In which I ramble about the effectiveness (or lack thereof) of using a notebook and pen to draft a story.
Late Bus
The bus stop was only a block and a half away, not far in normal human-approved temperatures but a real slog when the air was made of daggers cutting at your cheeks and your mocos froze like icicles inside yours nostrils. Thankfully, Jorge was early and could take his time - only thing worse than waiting for a bus was barely missing one and having to wait for the next.
How To Travel With Anxiety
There's a magic that exists When you visit a new land The journey alone is nearly enough Embarking on the quest is fulfillment Perhaps now that void will be satisfied Only No matter how far you travel The same constraints restrain It's impossible to outrun yourself It's not easy to see the world Without first …
Under the Pendulum Sun | A Review
Under the Pendulum Sun tells the story of a woman, Catherine Helstone, traveling to see her missionary brother who has been away for several years in strange, faraway place
Foreign Entry
There was a flash across the sky, a brief brilliance of white followed by something unfurling a glittering tail falling among the starscape.
Parking Lot Siren
What to do when something odd calls outside your window in the dead of night.
Top of the World | A Poem
I've always been afraid of heights
Are You A Daydream Addict?
I've always been an avid daydreamer. I can vividly recall summer afternoons standing idly in the right field of a little league game, mitt and hand on knees, waiting for a fly ball that almost never came. During those long fifteen minute spans spent standing, waiting, doing absolutely nothing, my ten-year-old mind had plenty of time to gaze up at the cloud-filled sky and contemplate the mysteries of the universe. I remember thinking about the strangeness of life, about what life as an adult might be like, about the existence of a higher power.
Other Place
This is a dry run. One of many. I know the path so well I can find in the pitch black of night. I have before. I won't last that long tonight, at least I don't think. But I don't know, I never know. Maybe this is not the dry run. Maybe this is the real thing. I can't know. I don't know my future self as well as I should. In truth I'm a little afraid of him. I have no assumptions on who he will be when I meet him in the depths of the grass.
Done With Deadlines
Time is our enemy. It is a relentless beast that can never be stalled, that never retreats, but will continually march forward at an even pace, dragging us all (the universe included) to an inevitable death. Yikes.
You Are Not The Protagonist
It has been a long time coming, but it is time to learn to disbelieve in the legend of yourself. I know this might seem strange after a lifetime of being told you are special or growing up in a world where very literally anyone could potentially become famous overnight (no matter how fleetingly), but the truth of the matter is, you are no one.
How To (Not) Set Yourself Up For Failure
And so we fade back into the familiar. Give up on that morning workout. Go back to eating carbs. Shelve that new novel idea. Scrap that cover letter. Rejection hurts and so does admitting to ourselves that we aren't as great as we thought we were. And so often, we fail to even fail.
Autumn Afternoon Heat
This warm sensation of the quick burning-out star on wind-blown skin is such a fast-acting superficial drug not quite a dream but in the long-winded scope of forever it is a momentary bliss.
The Places We’ll Never See Again
We can't always spend our lives in one place. Sure, some of us do and there's nothing wrong with that. But for many people, at some point in their lives, they will move on from certain places throughout their lives. Be it from a house, from a job, from a city, from a state or even a country. For some, it is inevitable.
The Way
A moment or two ago the way Was well-lit Safe passage When the way turned becoming Obscure Lost Or not but so Far-removed From anything That resembles a welcoming No obvious avenue back to Retraced time long gone Only forward Into exponentially expanding Differential timelines Some with such a bottomless murk Like moths The nearest …