They walked on the roads, because past midnight, in that sleepy town, no one, not the cops, not the neighbors, would be out and about. Sure, the occasional screen, the occasional person driving along would be there, but, for the most part, the town may as well not have been in existence.
“Is it pretentious if I say—?”
Howard laughed. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“If you have to ask,” Charlie said, “then it is pretentious.” Continue reading
I gave up a while ago in the best way possible. I gave up on trying to be something I am not, in a lot of ways. This is a random example, but, for a long time, people always told me to change my hairstyle (and before you imagine it as some funky mohawk or something, it’s just that I have a very generic haircut), and, well, I know myself: I don’t do well with maintaining complex hairstyles. I have on two occasions attempted to wear some expensive haircut and then let it fall apart in days—because applying copious amounts of jell and parting it “just so” is not something I care about. Continue reading
On the stage, decked in small ribbons and garish clothing, stood two men, and they both strummed their guitars with passion and grace. One of them was short and fat, the other tall and thin. A generic pair, to be sure, but one that had played for a very long time, in a lot of places.
The day’s patrons did not seem to like the show, however, as they paid little mind to them, walking along, talking amongst themselves—even as a true master, two in fact, went to work.
Well, most did not like it. Though it would never see publication or media attention, the Royal Child was in enraptured attendance. He was toward the back, pretending to be interested in the fruits his handler would offer to him, but only eating them out of habit. Continue reading
So, as you know, I sometimes need to miss an article in the schedule. I don’t do it often, and it’s always for a good reason (I promise), but, this is one of those times. If all goes well, I will soon be able to pump out content the likes of which I can barely think with. But, in the meantime, bear with me as I finish a few things and settle into my new life schedule.
I think I’ll still have a Flash Fiction for Saturday, but I’m not yet sure. I might have to just pull out a new poem for it. We’ll see.
In the meantime, have a great Wednesday, y’all. Continue reading
Four of them. Each strong, big, angry. I felt bad for ‘em.
Dental surgery worth a damn wouldn’t be invented for the next few decades. Continue reading
Sometimes I write articles to answer questions in a place I can always point to later. And, lately, a question I’ve gotten a few times is “what made you write this book?” So, here’s the answer: to tear down an old cliché.
I make no bones about this, I am tired of stories with “being the chosen one” as the reason for a protagonist to be a protagonist. Characters that are talented, characters that are part of an elite group: that’s fine. Stories about average joes are not the only type of tale, and it would be boring if they were. But, specifically, what ground my gears when I began writing Just Another Chosen One were those tales of heroes who would always win in the end.
“Destined” to save the world.
Where’re the real stakes there? Continue reading
“Millennial, huh? I hate that word.”
“I’m just using the term as shorthand.”
“I get that, but, they’re just people. You know? I hate those terms. Baby boomers. Latchkey kids. All of that. I don’t even know what they call the newest one.”
George stared down his drink and picked it up, only to put it away again. Half-sipped, and mostly unwanted, but drunk all the same. Drunk the drink, and soon enough drunk in the general sense. Continue reading
What is with me and during my walks finding random animals? I cannot count how many times I’ve run into stray dogs, wild cats, bunnies, possums, and raccoons. Then there was that time with the baby bird…
But, never has it taught me a lesson before. One that is still forming in my head. Because, today, while walking, I spotted a turtle, shelled up in the road. A big one. Like, I am not talking something you’d see in a zoo as a novelty, but the thing was easily the same size as a small child, pre-toddler age. And, fortunately for me and the turtle, there were no cars nearby, coming or going. Continue reading
“That’s the problem, you see,” someone said, and Joseph rose with a start. He glanced around, and it was nothing behind his eyes.
And then, there was.
His lips smacked; eyes appeared glassy and out of focus. He scratched his head and pushed the blanket off himself. In the back of his mind, moving faster than any computer could calculate, images slotted in and linked and sparked with ignited connection.
“I’m… yeah…Joseph” he mumbled and went to the bathroom. Continue reading
So, I promise I won’t turn into a promo-machine that only talks about my book, but, allow me one more post.
Because a lot happened recently, and I have pictures I wanted to show you.
If you happen to follow me on Instagram or Twitter, this would seem familiar—but, for those that don’t, let’s go.
I got my first copy on May 14th, and god did it look pretty. Continue reading
A book’s spine is not meant to hit a wall, but, there it slid down, coming to a forlorn, bent-out-of-shape slump on the ground.
Samantha crossed her hands over her chest and pouted. She’d been enjoying that book, loving the characters, the concepts, where it was going—but now…
A quick darting motion brought her phone up to use, as it had been an hour before, and her text sent at the speed of technology.
That was horrible. Continue reading
No one told me that publishing was a drug that had a high and a crash. That would have been nice to know before it happened. I was, and still kind of am, the moodiest version of myself I have been in a long time.
And, really, I should have seen this coming. I should have seen all of this coming. I threw all of myself into making the deadline for this thing. At the peak, I had five shots of espresso over the course of a single day.
It was fucking madness. Continue reading
Every word spoken, added to the physical mass. Charlie oversaw words and made sure that no one overused them. Words were precious, you see: a commodity that no one could do much without, yet paradoxically must not speak too often. They powered lights and made the cars run on time. If not for words, likely they would all be dead.
But then came a stranger into the town, who spoke freely, and with words they’d never heard before. Charlie grew worried about him but had no significant reason to remove him, he was but one man, and a kind enough sort at that.
But, yes, later, there was something wrong, there was something off. He used a swear. No one had ever heard it before—and it brought forth chaos. Continue reading
Oh, huh, would you look at that: I wrote a book.
HOLY SHIT, I WROTE A BOOK!?
Of one thing they were certain: they were not driving themselves that night. On the table was more booze than a man could feasibly drink, more wine than a Grecian of the olden, way olden days, could ingest—and they drank it like water. An alcoholic would have a pain in his liver at the sight.
And they were having a blast. Continue reading