WHO AM I?! Well, Let Me Tell You.

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

Flash Fiction: The Fingers

Don’t take your fingers for granted. I present a strange tale called:

The Fingers


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

Microfiction: Desk Setup

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

Writing Can Be Boring (And That’s Okay)

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

How To Disturb In 5 Easy Steps

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

Flash Fiction: Beyond The Path

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

Microfiction: The New Heroes

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

Flash Fiction: A New Place (Part 2 of 2)

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

Flash Fiction: A New Place (Part 1 of 2)

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

Art Things I Do Not Understand

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

Flash Fiction: Against The Wall

If I did not have a gun, this man would worry me. With the gun, I was only on professional high alert.

Perhaps a description would be useful in this, a reference point to the creature—once human.

He had the usual marks—dark green veins around his mouth. Had the standard shadows at his feet dancing and snapping at things. Each time they touched me I got cold.

He also wore a black suit. Continue reading

Embrace The Oddness

Life is weird. You already knew that. But if you are a writer, you owe it to yourself to make it weirder. Go out of your way and end up in the strangest situations you can manage. Most people already say to “take a chance,” to “expand your horizons,” and any other of those cookie-cutter platitudes.

But no, that is not what I am telling you to do: not specifically. I am telling you that as a writer, you might be so blessed as to be a weird magnet, and if you’re not, you should act like you are. Because you are one of the few types of people who can take such raw material and do something better with it than occasionally entertaining dinner guests. Continue reading