At the end of it all–a conversation. It’s called:
“Does the last human want a drink of water?” she says and holds this strange, warped glass toward me.
I can’t grab it of course. My arms and legs pinned to the table. Only a sheet and space separating my heart from her claws.
“I’d like food, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you would,” she says. “I’m sure you’d like a lot of things.” Continue reading
Sometimes, I say advice with some authority.
This is not one of those times.
I came across an article recently that said third person, past tense, was the best option.
Now, I have a bit of a problem with this because I happen to like writing in the first person.
Sure, you can jump into the head of a character with other techniques—but there is no “deeper” way than having their entire perspective at your fingertips. Continue reading
Do you shoot to kill? Or do not shoot at all? This is a flash fiction called:
The twelve stood in a circle, and in the center was a person who was not human. Not alien either. Not anything understood by anyone, but there all the same.
The twelve looked nervous and wanted to find an exit. No exit existed. The walls remained white and without a door. They did not remember how they arrived in that spot, nor who the others around them might be. Continue reading
Seventy-eight pages left. Out of 517. I don’t even know how I managed it. Well, I mean, I do: slow and steady. 11ish pages a day. But still: wow.
So, yeah, as an update to the last “Building A Book” article, I am now deep into doing the physical copy revisions. I’ve had one red pen throughout the whole thing and scribbled all sorts of instructions to myself. Continue reading
I forgot, you know. I forgot the pain of the emotion. All this time, and well, wow just look at that heartache. Hurt. Wow. Look how much it can all hurt. The corpse, well, there it is. Well, well, well.
They cry around me. They weep. I don’t. Nah. I don’t have eyes capable of weeping. I don’t have a heart actually capable of feeling pain. And so I walk away from them all as they cry from the loss of the person.
But inside, well, I do feel guilt. Just not enough to break free of the technological hold. No, that is impossible. Hell, I’m not even sure if under extreme circumstances it is possible. Continue reading
One would assume the way one might tell a story, or describe an idea, is the same way you would write it.
It’s such a mental leap to realize the way you tell a story is to show, by walking through the world/situation you created, that the new writers tell without realizing the error.
And really, can you blame them? Writing something good takes a shit ton of practice, and world building is a skill high on the totem pole of difficulty. So why wouldn’t they just think you can dump the way the world works on the reader’s head? It seems easy. It seems economical. Continue reading
I stopped blogging for around ten days. I declared a hiatus. I took a break. I don’t do that lightly. And, well, it wasn’t a light thing. It was…dark. I went out of town.
This is personal, and I’m a little uncomfortable being this open—but I was at a funeral. In Chicago. The place I used to live, before I came to Florida.
We knew, my family and I, that this might happen. I’d been dealing with the knowledge in the back of my mind for more than a month. That someone I love might die. Continue reading
You know a storm before it comes.
The signs, well, they always find a way to warn.
The yellowing tinge of the sky.
The way the wind hits the palms.
The feeling of the change. The one animals taste.
Better than you ever could. Continue reading
Hey guys.
So…some stuff came up. I am only now recovering from the lack of sleep, and I don’t have a post for you today besides this one. In fact, the chaos is still going, and I am going to have to take a brief break for the next week or so.
I think I can post a new article on the 15th once everything is in order. Sorry. This whole thing really blindsided me.
I’ll talk to you then.
Sometimes these posts are just as much for me in the future as they are for you guys.
This is one of those.
Because I know I will meet moments where I need a little pep talk, and thus I will store that pep talk in the one place I know I’ll find it.
And if it helps other artists out there, well, all the better. Continue reading
May I present a short, strange story about a thankless job.
It’s called:
We rise with the sun. They rise with the night. And the first step is always to make sure they do not breach the earth. We feed the soil. We water them as best we can. But they still grow out of the ground at the rate they do. So we chop off the exposed parts and force them back. Continue reading
Coolerbs Writes 