The Mešvi language has expanded with Version 2.3, adding 157 new words and establishing a distinction between sacred and everyday speech. It now features 423 vocabulary entries and 53 phrases, enhancing theological terminology and cultural expressions. These developments support the upcoming serialization of the book "Immortal," reflecting deep cultural concepts.
Mešvi 2.2 Conlang Update Notes
Mešvi 2.2 formalizes three mechanics revealed by stress-testing: (1) Geminates—when compounding creates identical consonants at morpheme boundaries, both are retained and pronounced as lengthened consonants (bîn + nêf → bînnêf, "BEEN-nayf"); (2) Four-morpheme limit—standalone compounds max out at four lexical roots (class markers don't count), beyond which possessive phrases are used; (3) Expanded class-shifting—âšemân (sky) and darêkh (path) now shift between practical Mother class and cosmic/prophetic Crone class based on register. The update also adds vocabulary for space navigation (vacuum, star systems, nullspace), formalizes theological distinctions (qi/Darêkhâkh/šeib'qi), introduces five-tier religious law gradations, and documents poetic compounding methodology that uses source etymology to find culturally resonant metaphors. No grammar changes—just clearer rules and richer vocabulary for the Dark Dominion setting.
Introducing Mešvi 2.1: Language as Culture in Dark Dominion
The first iteration of Mešvi was Persian with centuries of simulated linguistic drift. But as I developed the Mešvi people—their matriarchal society, prophetic traditions, and goddess worship—I realized the language needed to be rebuilt from scratch. A language shapes and reflects the culture that speaks it. Mešvi 2.1 is what happens when you ask: what would a language look like if it were designed by a nomadic, matriarchal, and prophetic culture that sees the world through cycles of life and divine knowledge? The answer is a language with no pronouns, where names change with life stages, where the verb system encodes how you know what you know, and where the very act of possession is constructed differently than in English. Mešvi doesn’t just describe the world—it reveals how the Mešvi people understand reality itself.
Designing a Conlang Backwards
I invented an alien accent by ear, then had to reverse-engineer the grammar that would naturally produce it. When Vylaraian pickpocket Lari said “I’s tryin’ t’ be you friend,” I wasn’t thinking about linguistics—just making her sound right. But months later, writing a reader magnet, I needed actual Vylaraian words. I couldn’t just make up random phonemes. The accent was data. Every “mistake” was evidence. “You bag” instead of “your bag” revealed possessive suffixes, not separate pronouns. “I is” pointed to unconjugated verbs and VSO word order. Consistent “th” to “d” shifts showed missing phonemes. The patterns weren’t random—they described interference from a complete linguistic system. Traditional conlangs work top-down: grammar first, then dialogue. I went bottom-up: dialogue that sounded authentic, then discovered the grammar hiding inside it. The accent became a skeleton key, unlocking an entire alien language.
Love in the Wasteland: Mikhael and the Art of Gentle Defiance
Mikhael was engineered to be the Dominion’s perfect weapon—a super-soldier who can teleport through combat and heal from anything. When they sent him to kill a rogue operative, he made a different choice: he saved her instead. The woman is Sarai, pregnant with the god-emperor’s child and marked for termination. She’s also the girl Mikhael grew up with and never stopped loving—though she doesn’t remember him. A blaster bolt destroyed those memories along with any chance of the future they might have had. Now he’s a traitor with a termination order, protecting a woman who doesn’t remember his name and a child who isn’t his. He doesn’t care about prophecy or revolution. He just wants one more morning with her. Reading time: 10 minutes.
The Dark Dominion Sequence
The child growing inside her shouldn’t exist. Sarai izt Kviokhi’s bloodline is genetically incompatible with the divine elite—especially The Name, the immortal tyrant who’s ruled the galaxy for three thousand years. But her impossible pregnancy becomes living proof that the Dominion’s entire social foundation is a lie. When word spreads, ancient prophecies resurface and Sarai becomes the target of a destiny she desperately wants to avoid. Abolitionists hunt her daughter for their agendas. The Name seeks her destruction. The only way to save her child is to give them what they fear most: a mother with nothing left to lose and an empire to burn.
What Actually Makes YA Literature “Young Adult”
A reader challenged me after I posted about “Doors to the Stars,” my YA space opera: aren’t you just writing adult fiction with a teenage protagonist? It’s a sophisticated question that cuts to the heart of YA’s current crisis. The genre has been captured by adult readers, and publishers responded by making seventeen-year-olds act like college students with adult emotional processing. But the answer to what makes fiction YA isn’t about what darkness you include—it’s about something else entirely. When a 13-year-old kills to protect another girl from sexual exploitation, is that YA or adult fiction? The answer might surprise you.
Guest Review: Death or Glory
Goodreads reviewer Joanne Budzien calls Death or Glory one of her top 10 books of 2025—so compelling she reread it within a month, finishing both times in under 24 hours. This middle book in my Doomsday Recon trilogy masterfully blends military action, fantasy, and literary fiction without typical sequel slump. Real stakes, visceral character development, and genre-defying storytelling create something rare: a philosophical war story that never lectures. Budzien’s spoiler-filled review wrestles with an unexpected problem—too much excellent character development—while praising my handling of everything from realistic dialogue to traumatic events. Her verdict? Read it, then immediately continue to Born in Battle for the full emotional impact.
Your Choices Matter: A Space Opera for Deltarune Fans
What does it mean when a game tells you your choices don’t matter—and then proves they do? Toby Fox’s Deltarune asks this question brilliantly, exploring themes of agency, control, and something alien merged with you that threatens your autonomy. I didn’t discover it until after writing Doors to the Stars, which tackles the exact same themes: a junk rat named Wulan bonding with an ancient alien artifact, wrestling with guilt and desperation, trying to heal a traumatized galaxy while maintaining her humanity. Both stories ask: can you still choose who you become when the system denies you agency? Maybe that’s what matters most.
The Galaxy is Just Ash and Liars
Wulan is a sixteen-year-old junk rat dying on a dead planet, scavenging ruins just to survive another day—until she finds an ancient alien artifact that hums with impossible intelligence and won’t let her go. Now the tyrannical Ascendancy wants her dead. Revolutionaries want to weaponize her. And the artifact wants to fuse with her flesh and become her. Read the first chapter here. Then join the revolution to steal YA back from the profit-hungry publishers who hijacked the genre for two-star spice adult romance readers. American YA stopped serving teenagers—join my advance reader team and help build something that does.
Beyond the Margins 