Hey, so, you are reading this? I mean, cool. Hi. But, like, I mean, how’s it going? I have a page that’s about me—but that’s not a blog post. So—yeah, here’s this too. I’m writing it a little more like how I speak when I am in person.
As you can see, it’s a little meandering. Yet clipped. Sometimes. I talk fast, but occasionally I must stop to think through the next like two things I will say. I’m good at anticipating broad reactions to things in people. If I get to know you. But, terrible at the small stuff. I’ve lost all concept of what is and is not too dark a joke for people. I can freak people out sometimes.
But, like, I’m a writer, you know, so I’m allowed to be a bit weird. But, again, “Hi!” Let me tell you about me. In a more personal way. Continue reading
Don’t take your fingers for granted. I present a strange tale called:
This whole thing began, as many hauntings do, when I came across a dead body. I should clarify that, though, by saying that while this was by no means a normal occurrence, I was still not as concerned as some might have been in my situation. I’d seen some magical corpses in my time. Continue reading
I hate platitudes, don’t you? I feel like they bar the ability for someone to communicate actual helpful words. They are rote and glib and sound good as a soundbite, but often already occurred to the asker of help, so are thus useless.
There seems to be an almost universal box of platitudes for every occasion. Continue reading
The computer connected to the phone. A link cable, pushed into the side, made sure that the data went into the laptop, and posted to all the social mediums on the planet. The images of one life added to the collective of the rest. Giving some understanding of who owned the picture—perhaps the only understanding available. Continue reading
There’s a thing known by those of us who have written a novel. And, it’s a controversial thing. Not something widely shouted, or thrown into the cosmos for all to hear. But, it is true: no matter how hard to believe. And, you may get mad at me for saying this, but, here’s the gist: writing, making art, creating stuff, is often a little boring.
It’s taxing. It’s hard. Art takes a long time—and with no guarantee that the result will be any good. Continue reading
Things fell out of my hands.
I got annoyed—I got upset,
And by the end of it, I’d lost my place.
My sense of rhythm. Continue reading
My head is swirling today—I’m going through the overload that comes with consuming too much good media. And it is making me have trouble coming up with a topic to talk about and write about.
Now, to be clear, I am not “blocked.”
I have too many ideas right now. I want to talk about the future, and the world, and art, and getting ideas for writing. I want to write ten books and then go on several podcasts.
But, as these sorts of things go with actual life, I have things that need doing. So, I decided to fall back on something simple, something I understand on an intuitive level when it comes to making art.
And that is creating disturbing things. Continue reading
More than one child finds a world in the hedge. First Benjamin did, and now, another kid gets their turn to decide.
I call this sequel of sorts:
Beyond The Path
“I really would not do that,” he said, and the girl spun on her expensive shoes. She gave the boy with the odd clothes and the curving nose a hard glare.
“Why, are there monsters?” the girl asked. She held up her pocket knife, and grinned. “Because I’m ready for those.” Continue reading
If you are reading this, and consider yourself a supremely serious person, then I have a thing to say to you.
Honestly, just smile. Continue reading
Not everyone is cut out for the hero lifestyle in this fantasy microfiction called:
The New Heroes
Grand Master Tamer J. Ward stood off a few tens of feet from the battle and surveyed the situation. Examining the two new recruits.
It was as he expected: they were terrible. Continue reading
Video games have inherent worth. To claim otherwise, would suggest that books, movies, songs, television shows, and paintings all have no inherent worth. Continue reading
Time to continue our journey to a new place with the second part (click here for the first part) of a flash fiction called:
A New Place
Benjamin opened his mouth and only uttered out the simple question of: “Who are you?”
The boy crossed his arms and swayed from side to side. He was wearing a strange outfit upon further inspection: a purple and yellow pair of pants, and a deep crimson red shirt. All the clothe looked threadbare and worn out.
“I’m not sure, actually. I tried to figure it out one time: but I had a headache.” Continue reading
I’ve talked about how if you want to write fast, you must remove your need to self-correct. How you must not be an editor and a writer at the same time. How self-editing is the enemy of work speed.
I’ve said this many, many times, both online and in person. Continue reading
In this flash fiction, beyond the hedge: there is a world. A world containing a choice, a boy, and something…off.
I call it:
A New Place
Benjamin Nosh, age thirteen, stared at the gap in the wall of hedges. He was sure he’d never seen it there before, not in all the days he’d walked home from school.
He leaned forward, peering inside, but only found a second, further away wall of hedges stretching in either direction. Benjamin, back when he lived in Illinois, had spent some time in a corn maze at a festival, and this looked much the same. Like a hallway made of foliage. Continue reading
In life, we must all admit we are not perfect. So here I go: I am not perfect. In other news, the sun is hot, it’s cold in Chicago during the winter, and I write about fucked-up shit.
But I have a point beyond trying to be funny. I use this blog partially to offer advice to writers and artists. In fact, often when I come across an artist in real life who is having a problem, I end up verbally referencing one of my own articles.
But that does not mean I possess the answers to everything in art. Far from it. And in the interest of being open, I will do the opposite of offer advice, and instead talk about a few questions I just do not know an answer to—stuff I could attempt to puzzle out, and might someday understand, but, for now, I’m basically clueless.
So, here we go! Time to admit fault. Time to eat my crow with a slice of humble pie. Time to prove I am still a dumb, dumb human—no matter how pretentious and studious an aura I may try to project. Continue reading