When I was eighteen, I wrote a short-story based on a nightmare. I fled a large man with a sword in and out of doorways, through tunnels, up ladders onto scaffolds (and jumping down again), in an endless maze. The fiction has a distinct beginning and an ending. The story evolved to include a cell,… Continue reading Write to Live: Green Torches
Blogging at its truest: I "process-wrote" at Starbucks for over three hours. I'm accepting this. I have a novel pitch for readers to respond to but first I need to do some reflection -- something 'normal' preceding a BIG lump of weird. Inspiration is a powerful reason to live. I want to be inspired and… Continue reading IHOP ‘Max Tomato’, ‘Hyperbolic Time-Chambers’, and my Dani…
We are still at the damn mall. I am going to stay at the mall until I can get the hell out of it — do you understand me? Nonfiction reflection is my native genre, my homeland in the world of writing. I started my musings in LiveJournal as a place to collect my teenage… Continue reading Pentagon City Mall: Craziness Dawns!
I wondered when I would write this. I am writing to say I am writing again, though I was afraid to say so in so many words because it means I cannot retreat any more. Growing-up, I day-dreamed about being an author but I never sat down with a notebook and started sketching most of… Continue reading The Reluctant Fictionalist (& The Friend on the Pier)