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Thursdays are strange. Squirrels have their weekly elections. Cheese turns transparent. My dog keeps practising “Mandy” by Barry Manilow. In unrelated news, the pharmacy gave me someone else’s meds.

Work is oddly not stressful right now, except for when the fish steal my tea. As I prepare to kick your buttocks off the ship for another week I want to impart some departing thoughts.

A meme is a self-perpetuating idea, or at least it was before the term got co-opted by silly images traded like some strange currency among netizens who themselves may be riding a strange current. Writers strive for more primal memes. To craft ideas that perpetuate. Stories that people want to tell others about. We also do a lot of goofy shit.

We make up folk tales involving crossroads. We research how to have snails as pets. We create tarot cards. We need to know if we can plan the perfect crime and have a flawed hero solve it. I have meticulous details of a physical conflict in a bodega and I’ve made attributes for characters and assigned random values to resolve actions in the conflict to see if I could create a tool for more cinematically written scenes. And we do all this goofy stuff to craft stories and entertain you.

I’ve also been lying. You see, I’m not a writer. I’m a storyteller. I’m perfectly equipped to sit in a corner and tell you a story. However, I can not be a writer. The entity known as Leto Armitage doesn’t exist without the audience, the cover creator, editors, people giving feedback, reviews written, and friends recommended to read the story. ‘We’ is the article to use for Leto Armitage, not ‘I.’ I can tell a story. But it takes a community to create an idea that lives on, to turn a story into a meme.

We are writers. Everyone who buys one of my stories also makes it their story. Everyone who tweets something, who reviews a book, is part of the total writing entity. So, I invite you to stay on board. Join the crew, travel as a passenger, stay with me and be a part of Leto. Read on Kindle Unlimited. Sign up for the free stories. If you can’t access them, contact me and I’ll give you a copy of anything you want to read. And with that, I sign off.

Now, who is staying and who really wants off?

Good travels,




The door to Leto's quarters. You can see his face through the round ship's window.

Leto Armitage was born in America under a set of circumstances that prophesied that he would one day unite the lost tribes and return the Ever Summer. Somewhere around twelve, he realized he had been left unsupervised and binged too many Arthurian movies in his formative years and that he was just another kid who accidentally got an education while reading above his age level.

By the time he turned old enough to get a passport, he started finding excuses to travel determined to find out what culture, food and women there were to experience. After learning to grill in Oaxaca, do kinbaku in Japan, and being banned from several former Soviet block countries, he returned home to settle down and see what damage he could do locally.

After working jobs including being a short order cook, bodyguarding strippers and professionally doing reader’s advisory for erotica he realized the most reasonable path forward was to become a writer. Today he lives with cats, dogs, and humans who seem to like him despite actually knowing him. He prefers to sit on his back deck, listening to the birds and Barry the Bumblebear bee, while he writes cozy, uplit romance and raunchy erotica.


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