most Reddit users usually mean friends, family, and random strangers they meet in writing subreddits, when they say "beta reader". They'll read anything for free, and don't mind inkject printed stacks of loose paper or drafts in the body or an email or pdfs in an email attachment. They are not trained professionals so they WILL miss seeing most spelling errors, they WILL NOT see most grammar errors, they often have no clue what the industry standards are for word counts and genres, they rarely have any training or knowledge of character development or plot structs, so they'll they'll tell you how they fell but shrug and say they don't know what made them feel it.

Just know that ACTUAL professional beta readers, people who do this for a living an charge $40 to $60 an hour to read your books, EXPECT a proof copy of a paperback book that a mock up that looks identical to what the finished paperback will look like. They have English degrees, they know grammar rules like they were tattooed on the back of their hand. They know how to dissect and diagram a sentence - and if you don't know what sentence diagraming is - few people on Reddit do - you might want to consider if you know grammar well enough to write.


>>>I ask because recently I've been running into small issues as a write, usually concerning small details or decisions I need to make about characters which could affect how the story plays out long term. Sometimes when I have these dilemmas I write make a quick decision and move on, but other times I feel at a complete loss and have the urge to consult someone and discuss what would be best from the story. I definitely don't feel like I am at a point where I'd feel comfortable showing this work to someone else, but I'm interested in knowing how to determine the right time for this.


Take your draft, start at the first sentence, diagram it.

Move on to the next sentence: diagram it.

Continue this way, until you reach the first sentence that is written incorrectly. You will know it is incorrect, because you won't be able to diagram it. 

Pull out your English Grammar and Composition book. Look up the grammar rules about the error in your sentence. Read the entire chapter. Do all the writing exercises it says to do. Now review your sentence. Fix it. NOW diagram it.

Continue to the next sentence in your draft: diagram it.

Move on to the

 next sentence: diagram it.

Continue this way, until you reach the first sentence that is written incorrectly. You will know it is incorrect, because you won't be able to diagram it. 

Pull out your English Grammar and Composition book. Look up the grammar rules about the error in your sentence. Read the entire chapter. Do all the writing exercises it says to do. Now review your sentence. Fix it. NOW diagram it.

Continue to the next sentence in your draft: diagram it.

Move on to the next sentence: diagram it.

Continue this way, until you reach the first sentence that is written incorrectly. You will know it is incorrect, because you won't be able to diagram it. 

Pull out your English Grammar and Composition book. Look up the grammar rules about the error in your sentence. Read the entire chapter. Do all the writing exercises it says to do. Now review your sentence. Fix it. NOW diagram it.

Continue to the next sentence in your draft: diagram it.

When you reach the end of your draft... NOW read it start to finish. With all the bad grammar now removed, the plot will flow smoothly, and you'll able to see what the issues WERE (they won't be there any more) with your story and you will find writer's block melt away and your troubles writing disappear.

Bad grammar is VERY difficult to read, even for the author writing it. Authors who haven't mastered proper grammar rules, struggle deeply through writer's block and plot holes, and when you write in bad grammar, you unknowingly CAUSE your inability to think clearly about your plot.

When you go back to read what you wrote, to think of what to write next, and you can't clearly understand what you read, because your wrote it in bad grammar. But fix your own bad grammar and BOOM, it's clear to read, clear to understand, and suddenly BOOM, you know what to write next because your brain is no longer tripping on your bad grammar.

Learn how to diagram sentence, practice by diagraming 100 sentences a day (yes, I do this). It really WILL be the best thing you do to improve your writing.

Most people who can't put their finger on an issue in their story, have that problem because public schools stopped teaching sentence diagraming in 1997, something that used to be a required class. Once you learn how to diagram a sentence, words, plots, and stories start flowing very smoothly. Just as houses without foundations crumble, so too do novel plots written in improperly structured sentences. Before you pay someone to be a beta reader, ask them to diagram each of the first 100 sentences of your novel. Than heck to make sure they did it correctly. If they can't, than find another beta reader, because they don't even have knowledge of basic 4th grade grammar, if they can't diagram a sentence.

If you are having trouble with your plot and you can't put your finger on it: diagram the sentences.

>>>At what stage do you pull in beta readers?



Me? AFTER, I've done all of my drafts and edits and rewrites (there are usually 7 drafts, over a period of 3 years, for each novel) and after I do the proof copy mock up typesetting. So it has the final cover art, back blur, copyright pages, ISBN, 13 blank pages at the beginning and end, and everything all ready in it and looks EXACTLY as it'll look when it gets delivered to local bookstores. My beta readers are getting an ACTUAL paperback proof copy of the book, not a bunch of loose pages printed off an inkjet or worse the whole thing as a pdf in an email.

 I have paperback proof copies printed up, one for me, one for my editor, one for each beta reader, usually around 30 proof copies are printed. I tell the beta readers take a red sharpie pen and write EVERYTHING you think of in the margins, cross out things you don't like, correct anything you think needs correcting. Massacre it. Make it bleed read. Write whatever comes to mind right in the book, as they read it, don't want to write something later, you might forget it. Get your first reactions down as you think of them, so I can see EXACTLY where you had that reaction.

It's the very LAST step before publication. And they have 1 week to give it back to me. When I get the proof copies back, I go over each book line by line, consider their notes/advice/edits/feedback, while I have the final typeset manuscript open on the computer, and I make changes to the draft as I see fit, based off what I read in the proofs as I read the notes readers wrote in the proofs.

Within 2 or 3 days of getting their feedback back, the final typeset is delivered to the printer and the final copies of the books go to press. The book will be published and on local shop shelves within 2 weeks after the beta readers have seen it.

No one, and I mean, NO ONE, sees ANY of the drafts until less than 30 days before it is ready to go to the printer.


I use a lot of "free online resources" when I am editing, and I've listed a lot of them further down this page, including to detail how I use each one. But before I get to that, here is a list of "infographics" which I also use when editing, just because damn, do these have good editing advice on them, and it's easy to open them on the screen beside my draft and look through my draft for the things on these lists.






Here is the original article from 2018:
(You can see the difference in what I do now from what I did than, and it'll probably change some more if I update this again 3 years from now.)


>>So, I have come across many people saying things like "the first draft is total shit" or something along those lines. They say they rewrite their story multiple times until it is 'perfect'. To me, this just seems like a case of bad planning.

>>I have made a more-or-less complete outline from start to finish and am now busy writing it all out. Sometimes I expand upon a scene or add a new interaction between characters, but nothing big. It is far from being 'total shit', it just needs some careful editing here and there. So far, it seems completely unnecessary to me to create a second draft when I can just edit the bad parts out of my first one and make that into the final version.

>>Do you guys often rewrite parts or even the whole of your story? Is your first draft really that bad compared to the final product? Personally, I prefer spending a lot of time on creating a good outline instead of meticulously rewriting the same chapters over and over.

I can not speak for others as each author has their own methods, but I can tell you what I do and the hows and whys behind it.

Depending on how you look at it, you could say that each of my novels goes their 12 to 17 drafts a piece OR that it was never anything other than a first draft. Yey, how is this possible? Well, here's what I do...

An idea pops into my head, and I could be anywhere, doing anything. I have a very busy life and am often on the road or otherwise away from the computer. So, I keep a notepad (pen & paper) with me at all times, and whenever an idea pops in my head, I write it down. It may be just a one sentence idea, but in most cases it's an entire 2 or 3 page scene of dialogue between 2 characters. It could be an idea for a project I am working on already (I currently have 81 novels in various levels of completion) or an idea for a completely new novel.

When I get back to my computer, I'll create a new text file on EditPad7 and type up exactly what I had written down earlier. Depending on how much time I have at that moment, I may either just type up the exact words and save, or I may, right then and there simply keep on writing and see where the scene leads to. Often, what started as a quick 400 to 700 word jotted scene on paper, will expand to 10,000+ words within 2 or 3 hours of typing it up.

If this was a new project, this quick mind-flow hash out will serve as a shaky first draft or quasi-outline for the finished product. If it was for a project already started, I will move it to the folder, where the original project's draft is stored. Each novel has it's own folder, and the files with-in it include not only the draft itself, but also any research notes, character profiles, world building notes, rules of magic, rules of the land, random stuff written about the characters and setting that will never be included in the novel but I need to remember for how those things affect the story, links/bookmarks to sites with more research, and of course, any of these previously mentioned random brain-fart ideas that may or may not become a fleshed out part of the story.

Each of my novels, usually takes a 4 or 5 year process of starting with a random idea and then letting it slowly snowball into something bigger. And while I personally consider it to be one long process of creation, and therefor simply one draft, that eventually reaches completion, I feel that most other authors might look at what I do and translate it as many drafts being reworked and editing, a dozen or more times.

The finished product is considered (by most of my readers) to be what many have termed "avant garde" or "artsy-fartsy" and technically is classifies as Literary Fiction, because it does not stick with the norms in terms of grammar, style, and prose. In other words, a grammar nazi would have a heart attack looking at just one page and the finished novel itself would have them jumping off a cliff. I have an English degree, focused in teaching high school grammar and literature, and I can, if I wanted to, sit down and write perfect grammar and recite grammar rules for hours on end... but you wouldn't know it to look at my novels.

This deliberate lack of perfect grammar is a style choice, and one that often results in many of my books receiving bad reviews with the reader saying "this was unedited!" No. None of my books has ever gone through fewer then 12 edits and most go through 17 or more edits.

If you are finding bad spelling and poor grammar in my books, believe me, I'm well aware it's there and it's there intentionally, on purpose. The reason being that all of my books are part of a long running series about the same set of characters. The primary POV character is an unreliable narrator. An opium and LSD addict, he often does not know up from down, reality from hallucination. He contradicts himself constantly, inconsistencies are overboard, stuff he sees happening around him may in fact be only a hallucination, but he can't tell and neither can the reader, and a talking cat is following him around writing down everything he does and says. His best friend/lover is illiterate, unable to read or write, and barely has a clear grasp on the English language, English not being his native tongue; he says things wrong, often not realizing it, saying one thing when he thought he was saying something else. The cat who is writing this down does not make a distinction and does not correct him, and thus the story is written by someone who is not an person and has a lingo of her own, while she is trying to write about a mentally unstable main character and his illiterate lover.

The grammar is not only deliberately bad, it is at times horrific, to the point of leaving the reader asking: "What does this even mean?" And again, this is intentional. The finished product is intended to read as though it were written by someone on LSD. The cat is a 4th wall breaking narrator, telling the story of a drug addict from the drug addict's point of view. It is a genre known as "Psychedelic Fantasy" and while popular in the 1970s when the series started, Psychedelic Fantasy is a genre rarely seen today.

So back to the topic of the process of writing and editing...

>>So, I have come across many people saying things like "the first draft is total shit" or something along those lines. They say they rewrite their story multiple times until it is 'perfect'. To me, this just seems like a case of bad planning.

I am one who does not believe the first draft is shit theory. I believe each first draft is different, even from a single author. Some drafts will be gold bricks vomited on the page and others will be just plain vomit. It depends on many factors, including the current level of stress and health the author is in at the time of writing. The more calm and relaxed and healthy a person is, the better the chances of a clean first draft that needs only minimal spelling/grammar/typo edits, even without an outline. That same author, when dealing with stress and sickness will struggle to get their draft polished even after multiple edits and with a good outline. No author always writes pure gold and no author always writes crap. Heck, you want to see how crappy a first draft can be, try writing a story when you have the flu! LOL! :P

With this in mind, it is my belief that how many drafts a novel goes through is a reflection of many things, including, but not limited to the author's skill level, their stress levels, and their current state of health. Even just being hungry because of skipping a meal while writing, can cause a change in levels of crappiness. Some people are affected by the weather and write better on sunny days or rainy days, then vice versa.

It's been my personal experience, that the more stressed I am, the more free-flow and neurotic my writing becomes. So for me, I don't think every first draft is shitty, and I do think, that under the right conditions, most authors can put out first drafts that are near publishable with only a minor edit. A also think MOST authors seem to write when they are stressed, such as being inspired to write after a break up with a boyfriend or the death of a grandparent or being told they have cancer or struggling with depression or whatever else... high stress is often cited, by many authors, as the trigger that inspires them to write, thus it is perfectly logical and reasonable to expect the resulting draft will be rushed and shitty and need a lot of work. Many authors (myself included) write through struggles as a way to deal with stress. Whereas if that same author writes from a well planned out draft and does it on there summer vacation, in a peaceful relaxed environment, there is no reason to think they couldn't write publishable first draft that doesn't need edits.

I do however feel that every novel, no matter how good the first draft is, can be improved by simply putting it away for a few months or even a year, and then rewriting it as you read it. Because after a year, you've had time to forget what you wrote and can now read it a bit more objectively with a bit less "this is perfect" bias that you had upon writing it. I do this and am constantly taken back by the reaction of: "What the hell did I write? How did I think this was good?" Every year, my work from the previous year, seems less good then I had thought it was when I finished it.

>>I have made a more-or-less complete outline from start to finish and am now busy writing it all out. Sometimes I expand upon a scene or add a new interaction between characters, but nothing big. It is far from being 'total shit', it just needs some careful editing here and there. So far, it seems completely unnecessary to me to create a second draft when I can just edit the bad parts out of my first one and make that into the final version.

I used to outline. Decades ago. I have many massive notebooks and binders full of hand written outlines, many over 100 pages long.

I don't do outlines anymore.

I found that I would waste months on end outlining and planning and outlining and plotting and outlining and worldbuilding and outlining some more... and it was great fun to do, I loved doing it, BUT... I'd get done outlining and be: "Okay, that's done, now what can I write?"

I can make some really amazing outlines, but that in itself became the problem. I made my outlines too good, and the act of turning the outline into a novel became a chore. It took me several years to figure out what the problem was too. I'd be all excited to write this novel, I'd plot and plan and write out these massive, highly detailed outlines and then I'd be bored out of my mind when it came time to write the thing.

It turns out, I'm something called "a discovery writer". I like the thrill of discovering the story, thus why I was so excited to to the research and planning and outlining. BUT, once I know the end of the story, once I know what happened and why, suddenly the thrill of the discovery is gone and I lose interest. Thus making an outline became the very reason I struggled to finish so many novels in that time period of my life.

