Category Archives: Visual Arts

The Butterfly Project

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The Butterfly Project was created with one simple question in mind. What would a female mafia look like? When we think of the word “Mafia” we think Italian men in designer suits, gold chains, chest hair sticking out of their open shirts, a toothpick between their teeth and a wad of cash in their inside jacket. We also think of gambling, extortion, money laundering, murder, betrayal and revenge. So to do what Hollywood does and just “insert female here” would not do it any justice.

I didn’t want another group of women in leather with guns, where they all know martial arts. I didn’t want it to be compared to Charlie’s Angels because the women I know would NEVER take orders from a man they never met, who communicates with them only through a speaker.

If women were to form a mafia (and many have, you just never hear about it or read about it) I doubt they would be that interested in monetary gain. For me, I think women would use their powers for good, not evil. (Most women). When I wrote “Butterflies Wake” I envisioned a large neighborhood watch that involved women taking out the bad guys themselves, because lets face it, the justice system has failed us. A piece of paper won’t keep a man from breaking into your house and beating the crap out of you, and a rape whistle on a college campus is a F***ing joke.

So after much thought and many volunteers, we put together a nice compilation of photos and a video (make sure you check out the you tube video at the bottom) showing what we think a female mafia would look like. Enjoy and share, these ladies did a great job! No men were hurt in the making of these photos. In fact, they are all awesome men who support feminism.

The Butterfly Code





Protect Thy Neighbor

Remove The Greedy

Relocate The Violent

Reform The Misguided

Expose The Disturbed

Find The Missing

Free The Burdened

Punish The Betrayers

Reveal The Truth

Awaken The Sleeping





The Darkness


Gazing numbness through panes of weathered glass

Reflect unrecognizable imagery of a woman far gone

Cracked skin covers dried up veins that ran warm with blood

in a once beating heart, now cold and broken

Salt filled tears slowly falling onto sunken cheeks

that rest above her slanted mouth struggling to smile

Thoughts linger, night sets, and time passes by as the darkness unravels

baring its teeth as to gnaw away at her soul

Hope is a distant memory and dreams remain shattered

Struggling to hold up her head, the lifeless woman looks at the clock

Another painful day spent in dark solitude

Doorbells chime in unison with ringing phones without answer

What difference would the sound on the other end make?

Hunger is wasted on her, as she will not commit to such a pointless act

Why bother feeding something that’s dying?

All in her head, it’s all in her head they said

But how can one feel like their dead if it’s all in their head?

Pill bottles scatter her bedside; laundry covers her floor

She tries no more

In dreams she finds a glow of light,

a better place that guides her; she holds on tight

“Don’t wake me”, she screams,

“it’s too real out there, for me to care

I like it better here”

Closing her eyes she drifts back to there

Someone’s coming is it real or a dream? Her mind stuck in between

“You are needed,” says a voice “You have still much to give you must live,” says the voice.

“You must live”.

A child walks in, her heart begins beating again,

she opens her eyes, she lets it all in

The little girl snuggles her, and holds onto her tight

Rocking back and forth, the woman, she cries

Breathing hard in and out as the pain slowly subsides

The child within is the hope she had lost

As she struggles to stand, to embrace life at all cost

“There’s still much to do,” she whispers wiping the tears from her eyes

Putting the brush to her hair, she gives life another try.

“Beyond Time” Cover Reveal and Book Launch


Adaminia has been separated from the other warriors and has to find a way back to them in order to finish the journey they have set out on to reunite the stones. The darkness grows closer and threatens their chance of survival. One of them will fall; another will go missing. The fate of the world hangs in the balance.

“Beyond Time”, Book 3 of the Beyond Earth Series is now available for purchase in hardcover at Createspace and Amazon and as an eBook on, iBooks, Smashwords, and other online retailers!

Please take advantage this week of Smashwords “Free eBook Week” and download a free digital copy of “Beyond Earth” Book I between March 2-8th!

