Blog - Memoirs of an Imp of the Perverse

Dec

2025

I’m Doing Breaks Wrong.

After a morning of running around doing errands, I said to my husband, “I need to go and get to work.” He looked at me and replied, “You said something about being on break. Is that over?”

No, it’s not. But for me, being on break means I’m not actively writing anything. I still have shows and edits and marketing. And research — I’m reading up on Renaissance Venice right now. But I’m not writing, so I’m taking a break.

Or maybe I’m doing breaks wrong.

I suppose if I’m on break, I should be walking away from the laptop completely, and not doing research. Saving the edits for after January. But I can’t sit still and do nothing for that long, so… compromise.

(Why yes, I am neurospicy. How can you tell?)

Cookiepocalypse 2025 is coming. Probably next week, and you can tune in to my Instagram to see what cookies will be coming from the Schechter kitchen. I’m not starting this week because I have the last Renaissance Festival of the year on Saturday (at the Oviedo Mall), and I’m saving my spoons.

The last Renn Faire of the year isn’t the last show of the year — my last outing of the year will be a signing at Spellbound Books on December 20th. I’ll have copies of the Blood of the Raven series in paperback and (hopefully) hardcover. (This is the signing that was postponed because the books didn’t get to me in time.)

Once that’s over? Well, maybe I’ll try and figure out the right way to take a break. Or at least, the way that doesn’t involve me actually doing anything on my laptop.

Promotions

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A hero. A son of Eire. A reckoning long overdue.

Lorcan never asked for glory. Crowned a noble and hailed as a savior after crushing rebellion, he walks the marble halls adored by all—except himself. Haunted by prophetic visions, he sees not triumph, but torment: his family caged, his homeland threatened, and his cousin’s dark ambitions on the rise.

He knows where he must go.

Leaving behind the splendor of Empire, Lorcan returns to the emerald wilds of Eire, where ancient magic stirs and old loyalties are tested. Beside him stand his mates and his chosen kin—fierce, loyal, and willing to follow him into the heart of danger. But the blood that binds can also betray, and the most dangerous enemy may not be on the battlefield… but seated at his own family’s table.

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Stories of Love and Desire

Join us on THEOReads, where you can find stories that celebrate love in all forms, and in all heat levels. Check out the November curated recommendations! (Click the graphics!)

Work in Progress

Tales from the Arena: King of Swords
(Tales from the Arena, book 4)

35962 / 90000 (39.96%)

Appearances

Enchanted Knights: Winter Bazaar
December 6th, 2025
Oviedo Mall
Oviedo, FL

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Ravenflight Signing!
Spellbound Books
December 20th, 2025
12:00PM – 2:00 PM
Sanford, FL

2026 Appearances

Galentine’s Day Sip and Shop
Native Home Marketplace
February 5th, 2026
6:00pm – 9:00 pm

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ICFA
March 18-21th, 2026
Orlando, FL

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Storyteller Summit
April 11th, 2026
11:00 AM – 5:00 PM
Oviedo, FL.

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Summer Lovin’ Book Festival
June 6th, 2026
11:00 AM – 5:00 PM
Oviedo, FL.

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Tanoshii Con
August 22nd – 23rd, 2026
Ocean Center Arena, Daytona Beach.

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Smut Lovers Conference
September 16th – 20th, 2026
Orlando, FL

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Page and Pen Festival
October 3rd, 2026
11:00 AM – 5:00 PM

Nov

2025

“So The Frogs in Narnia are Smashed.”

This morning, the words “So the frogs in Narnia are smashed,” were uttered in my kitchen. This incredible out-of-context phrase came courtesy of my son.

Context? Okay. This requires explaining some old Schechter Lore, though.

Maybe about fifteen years ago, we had a tiny little frog in the house. We had a cat at the time, so I wanted to catch the frog before the cat did. The frog hopped underneath the coffee-table in my family room… and vanished. I moved the coffee-table, but there were no signs of that frog. Jokes were made about a portal to Narnia underneath the coffee-table.

Five years later, right before Halloween, I’m standing in the kitchen, which looks out into the family room, and I see something small and dark come out from underneath the coffee-table.

A frog.

This sort of cemented the whole “portal to Narnia” thing in our house.

Flash forward to yesterday. I have a bottle of wine that I was saving to make the cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving (I’ll put the recipe into the newsletter next week, so you can sign up for that here.) Back in the spring, we were supposed to have a guest who was a recovering alcoholic, so we put away our bar setup and put the bottle of wine in the pantry (they ended up not coming over.) When I went to retrieve the bottle yesterday, it was gone. It wasn’t in the pantry. Nor in the bar. Nor in the other cabinet where we store our potent potables. Multiple searches by multiple people turned up nothing.

This morning, over breakfast, I mentioned to College Boy that I was going to be running out to the liquor store because I needed the wine for the cranberries, and I told him about the search and not finding this bottle of wine. He paused, nodded, then said, “So the frogs in Narnia are smashed,” like this was the most logical thing ever said in my kitchen.

Sure, we’ll go with it. I hope Aslan likes a sweet bracchetto.