I stopped writing outlines and BOOM, I suddenly had no trouble writing novels again. It's weird, too, because I had it in my head that I HAD to write outlines. I thought you couldn't write a novel without an outline, so I never even tried to work without an outline before that point.

Now, instead of outlining, I just free flow it. I'm a person of extremes too. I went overboard extreme with my outlines, filling them with hundreds of pages of details, that I really had no reason to include, but I detailed out all the little pointless details anyways, just because it was fun to do. There is so much joy for me in the creation process. Well, now that I've stopped outlining (I wrote my last outline in 2006 so it's now been 12 years since I last used an outline), my drafts have improved substantially. All those details I used to put in the outlines, I now put in the drafts instead.

Usually I have no idea what the plot of the story is or where the story will go or how the story will end. You remember those random scenes I mentioned earlier? Those quick handwritten pages that I later type up and start expanding? The process goes like this:

I take this random scene idea and I start asking questions about it:

  • Why did he say this?
  • How will this other character respond when he finds out?
  • What would happen if he went forward with this but that happened to interrupt him along the way?
  • What would happen if this person disagreed?
  • What if it suddenly started raining/snowing while he was doing it?
  • What is she thought he was doing it because of this when he was really doing it because of that?
  • How would the result be different if he did it here instead of there?
  • What if while he was doing this, that happened to mess up his plan?
  • What will she say when she finds out he did that?
  • etc...

I'll write and write and write and write, maybe 1,000 or 2,000 or more words, full free flow with no clue what direction it'll take. When I get to the end of the scene, I'll go back and read it, while tossing questions like the ones above at it. Next thing I know, I'll be writing the next scene. The question will have inspired me to toss another person or item or event into the end of that first scene, and I'll write it out to see where it goes. I'll write and write and write until I reach the result of that change. Then I'll start throwing around some more "What ifs?" Wat if it started snowing? So I'l write it snowing and see how the characters react. Wait, what if it had rained instead? I'll go back to where it started snowing, write a new version of that scene now with rain and see where it goes. Then I'll look at both scenes and determine which one better fit the way the story was going. I'll use one and save the other as an indea file to maybe be used in something else later.

I think of it as though I was reading a book. When I read a book, I'm on the edge of my seat wanting to know what happens next, so I keep turning the page and reading more to find out.

I write like that. I don't know what's going to happen next. It's the thrill of discovery, to write a scene and not know where it'll lead. I'm on the edge of my seat while I'm writing wondering: What's gonna happen next?

This is the same experience I felt while writing my outlines, but then after I finished the outline, it was like I had finished reading the book, so had no more desire to go back into it, thus I wouldn't write it.

But now without an outline, I get the novel written in a few days because I'm so excited to discover what is going to happen.

>>Do you guys often rewrite parts or even the whole of your story? Is your first draft really that bad compared to the final product? Personally, I prefer spending a lot of time on creating a good outline instead of meticulously rewriting the same chapters over and over.

You'll often hear me talk about revising and rewriting, but I think, what I call rewriting, may not be what most others would consider rewriting? Not sure. It seems to me, when I see people saying they are rewriting, that they are actively writing their story over again, and for me, that's not what I do.

When I revise a novel, it' not so much me writing it over, as it is me continuing to snowball ideas at the story.

After I finish writing a novel, I like to put it away for 6 months minimum, before going back to edit it. These first drafts are usually very short only 70k to 80k words, barely the size of the finished novel it'll become when published, with most novels of the series being 140k to 200k words and some reaching over 300k. I'll immediately move on to my next novel. As it takes me about 2 to 3 weeks to write a "first draft", I'll have written 5 to 8 more novels by the time I go back 6 months later to edit that first one. I've now had time to forget a lot of what I wrote in this particular novel.

Now it comes time to "re-write" the novel. My process is this:

I read the novel, and as I read it, I'm now thinking of the additional 6 or 7 new novels I've written for the series since writing this one I'm now editing. I'll realize "Wait... did I have him doing this in that one? But I have him doing that over here in this one instead. That's not right. He can't do both. Can he? I gotta change one of these."

I'm now off to read the novels already published, read the drafts written before the one I'm editing, read the drafts written after the one I'm editing, and am now writing new scenes for this draft, in order to match up the chronology and consistency of the series as a whole. I'm now looking for plot holes and lose ends to tie up. I'm looking for places where what he did in the already published volume 22 does not match up with the now being edited volume 122. I'm writing new scenes to fix these inconsistencies and making old story lines match up with new story lines.

Keep in mind that the series in question, was started in 1978, has 130+ novels already published, and has a grand total of 275 novels in the series already started, with me currently working on 81 volumes in various stages of completion. And the way I write this series, it'll likely pass 400+ novels published over the next couple of decades, seeing how I have no plans to ever stop writing it, am writing new novels (80k to 300k words each) at a rate of 10 to 12 a year (though I publish 3 to 4 a year), and will probably keep right on writing into my 90s.

As I am doing this consistency checking process, I'm also STILL asking those "What if?" questions and so, new scenes start being written into the story, often resulting in very dramatic changes in the story line. I consider the 70k first draft to be nothing but a bare bones skeleton, completely lacking in meat, and this process of writing new scenes to answer the "What ifs?" to be the process of fleshing out the story and putting meat on the bones. So in an essence the first draft was actually an outline written in story form, and it is now evolving into the true story that will go on to be published.

The editing process after this point, consists largely of spell checking, grammar correcting, and combing for typos. I'm currently using 3 different editing programs for this, but I used to have 7 different programs I was using. (I got a new computer and have not yet bought new versions of the remaining 4 programs.)

In the end my process is this:

  • A first draft written in fast free flow, often written in a single weekend, that acts as an outline for the novel. (Done in EditPad7)
  • A revision/2nd draft written in a slower, more well thought out manner, usually taking 2 or 3 or more months to complete. (Done in yWriter5)
  • 3 to 7 edits via editing programs, counting as drafts 3 through 6 or 3 through 10. (Done in LibreOffice5)
  • A editor taking a look and a final draft being made via those suggestions. (I used to use beta readers, but haven't in nearly a decade.) (Sent to the editor vis Google Docs)
  • A manual eyeballing it while I format it for publication, edit. (Done in LibreOffice5)
  • Order the printed proof copy, and do the final edit, red sharpie on printed page, then typing those changes into the final draft.

The end result is a grand total of 12 drafts being made of each novel from start to finish.

Anyways, there is it, my editing process.

I edit after.

I'm one of those people who loves editing. I find it very relaxing and peaceful, almost meditative you could say.

On the other hand I find writing to be very energizing. Thus I write myself into an energitize frenzy, then edit back into a state of calm again.

Weird, I know, but that how I do it.


Another Update for 2021, yep, putting this one at the bottom, no reason why, it's just here.


First draft Vs Rewriting


>>>First draft Vs Rewriting Do most people write a lengthy first draft and go from there or do they write a minimized first draft (30k+) and then rewrite the whole manuscript? Quite confused about it and deciding whether to switch methods (originally rewrite).



Me, I just write the story down as fast as I can, in a basic text doc so that none of the spellchecker red underlines show up to distract me. The goal is to get the full story idea out on paper. These usually end around 50k to 70k long. I save that file as "Story Title First Draft - today's date" and don't edit directly in it. Instead, now I open LibreOffice and copy the entire first draft and paste it into a doc file. I save this on as "Story Title 2 Draft - today's date but next year" Than I set it aside for a year and go work on something else. A year later, I open the doc file (not the txt file) and now I have the auto-spellcheck do it's thing. Than I read it and edit/rewrite as I read. This 2nd draft edit/rewrite usually takes a couple of days to a couple of weeks. When finished, I open a 3rd file (doc) and paste a copy of the 2nd draft into it, name it "Story Title 3 Draft" and put it aside for 2 or 3 months, than edit/rewrite the 3rd one and make a 4th one for editing a few months later, name it "Story Title 4 Draft" and so on, for however many times it takes the novel to feel "done".

Usually I end up with around 7 drafts before the story feels finished and polished. And most of my novels, though they start out 50k to 70k in the 1st draft, most of them are 120k to 230k by the time they reach publication (I'm writing door stopper brick sized Epic Length Fantasy so they are longer than most other genres. You'd expect fewer words in say Romance or Cozy Mysteries).

I never throw anything out or "fully delete" scenes/chapters either. If while editing I reach a point of thinking: "This scene/chapter has to go". Rather than delete it from the draft, I create yet another doc file, copy the whole thing paste it into the new file, save as "Story Title 2A Draft" save the "Story Title 2 Draft" file at the point where I stopped editing. Now pick up editing where I left of, now in "Story Title 2A Draft" and now I deleted the scene/chapter and keep on going. That way I have removed the scene/chapter from the story, but it's not gone forever, in case I decide in a later draft to put it back in, or in case I decide to use it in a different novel entirely.

I end up with a separate file for each draft, which I do because I teach writing lectures and workshops at conventions, while cosplaying characters from my novels, and I show attendees what each version of the draft looks like so they can see how much the manuscript changes during each step of the editing process.

Even though I publish several novels a year, which makes it seem like I write/edit the whole novel in only 3 months time, each novel actually has 3 to 4 years of writing/editing/rewriting to them, it's just that I have so many WiPs going that appears less time goes into each one than what actually does, because I can set the draft aside for a year, edit last year's draft, set it aside, edit draft from 2 years ago, set it aside, and so on. Very assembly line process and probably a method that will not be well suited to most writers. I usually have anywhere from 12 to 30 novels in various stages of editing at any given month, which is how I'm able to publish 3 to 6 novels a year. So even though it looks like I rush each novel with only 3 months of work to it, from start to finish it takes on average 3 years for me to take a novel from 1st draft to publication.

Before using this method I had tried several others: outlining, 13 steps, snowflake, etc, and each was okay, but none of them ever felt "right" for me personally, and I struggled quite a lot early on. It was several years of trying different methods before I found one that actually worked for me and it was kind of just years of trail and error before I settled into the routine I use now.

I would suggest, looking at all the methods everyone uses, try out each one, do a different method for each of your novels, and see which one works best for you. Not every method is going to work for every writer and it may take you 3 or 4 novels before you settle into a method that feels right for you.



How long to wait after the first draft?


>>>I finally finished the first draft to a horror short story. I'm thinking about what's a good time away from the project before coming back to it. How long do you guys wait? (if you do at all)

I think the time between drafts, should be whatever you're personally comfortable with, and it's going to be vastly different from one writer to the next.

Because I publish 2 to 3 stories a week, and 4 to 6 novels a year, there is often the misconception that the story was written, edited, and published in only 4 days (novel in 3 months), but this is extremely inaccurate. I've had people who never read my work contact me to say they would never read my stories, because "anything written and published 4 days later must be crap". They are completely clueless as to my writing/editing process, and the fact that 2 years of work go into each story. Just because a new story is published about every 4 days, does not mean it was written 4 days ago. In actuality, if I publish a story today May 21, 2021, it was likely written May 21, 2019, edited May 21, 2020.

Because I have so many ideas, I'm constantly writing. As soon as I finish a story I immediately jump into the next one.

Well, when it comes to how long do I wait between drafts: a full year.

Yep.

A year.

Maybe a bit long for others, but for me it works.

By the end of a year, I've written so many other stories that I've completely forgotten what I wrote a year ago and so now I'm able to open up the first draft and read it with the same "eyes" as one of my readers, and I'm able to get rid of a good 99% of the spelling/grammar/flow errors with only one round of edits, and publish straight from the 2nd draft.

But than, I'll set it aside for a second year.

Yep.

There are 2+ years between writing the first draft and the publication, even my super-short-shorts of only 10k words.

So, a story published May 21, 2021, was actually written in 2019, edited in 2020, and formatted & published in 2021 with a final proofread to catch any errors that still remain.

But, this year wait between edits method, I think would only work for others who like me are just bombarded with way to many ideas ad are constantly working on new projects every few days/weeks. If you've only got one or two pet projects that you are working on, you might not be able to distance yourself enough to wait 2 years or have enough other projects to fill up the time between drafts. 

I think, in the case of short stories, waiting a year would probably only work for career writers, who HAVE to publish weekly if they want to pay the bills, and probably wouldn't work for someone without a pre-established relationship with publishers. S if you are just getting started and still looking for publishers and/or don't have lots of story ideas to work with in between, maybe it'd be better to wait only a few weeks? 

But I also think there is no hard/fast rule about it. No right or wrong way/time. Some people write with fewer errors the first draft and can publish a week later. Others, like me, have a lot of spelling issues and can't immediately see them so need to have a very long waiting period. It's all about testing and seeing what works best for you personally. After you've edited a few stories, you'll start to get a feel for what works best for you.



How long does a book typically take to go from final manuscript to publication?


>>>How long does a book typically take to go from final manuscript to publication? I usually see Goodreads reviews appear about 3-4 months before publication. But the final manuscript could have existed before then. So if a book is published on May 28, 2021, approximately when was it probably finished being written, on average?



It's going to be vastly different for every book an author writes, depending on huge variables and factors, like life/health/family/job.

Plus if it's self published, most authors are able to have the book in reader hands days after the last draft is finished, whereas if it's trade published, the average id 2 YEARS OR MORE from the time the author finished the last draft and gave it to the publishing house before the publishing house gets around to actually publishing it.

For me, personally:

The longest one took several years, about 6, maybe 7 years, I forget now, to go from first draft to being published.

The shortest took 7 days, to go from first draft to being published.

Both were around the same word count (about 115k).

The difference in time was because, for one, I was writing it between surgeries and doctor visits and relearning to walk and court cases and police investigations and FBI investigations because this book was being written just before my family was murdered and, so there was lots of life issues going that pushed finishing the book aside.

The shortest time, was only 6 months earlier, 6 months before my family was murdered and life went to shit, and the entire first draft written in a single sitting in one day. It was 47k words and written for the 50k in one day challenge. The next day I rewrote the whole thing, fleshing it out and adding an additionally 25k words. The 3rd rewrite the following 2 days added 17k words each day to it. It was edited the 5th day and edited a 2nd time the 6th day, adding more words each day during the edits. Ending at 114k words total (about 350 pages in the paperback edition). I formatted it the 7th day, made the cover in a about an hour, uploaded it to Kindle and CreateSpace and SmashWords and went on to be one of only 5 people who won the "7 Day Novel" contest challenge that year.

