“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
“If you don’t challenge yourself, you won’t succeed.” – a million different people, probably.
Guys, Is Now Really The Right Time To Have This Conversation? “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, as many times as I have to. I love you.” A soft sigh passed through the onlooking crowd, a brush of wind in the open air. A few people whispered conspiratorially. Someone sneezed. The woman
Roses are red, Violets are blue, Writing is my Valentine, Sorry Sara, it’s true. That’s it’s. That’s the whole post. No matter how you choose to celebrate (or not), happy Valentine’s Day!
On those days that the inspiration is running low, what do we do? Do we shrug and say, “Okay, maybe tomorrow”? Do we run down the street looking for whoever stole it from is? Do we go to the store and order some more? Do we search for it on Amazon Prime? NO! (Except maybe
Icy butterflies fluttered back and forth inside my ribcage, refusing to let me forget just how excited I was. It was a moment I’d been looking forward to for so long. Now that it was here, my hands and feet tingled with electricity, a silly grin sticking to my face like glue. No matter how
I used to love a shoe, the way it would take me through all the puddles of despair, allowing me to keep on going without getting drenched or succumbing to doubt, and carry me so high I felt as if I flew, to foreign countries over oceans impossibly blue, making sure my steps always stayed
If he wasn’t also one of my favorite storytellers of all time, Neil Gaiman could make a living churning out inspirational quotes. I’ve yet to read one that I didn’t love. “Short stories are tiny windows into other worlds and other minds and dreams. They are journeys you can make to the far side of
Nicholas heard her call again. Standing here, at night, with only the moon and stars on his side, he had to resist the urge to answer right away. “Nick,” she sighed. “It’s time to go. I’ve been waiting.” His hands came together slowly. He ran a finger over an old scar on his palm. Different
As I continue to wade through the fun parts of my WIP (and while my previously finished novel remains on submission), I thought it would be fun to share a little snippet of what I’m currently working on.