Single White Female

There’s an old movie called Single White Female, starring Brigitte Fonda and Jennifer Jason Leigh, from around 1992.

In it, one desperate, clingy, psychotic, needy friend is so jealous and obsessed that she impersonates the other. First, she changes her hair to match.

Then pretends to be her, and even goes after her friend’s man. In (at least) one case, the imposter succeeds. Beds the guy and then kills him.

It isn’t the first time the mentally unstable wannabe has done such a thing. It’s alluded to that she’s done it in the past, killing at least one other girl.

But as I recall,  things didn’t end so well for the wannabe. This might not have been her first time pretending to be another person, but it certainly was the last. Her target stands up and fights, defends herself, and kills the wannabe.

I guess it goes to show. No matter how many people you fuck with, there’s bound to be one too many. One that isn’t going to take it, and ins’t afraid to put it to a stop, once and for all. As it should be. Some might call it extreme. Me, I call it justice.



In case you’ve missed the saga of Nick Pacione, let me catch you up. He’s a nutbag that thinks he’s some sort of small publisher, artist, and such a keen writer that he’s the very namesake of Lovecraft. Dude even thinks that sneaking a couple of his self-published books into the Poe museum and taking pictures means that his books have been accepted there as part of their catalog.

He’s a homophobic misogynist that lashes out at anybody that DARES contradict his psychotic version of reality. He’s tried to have a go at me, suggesting bestiality as the source of my offspring and hinting at dropping me in Lake Michigan with a bull shark that doesn’t exist.

Most of his attention gets spent threatening authors and luminaries in the field that have exposed him for what a ridiculous wretch he is, saying the most vile and disgusting things about them, physically threatening them and trying to ruin their reputations with allegations of identity theft and plagiarism. He throws massive rants about one guy “going after” his #ssn, despite the fact that Nick, himself, has broadcast his own “Vital Nine” all over the freaking web.

Nobody takes him seriously, same as I shrug him off here. If anything, they point and laugh at his prolific attempts to discredit them. Well, us. He still throws my name in the mix, not that he can spell it right to save his life.

I am by no means an authority on Nicky and his antics. For that, you should skip on over to The Rusty Nail. They’re currently keeping track of his antics on Twitter, since he’s gotten himself put in Facebook jail again (and blaming everybody under the sun except himself) and threats he’s spewing on FB. Looks like he’s about to get himself booted off of there as well. He just doesn’t know when to stop.

The moral of the story, here, is that this guy claims to be a publisher. If you come across him or a company called Lake Fossil Press, RUN. He is the only publisher on the planet that’s worse than you-know-who. She’s just greedy. This douche is crazy. Seriously. And I don’t mean in a cute way. He’s buggin, and that’s the last thing you want associated with you or your work.

Seriously, though. If you’re in the mood for a little of the batshit crazy mentality that we avoid here now, jump over to Rusty’s and read up about this joker.

You’re welcome.

Skeletons run deep

I’ve been called a stalker and a troll so many times, I thought I’d give it a try and nose around a bit. And it paid off. There are a few skeletons hanging deep in the back of Tabetha’s closet. Well, more than a few, but right now, I’m going to stick to just these few.

Let’s all say thank you to Goodreads for having such a good memory. And to Tabetha for being too lazy to take anything down.

Zoey Sweete has been around for a long, long time. Much longer than I originally believed. At first, I thought that Zoey was among the later names that Tab made up to hide behind, but no. Zoey goes all the way back before Mystic Press ever saw the light of day.

How many times have we heard Tabetha Jones say that she doesn’t steal writing from anybody else? I’ve got screen caps, or you could just read back through the posts, but she says it a LOT.

Let’s take a look at that claim, shall we?

We’ve all seen her Magnum Opus, the Draven Witch series with the vampire named after her favorite stripper, Draven Shadow, and the female lead named Renee after herself. She peddles it out over and over again, one rewrite after another, expecting it to catch on. The novels, the novelettes, and other publications in-between. It’s her legacy, her undying declaration of love for a stripper that’s never laid a single finger on her. A lap dance or two when she’s got the money, maybe, but never any real sex. Outside of her imagination.

But did she write it? By herself?


Tabetha’s masterpiece (full sarcasm mode) was co-written by Brandy Cowan/Paes, and it was originally a YA story. It has become a piece of trash in its many revisions since, but at first, it was good, old-fashioned YA paranormal novel.

How do I know? I already said. Goodreads. Zoey’s been blogging on Goodreads since 2011. Read for yourself, all the way back to when she talks about co-writing Blood Magic with Brandy, admitting in her own words that the two of them made decisions together about the book – both of them writing it. Confirming that the series wouldn’t exist if not for Brandy.

It wasn’t until book one actually came out that Tabetha put only her own (fake) name on it. Did Brandy got screwed out of it? HERE‘s the original publication preorder on B&N, through World Castle Press. You tell me.

I don’t know what happened with WCP that she’s not publishing with them anymore, but it might be worth dropping them a line to find out.