About a month later, I read the print version and I found huge amounts of errors (spelling, grammar, punctuation) and used that print copy to edit right on the pages, then went back to the doc file, made those edits, reuploaded the new file, notified my readers of the updated version so they could get the free revised version Amazon offered back than. 



How long does it take you to write a first draft?


>>>How long does it take you to write a first draft? Personally for me, it takes 3-4 months of writing everyday- or most days. Everyone has different spans of time to get their creative work done. We each lead different lives. So, how long does it take you?


The first draft takes about 3 days, ends between 40k to 70k and is the "full" story told beginning to end, as though someone was describing the story to someone else. 

I took secretarial typing in college, which requires typing 175 words per minute to graduate, but I'm a bit slower than that now outside of college, typing at only 91 words per minute average, but faster around 120 wpm when doing the first draft, so my typing speed when writing novels is around 5k words per hour and writing is my full time job, so it's straight up my typing all day and all night for 3 days, only stopping for naps, meals, and bathroom breaks; I usually average around 25k a day, and end with a 60k vomit draft after 3 days.

It's generally full of huge errors, lots of typos, grammar and spelling are a mess, and at this point, it's usually without dialogue, without scene descriptions, etc.. It's JUST the story itself, bare bones, nothing fleshed out.

In essence my first drafts are kind of an outline written in a story format, instead of an outline format. Basically it goes like this: I get an idea in my head, so I just write the full story idea down with as much detail as I can spur of the moment hash out, while I speed write it. My goal during the first/vomit draft stage is to just get the idea out on paper with as much detail as possible, before something distracts me and I forget the idea. So, the 1st draft is FAR from publishable and is a total mess, due to how fast I write it up.

I typically put it away for 2 to 3 years before I look at it again. The first edit, is usually just to go through a fix spelling and typos, than to do a full rewrite, fleshing out as I go, adding the dialogue and scene descriptions. This takes 2 to 3 months.

It gets put away again for another year or more, before it receives the major edit and rewrite where I work it into something publishable, and that can take 6 months or more to do as I slowly go through it line by line, diagraming each sentence, and reworking everything.

In the end, it usually takes 4 years+ to go from idea to published. I write an Epic Length Fantasy series, so the finished novel will be at minimum 115k words, unto 230k words, but most are in the range of 150k to 180k (and average 450 to 520 pages when published to paperback).

People often miss-assume that it takes under 2 months for me to go from idea to publishing because I publish 4 novels a year, most years, but, that output is just because I'm usually working on 10 or more novel drafts at any given time, so they are always in rotation and I end up with something ready to publish every few months, making it look like almost no time goes into the novel, when in fact, that novel will have been something I've been working on for several years.



When you feel like your writing is better in the latter half of your book, what do you do?




>Once it's done you'll be rewriting the whole thing again.


This.

Each of my novels goes through 4 to 7 or more full re-writes before I ever feel they are good enough to hand over to an editor.

> I know it's necessary but does that not drain the vitality and magic out of the craft to some extent?


I actually have more fun rewriting than I do writing the first draft. For me, the first draft is more of a slog, so I write it vomit draft style as fast as possible to get it over with and move on to the fun part - editing and re-writing.

I think because, during the first draft, I'm still formulating where the story will go. But during the rewrite, I now know the full beginning, middle, and end, so now I know what I want each scene to be, and can spend time rewriting each one.

> (I mean everyone rewrites to some extent but it’s not like all authors write from scratch their whole book 5 times like some people here seem to believe), 


Every writer may not, but I certainly do. 


>When you feel like your writing is better in the latter half of your book, what do you do?


Re-write the full thing.

I never edit over each draft though. Each draft has its own file, that way I have copies of each edit/rewrite it goes through, just in case I remove scenes/chapters and later want to have them back. Plus I can compare how much it changed from 1st draft to publication.

I name the first draft "Title of Novel 1st draft". I put it away, for a year minimum, so I have time to forget what I wrote.

After writing the first draft, I create a new file, and name it "Title of Novel 1st edit". I paste the first draft into this file to do the first rough edit. At this point, I run it through several different spelling and grammar checkers, so that when I rewrite it I won't have to worry about those things slowing me down. 

Then I created the 3rd file and name it "Title of Novel 1st re-write". I paste the 1st edit version into it and, then, I open the file in EditPad or NoteBook and open LOTS of tabs (a 100 or more) creating a new tab for each page of the draft.

Now comes the first major rewrite. I take one page of the draft (200 to 500 words depending on the font, margins, etc), paste it into NotePad, and I make it my goal to rewrite this scene into at least a 1,000-word scene, without looking at the page before or after it for context. Completely rewrite the page. Then I paste the end result back into the 3rd draft. I repeat this for each page.

Most of my first drafts are 40k to 70k words long. But this full rewrite, turning each 350-word page into a 1,000-word scene, results in the 3rd draft now being around 150k words by the time it's done.

This gets put away for another year, the same way the first draft did.

A year later, I create another file "Title of Novel 2nd edit". Paste the 3rd draft into it. Like I did with the first draft, I run it through several different spelling and grammar checkers so that when I rewrite it I won't have to worry about those things slowing me down. 

Then I created the 5th file and name it "Title of Novel 2nd re-write". Paste the 4th draft into it. I create a 6th file  "Title of Novel 2nd re-write - copy". Here is where I now open the draft in 2 files side by side one on each monitor/computer screen, and now I do a full rewrite. Writing the entire novel beginning to end all over again. Basically looking at one and retyping it, now making changes for flow, etc. I end up editing both files at once, moving and combining stuff, between them.

This gets put away for another year. Yes... at a minimum by this point, 3 years have gone by since the first vomit draft was written.

The 7th file is USUALLY the last one, but sometimes there are more. The 7th one I name "Title of Novel - final edit". Paste the 6th one into it. This file gets run through 7 different spell checkers and grammar checkers then gets run through each of the 20+ ProWritingAid reports. Then I read the entire thing out loud on live stream (Twitch usually, YouTube sometimes) and reading it out loud, I find a TON of stuff that got overlooked. This is a major edit and massive rewrite, that takes 5 to 8 months of daily 5 hour live streams as I edit the final draft live with my readers helping. I usually get 3 to 4 pages edited per 5 hours of live stream, as we do a line-by-line dissection of the entire novels. This will be the biggest most intense re-write of all. (I've been doing these live stream edits with my viewers since 2004. 2021 is my 17th year of editing my novels on live stream.)

In the end, it takes each of my novels 4 years to go from 1st draft to publication, with a grueling edit and rewrite process that slaughters the draft ripping every inch of it apart scene by scene, line by line. And because of this, the feeling that it was weaker at the beginning, is totally obliterated.

By saving every version of the draft in a separate file, I'm able to go back and compare the first draft to the finished paperback, and the differences are often astounding, with how vastly different they are. Huge changes get made during each rewrite, to the point that some finished chapters bear no resemblance to their first draft versions.

>I just want to know if anyone else feels something similar and how you deal with it—especially considering how important a strong opening is.


This statement, tells me that you are not in the habit of rewriting your drafts or if this is your first novel, you are unaware of how important rewriting is.

Know that, if you plan to publish, your draft will NEED to go through 3 or 4 edits and as many rewrites... and yes an edit is different from a rewrite. One edits grammar and spelling, the other completely rewrites the entire story. 

No one who publishes high-quality work, did so, by publishing their first draft after just a spelling/grammar edit.

With this in mind, I would suggest not worrying about your first draft's weak beginning, because, after you rewrite your novel, your 2nd draft will be starkly different from the 1st, and after you rewrite it again, the 3rd draft will be different from the 2nd.

Think of it as a rough dirty pebble you found in your driveway. You take that pebble and put it in a rock tumbler with a large grit to chip away the dirt and grime. Then you run the tumbler with a finer grit to smooth out the cracks. Then you run the tumbler with an even finer grit to make the pebble nice round. Finally, you run the tumbler with a super fine grit to get a nice fine super shiny polish on the stone. Now you put the stone in a setting and what started out as a rough dirty ugly pebble in your driveway is now a beautiful gemstone necklace you are proud to wear.

Novel writing is like that. Your first draft is that dirty, rough, ugly pebble. Each rewrite chips away the rough parts and smooths out the edges. With enough rewrites, you'll end up with a shiny gem worth putting a pretty cover on and publishing.

So, don't worry about flaws and weaknesses you are finding in your first draft. You are 4 or 5 rewrites away from it being publishable anyways, and you'll sort out the flaws and weaknesses during those revisions.

>I noticed that the first two chapters don’t feel as smooth


Same.

With me, I noticed every novel, the first half needs tons of editing while the last half, not so much. I think it's because at the beginning I don't have a clear direction where the story was going, and am still experimenting with "what if...?" but by the latter half of the novel the story has started to fully form better and I know where it is going.

End result is the first half of every novel's first draft is usually full of plot holes and loose threads that need major fixing and rewriting.



Discussion Editing


>>>Hiya! So I recently finished my first novel and am now looking to edit my work since I'm working on a deadline. I need with a couple of things I hope you don't mind me asking:

>>>Characters texting. I can't seem to write this without it sticking out, any tips on how to make it flow with the plot?

>>>Time skips. I have a lot of these (although very small) and i want to decrease them, was wondering what's the best way.

>>>Editing tips in general


>>>Characters texting. I can't seem to write this without it sticking out, any tips on how to make it flow with the plot?


I've never written texting, due to time period of my novels and short stories all being pre-1800s, but if I were to write a novel with a text, I think I'd do it as either part of dialogue (if the character was reading the text out loud) or part of internal monologue (if the character was silently reading the text)


For example:


>"So, then I said was... oh wait, I got a text." She quickly checked her phone, than started yelling. "Will you look at that! *'Text me now.'* Doesn't she know I'm busy?"

>She showed me the message. It was from her mom. *TEXT ME NOW!* It said in all caps. Must be important.


>>>Time skips. I have a lot of these (although very small) and i want to decrease them, was wondering what's the best way.


I do this a lot. What I do is type a tilde design and than say how much time passed, than keep on going with the next scene. 

It looks like this:


>The MC finishes doing things in this last sentence of the paragraph.


>~o0o~


>Three days later...

>The first paragraph of the next scene continues the story.


>>>Editing tips in general


Before I send my final draft to be edited by others, I edit it first in LibreOffice with it's spell checker/grammar checker. I like to use LibreOffice for the final formatting of my drafts as well, because it has so much editability in the settings, with regards to page margins, paragraph indents, page numbers, spacing, fonts, etc. But the spell checker and grammar editor that comes with it, is one of the best out there. It'll get most of your typos, misspellings, and punctuation issues. It's free. https://www.libreoffice.org/


Than I run it through Hemmingway App. But I ignore most of it's advice (adverbs, adjectives, and passive voice - I don't edit for those, because the series I write is a very slow paced, laid back, hippie vibe, with an MC who is usually mellowed out of opium, LSD, hashish, and absinthe, and he's the PoV narrating character, so both his dialogue and the bulk of the narrative is deliberately written in passive voice with a lot of added adverb wordiness to slow the reader down to the MCs same chill pace, thus, I don't edit to remove adverbs, adjectives, or passive voice, and simply ignore those sections in the Hemmingway App.) 

However, I do frequently have issues where I write very long run-on and compound sentence that average 70 to 120 words per sentence, and the Hemingway App has 2 editing features, one called "hard to read sentences" (the yellow highlights) and the other called "very hard to read sentences" (red highlights), and because it highlights these sentences in bright yellow or red, I'm able to quickly find them and edit them.  

So, for me, personally, the Hemmingway App is the best editing software for fixing the hard to read sentence issue. If that is a thing you struggle with, I highly recommend it.

Also, if you actually wanted to remove adverbs and change passive voice to active voice, (most authors do want to remove/change them) it highlights those in bright blue, purple, and green, making it super easy to find and fix those issues.

While it doesn't fix things like spelling, typos, and the bulk of grammar issues, and it doesn't tell you how to fix the issues it highlights, it's great for simply highlighting common flaws that trip up flow and affect readability.

It's free as well. https://hemingwayapp.com/


Next I run it through Grammar Coach by Dictionary dot com.

This one is not that great and it frequently has HUGE grammar errors in it, so definitely don't rely on it 100% because often the suggestions it gives you are outright bad grammar. 

However, I have trouble with commonly repeating simple words, due to American English not being my native language. And this program has a great "Thesaurus swap" feature. It's the best Thesaurus feature of any editing app out there. 

This app bugs out and crashes at around 2,000 words, so I can't run the whole novel at once and just put 2 pages at a time in.

This one has a paid subscription version, but I've never used it, so I'm not sure wat it does different from the free version. I've only ever used the free version. It has so many hugely bad grammar errors in it, that I didn't feel it was worth paying to upgrade it. https://www.thesaurus.com/grammarcoach



Next I run it through ProWritingAid. This can take 2 or 3 months to do, as I run 4 pages at a time through it and it has 20+ different sections to run it through, and I run it through each one.

As with HemingwayApp I don't change everything it recommends I change, because again, for this particular series I write, I WANT the passive voice and excessive adverbs and vague verbs, as a style choice due to the very mellowed out hippy-like elf who is the MC. 

Also, because the MC is a very sensory driven, emotional person who likes to get flowery in his monologuing, I like to use the sensory checker, alliteration checker, overused words checker, repetition checker, and  transition checker, to look for things these sections highlight and than ADD MORE of them instead of removing/changing them. I have a goal of 10 of each type of sensory word every 500 words (sight, sound, smell, touch, taste) and so I use this checker to find where my sensory words are, and than add lots more in the places where none show up. 

I check all of the MC's spoken dialogue and internal monologue for alliteration and repetition, and make sure to add both to every sentence he says that doesn't have them.

