I'm editing Chapter 14 and found it really flat which meant I had a big rewrite to do. In the end I'm so glad I did, I can't wait for you to read it.

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Peter Solarz
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@addevraux-author
I'm editing Chapter 14 and found it really flat which meant I had a big rewrite to do. In the end I'm so glad I did, I can't wait for you to read it.
There are days the story feels impossibly far away.
Not because the love for it has gone — it hasn't, not once — but because my brain has its own weather, and some days that weather does not cooperate with the quiet, sustained act of creation. I spent the majority of my life unmedicated, not by choice.
And I want to be honest about what that cost: not just the productivity, not just the missed deadlines and the abandoned projects, but the grief of feeling called to something and not being able to fully answer.
ADHD is not a personality quirk. It is not a creativity superpower dressed up in struggle. It is a thing that, unaddressed, can make the distance between you and the life you are meant to live feel insurmountable.
Medication is not a shortcut. I need to say that plainly, for everyone who has never needed it and feels entitled to an opinion about it anyway. For many of us it is not an enhancement. It is a lifeline. It is the difference between surviving your own mind and actually being able to inhabit it — to show up, to create, to pursue the things that make your life feel like yours.
Threads of Fate exists in part because I finally had access to that lifeline.
I don't take that lightly. Not for a single page.
If you have ever felt the gap between who you are and what you are capable of when your brain is finally supported — if you have fought for that access, grieved the years before it, or are still in the middle of that fight — this space is for you. You are not alone in it, and your story is not finished.
Neither is mine.
Tell me I'm wrong.
We all know how that conversation should have gone. We know what it looks like when a parent stands between their child and the dark — we have felt it, or longed for it, or mourned its absence in our own lives.
That is not the conversation Zeus had, but it is one I wished he had. In Threads of Fate, Persephone is not lost. She is not simply taken. She is traded — quietly, efficiently, without her knowledge — as payment on a debt. A favor Hades performed for Zeus years before, the kind of favor that leaves a man owing something he cannot name until the moment it is called in.
And Zeus paid it.
With his daughter.
What was the favor? What could possibly be worth that price — worth a mother's unraveling, worth a girl's entire world remade without her consent?
You'll have to read Threads of Fate to find out.
But I'll tell you this: when the truth of it surfaces, it does not arrive gently. Nothing in this story does.
I found a plot hole.
Not a small one. Not the kind you patch with a clever line of dialogue. The kind that opens beneath you without warning, and you stand at the edge of it doing the mental math of exactly how much work you did not know you still had to do.
My eye twitched. Just once. And then I got back to work.
Because this is the part of writing no one warns you about — the moment the story reveals that it knows itself better than you do, and it will wait, patient and immovable, until you catch up. New chapters. Potential rewrites. Whole threads pulled loose and rewoven.
Here is what I keep coming back to: this story deserves to be told. Not the convenient version of it. Not the version with the hole quietly papered over. The real one — the one that holds together when you pull at it, that earns its ending, that gives these women what the myths never did.
So, I persist. Slightly haunted. Possibly balder. Absolutely committed.
As a neurodivergent outward processor, my thoughts do not stay politely inside my head where they belong. They arrive fully formed and demanding an audience — so I give them one. You might walk in on me mid-monologue about something that delights me, or mid-song about something that does not, or deep in a very serious debate with no one in particular about a plot problem that has been following me around for days.
It is, I've decided, less a quirk and more a calling.
Because here is what I know: the stories that live in us need air. They need to be spoken out loud before they can be written down. Every chapter of Threads of Fate passed through this process — muttered in kitchens, narrated on walks, rehearsed to the very patient walls of my home.
The goddesses, at least, never complained.
If you also think out loud, talk to yourself with conviction, or have ever been caught singing about something completely mundane with the emotional intensity of a Greek tragedy —
You're in the right place. Follow along.
Let's talk about growth. The necessary kind. The kind that doesn't ask permission and certainly doesn't make itself comfortable.
My characters did not want it. Mortals rarely do — but gods? Gods are catastrophically, spectacularly resistant to change. They have been the same for millennia. They have temples built to the version of themselves they prefer. Why, exactly, would they agree to become something different?
And yet the story required it.
So how do you talk a god into doing something he doesn't want to do?
You don't.
You back him into a corner so airtight, that growth becomes the only door left in the room. You make sure he built the walls himself. You let him think, for just a moment, that he has outmaneuvered everyone — and then you let the consequences arrive.
Nobody here gets to stay who they were. Not even the ones holding the lightning.
This world did not arrive quietly. Arriving in the way many do it was argued over, wrestled with. Woven from the contradiction that is woman.
A dozen goddesses with an equal number of grievances, and me in the middle, trying to honor what mythology got wrong about them for centuries. They had opinions. The myths we inherited were written by hands that did not love these women.