Might be worth dropping Brandy a line, too, to see how she feels about getting screwed out of a book series that wouldn’t exist without her participation. But not right now.

Now, we’re taking a good look at a running timeline of Tabetha’s life over the last several years, in her own words. This running personal log of hers is a veritable treasure trove of goodies, lots of points proven that she has since re-written to suit her needs since. Right there in black and white.

Shall we begin?

Let’s start on Page 7. That goes the farthest back. On September 29th, 2011, the very first words that Tabetha writes confirm that if it weren’t for Brandy Cowan, the Draven Witch series wouldn’t exist.

In her second post on the 30th, we find out where she gets her patented excuse that her computer crashed when somebody’s got a question about their work or royalties. It happened to her. Or, at least, that’s what she said happened as the reason that she had to switch editors. It sounds like the first hint of trouble to me, a precursor to why ever it was that she and WCP parted ways.

In October 5ths post, we see the first seeds of a relationship between a publisher and author(s) being like “family.” That’s how they describe how WCP treated them.

I think it bears note at this time, that the writing in these early posts is legible, with a few punctuation errors.  We’ve all seen enough of Tabetha’s drivel to safely assume that it was probably not she that wrote those posts back then. Not alone, anyway. It’s reasonable to suppose that Brandy was still getting strung along at that point. Tabetha can’t write her way out of a wet paper sack by herself. She’s proven that many times over.

But there’s also another red flag in that post from October 5, 2011. They mention that their contract is being renegotiated. What’s up with that? Usually, with publishing companies, once you sign, that’s it. Contract in pace. So what happened that they needed to renegotiate? Is that when Tabetha first lay the seeds of cutting Brandy out of it? Without confirmation from either WCP or Brandy, we can only wonder.

There are teasers galore, not worth repeating, but not useless, either. First, there are the formatting errors we all know so well, and the rookie foibles of having different subjects and dialog on the same line.

I’d bet the entire farm that either Brandy came up with Most of that first book. Tab is just too illiterate to have come up with anything so elegant and thoughtful.

The WE pronoun is still being used, but one has to wonder at this point what part Brandy really has in all of this. In true fashion, Tab has either found or invented another ally, and kept Brandy’s name off a book series she invented. Her name is still mentioned, but with a distance inserted. Instead of it being “We’re” doing all of this together! There’s a mention of the two of them meeting up at some point. Doesn’t sound quite so chummy anymore, does it? One can only wonder.

Also on page 5, we see the first hint of those true, “Sweete” colors leaking through when Tab describes herself going ballistic on some poor tech at Writeway for missing work that she probably didn’t save properly herself (for whatever chemical reason). Or maybe the free demo ran out. We all know how loathe she is to part with a dollar, don’t we?  Who knows.

She unloaded on the poor tech with language we’re used to hearing from her, but that poor girl at the site didn’t deserve. She was just doing her job, and here comes Tab with her potty mouth, tearing her up one side and down the other. It’s a wonder she didn’t get herself banned.

By the time you get to page one, 2015, all of Tab’s fantasies are in place. You know them, the ones where she’s a battered woman, bravely overcoming so many abusive men (cue the orchestra), the product of an affair with another woman that her father dallied with, who has overcome her unfortunate past and risen to become mother of the year, and daddy’s little biker bitch. All at once.

We’ve already shot all those lies down. You can flip back through the blog to revisit those. I just thought you’d like a glimpse at from whence some of the seeds sprouted.

Mostly, I thought you should see that you have good reasons to safeguard your work. If she’ll steal a whole book right out from under the nose of the writer that SHOULD get credit for all her hard work, she’ll do the same to you. Keep your work close, and your loyalty closer. They belong to you. Don’t let them be stolen.

You’re welcome.


Looking ahead to 2016, the possibilities are endless.

This past year was filled with a lot of attention going to negative energy, and that just doesn’t get anything positive done. Well, this coming year is going to be very different. First. there’s a comic project I’m busy finishing up. There will be some technicalities to handle, but it’ll get out there. No problems.

Next, I really want to work on a project I woke up with fully formed in my head, and that’s primarily what I want to talk about in this post. I’m not going to detail the plot, but it’s an historic piece set in eastern European WWII. If not for the comic, that’s the book I’d be working on right now.

Author Richard Bach says this about writing:

I do not enjoy writing at all. If I can turn my back on an idea, out there in the dark, if I can avoid opening the door to it, I won’t even reach for a pencil.
But once in a while there’s a great dynamite-burst of flying glass and brick and splinters through the front wall and somebody stalks over the rubble, seizes me by the throat and gently says, I will not let you go until you set me, in words, on paper.

That’s how I feel about this story. It will not let me go. And I’m glad. It’s a good one. The silent little old lady has me by the throat and I will not have peace until I’ve written her down from start to finish. I like that about her. She nags at me. I feel her with me whenever I do my daily tasks, washing dishes, tending to my plants or cleaning. I feel her with me all the time. She’s a character that really, really wants to be written.