I used the free version for several years. But I eventually upgraded to the paid version because the free version only lets you edit 500 words to a time and I write epic length Fantasy that averages 115k to 175k words per volume and it got tedious editing them 500 words to a time. But otherwise there is very little difference between the free and paid versions. https://prowritingaid.com/


Next I run it through Article Spinner.  It has different settings:  1) HUMAN  2) AI ROBOT  3) REMOVE PLAGIARISM  4) FIX GRAMMAR  5) FIX SENTENCE STRUCTURE 6) AI Paraphraser Pastel 7) AI Paraphraser Vibrant 8) AI Paraphraser Extreme 9) Text Summarizer

Now, a warning about this program: it is NOT an editing program and is one of the shadiest software programs ever invented. What it was created to do was: you steal an article off a blog, paste it into this program, run it through each of the 5 settings, and it spits out a "original article" that is the exact same article reworded. Yep - it's the infamous plagiarism program that is used by all those shady blogs that steal content from other bloggers and spins those articles, that come out reading horrific.

For example:

>I'm going to type a sample block of text for you to read, so that you can see what happens when you take this segment of words and put them into the article spinner. It gives you things that you would never have expected to see. Some times it rewords it to sound better than how you originally wrote it and other times it spits out the most utterly ridiculous bull crap you ever saw. 

>Especially when you are writing fantasy genres and talking about things like elves and wizards and dragons and gnomes. You will see what I mean when you see what it decides to do with this text here right now. It likes to change things like animals and birds to other words. So chickens cross the road to get to the other side and find out that the egg got there first, causing wishes to become horses. Yeah. Watch what that turns into. 

>Now I'll give the article spinner a section from one of my novels. This scene comes from the novel titled BoomFuzzy, from volume three of The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane.

>“I love my children, but I love BoomFuzzy more.”

Tomorrow was the one hundredth anniversary of BoomFuzzy’’s death and Quaraun’s heart grew heavy, with what he had to do, to bring BoomFuzzy back to life.

Quaraun stood in the hallway outside the nursery, listening to the hate filled words of the children’s song. Tears streamed down Quaraun’s checks as he pulled out BoomFuzzy’s ruby encrusted black obsidian bladed dagger.

Quaraun loved his children, but he could not bear to hear them make fun of BoomFuzzy.

He did not ask for this family.

He did not want this family.

He wanted BoomFuzzy.

The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the cost of BoomFuzzy’s life only made him want to avoid them even more.

The fact that it was now only hours until the one hundredth anniversary of BoomFuzzy’s death did not help his spirits any either.

And so, Quaraun was not happy later that night, while ready a book in the parlour and listening to his children playing games by the fireplace, he heard the rhyming song they were singing.

A song their mother had written and taught to them.

A song about BoomFuzzy.

A horrible, terrible song which glorified in the death of a monster, a monster named BoomFuzzy.

Tears streamed down Quaraun’s cheeks as he listened to the words of the terrible hate filled song.

Quaraun loved his children, but he loved BoomFuzzy more.

Quaraun closed his book and staring blindly at the ruby jewelled obsidian dagger in his hands.

The same dagger that had taken BoomFuzzy’s life.

Quaraun called the children over to him and they ran giddily to their father.

The children loved their father very much and never would have sung the song had they known how very much it hurt him.

Quaraun handed the children something they had never seen before.

A box BoomFuzzy’s chocolate covered apricots.

The children devoured the candy, as children are prone to do. BoomFuzzy’s poisoned candy.

The very same poison that had taken BoomFuzzy’s life.

When the candy was gone Quaraun called his children to sit with him. The four children climbed on to his lap and hugged him, as they often did.. but the poison was fast acting and the children were soon in a drugged sleep in their father’s arms.

Quaraun sat for many hours, holding his sleeping children and thinking about the words to the song their mother had taught them.

One by one Quaraun carried his children to the nursery and tucked them into bed.

In the morning Quaraun was still in the nursery, now sitting on the floor watching the children’s drug induced sleep.

They never woke up.

That night, Quaraun was sitting on the floor of the hallway, in the doorway of the children’s bedroom. Staring blindly at the dagger in his hands. His wife passed in the hall and saw him sitting there.

Quaraun, why are you wearing those pink dresses again? You know you aren’t supposed to wear those. You’re a man, you need to dress like a man.”

I am a Di’Jinn. I don’t take orders from you any more.”

He slowly stood up and turned around.

Blood dripped from his hands.

The front of his madder rose pink dress was drenched in blood.

I don’t have to now. In three days time, I will be the most powerful Necromancer to have ever lived. More powerful than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and all the other Di’Jinn combined. And you can’t stop me. No one will ever stop me again. You and father can’t hurt me anymore. No one can. No one in this village will ever hurt me again.”

His voice was changed.

Cold.

Distant.

Angry.

Quaraun, you’re covered in blood.”

The sacrifices have begun.”

Quaraun what happened? Why are you covered in blood?”

Quaraun said nothing, but pointed through the doorway into the nursery. She looked at Quaraun and then into the bedroom.

The whole room was covered in blood.

She ran into their children’s room.

Behind Quaraun, the four young Elflings lay lined up dead on the floor. Huge pools of blood forming around them.

Quaraun, what happened?” She wailed, thinking he had found them this way. The poor young mother, cried hysterically as she hugged her four dead children.

The innocent must die with the wicked, for the sacrifice to be complete. It is not a sacrifice if only mine enemies die. What I love the most, must die alongside what I love the least. The circle must be complete or the spell will not work.”

What are you babbling on about? Can’t you see our children our dead?”

Yes. I know. I’m sorry. I had to break the bond I had with them, before it grew stronger. The sooner it was done, the easier it is to do. It was interfering with my previous bond to BoomFuzzy. I can’t let another bond replace my bond with BoomFuzzy.”

What? Quaraun what are you talking about?”

They didn’t deserve this. But you did. You and my father. And the circle must be complete or the spell will not work.”

Spell? What spell? What are you talking about?”

I loved my children,” Quaraun said to the she-Elf.

They are dead,” she screamed to him, not yet fully realizing what had happened.

But I loved BoomFuzzy more.”

What?”

She turned back to face Quaraun again and saw BoomFuzzy’s dagger in his hands, blood dripping from its blade.

What have you done?”

You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy.”

He was standing very close to her now, with BoomFuzzy’s ruby jewelled obsidian dagger in his hand.

For the first time she realized that Quaraun was covered in blood, not from finding the children, but from killing them himself.

She looked around the room.

There were magic symbols and Faerie runes and veevee written on the floor and walls.

Quaraun? What have you done? Did you...did you do this? Did you kill them?”

You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy never hurt you or them, you had no right to create such monstrous lies about him. A sacrifice had to be made. I’ve been with you too long. I’ve started to love you. I risk bonding with you. I can’t do that. I am bonded to BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy’s soul is still alive. BoomFuzzy is a Lich. He’s still out there. The bond is not fully broken, because he’s not fully dead. He is in agony. I can feel his thoughts. He is trapped. And he wants out. He’s trapped in a bottle and he can’t beak free. He’s angry. He’s ever so angry.”

>But this is why I run my novels through it. You see, when it rewrites the sentences and paragraphs, often the mistakes it adds are so outrageous that it allows me to see where my own errors were in my writing. Spinning my novel drafts through this shady program, has caused me to see flaws in my writing that I never would have noticed otherwise. Because of this, I find the article spinner program to be invaluable for the rewriting part of editing my novels.


1) HUMAN 


>>I will write a sample text block for you to read so that you can see what happens when you put this part of the word on the spinner in the article. It provides you with things you never thought you would see. Sometimes it will rewrite it to sound better than you originally wrote, and sometimes it will spit out the most ridiculous nonsense you have ever written.  Especially when you write fantasy subjects and talk about things like elves, wizards, dragons, and gnomes. When you see him now deciding what to do with this passage, you will understand what I mean. He likes to exchange things like animals and birds for other things. So the chickens crossed the road and ran to the other side, and found that the egg had arrived first, so the wish became a horse. Yes. See what it has become. 

Now I will give this article Roulette a part of my novel. This scene comes from the novel "BoomFuzzy" in the third volume of the novel "The Adventures of Crazy Kalaun".

 "I love my children, but I love BoomFuzzy even more." Tomorrow is the 100th anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death. Quaraun is in a heavy heart. He must do something to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Quaraun stood in the corridor outside the kindergarten, listening to the vicious words in nursery rhymes. When Quaraun pulled out the BoomFuzzy black obsidian dagger studded with rubies, tears flowed down his check. Quaraun loves her children, but she can't bear to hear them tease BoomFuzzy. He did not ask the family. He doesn't want this family. I want BoomFuzzy. The fact that he owns this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the cost of BoomFuzzy's life only makes him want to avoid them more. The fact that there are now only a few hours before the 100th anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death does not help. Later that night, Quaraun was not happy. When she was preparing a book in the living room and listening to her children playing by the fireplace, she heard the rhyming songs they were singing. A song about BoomFuzzy. A terrible, terrible song extols the death of a monster, a monster called BoomFuzzy. As she listened to the lyrics of this terrible hateful song, tears flowed down her cheeks. He loves his children, but he loves BoomFuzzy even more. Quaraun closed his book and stared at the obsidian dagger studded with rubies in his hand. The dagger that took the life of BoomFuzzy. Quaraun called the children to his side, and they ran towards their father dizzy. The children love their father very much, and if they know how painful this song is, they will never sing this song. Quaraun handed the children something they had never seen before. A box of apricots wrapped in chocolate from BoomFuzzy. The children swallowed sweets, and the children tended to do so. Poisonous candy from BoomFuzzy. The poison that took the life of BoomFuzzy. When the candy ran out, Quaraun asked his children to sit with him. The four children crawled onto his lap and hugged him as usual...but the poison worked quickly, and the children soon fell asleep in the arms of their father. Quaraun sat for hours, holding her sleeping child, thinking about the lyrics of the song their mother taught them. Quaraun took her children to the nursery one by one and put them on the bed. In the morning, Quaraun was still in the kindergarten, and now she is sitting on the floor watching the drug addicts sleep. They never wake up again. That night, Quaraun sat on the corridor floor at the entrance of the children's bedroom. Staring intently at the dagger in his hand. His wife walked across the hall and saw him sitting there. "Quaraun, why are you wearing those pink skirts again? You know you shouldn't use them. You are a man, and you need to dress like a man." "I am a Emperor Jin." I don't listen to you anymore. Ordered. "She got up slowly and turned around. Her hands were dripping with blood. The front of her craziest pink dress was soaked with blood. I don't have to do that now. In three days, I will become the most powerful necromancer ever. More powerful than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and all other Di'Jinn combined. You can't stop me no one will stop me again. You and my father can't hurt me anymore. No one can. No one in this village will hurt me anymore. "His voice has changed. Cold. Far away. Angry." Quaraun, you are covered in blood. "The sacrifice has begun." "Quaraun, what happened?" Why are you covered in blood? Quaraun said nothing, just pointed to the nursery door. He looked at Quaraun, and then at the bedroom. The whole room was stained red with blood. He ran to the children's room. Behind Kalaun, four young elves lined up on the ground. A huge pool of blood formed around him. "Qualang, what's the matter?" She groaned, thinking he found them this way. The poor young mother hugged the four dead children and cried hysterically: "The innocent must die with the wicked, so that the sacrifice can be completed. If only my enemy dies, it is not a sacrifice. My favorite things must be with me. The most disliked things die together. The circle must be complete, otherwise the spell will not work." "What nonsense are you talking about? Didn't you see our child die? "" Yes. I know, sorry. Before it becomes stronger, I must break the connection with them. The sooner you do it, the easier it will be. It interfered with my previous link with BoomFuzzy. I cannot let another link replace my link to BoomFuzzy. "" That? Quaraun, what are you talking about? "They don't deserve it." But you did it. You and my father. And the circle must be complete, otherwise the spell will not work. "" Spelling? What spell? what are you saying? "I love my children," Qualan told the elf. They are dead," he shouted, still not fully aware of what happened. But he loves BoomFuzzy more. "What?" He turned to look at Quaraun again, and saw the dagger in BoomFuzzy's hand, with blood dripping on the blade. "What did you do?" "You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy..." The obsidian dagger inlaid with rubies in BoomFuzzy's hand. He realized for the first time that Quaraun was covered in blood, not because he found the children, but because he killed them himself. He looked around the room. There are magic symbols and fairy runes and veevee runes written on it. On the floor and walls. "Quarren? What did you do... Did you do it? Did you kill them? "You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy. " BoomFuzzy has never hurt you or them. You have no right to make up such a horrible lie to him. Sacrifice must be made. I have been with you for too long and I start to love you. I risked an alliance with you. I can't do this. I am associated with BoomFuzzy. The soul of BoomFuzzy is still alive. BoomFuzzy is a lich. It is still there. The link is not completely broken, because he hasn't completely died yet. He is in pain. I can feel your thoughts. It is trapped. He wants to go out. He was trapped in a bottle and could not escape. he is very angry. he is very angry. "

But this is why I review it in the novel. You see, when you rewrite sentences and paragraphs, the mistakes you add are usually very outrageous. They allow me to see my own mistakes in my writing. Using this obscure program to write a draft of my novel allows me to see the flaws in my writing, otherwise I would never notice. Therefore, I find that the article conversion program is very valuable for the rewriting part of my novel editor.  So... yes... did you see what he did? He took samples of my 3 paragraphs to explain its function, and then re-stated them in 9 different ways. Like I said, it allows you to view your manuscript in different ways, and inadvertently show you what needs to be fixed, which you won’t see at all in a standard spell checker or grammar editor program These contents. I like this article spinner because it makes me better at discovering my flaws in my drafts.


2) AI ROBOT  


>> You can create a sample block of text and see what happens if you insert that part of a word into a sequence of articles. It gives you something you did expect to see. Sometimes it is rewritten to sound better than the original, and sometimes it makes the funniest sound I ever seen.  Especially when you write the fantasy genre and talk about fairies, witches, foxes, goblins, etc. What he has decided now with this text shows what I mean. He likes to express things like animals or birds in other words. So, the chicken crosses the road and goes to the other side, finds the first egg that arrives and turns desire into a word. Yes. Confirm the changes.  

Now I am giving you an article on roulette, quoted from one of my novels. This scene is a scene from the Boom Fuzzy novel in the third volume of The Adventures of Mad Quarun.