Don’t forget to “like” Beyond Earth on Facebook at

and follow me on twitter

Ribbons for Sarah

Whether you are attending the Oscar’s this Sunday or watching them from your couch, please take a moment to wear a black ribbon in honor of Sarah Elizabeth Jones who died tragically while filming at the young age of 27. You can find more information below. RIP Sarah “We are all Sarah Jones”.


Sarah Elizabeth Jones RIP


Sarah Elizabeth Jones was a West Columbia native who died last week while filming a movie in South Georgia.

“Only 27 years old, Sarah’s promising life was cut short when she was struck by a train while working on a dangerous set. Crew members are the unsung heroes of film and television production who work long hours and sometimes very dangerous conditions for the love of filmmaking. Sarah Elizabeth Jones was one of us.”

I never met Sarah, but have worked closely with many of the same people in the industry when I lived in Charleston, SC. Their anger and outrage is felt and understood. This tragedy could have been avoided. Many are not only mourning her tragedy but questioning how it could have been prevented. Someone beautifully remarked that “We are all Sarah Jones” and that touched me. She lived life with a smile and a sense of humor, was hardworking and committed. She had so much to offer and was taken too soon. When you watch the Oscar’s this Sunday, whether they mention her or not, take a second to think about all the people who work behind the scenes, often pulling over 12 hours a day on set, to get the best shot for your viewing pleasure. It takes a small town to film a movie, not just a few great actors in fancy suits and dresses. Sarah Jones made movies. Sarah Jones deserves to be recognized.

We ask for Sarah Elizabeth Jones’ love and passion for filmmaking be acknowledged on the grandest stage of all, The Academy Awards.

Please click on this link and sign the petition to have Sarah added to the “In Memoriam” at this Sunday’s Oscar show.

UPDATE: This petition will be submitted for consideration by The Academy by Friday, February 28th at 10am. Thank you for supporting one of our own.

A facebook page has been created in her honor called Slates for Sarah, in which many film and TV folks from around the world are taking pictures of their movie slates with her name and or picture on it. You can check out the page at this link:

Here are a few of them:

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#SafetyForSarah #SlatesforSarah

Sarah’s Obituary can be found here:

Butterflies Wake

Camille and Ron

“Fairytales always start with once upon a time and end with happily ever after. Somewhere in the middle there’s a prince, an evil queen and a distressed maiden, a victim of her own beauty. Gallantly, the prince rides in, saving his true love, proving his manhood and once again restoring balance to the universe. My fairytale, however, was not like that at all. Let’s take for example my ex-husband Ron. In our fairy tale, Ron was no prince. Don’t get me wrong; I truly believe he started off with good intentions. But, then he lost his job, started drinking and I became his personal punching bag. After the third miscarriage I was told I could never have children. At that point, I really didn’t care if I died.

But, on one particular evening back in 1977, something happened that would change my life forever. I had come home from the grocery store to find Ron sitting on the front steps of our house with his usual can of beer suctioned to his left hand as if it were an extension of his fingers. I could tell he had been drinking all day and was itching for a fight, so I didn’t even bother asking for help with the groceries. There was still the idea that I had to walk up the steps and past him to get to the front door. I prayed he didn’t attack me with the groceries still in my hand. I walked at a slow pace, avoiding eye contact and carefully slinked passed him hoping not to hit the back of him with the screen door as I squeezed through. I made it into the kitchen and managed to at least put away the frozen food, eggs and milk before the first punch was thrown.

When it was finally over, I found myself lying on my back on the front lawn covered in blood. I thought for sure I would be dead any minute judging from the amount of blood pouring out of my nose and the severity of the pain coursing through my body. But then something happened; I saw out of the corner of my eye a little boy standing in the street staring at Ron as he sat on the front steps drinking his beer and watching me die. The boy’s name was Patrick; he was around ten years old and he lived in our neighborhood. He stood there holding his baseball glove and ball and just stared at Ron for almost two whole minutes. I wanted to scream for him to run away but no sound would come out of my mouth. Then he turned and ran as fast as he could towards his house. I was happy he was safe, I didn’t want Ron to hurt him and I didn’t want that poor boy to be the witness to my death.