Every now and then, when I’m in the middle of something else, some inspiration for that book will hit me and I’ll reach for a pencil to jot it down. The story is fully formed, but the devil’s in the details. It’s the little things that make a book real and believable. So when those little inspirations drift in front of me, I don’t let them pass unnoticed.

There’s one plot twist that has to happen. It’s important, integral. It shifts the entire paradigm of personal power and social interaction within the plot. There’s no getting around it. It has to happen.

Problem is, that it can’t happen. It’s diametrically impossible. It cannot happen the way it was originally conceived. Just can’t. But it also can’t be ignored.

I’ve let it rest, hoping an answer would present itself to me. How can this imossible event happen? How can it be believable? How can it be real? I could force it, but that would be a cheat. I’m not one of those authors that expects readers to accept something unfair just because it’s my book and I say so. No. It has to be real.

I took a step back and looked for the Universe to hand me an answer. And it did, in its own time. Today for no good reason.
Oh. Of course. That’s how it happens. Simple!

This year will see three projects become a reality for me. First, the comic. That’s been too long coming as it is. After that come two books. One about the cure for cancer, and the other this tale of bravery and resilience. Those, assorted artwork, crafts, and little Japanese toe socks.

It’s amazing how (divine?) inspiration works.
Thank you, Universe.

You’re welcome

I’m making one last post on the subject of Tabetha Jones.

I’ve had it. I can swallow a lot, but my gag reflex has finally been breached.

I’m sick of the drama. I’m sick of the lies, the manipulation, the split personalities, psychotic scenarios, exaggerated injuries, the delusional, warped and twisted realities, the victim act, the abuse and her bullying. I’m tired of her saying she’s a biker bitch, a class act, mother of the year and a victim, all in the same sentence… not that she can write a coherent one of those with both hands, a flashlight and a thesaurus.
I’m sick of her.

I’m not changing my routine because any judge or court told me to – they didn’t. But because I don’t like who I am when I’m dealing with her. Even just exposing HER ugliness makes me feel like I’ve rolled around in guck and mire, and I just don’t like it. I don’t like the stench of her anywhere near me, and I truly do not like the taste of her name upon my lips, whether it’s her real, legal name or not.

She cheapens anybody that deals with her. And I’m done letting her cheapen me.

If she wants to run off and be the world’s next supermodel, that’s great. More power to her. The more time she spends rolling around naked in front of a camera, the less time she’s spending ripping off authors.

If she wants to lie to the world and say  that she’s got one “class 3” concussion after the next, rip off Cindy’s brain tumor (and everything else), and claim horrible facial injuries despite posting pictures that show not a mark on her, fake accidents, fake suicides, fake pregnancies, fake getting kidnappings, rapes, whippings, beatings, or whatever else she thinks she can get sympathy from, she can go right ahead on.

If she wants to keep telling herself that she’s the mother of the year, well, time will tell the tale of that one. She can lie to CPS, to us and even to herself. But that little girl will be the one eventually that proves whether her mom has been a good one, or if she’s the manipulative, self-centered, narcissistic control freak she’s been described as by people who have seen her “mothering” up close. She’s the one that’s going to have to look at birthdays that no friends came to. Punishments. Tales of “powers” granted by a guardian “arc” angel, and whatever other mythological nonsense mom fills her head with. Lie after lie. One psychotic rage after the next. We’re not the ones she’ll have to answer to for that. Her kid is.

And if she wants to keep repeating the same pattern with lovers over and over, as long as she can keep luring them into her bed, more’s the pity for them. They’ll just have to find out for themselves what they’re in for. Right up until she screws over one too many and the player finds herself the one getting played. She might bitch and scream victim when it hits, but the universe will call it justice. And that’s exactly what it’ll be.

And if she decides to keep ripping off authors, I’ll write about it. Sure. On websites geared toward warning the world about scams and dodgy publishers, like Absolute Write, P&E and Writer beware. And I’ll keep writing to the IRS. They’re the ones that will shut her down for good, sooner than later.

But when it comes to this blog, I’m done with her. She can stroke her ego somewhere else. I’m finished giving her any more attention. She can go whore herself off somewhere else. All the information anybody needs is already out there. All they have to do is google it. If they don’t do that before they sign on the dotted line, they’ll just have to learn the hard way. There’s nothing more I can do.

She’ll never get a free pass for what she’s done to my blood, but that doesn’t mean that I have to keep sinking to her level. I’ve done that, and I’m no better off for it. Some people have been saved from her clutches during that time, so the fight has been worth it.

Now it’s time for people to fight for themselves. I’ve put all the links out there and spouted advice until I’m blue in the face. All the information anybody needs to protect (or vindicate) themselves against her is there. The threads remain open. If anybody has thoughts to offer, feel free to do so. These discussions were mainly to help people, to offer a voice to the voiceless, and they remain so.

This is me, taking the high road, and taking a bow.

You are, as ever, welcome.