 "I like kids, but I prefer BoomFuzzy." Tomorrow marks the 100th anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death, and Kwaran is very saddened at what needs to be done to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Kuoron stood in the hallway in front of the nursery rhyme and listened to the loud words of the nursery rhyme. When the ruby-black cotton dagger was wrapped in a ruby, tears streamed down Cuaron's pin. Qualone loves children, but hates it when they bully Boom. He did not ask about this family. He didn't want this family. I want boom fudge. The fact that he sacrificed his life for his family for Boomfudge made it all the more inevitable. The fact that there are only a few hours left until BoomFuzzy's centenary doesn't help either. Late at night, when he was preparing books in the living room and listening to the children by the fire, he did not like hearing the rhyming songs they sang. A song about cleaning an arrow. A spooky and creepy song dedicated to the death of a monster named BoomFuzzy. Tears rolled down Kwallon's cheeks as he listened to the words of this terrifying hate song. He loved children, but he loved Boom Fudge more. Kualon closed the book and stared blankly at the dagger, the ruby ??gem in his hand. The same dagger that killed Boom Fudge. Kualon called the children who had fled to their father. If the children knew how much they love their father and how painful it is, they would not sing. Qualone has given children something they have never seen before. Apricot Boom Chocolate Coated Fondant Box. Children eat sweets, but children love them. BoomFuzzy Poison Candy, the same poison that killed BoomFuzzy. Kwaran called the children when they ran out of candy.

 Four children climbed onto his lap and hugged as usual ... but the poison took effect quickly, and soon the children fell asleep in their father's arms. Coolone kept his sleeping children and spent hours thinking over the words of the song his mother had taught him. Kualon took the children one at a time to kindergarten and put them to bed. Quelone was still in kindergarten that morning, sitting on the floor and watching the kids sleep on drugs. You never wake up. That night, Kwaran was sitting in the corridor next to the nursery door. He stared blankly at the dagger in his hand. His wife walked down the hallway and saw him sitting there. “Cuarón, why are you in that pink dress again? You know you shouldn't wear it. You are a man, you must dress like a man. "" I'm Deegin. I will no longer obey you. “She got up slowly and looked around. Blood dripped from her hands. She was covered in blood in front of the craziest pink dress. " I don't need to do this now. In three days, I will become the most powerful necromancer in history. Stronger than Gwallmayic, Gibedon, and all other D'Jinn combinations. and you can't stop me Nothing can stop me anymore. You and my father cannot hurt me anymore. Nobody can do it. No one in this city will ever harm me again. “The voice has changed. Cold. Long away. I'm angry". Quallon, you're broke. “The sacrifice has begun. “What does Kvallon have to do with it? Why are you bleeding? Quelone said he just pointed to the nursery door. He looked at Kwaran and peered into the bedroom. The whole room was covered in blood. He hurriedly went to kindergarten. On the floor behind Quaran, four young elves lined up in a row. There are large veins around it. "What happened to Quallon?" He groaned and she seemed to think it was him. The poor young mother carried her four dead children, crying hysterically.

 For the sacrifice to be complete, the innocent must die with the bad. As long as my enemy dies, it is not a sacrifice. The person I love the most must die with the person I love the least. The circle must be perfect. Otherwise, the game will not work. "" What are you talking about? Will our children not see our death? "" Yes. We're sorry. I have to cut my relationship with them before they get stronger. The sooner you do this, the easier it will be. This prevents previous references to BoomFuzzy. The BoomFuzzy link cannot be replaced by any other link. "" Is that all? What are you talking about, Quallon? "You don't deserve it. But you did. You, my father and the circle must be perfect. Otherwise, the game won't work." What kind of game? What are you talking about? “I love kids,” Quelone told Eleven. "You will die". He shouted, but did not quite understand what was happening. "What are you doing?" "I taught you to hate Bumfuzzi." Bumfuzzi receives an obsidian dagger adorned with a ruby. For the first time, he noticed that Kwaran was covered in blood, not that he was looking for a child. But he is killing himself. He looked around the room. There are magic characters of both fairies and cows. Runes are written. on the floor and walls. “Cuarón? What are you doing ... did you kill them? "You taught them to hate boom fudge." BoomFuzzy won't hurt you. You have no right to lie about him. I have to make sacrifices. I've been with you too long and I'm starting to love you. There is a risk of contacting you. I can not do it. You are connected to BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy's soul is still alive. BoomFuzzy is rich. I'm still there. Just because it is not completely dead does not mean that it is completely disabled. He can sense your thoughts. he followed and he wanted

But that why I talk about it in my novel. Often, when rewriting a sentence or paragraph, the error is so big that you can tell where it went wrong. With this little-known program, I changed new concepts and discovered errors in my writing that I would not have noticed otherwise. As a result, I found the article converter very useful for the new overwrite edit section.  So ... yeah ... did you see what he did? He divides my example into three paragraphs, explains its function, and explains it in nine different ways. As I said, you can see your script from a different perspective, and what you need to work on you will never see in a standard spell checker or grammar editor. You can see it by chance. I like this because it is much better for finding flaws in my project.


3) REMOVE PLAGIARISM 


>> I like to write some sample text so you can see what happens if you put a lot of words on an article page. It gives you something you did expect. Sometimes it looks better than the first one I wrote, and sometimes it brings up the most interesting crap I ever seen.  Especially when you're writing a fantasy genre and talking about elves, wizards, dragons, gnomes, etc. If you look at what you are doing in this article, you will understand what I mean. That said, he likes to change things like animals and birds. So the hen crosses the street and realizes that the egg is the first one, and turns it into a horse. Yes. See what's happening.

This time I'm going to turn some of my novels into rotating articles. This is a scene from Madman's Qualone Adventure Volume 3 Fuzzy Boom Novel.

 "I love kids, but my favorite is the fuzzy boom." Yesterday marks the 100th anniversary of the death of the fuzzy boom, and the minds of the Quran are competing for what it takes to revive the fuzzy boom. Outside kindergarten, you can listen to disgusting children's poems. When I took out the fuzzy boom dagger with sapphire, the quarantine station was full of fuzzy booms. He wanted a fuzzy boom. Just a few hours after the death of Boom Fudge 100 years later, the fact that he puts this family in place of Boom Fudge and sacrifices Boom Fudge John to avoid them any longer. .. But late at night, Karn wrote letters in the living room, and it was not pleasant to hear the children play by the fireplace and hear them sing. I taught him a song about a fuzzy boom, a terrible and terrible song about the death of a monster, a song about a monster called the fuzzy boom, and a terrible and disgusting song running down his cheeks and I taught him to cry. Gebara loved the children, but preferred the fuzzy web, with a book closed and a sapphire obsidian dagger. This became his own dagger that took Fuzzy Web's life. The children loved their father so much that they would not have played this song if they had known how much he had hurt. Karn gave the children something they had never seen before. kids do it Fuzzy Boom Poison Candy. The same poison that killed the cloud network. When the candy runs out, the Quran invites the children there.

 As usual, the four children approached her and hugged her. ... Karaon took the children one by one to kindergarten and laid them down following the lyrics of the songs her mother taught them. You didn't wake up that night and the trailer was in the hallway of the kindergarten entrance. He began to stare blankly at the dagger he was holding. His wife went down the hallway and saw him sitting. "Karun, why are you still wearing pink?" You know you don't wear it. You are a man, you have to dress like a man. "I am the sword. I will no longer take orders from you." He slowly got up and turned around. There's blood running down his hands. "Before his pink cloak went bloody." I don't need it now, but within the next three days, I'll become the strongest Necromancer. Now no one can stop me. You and your father can no longer harm me. No one can do it. No one in this town has ever hurt me like that. "Why are you wet with blood?" The Quran didn't say anything and just pointed to the kindergarten door. When I saw Karn in the room, the whole room was covered in blood and I met his bed. Behind Karn were four dead children on the floor. Huge pools of blood formed around them. He cried because he thought he had found her that way. The poor young mother was crying as she held her four dead children.

 "To complete the sacrifice, the innocent must die with the wicked. When my enemy dies, it is not a sacrifice. The thing I love the most, the thing I love the most, must die with someone other than you." Magic isn't like that. "" What did you want to talk about? "" Can't you see the dead children? "Yes. Know. excuse me. Before he became strong, I had to end my relationship with him. The sooner this happens, the easier it will be. This broke her previous relationship with Fuzzy Boom. You cannot allow other bands to replace your band with BoomFuzzy. What is Khan? "It wasn't worth it, but you did. You and Baba Mader must try to make the magic work." "I loved my daughter," Quoraun told She-Elf. They are dead.” I screamed, not understanding what had happened. have you tried this did you kill I taught them to hate fuzzy booms. The fuzzy boom has never harmed you and you are not allowed to tell such scary lies about him. It had to be sacrificed. I have been with you for a long time. I'm in love with you, I risk joining you I can't do that. I am related to Boom Fuji. Boom's fuzzy spirit is still alive. Purge boom is easy. I'm still there. Just because it's not completely dead doesn't mean the link is completely broken. he was afraid You can hear his thoughts. It is packed. so go

But my novel has passed. When rewriting sentences and paragraphs, the mistakes you make are often so disastrous that you can see where my mistakes are in my writing. By doing a new design in this shade, I can address my writing flaws that I might not have noticed. For this reason, I think an article rotation program will help you rewrite the edited part of your novel.  Uh... yes... did you see what I did? I have selected 3 paragraphs describing your work and presented them in 9 different ways. As mentioned above, looking at the script from a different point of view can reveal the parts that need to be changed, which cannot be seen in a regular spelling or grammar editor. I like things that rotate. Because it helped me a lot in finding flaws in my concept.


 4) FIX GRAMMAR  


>> I'll write a sample reading block of text so you can see what happens when you take that word segment and insert it into the articles spinner. It gives you things you would never expect. Sometimes it rewrites it to sound better than what you originally wrote, and other times it spits out the most ridiculous crap you've ever seen.  Especially when you write fantasy genres and talk about things like elves, wizards, dragons and gnomes. You will see what I mean when you see what he decides to do with this text here right now. He likes to change things like animals and birds to different words. So the chickens cross the road to get to the other side and find out that the egg got there first, making them want to become horses. Yes. See what it turns into. 

Now I am giving an article spinner an excerpt from one of my novels. This scene is from the novel BoomFuzzy in the third volume of The Adventures of Quarauna the Mad.

 "I love my kids, but I love BoomFuzzy more." Tomorrow was the hundredth anniversary of BoomFuzzy's death, and Quaraun's heart grew heavy with what he had to do to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Quaraun stood in the hallway outside the nursery, listening to the hateful words of a child's song. Tears ran down Quaraun's checks as he pulled out a ruby-studded dagger made of BoomFuzzy's black obsidian. Quaraun loved his children, but he couldn't stand the way they made fun of BoomFuzzy. He didn't ask for this family. He didn't want this family. He wanted BoomFuzzy. The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the cost of BoomFuzzy's life only made him want to avoid them even more. The fact that there were only hours left to BoomFuzzy's 100th death anniversary didn't help his ghosts either. And so Quaraun was not happy later that evening, as he was preparing a book in the living room and listening to his children play by the fireplace, he heard the rhyming song they were singing. He taught them. A song about BoomFuzzy. A horrible, scary song that glorified the death of a monster, a monster named BoomFuzzy. he loved his children, but he loved BoomFuzzy more. Quaraun closed his book and blindly stared at the ruby-studded obsidian dagger in his hand. The same dagger that took the life of BoomFuzzy. Quaraun summoned the children to his place and they ran in bewilderment to their father. The children loved their father very much and would never sing this song if they knew how much it hurt him. Quaraun gave the children something they had never seen before. A box of chocolate-covered BoomFuzzy apricots. children tend to do so. BoomFuzzy's poison candy. The same poison that took BoomFuzzy's life. When the candy was gone, Quaraun called his children to sit down with him. Four children climbed up on his lap and hugged him, as they often did ... but the poison acted quickly and the children soon fell asleep in a dazed sleep in their father's arms. Quaraun sat for hours holding the sleeping babies and thinking about the words of the song their mother had taught them. One by one, Quaraun carried his children to the nursery and put them to bed. They never woke up. That night, Quaraun was sitting on the hallway floor in the doorway of the children's bedroom. Staring blindly at the dagger in his hands. His wife walked down the hall and saw him sitting there. "Quaraun, why are you wearing those pink dresses again?" You know you shouldn't wear them. You are a man, you have to dress like a man. - I'm Di'Jinn. I no longer obey your orders. He stood up slowly and turned around. Blood was dripping from his hands. The front of his crazy pink and pink dress was soaked with blood. - I don't have to now. In three days, I will be the most powerful Necromancer that has ever lived. More powerful than Gwallmaiic, Gibedon and all the rest of Di'Jinn together. And you can't stop me. Nobody will stop me anymore. You and your father can't hurt me anymore. Nobody can. Nobody in this village will ever hurt me again. His voice changed. Cold. Distant. Mad. - Quaraun, you are covered in blood. Why are you covered in blood? Quaraun said nothing, but pointed through the nursery door. She looked at Quaraun, then at the bedroom. The whole room was covered in blood. She ran into their children's room. Behind Quaraun, the four young Elflings lay dead on the floor. Huge pools of blood form around them. - Quaraun, what happened? She cried, thinking he had found them that way. The poor young mother cried hysterically as she hugged her four dead children. “The innocent must die with the wicked for the sacrifice to be complete. It is not a sacrifice if only my enemies are dying. What I love most must die next to what I love least. The circle must be complete or the spell will not work. - What are you babbling about? Can't you see our children who have died? - Yes. I know. Excuse me. I had to sever the bond I had with them before it got stronger. The sooner he does it, the easier it is to do. It clashed with my previous relationship with BoomFuzzy. I can't let another bond replace my bond with BoomFuzzy. - What? Quaraun, what are you talking about? - They didn't deserve it. But you did it. You and my father. And the circle must be complete or the spell won't work. - A spell? What spell? What are you talking about? "I loved my children," Quaraun said to the elf. "They're dead," she shouted at him, not yet fully realizing what had happened. - But I loved BoomFuzzy more. What? She turned back to Quaraun and saw BoomFuzzy's dagger in his hand, blood dripping from it. - What have you done? - You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy. In his hand was BoomFuzzy's ruby-studded obsidian dagger. For the first time she realized Quaraun was covered in blood, not from finding the children but from killing them by himself. She looked around the room. on the floor and walls. - Quaraun? What have you done? Did you ... do this? Did you kill them? - You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy never hurt you or them, and you had no right to make such monstrous lies about him. A sacrifice had to be made. I've been with you too long. I started to love you. I risk getting involved with you. I can not do that. I'm affiliated with BoomFuzzy. The soul of BoomFuzzy is still alive. BoomFuzzy is a Lic. He's still there. The bond is not completely broken because it is not completely dead. He is in agony. I can feel his thoughts. He is trapped. And he wants to get out. It is trapped in the bottle and cannot extract its beak. He is furious. He's always so bad.