I felt the weight of that with every chapter — the compulsion to give back what had been taken, to let their power breathe again without apology. What you will find here is not a retelling that flatters the old order.
It is a story that asks you to look — at divinity, at grief, at the quiet, radical act of women refusing to disappear.
If ancient myths reborn in new fire spark a light in you — which gives us a mirror to gaze at our own lives — and if you love strong female driven journeys —
Follow along. There is more to come.
Who is with me? Tell me your favorite book in the comments.
Wait for it....
Inspired by an actual conversation I had this week. Tell me someone can relate🤣
I read this article, link here, and it reminded me of a book I had on my shelf. Since now I can actually see them instead of just being in a box labeled books and stuff.
This book tackles the sometimes-controversial topic of psychedelics in religious rituals. Including the Eleusinian mysteries that honored Demeter and her daughter Persephone.
While the secrets to these rituals were highly secret, some texts of them remains and it is beautifully brought together within these pages. Giving you a glimpse of what history could contain.
My wife and I bought our house nearly a year ago, and between renovations, dust, and the general chaos of making a home livable, I’ve only just started unpacking.
Behold: my very messy writing shelf.
ADHD is visible in everything I do. Including how I write, how I store what I write, and apparently how long it takes me to organize it. A result of never really having enough space for everything that comes out of my head. Years of notebooks, drafts, loose pages, and half-finished thoughts are stacked here. Some of them became stories. Some of them are still waiting.
Somewhere in these piles are the earliest glimpses of THREADS OF FATE. Notes scribbled in passing, scenes rewritten a dozen times, questions about Persephone and the other Goddesses that refused to let me go. This shelf may look chaotic, but it’s also a map of how this story came into being.
There is something grounding about finally being in a space where I can gather it all together, where the scattered pieces can start to become something whole.
This shelf may be chaotic, but it’s also a record of persistence. And now, in this new home, I’m excited to see what all of it turns into.
Heck—life is hard. Sometimes it feels like every day is a Monday, and the weight of just showing up can feel like the biggest battle of all.
But if Buffy taught us anything, it’s this: you fight anyway. You live anyway. You take the one shot you’ve been given and make something meaningful with it—even when it’s messy, even when it hurts, even when you’re tired.
Not all of us get a second chance at this life we are given. (wink)
So be brave today. Do the hard thing. Keep going.
Okay, which one of you came into my house and took this picture of me?
Because I do NOT remember consenting to be perceived like this.
All jokes aside, ADHD comes with its fair share of procrastination. For me, it’s rarely about laziness and almost always about fear—fear of not knowing where to start, fear of starting wrong, fear of the giant, undefined “thing” looming over the task.
So yes, sometimes I wait.
Technically I am older when I finally do it… and therefore wiser. That’s just science.
Also, let’s be honest: if the task really wanted to get done, it would provide more dopamine.
#ADHDLife #ProcrastinationStation #WriterBrain #CreativeProcess #NeurodivergentLife #FridayFunnies
The more you dig, the more terrors you uncover.
The foundation of Threads of Fate came from moments like this. Moments where I could not believe the words that were in front of me.
Imagine being a woman in ancient Greece, hearing these myths that reflected your life and society to some degree.
Reimagining these tales from a woman-centered frame of mind becomes a feminist act. Giving voice and autonomy to beings that were, in many ways, considered property.
Follow along for more excerpts as THREADS OF FATE unfolds. 🧵
Every revolution begins with a demand.
Chapter One of THREADS OF FATE opens not with love, but with power, and the threat that always follows it.
“Name her and I shall make it so.” came the voice of Zeus. Resonant thunder wrapped in command. The vibration trembled through Hekate’s cavern home, dislodging tiny pebbles that skittered around her bare feet.
Hekate stiffened, instinctive caution one would hold when standing before a storm that did not give thought to the destruction in its wake. She had discovered long before that being in proximity to Zeus meant exposing herself to his unpredictable impulses. In doing so, many become an object he would to anything to possess. Her mother, once pursued by his golden ardor, had turned herself into an island to escape him. Becoming a haven for her sister Leto, running from the same lust.
This is where the story begins:
Not with destiny.
Not with romance.
But with desire for ownership, and the women who dare to choose a less damning future.
Follow along for more excerpts as THREADS OF FATE unfolds. 🧵
Hey friends—
My name is Alicia, and I write under the name A.D. Devr'aux.
I am currently working on my debut novel, THREADS OF FATE, a mythic retelling of Persephone’s abduction told through a feminist lens. An arranged marriage meant to restore balance becomes something far more dangerous: a catalyst for revolution.
This is not a story about a girl who was taken.
It is a story about a Goddess who refuses to remain claimed.
If you love mythology, defiant women, and stories that challenge the voices of power, follow along. I’ll be sharing sneak peeks, excerpts, and behind-the-scenes moments as I bring this mythic prose to life.
The threads are already tightening. 🧵