It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? I feel like a lot of people say that. A long road, but a fun road. An exciting road. Nothing like Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’, don’t worry. But a steep road, nonetheless. And the destination is in sight. The dream is going to happen. I know it is,
A quick post, because I’m neck deep in drafting my next novel (The Sixth Point) while VICIOUS MEMORIES is on submission! In a moment of madness I decided to put some (which may soon turn into all!) of Vicious Memories up on Wattpad so people can read it for free, hopefully enjoy it, and offer
Hello. For today’s trick, I would like to present the greatest tool ever discovered. Greater than the sword. Greater than the pen. Greater even than the wine-opener (just kidding I take that back).
Here I am, poking my head out of the hole I’ve been working in for the past three months. It feels strange, really, almost nerve-wracking to be writing here again. Did I really used to do this every week or two?
Talk about uncertain times…
Disclaimer: Coronavirus is extremely serious – please stay safe. Care for yourselves, your loved ones, and your neighbors. Please be a good global citizen and think about the people who are in at-risk categories even if you are not, those who don’t have financial security if you do, and those without access to quality healthcare
“You can’t use up creativity. The more you use the more you have.” – Maya Angelou In an amazing turn of events, the above quote, which I posted a few weeks ago, has never felt truer.
Can books on writing really help us with our art? Will they result in the dreaded ‘formulaic’ novel? Will they stifle our creativity? Are they a good use of our time compared to actual writing? These are all great questions, and I plan to answer absolutely none of them in this blog post. But they’re
As I continue battling through the query trenches (for about 30 minutes every morning – the rest of the day is spent working on my next project), I’ve been getting a lot of lovely questions regarding the status of my recently completed book. Just to string everyone along further (is this nice? mean? idk), I
“I don’t understand. They told me they only wanted to help.” My voice came out in a whisper, my eyes wide as the moon overhead. Our front door stood ajar, golden light tumbling out from inside, the threshold shining like a portal. Not a soul stirred in the street behind us. My heart danced through