But that's why I browse my novels in it. You see when he rewrites sentences and paragraphs, often the mistakes he adds are so outrageous that it allows me to see where my own mistakes were in my writing. Scrolling novel sketches through this dodgy program caused me to notice mistakes in my writing that I would never have noticed otherwise. For this reason, I find the article spinner program invaluable in rewriting the editing parts of my novels.  So ... yeah ... did you see what it did? I took my sample of 3 paragraphs explaining what it does and spat it out redrafted in 9 different ways. As I said, this allows you to see your manuscript in a different light and inadvertently causes you to see things that need fixing that you simply would never see in a standard spell checker or grammar editor. I love an article spinner for it, because it makes me so much better at finding my own flaws in my sketches.


5) FIX SENTENCE STRUCTURE


>> I’m going to type a block of text for you to read, so you’ll see what happens when you take a part of the text and put them in a script. It gives you things you never thought you would see. Sometimes it moves it better than you write it and other times it shoots pieces of laughter you have never seen before. 

 Especially when you’re writing awesome characters and talking about things like elves, witches, dragons and gnomes. You will see what I have to say when you see what he has decided to do with this text now. He likes to change things like animals and birds and other words. So the chicken crossed the road to the other side and found that the egg was ahead, making craving a horse. Yes. Here is what it will be.  

Now, I will give the story as part of one of my journals. The film is based on a novel called BoomFuzzy, by three voices of Adventures of Quaraun the Madman.

 "I love my kids, but I love BoomFuzzy more." Tomorrow is the centenary of the death of BoomFuzzy and the heavy heart of Quaraun, as well as what he will do to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Tears flowed down Quaraun's checks as he unleashed a black obsidian BoomFuzzy sword. Quaraun loves her children, but she can't hear them laughing at BoomFuzzy. He did not appeal to this family. He did not want this family. He wants BoomFuzzy. The fact that he has this family in the area of ??BoomFuzzy as well as the cost of living BoomFuzzy made him want to avoid them more. The fact that only a few hours left until the 100th anniversary of the death of BoomFuzzy did not help him. In other words, Quaraun was not happy that night, as she was preparing a book in the room and listening to her children play by the fire, she heard their singing. A song written by their mother and taught them A song for BoomFuzzy kids, but she loves BoomFuzzy more than Quaraun closed her book and stared at the ruby-knife obsidian she held in her hand The sword had killed BoomFuzzy.Quaraun called the children and ran in panic on their father. Children love their father very much, and they would not sing if they knew what was upsetting him. Quaraun gave the children something they had never seen before. A box of chocolate covered apricots from BoomFuzzy. , as children are usually easy to do. BoomFuzzy candy. The same poison killed BoomFuzzy his life. When the candy was gone, Quaraun invited his children to stay with him. The four children climbed on his lap and hugged him, as they usually do ... but the poison quickly made the children fall asleep and take drugs from their father. about the music that their mother taught them. One by one, Quaraun took her children to a child support center and put them to bed. In the morning, Quaraun was still at the children's home, now sitting on the floor watching the children addicted to drugs. They never woke up. That night, Quaraun was sitting in the hallway, at the entrance to the children's room. Focusing on the quality is in his hands. His wife went down to the synagogue and saw him sitting. "Quaraun, why are you still wearing those pink clothes?" You know that you should not wear them. You are a man, you have to dress like a man. "" I'm Di'Jinn. I no longer give you orders. He slowly got up and turned around. Blood is flowing out of his hand. The front of her red robe was covered with blood. “I will not do it now. In three days, I will be the most powerful necromancer ever. Stronger than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and Di'Jinn all combined. And you can't stop me. No one will stop me again. You and your father can no longer hurt me. No one can. No one in this city will hurt me again. His voice has changed. Cold. Eyes. Iwe. “Quaraun, you are full of blood. "" The sacrifice has begun. Why are you covered in blood? Quaraun said nothing, but pointed at the kindergarten door. He looked at Quaraun then in the room. The whole house was covered with blood. She ran to their children's room. Behind Quaraun, four dead Elfings children were laid to rest. A large lake surrounded them. "Quaraun, why?" she lamented, thinking he had found them so. A young mother weeps as she hugs her four dead children. “The innocent will die with the wicked, and the sacrifice will be complete. It is not a sacrifice if my enemies die. My favorite will be next to my favorite. This cycle will end either or the spell will not work. Can't you see our dead children? "" Ee e. I know. I'm sorry. I had to end my bond with them, before it could grow stronger. At first, it was easy to do. She was involved in my previous link to BoomFuzzy. I cannot allow another link to replace my link with BoomFuzzy. Quaraun, what are you talking about? "" They should not do this. But you did. You and my father. The circle should appear round or the occult will not work. Which spell? What are you saying? "I love my kids," Quaraun told Elf. "They're dead," he cried, not knowing what had happened. "But I like BoomFuzzy more. What? He turned to face Quaraun again and saw BoomFuzzy's sword in his hand, blood dripping from his blade." What did you do? "You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy." The ruby ??sword of BoomFuzzy adorns his hand. First, she discovered that Quaraun was covered in blood, not by locating the children, but by committing suicide. He looked into the room. There are magic symbols on Faerie and veevee runes written on the floor and walls. "What? What did you do? You ... did that? You killed them?" You taught them to hate BoomFuzzy. " BoomFuzzy didn’t do you any harm, it didn’t allow you to create terrible lies about it. Sacrifices were necessary. I have been with you for a long time. I began to love you. Can I call you. I can't do that. I connected with BoomFuzzy. BoomFuzzy's soul is still alive. BoomFuzzy is funny. He is still there. The connection is not completely broken, because it is not completely dead. She is in great pain. I could hear his thoughts. She is trapped. He also wanted to leave. He’s holding it in a bottle, he can’t get himself out of the way. He is angry. He is still very angry.

But that’s why I put my newspaper there. See love, when rewriting a sentence in a paragraph, often the error it adds is so severe that it allows me to see where my mistakes are in my text. Extending my newspaper through this shade program made me see flaws in my writing that I could not otherwise see. For this reason, I found the news spinner program to be very useful for the revision section of my newsletter.  So ... yes ... did you see it? He took a sample of paragraph 3 to describe what he was doing, and then distributed it in 9 different ways. Like I said, it allows you to see your writing differently and unknowingly leading you to see things that need to be fixed, which you haven’t seen in a standard or program review program again. I love writing books for this because it has helped me so much in finding my own flaws in my drafts.


6) AI Paraphraser Pastel 


>> I'll write a block of sample text for you to read so you can see what happens when you take this segment of words and put them on the top in the article. It gives you things you never expected to see. Sometimes it rephrases it to sound better than you originally wrote it and other times it spits out the most ridiculous shit you've ever seen.  Especially when you write fantasy genres and talk about things like elves, wizards, dragons, and gnomes. You'll see what I mean when you see what he decides to do with this text right here right now. He likes to trade things like animals and birds for other words. So the chickens cross the street to get to the other side and find that the egg arrived first, causing the wishes to turn into horses. Yes. See what that turns into. 

 Now I'll give the roulette article a section from one of my novels. This scene is taken from the novel BoomFuzzy, from the third volume of The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane.

 "I love my kids, but I love BoomFuzzy more." Tomorrow was the centenary of BoomFuzzy's death and Quaraun's heart was heavy with what he had to do to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Quaraun paused in the corridor outside the nursery, listening to the hateful words of the nursery rhyme. Tears streamed down Quaraun's checks as he pulled out BoomFuzzy's ruby-encrusted black obsidian dagger. Quaraun loved his children, but couldn't stand hearing them tease BoomFuzzy. He didn't ask about this family. He didn't want this family. I wanted BoomFuzzy. The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the cost of BoomFuzzy's life only made him want to avoid them even more. The fact that the centenary of BoomFuzzy's death was now just hours away didn't help. Quaraun was not happy later that night, as she was preparing a book in the living room and listening to her children playing by the fireplace, she heard the rhyming song they were singing. A song about BoomFuzzy. A horrible and terrible song that glorified the death of a monster, a monster called BoomFuzzy. Tears streamed down Quaraun's cheeks as he listened to the words of the terrible hateful song. He loved his children, but he loved the BoomFuzzys more. Quaraun closed the book and stared blindly at the ruby-encrusted obsidian dagger he held in his hand. The same dagger that took BoomFuzzy's life. Quaraun called the children to him and they ran dizzy towards their father. The children loved their father very much and would never sing the song if they knew how much it hurt. Quaraun handed the children something they had never seen before. A box of BoomFuzzy's chocolate-covered apricots. The children devoured the sweets, while the children are inclined to do so. BoomFuzzy's poisoned candies. The same poison that had taken BoomFuzzy's life. When the candy ran out, Quaraun called his children to sit with him. The four children climbed onto his knees and hugged him, as they often did ... but the poison acted quickly and the children soon fell asleep drugged in their father's arms. Quaraun sat for many hours, holding her sleeping babies in her arms and thinking about the lyrics of the song their mother had taught them. One by one, Quaraun took her children to kindergarten and put them to bed. In the morning, Quaraun was still in kindergarten, now sitting on the floor watching drug-induced sleeping children. They never woke up. That night, Quaraun was sitting on the corridor floor in front of the children's bedroom door. Blindly staring at the dagger in his hands. His wife walked down the aisle and saw him sitting there. “Quaraun, why are you wearing those pink dresses again? You know you shouldn't use them. You are a man, you have to dress like a man. "" I am a Di'Jinn. I no longer take orders from you. "She got up slowly and turned around. Blood was dripping from her hands. The front of her craziest pink dress was soaked in blood." I don't have to do this now. In three days, I will be the most powerful necromancer that has ever existed. More powerful than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and all the other Di'Jinn combined. And you can't stop me. Nobody will ever stop me again. You and my father can no longer hurt me. Nobody can. No one in this village will ever hurt me again. "Her voice has changed. Cold. Distant. Angry." Quaraun, you are covered in blood. "" The sacrifices have begun. "" Quarauna, what happened? Why are you covered in blood? Quaraun said nothing, but pointed to the nursery through the door. He looked at Quaraun and then at the bedroom. The whole room was covered in blood. He ran to his children's room. Behind Quaraun, the four young Elves lay lined up on the ground. Huge pools of blood form around him. "Quauna, what happened?" She groaned, thinking she'd found them this way. The poor young mother wept hysterically as she hugged her four dead children: “The innocent must die with the wicked, for the sacrifice to be complete. It is not a sacrifice if only my enemies die. What I love most must die along with what I love least. The circle must be complete or the spell won't work. "" What are you stammering about? Don't you see our children our dead? "" Yes I know. I am sorry. I had to break the bond I had with them before it got stronger. The sooner this is done, the easier it will be to do it. It interfered with my previous link to BoomFuzzy. I can't let another link replace my BoomFuzzy link. "" That? Quarauna, what are you talking about? "" They didn't deserve it. But you did. You and my father. And the circle must be complete or the spell won't work. "" To spell? What spell? What are you talking about? "" I loved my children, "Quaraun told the elf." They are dead, "he screamed, still not fully realizing what had happened." But he loved BoomFuzzy more. "What? He turned to look at Quaraun again and saw Bo.

But that's why I review it with my novels. You see, when you rewrite sentences and paragraphs, often the mistakes you add are so outrageous that they allow me to see where my mistakes were in my writing. Shooting my novel drafts through this obscure program made me see flaws in my writing that I would never have otherwise noticed. For this reason, I find the article rotation program invaluable for the rewrite portion of my montage of the novel.  So ... yes ... did you see what he did? He took my sample of 3 paragraphs explaining what he does and spit them out rephrased in 9 different ways. As I said, it allows you to see your manuscript in a different light and inadvertently makes you see things that need to be fixed that you simply would never see in a standard spell checker or grammar editor program. I love the article spinner for this one, because it made me so much better at finding my flaws in my drafts.


7) AI Paraphraser Vibrant 


>> I will write a sample block of text that you will read to see what happens when you take this segment of words and insert it into the article code list. It gives you things you would never expect to see. Sometimes it remakes it to sound better than you wrote it, and sometimes it throws out the funniest shit you've ever seen. Especially if you write fantasy genres and talk about things like elves and magicians and dragons and gnomes. You can see what I mean when you see what it is now decided to do in this text here. It wants to change things like animals and birds in other words. So the chickens crossed the road to get to the other side and find out that the egg was there first, made horses. Yes See what that is. 

 I will now give the author of the article a passage from one of my novels. This scene comes from a novel titled BoomFuzzy, the third volume of The Adventures of Crazy Quaraun.