I blacked out again for a while and waited for death to take me. But it never came. Instead, two women from the neighborhood had come running towards me and were picking me up off the front lawn. I don’t recall much at the time but I do remember some words being exchanged between Priscilla and Ron. I didn’t know Priscilla that well, other than that she was a nurse at the local hospital and had a son named Patrick, the boy who saw me on the lawn. He must have run to her for help. I feared Ron might hurt them too, but I couldn’t speak or move. I was a rag doll, lifeless in their arms as they carried me back to their house. That was the last time I ever saw Ron. I don’t know what happened and I didn’t ask questions. I was just grateful that they found me when they did because they not only saved my life, but they changed the course of it forever.

My name is Camille Waters and a lot has changed since 1977. On the surface I appear as an ordinary southern woman in her 50’s, sitting on a porch swing sipping sweet tea or reading trashy romance novels down by the pier. But much like a fairytale, nothing is ever what it seems. The year is 2013 and I’m not that same woman anymore. Now I work for an underground society of women with one purpose; to right the wrongs of society where the justice system has failed. Some call us modern-day Iron Jawed Angels, others call us extremists, but we like to call ourselves, The Butterflies.


Our organization started out as more of a neighborhood watch, keeping an eye out for predators, drug dealers, or in the unfortunate case of many couples; domestic violence. If someone in the neighborhood were having a problem, we’d find a way to introduce ourselves; let women know that they weren’t alone. Some folks think we ought to just mind our own business and let the authorities do their job. Well guess what? We did that already. Women have been sitting in silence for centuries, and it sure as hell didn’t get us anywhere. Men beat their wives, girls get date raped, family members molest their young and the burden of proof lies on the shoulders of the victims, every time.

In the past few years, our organization has grown and become more sophisticated allowing us to tackle larger issues. We started recruiting women who needed rehabilitation, giving them the option to better their situation.  As we continued to grow, we branched out past our neighborhoods, our towns and now have teams in ever major city in the world. With national growth we have access to more resources and our recruits range from students to billionaires, athletes to politicians and everything in between.

Our purpose still remains the same, to remove the greedy, relocate the violent and reform the misguided. Now with unlimited resources at our discretion, we are able to not just beat the system, we are able to change it entirely. Statistics show that women are more likely to leave a bad situation if they have a strong support group to turn too and that’s exactly what we strive to provide. Life is hard enough without having to constantly watch good people get hurt. It’s time for a change, time to wake-up and smell the revolution; time for us to close the door on the old way of doing things; time to find a system that works for everyone involved. It’s time for the Butterflies Wake.”- Camille Waters

 Butterflies pic

Rhode Island Comic Con Photos 2013

Pumpkin Walk 2013

“Beyond Planets”, Book II

Cover Reveal and Book Launch

“Beyond Planets”, Book II 

Beyond Planets Cover

Many thanks to everyone involved in the creation of this cover! First I’d like to thank my gorgeous models; Rayn Dudzikowski, Dan Boland, Myla Graham, Stephanie Merrell, and Yavez “Fez” Fuller. Next I would like to thank the photographers; Angela Cannistraro of Visions, Robyn Leigh of Robyn Leigh Photography and Rebecca Dersch-Bell of Aurora Photography. Special thanks to my hair and make-up/tattoo crew; Katrina Lawyer Hazel, Ashley Gathers, Kaydren Orcutt and Shelly Fuller. Finally I’d like to thank Almont Green of Almont Studios for the design of the cover.  As always, I would especially like to thank my husband and daughter for their patience, and God for his love and guidance. The book is available now on iTunes, Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Nobles and Createspace!  See links below:

Print $6.99

Amazon eBook $2.99

Smashwords eBook $2.99 (multiple formats)

Apple iTunes eBook $2.99  link coming soon!

You Tube Trailer:

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