"I love my kids, but I love BoomFuzzy more." Tomorrow was the centenary of BoomFuzzy’s death and Quaraun’s heart became heavy and he had to bring BoomFuzzy back to life. Quaraun stood in the hallway in front of the nursery, listening to the words of the children's song that filled him with rage. Tears ran down Quaraun's controls as he pulled out the black dagger with ruby ??edges from BoomFuzzy. The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the expense of BoomFuzzy’s life only made him want to avoid them even more. Quaraun didn’t feel happy later that night when he made a book in the lobby and heard his children playing by the fireplace, he heard a rhyming song they sang. A BoomFuzzy song. A terrible, terrible song that rejoiced in the death of a monster, a monster called BoomFuzzy. Tears welled up in Quaraun's cheeks as he listened to the words of the song, which were full of terrible anger. Quaraun closed his book and blindly looked at the obsidian dagger with ruby ??jewels in his hands, the same dagger that had taken on the spirit of BoomFuzzy. The children loved their father very much and would never have sung any song if they had known how much it hurt him. Quaraun handed the children something they had never seen before. children usually do. Poisoned candy from BoomFuzzy. The same poison that had taken the spirit of BoomFuzzy. When the candy disappeared, Quaraun invited his children to sit with him. Four children climbed into his arms and hugged him, as they often did .. but the poison worked quickly and the children were soon under the influence of drugs sleeping in their father's arms. Quaraun took her son to kindergarten and took her to bed. In the morning, Quaraun was still in kindergarten and was sitting on the floor watching the children’s drug-induced sleep. They never woke up and that night, Quaraun sat on the floor of the hallway, at the door of the children’s bedroom. Blindly look at the dagger in your hands. His wife came into the hallway and saw him sitting there. “Quaraun, why are you wearing these pink dresses again? You know you shouldn't use them. You are a man, you have to dress like a man. "" I'm Di'Jinn. I will no longer take orders from you. “He got up slowly and turned around. Blood was dripping from his hands. The front of her craziest pink red dress was soaked in blood. ” I don't need it now. In three days, I will become the most effective necromancer of all time. More powerful than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and all the other Di’Jinns combined. And you can't stop me. No one will ever stop me. You and dad can no longer hurt me. No one can. No one in this village will ever hurt me again. "His voice changed. Cold. Distance. Angry." Quaraun, you are covered in blood. "" The victims have begun. "Quaraun, what happened?" Why are you covered in blood? "Quaraun said nothing, but pointed to the door of the kindergarten. He looked at Quaraun and then into the room. Huge bottles of blood form around him. "Quaraun, what happened?" He complained, thinking he had found them that way. The poor young mother wept hysterically as she hugged her four dead children. "The innocent must die with the wicked for the sacrifice to be perfect. He is not a victim if only my enemies die. What I love most must die next to what I love least. The circle must be perfect or the spell will not work. "What are you talking about?" Don't you see our children dead? "" Yes. I know. Sorry. I had to break the bond with them before it got stronger. The faster it was done, the easier it is to do. It severed my previous links with BoomFuzzy. I can’t let another bonus replace my boom with BoomFuzzy. "" What? Quaraun, what are you talking about? "" They didn't deserve that. But you did. You and my father. And the circle must be perfect or the spell will not work. "" Spells? What spell? What are you talking about? "" I loved my children, "Quaraun said to the elf." They are dead, "he shouted at her, still not fully understanding what had happened." But I loved BoomFuzzy more. "What?" He turned his gaze to Quaraun and saw Bo

But that's why I go through my novels in it. You see, when he rewrites sentences and paragraphs, the mistakes he adds are often so incredible that they allow me to see where my writing mistakes are. By turning my new designs through this dark program, I have developed an insight into shortcomings that I would never have noticed otherwise. That's why I consider the spinner program invaluable for part of the remake of my novels.  So...yeah...see what it does? I took my example of 3 paragraphs explaining what it does, and spit them out 9 different ways. Like I said, you may see your manuscript in a flash and inadvertently show you things that need fixing, which you would never see in a typical spell check or grammar editor program. I like the article spinner for this because it allows me to find my own flaws in my drafts much better.


8) AI Paraphraser Extreme 


>> I'll type a sample block to read it to see what happens when you take this section of words and add them to a spinner article. It gives you things you never expected to see. Sometimes you call it a better name than what you originally wrote, and sometimes it spits out the smartest bull you've ever seen.  Especially when you write fantasy genres you talk about elves and sorcerers and dragons and gnomes. You will see what I am saying when you look at what this text decides to do now. It wants to translate animals and birds into other words. So the hens cross the road and go to the other side and find that the egg got there first and the desires turn into horses. Yes. See what it turns out to be.  

 Today I will put a portion of one of my novels on the dial. This scene comes from a novel called BoomFuzzy, from the third part of The Adventures of Quarauna Mad.

 "I love my kids, but I love BoomFuzzy even more." Tomorrow was the centenary of BoomFuzzy's death, and Quaraun's heart was heavy with what he had to do to revive BoomFuzzy. Quaraun stood in the hall outside the nursery, listening to the hateful words of the nursery. Tears streamed down Quaraun's controls as he pulled out BoomFuzzy's ruby-encrusted black obsidian blade dagger. Quaraun loved his children, but he could not stand the mockery of BoomFuzzy. He did not ask about this family. He did not want this family. He wanted BoomFuzzy. The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and that at the expense of BoomFuzzy's life made him just avoid it even more. The fact that it was now only hours to the centenary of BoomFuzzy's death did not help, so Quaraun was not happy later in the night while holding a book in the living room and listening to his children playing by the fireplace as he did the Heared Rhymed Song They Sang Learned loved his kids, but he loved BoomFuzzy more. Quaraun closed his book and stared blindly at the ruby-obsessed obsidian dagger in his hands. The same dagger that took BoomFuzzy's life. Quaraun called over the children and they ran dizzy for the children. The children loved their father dearly and would never have sung the song if they had known how much it hurt him. Quaraun gave the children something they had never seen before. A box of BoomFuzzy's chocolate covered apricots The children devoured the sweets, as children usually do. BoomFuzzy is poisoned candy. The same poison that killed BoomFuzzy. When the candy was gone, Quaraun called her children. The four children climbed up on his lap and hugged him as they often did ... but the poison worked quickly and the children soon fell asleep in their father's arms over the words to the song that their mother had taught them. One by one, Quaraun carried his children into the nursery and put them to bed. You never woke up. That night, Quaraun sat on the floor in the hallway, in the doorway of the nursery. He stared blindly at the dagger in his hands. His wife came by in the corridor and saw him sitting there. Quaraun, why are you wearing those pink clothes again? They know you should not wear these. You're a man, you have to dress like a man. "I'm a Di'Jinn. I'm not taking any more orders from you. He got up slowly and turned around. Blood dripped from his hands. The front of his ruffled pink dress was soaked in blood. "I do not need now. In three days, I'll be the most powerful necromancer I've ever lived. More powerful than Gwallmaiic and Gibedon and all the other Di'Jinn together. And you can not stop me No one will ever stop me again. You and Dad can no longer hurt me. Nobody can. No one in this village will ever hurt me again. "His voice changed. Cold. Distant. Furious. "Quaraun, you are covered in blood." "The victims have begun." "Quaraun, what happened? Why are you covered in blood? "Quaraun said nothing but pointed through the door to the nursery. She looked at Quaraun and then into the bedroom. The whole room was covered in blood. She ran into the nursery. Behind Quaraun, the four young elf flakes lay dead on the floor. Huge pools of blood form around them. "Quaraun, what happened?" She moaned and thought that was how he found her. The poor young mother cried hysterically as she hugged her four dead children. "The innocent must die with the wicked for the sacrifice to be complete. It's not a sacrifice if only my enemies die. What I love most must die with what I love least. The circle must be closed, otherwise the magic will not work. "" What are you talking about? Can't you see our children, our dead? "" Yes. I know. I'm sorry. I had to break the bond with them before they got stronger. The earlier it is done, the easier it is. It disturbed my previous attachment to BoomFuzzy. I can not let another band replace my BoomFuzzy band. "" What? Quaraun, what are you talking about? "" They do not deserve it. But you did. You and my father And the circle must be closed, otherwise the magic will not work. "" Magi? Which spelling? What are you talking about? "I loved my children," Quaraun told the river woman. "You're dead," she shouted at him, still not quite sure what had happened. "But I loved BoomFuzzy more." "What?" She turned back to Quaraun and saw Bo

But that's what I do with my novels. You see, when he rewrites sentences and paragraphs, they are always so wrong that they allow me to see where the mistakes were in my writing. The environment of my novel design in this shadowy process made me see flaws in my work that I would never have noticed otherwise. Because of this, I find the spinner article valuable in rewriting the editing of my novels.  So ... yes ... did you see what he does? I took a sample of my 3 paragraphs explaining what it does, and rewrote them in 9 different ways. Like I said, it allows you to see your manuscript in a different light and inadvertently causes you to see things that need to be fixed, which you would never have seen in a normal spell checker or grammar editor program. I like the article spinner for this, as it makes me a lot better at finding my own flaws in my drafts.


9) Text Summarizer


>>Likes, yeah, fantasy, things, chickens cross, causing wishes, egg got.

“I love my children, but I love BoomFuzzy more.”

Tomorrow was the one hundredth anniversary of BoomFuzzy’’s death and Quaraun’s heart grew heavy, with what he had to do, to bring BoomFuzzy back to life.

Quaraun stood in the hallway outside the nursery, listening to the hate filled words of the children’s song.

Quaraun loved his children, but he could not bear to hear them make fun of BoomFuzzy.

The fact that he had this family instead of BoomFuzzy and at the cost of BoomFuzzy’s life only made him want to avoid them even more.

And so, Quaraun was not happy later that night, while ready a book in the parlour and listening to his children playing games by the fireplace, he heard the rhyming song they were singing.

Quaraun loved his children, but he loved BoomFuzzy more.

Quaraun closed his book and staring blindly at the ruby jewelled obsidian dagger in his hands.

Quaraun called the children over to him and they ran giddily to their father.

The children loved their father very much and never would have sung the song had they known how very much it hurt him.

Quaraun handed the children something they had never seen before.

When the candy was gone Quaraun called his children to sit with him.

Quaraun sat for many hours, holding his sleeping children and thinking about the words to the song their mother had taught them.

One by one Quaraun carried his children to the nursery and tucked them into bed.

In the morning Quaraun was still in the nursery, now sitting on the floor watching the children’s drug induced sleep.

That night, Quaraun was sitting on the floor of the hallway, in the doorway of the children’s bedroom.

“Quaraun, you’re covered in blood.”

“The innocent must die with the wicked, for the sacrifice to be complete.

Can’t you see our children our dead?”

“I loved my children,” Quaraun said to the she-Elf.

She turned back to face Quaraun again and saw BoomFuzzy’s dagger in his hands, blood dripping from its blade.

For the first time she realized that Quaraun was covered in blood, not from finding the children, but from killing them himself.

I am bonded to BoomFuzzy.


quaraun, boomfuzzy, children, bonded, grew, song, blood, young, obsidian, fully

 Because of this, I find the article spinner program to be invaluable for the rewriting part of editing my novels.


So... yeah... did you see what it did? It took my sample of 3 paragraphs explaining what it does, and spit them out reworded 9 different ways. Like I said, it allows you to see your manuscript in a different light and inadvertently causes you to see things that need fixing, that you simply never would have seen in a standard spell checker or grammar editor program. I love article spinner for this, because it has made me so much better at finding my own flaws in my drafts.

Watch out though, this one is on an ad heavy website. There are 7 ads on the screen at any given time. It's really annoying.  I use Chrome browser settings to open Chrome Task Manager and have it close the ads via closing the "sub frames". If you don't use Chrome browser, you'll definitely want to have some sort of ad block program before opening this website. https://aiarticlespinner.co/

I follow this process for each rewrite of the manuscript as well. Usually I have 5 to 7 drafts per novel, and so I end up running the manuscript through each of those apps/programs 5 to 7 times before I send the draft out to human editors and beta readers.









Why do most beta readers never respond back?


>>>Why do most beta readers never respond back?

>>>I get it that reading can be time consuming, but it seems like most people who volunteer for beta reading never respond back. Not even when you're only sending them a few sample chapters rather than the whole thing.

>>>One possibility that comes to mind is that some did not like what they saw, but weren't willing to share negative feedback. Yet I've had others give me possitive feedback, so I don't think my work is terrible enough for that to be a likely possibility. Or at least not the main reason.

>>>Is it merely normal that most people who offer to beta read don't respond back?


I think the issue here may be that you sent it to people CLAIMING they were beta readers but they were not ACTUALLY beta readers?

If they were ACTUAL Beta Readers, than you can (and should) report them to the Better Business Bureau (you can file a complaint here: https://www.bbb.org )  and file a lawsuit to get your money back. Considering Beta Readers are one of the biggest amounts of money you will spend on writing your novel, you will find yourself quickly in heaps of debt if you run into this issue too frequently.

Do know that there is a DRAMATIC difference between an ACTUAL beta reader (the career) and random forum users you meet online who CALL themselves beta readers without knowing what the term means or that it's an actual professional career.

A REAL beta reader is going to charge on average $50 an hr and most authors plan on budgeting $2,000 to hire 4 beta readers. Figuring that it takes about 10 hours to read the book and write the report up, and most pro-beta readers charge $50 an hr = you can expect to pay roughly $500 per beta reader and generally speaking having 4 beta readers is best, thus the standard industry practice is to plan on spending $2,000 per novel to have it beta read. 


>>>Is it merely normal that most people who offer to beta read don't respond back?


Beta Readers DO NOT offer to Beta Read.

Again, there is a DRAMATIC difference between an ACTUAL beta reader (the career) and random forum users you meet online who CALL themselves beta readers without knowing what the term means or that it's an actual professional career.

A real Beta Reader will have a website and an application form for you to fill out. They will want to see your resume and portfolio. Usually you will need to submit (via actual post office mail, not email) 2 to 4 of your previously published books (ACTUAL books aka paperbacks or hardcovers, NOT eBooks) for them to read your work to decide if you write the type of novels and short stories they work with.

Beta readers NEVER read chapters, drafts sent by email, or stacks of paper printed up. You MUST have the book already in the pre-publication typeset stage, aka ALREADY PRINTED UP IN PAPERBACK FORMAT, aka the PROOF copy, which the publisher will send you a year or so before publication if trade pubbing or you can have printed up from a local copy shop in your town if self-pubbing.

While reading your proof copy, they will write with red China-ink pencil right in the books itself. (proof copies have wide untrimmed margins and are about one inch larger on all sides than the finished paperback that goes to press. They will write in your book USING ACTUAL EDITOR'S MARKS and SHORTHAND, so make sure you know how to read both (yes, BEFORE you hire a beta reader you ARE going to have to learn not 1, but 2 new languages), because if you don't know how to read them, what you get back is going to look like utter gibberish that a 2 year old scrawled across the pages.

Additionally they will type up a report. Yes, an actual book report, like what you wrote in high school. The full 10 page classic book report with a 3 page character breakdown a 3 page story break down and a final page opinion sum up. Beta Reading IS the job you are training for with every book report your high school teacher made you write.

They will schedule a SINGLE DAY of the week to devote to your book, and read it in a 9 to 5 office setting, write editors marks and short hand notes all over the book as they read, they WILL being editing grammar errors, spelling errors, typos, making notes of plot holes and issues with characters. The average beta reader can read a full 100k word novel in about 5 hours. They usually plan a 10 hour time slot spaced over 2 days. 5 hours to read on day 1, 5 hours 1 re-read and write the report on day 2. If they go over 10 hours, you'll be charged for those hours, so your $50 an hour fee, could go over $500. Make sure you plan for that. Overnight shipping is often included, so, you WILL receive your proof copy and the 10 page report back within 48 hours of their reading it.

Know that Beta Readers are trained editors who are usually also in-house copy editors and/or line editors of big house publishers (the big, big, big publishing houses - think the Random Penguin Houses type), they often have Master's Degrees in journalism and/or teaching high school English, and they can spot a grammar error from a mile away.

Keep in mind that people who will tell you online that Beta Readers don't edit your work or say that Beta Readers are volunteers doing work for free, DO NOT KNOW what a Beta Reader is.

Friends, family, and random strangers from the internet reading your work, ARE NOT Beta Readers. They are "peer critics" offering feedback on what they read. They are no different from average people writing Amazon book reviews, and likely know nothing about editing, grammar, plot flow, building characters, or story structure, and will only give you a look at what you can expect to see general public write in reviews, but will NOT help you to actually improve your work and get it ready for publication the way a Beta Reader will.

These people are NOT going to refuse to reply. You paid them $500 or more to make your draft bleed red and they are going to eviscerate your work with brutal abandon. 

Beta Readers are NOT going to refuse to reply because they are scared of giving bad feedback or because they couldn't find anything good to say. **No Beta Reader worth his salt is EVER going to give you positive feedback.** Authors seeking positive feedback really don't want to seek out Beta Readers. Positive feedback is not their job. It is NOT their job to enjoy the read. They will still read it even if they hate it, find it boring, or even if your grammar is so bad it's nearly illiterate. They WILL read to the end, because it's what you paid them to do.

**The feedback from a Beta Reader WILL ALWAYS BE negative - because looking for flaws in your work is their job.** You DID pay them to LOOK for flaws and tell you where they are, so they WILL rip your baby apart and tell you EVERYTHING that is wrong with it. It is NOT a Beta Reader's job to pat you on the back and tell you your story is great. It is their job to look for every error they can find and highlight it in bright red ink, in order to help you rewrite your work to the best it can be BEFORE you send it out to an editor to be edited. A beta reader is not your yes man. They will NOT tell you it's good. They will NOT sing your praises. They WILL be merciless and brutal with the negative feedback, because it's what you paid them to do.


>>>Is it merely normal that most people who offer to beta read don't respond back?


Perhaps, it would help, if before you send them your work, you ask them what THEY think a Beta Reader is and does, that would help weed out the people who just want a free book or just want to pat you on the back and be your yes man?

If someone offered to read your work and tell you what they think, they are NOT a Beta Reader. They are someone who has no clue what the career of being a beta reader is, probably didn't even know Beta Reading was a career, and was just looking to bum a free book off an unsuspecting author. They have no intention of telling you how the book was or helping you make it the best it ca be, because they just wanted to get a free book and once you sent the your draft, they got that and have no more need for you. And unfortunately, they exist in droves on the internet, scurrying around looking for the next author they can scam a book out of. 

Now, that's not to say everyone you meet online is going to be like that.

Are there good free/volunteer beta readers out there? Sure there are. There are plenty of people online who really do want to help authors out and are willing to Beta Read for free or very cheap. Some of them are really good at it too. The problem is sifting through the chaff to find them, because online free Beta Readers is a place where the bad far out number the good. So when you do find a good one, keep contact with them, and remember to have them on hand for your next book.

I have personally found that just paying a pro-level beta reader is overall better than sifting through the internet looking for the 1 or 2 gems in the rough. Why? Time sink. It takes way too much of my time to scourer the internet searching for a few good beta readers lost in a shuffle of so many bad beta readers. Why waste my time searching for free or cheap beta readers, when I could just pay a pro-reader and get back to writing.

And yes, I understand money is an issue. The big dogs are expensive. But, a few years ago, I found a great alternative, that worked well for me. A local community college, which has a better than average English degree program, and has several rather famous authors on staff, has a very high rate of students who want to get a writing degree because they want to be the next Stephen King. So, they are also more than willing to beta read for extra credit in the honours program of the school. So, they get to read my work before it gets published, they write up reports of it as homework assignments, and a week later after they get it back from the teacher, they send it to me. Takes longer, because it has to be graded by the teacher before they can hand it over to me, but, I get my work beta read for free and they get extra credit towards their degree.

I highly recommend that if you have a community college in your area, that you head to the English department, ask to talk with a few teachers/professors/adjunct authors and see if they are willing to set up a program from students to earn extra/honours/vocational credit towards their degrees by beta reading. Though, you might want to already have a few books published and be a local author willing to come into class and talk to the students as a "special guest" 1 class per semester. The school might not want to do it if you are new/unpublished yet.



Preferable Novel Length


>>>I heard from a published author that publishers prefer books on the shorter side during the pandemic, due to the cost of printing and mainly due to limited resources. Is this the case?

No. 

Not for Big House press it isn't. 


  • * Tor still asks for 120k minimum up to 200k, 
  • * Baen still asks for 180k minimum up to 230k, 
  • * Zebra still asks for 135k minimum up to 300k.

All 3 of them say if you send anything under 100k they are going to toss it in the paper shredder unread, because 120k is barest minimum and bordering on too short.

I just checked their websites, and those are the numbers they got listed right now July 13, 2021.

Just go to the publisher websites and read their submission guidelines. 2021 is actually seeing requests for LONGER works, not shorter.

In fact, near as I can tell the ONLY publishers going smaller word counts are the Indie Press publishers.

I don't know why so many writers are running around saying publishers want less words, because, no big house publisher is saying they want shorter, that for sure. All you have to do is look at the publisher guidelines posted right on their own websites to find out they are NOT asking for shorter works.



>>>My question to the group is whether or not there is better advise for writers who find themselves with a 150k+ draft?

Yeah there is. It's called, look at some REAL books. Most trade books ARE +150k words. Only in the world of self-pubbed Kindle ebooks do you see skinny books with no meat on the pages.

Just because everyone SAYS big house pubs want under 90k, doesn't mean they ACTUALLY want that. Look at the submission guidelines of big house publishers. You'll see many of them outright say don't send them anything under 120k and stick closer to 180k. Yeah. 30k MORE than 150k.

My question to the people telling them to cut it in half would be: **Why the hell are they all so clueless as to how long MOST trade published books ACTUALLY are?**

Look at the word counts of trade pubbed Fantasy: Sword of Shanara, Lord of the Rings, Mists of Avalon, Dragon Riders of Pern, Lord Valentine, Harry Potter, Wheel of Time, Legend of Drizzt, The Witcher, most of those books have 10+ volumes in the series and each volume is 150k to 230k EACH volume. Most of those series is a single story that spans 2 million to 8 million or more words, divided across 10+ books of +150k.

You can tell, the commenters who are neither writers nor readers of the Epic Fantasy genre when they say 150K draft is too long. No. It's NOT. 150k is bordering on too short in the Epic Fantasy genre. Most people saying they wrote 150k draft, usually they say it's the Epic Fantasy genre, so they ARE in the expected word count that publishing houses are looking for.

I'm sorry, but, commenters telling someone to cut a 150k Epic Fantasy draft in half, REALLY don't know the genre at all.

Sure a lot of genres want smaller word counts. That's true. Westerns, Medical Drama, most Horror, most none-Paranormal YA/NA, those genres do want you to stay around 90k. If that is what the question asker wrote, well, editing is the answer.

I worked as an editor in chief for 16 years. I've seen a lot of manuscripts in my days. Most have the same issue: Long run on passive voice sentences, that could easily be cut down into 3 or 4 easier to read active voice sentences.

USUALLY most writers can remove 10k or more words, without changing the story at all, simply by doing this:

Use find replace to make the following changes:


  • * change ", and" to "." then capitalize first word after "and"

  • * change ", yet" to "." then capitalize first word after "yet"

  • * change ", but" to "." then capitalize first word after "but"

  • * change ", however" to "." then capitalize first word after "however"

  • * look for 2-word or 3-word phrases that you can change into a better single word: for example: change "similar to" to "like", change "obediently obeyed" to "obeyed", change "prior to" to "before", change "after that" to "afterwards", change "being bullied" to "bullied", change "way bigger" to "bigger", etc - note that these phrases often contain "to", "that", "was", "be", "being", "were", and "-ly", so search for those and you'll find a lot you can change to one better word.

  • * remove ALL of the following words: very, rather, instead, supposedly, suddenly, actually, literally, nearly, simply, just, utterly, elaborately, starkly, that, really, fully, barely, hardly, hardly ever, permanently, indefinably, exotically, etc.

  • * remove "And/But/Yet/However" from the start of every sentence then capitalize first word after "And/But/Yet/However"

THOSE are the types of changes editors want when they say something like: "good story, great characters, I like it; tighten up your text and resubmit it".

Those things listed above, THAT is what "tightening your text" means. It doesn't mean cut out scenes, it means, reword those scenes to fewer words, to make them read better.

Yeah. For most writers, that is all you have to do to remove 10kor more words from your novel, without making one single change to the story.

To every body reading this right now, go to your current draft, and try that right now. You'll be amazed, both in how many words you remove AND in how much easier it'll be to read your story, without changing or removing a single scene, sentence, or chapter.

In my experience, being an editor for Horror/Fantasy/Sci-Fi for 16 years, most writers use more words than they need to. They often can say things better with fewer words.

For example:

This:

>>>MC made it back to his village without further incident, but when he arrived, his father was less then happy to see his son dressed in a dress and looking like a daughter instead of a son and immediately began arguing with him, and thus MC never got a chance to mention his encounter with the primary villain or inform the village that the villain's army was travelling only two days outside from the village.

75 words and difficult to read.

Can be edited down to this:

>>>MC arrived at his village without further incident. His father was unhappy to see his son dressed in a dress, looking like a daughter instead of a son. They began arguing. Because of this, MC never mentioned his encounter with the primary villain. Nor informed him, the villain's army was two days outside from the village.

56 words and easier to read.

...without changing the scene or the story, at all.

It really does boil down to: if you know good grammar skills, you'll write better stories with fewer words and be understood better too.

So, yeah, just buy a few high school Grammar & Composition textbooks and spend a few months reading every word and doing all the exercises. It'll do wonders to tighten up the over wordiness issue that many authors suffer from.

And remember, in most standard paperbacks, 150k words is ONLY 300 pages!

A 500+page book is also a +200k word story, and when you start looking around at the new releases in the Fantasy, Historical Romance, the 50 Shade Knock Off genre, Paranormal Romance, War Story genre, Women's Lit genre, and most YA novels, you'll also notice that NONE of them is self published because big box brick and mortar book stores don't shelve self-publishers that's why you don't see self-pubbed books in the real world of actual trade market paperbacks, and you'll also notice a good 80%+ of those books in the above listed genres have page counts of 400+ pages, meaning not one of them has FEWER than 150k words, and most have upwards of 180k words.

You can tell a person who only reads self-pubbed kindle e-editions and never saw a mass-market paperback  in an actual bookstore, by what they think the average word count of books is.

Heck, all you have to do is grab yourself a copy of The writer's Market and start reading what trade publishers WANT to see 150k to 180k is the average requested manuscript size more than 90% of big house publishers ask for.

Many Stephen King books are +300k words.

EACH volume of Harry Potter and also the Witcher is between 180k to 230k words

In the past 50 years I've published more than 300 novels, 138 of them for a single series, and the shortest novel I ever wrote was 115k, with most of them being 150k to 180k and often considered TOO SHORT by most the big Random Penguin House type publishers.

Zebra won't even look at anything under 180k for their Historical Romance line (aka The Fabio Bodice Rippers) and prefers +200k

The difference between Fantasy and Epic Fantasy is the LENGTH of the novel, NOT the topic. Fantasy is any Fantasy novel UNDER 150k while EPIC Fantasy is anything OVER 150k and most big house publishers of Epic Fantasy REQUEST +180k

Want to read 80k light novels or long novellas? Get yourself a Harlequin subscription. Everyone of their slim little itty bitty short 100 page reads is EXACTLY 82k words. Also the Cozies (Think those little itty bitty skinny, not thick enough to be a novel, Agatha Christie type Murder Mysteries) are in the 80k range.

You want to read a 50k word book? Head to the middle grade chapter books, Read Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, Choose Your Own Adventures or Bobbsey Twins.

Want 20k word book: go to the grade 2 to 4 early/easy reader section. Grab yourself some GooseBumps and Bailey School Kids.

There's some word count perspective for you.

A LOT of the people on Reddit's many writing subreddits give really bad advice, that does more harm to new/young writers, largely because a good +80% of the commenters are NOT published authors, have no intention of being published authors, and don't know heads or tails of how the actual publishing industry works.

Unless that advice is coming for a TOR in-house editor, reading your draft and wants to publish it, the advice to cut a 150k draft in half is REALLY bad advice. And in most cases, it's writing advice from people who don't have writing careers and don't have any real concept of how novel writing works.

Now, that's not to say they don't mean well. I think in most cases, they don't know what to say, they want to help the question asker, and they've seen so many others saying "cut the book in half and publish it as 2/3 volumes" that they assume it MUST be good advice if so many others said it, so they just parrot that advice without really knowing how improbable that advice really is.

When all is said and done, I think the writer who is looking to Reddit or any other online place for advice only a publisher should be giving them, probably doesn't know how the publishing industry works and probably,, has bigger issues (like plot and character development) to worry about, than their word counts.

In the end, if the story is good, the plot flows well, the characters are engaging and well developed, most publishers will work with you to get the book published no matter how many words too long or too short the novel is. When it comes to trade publishing, story, plot, and characters are going to trump word counts every time.

Writers SHOULD be worrying about developing good characters and telling a great story, first and foremost. Word counts are far easier to fix than plot holes and flat characters are.