A 8-post collection

Last lines of the novel...

Our minds work in these crazy, nonsensical ways to try and help us heal, and we just have to step back and let it do it’s thing. Let it run. Let our hands run all over the paper, get all coated in the blue of wet ink... »


And that's where things really changed. Oh my goodness, I remember thinking as I wrote my first short story. THIS is me. It was as if everything until that point had been some stepping stone or another to get there. »

Sugar pears, letters, and a sense of self

And it feels like, since finding myself between the pillows of words and the sheets of pages I've found that missing sauce that most—it always seemed—were born with. »

A Step in the Right Direction

It's an extremely personal, lyrical piece. So, I guess that makes it poetry? I don't know. I didn't think I wrote poetry, but maybe I do. I have no idea what constitutes professional poetry though so perhaps I should not proclaim that on the Internet... »

The heartbreak of writing

When the day’s been rough, my hair’s been pulled, my skull’s decided to start pounding and my brain’s turned to mush the thing to do is to stop. Stop writing and do something, anything, but... »

Should I stay or should I go?

She should go home. Let them erase her memory. It would be so much simpler to go back to sitting in cafés with Julia, turning a delicate, blind eye inward and away from the world before her. »

The Making of a Villain

His mother was an especially sweet woman, but she was also living proof that sweetness is not the be-all and end-all when it comes to proper child rearing. One day, she went to the best herbalists in the land and asked if they could please provide her with some potions that would rosy up JP's... »

Sit in the chair and write

My concentration was like a fruit fly's until 7:45PM when I returned to my chair after a quick 2 minute walk and said, "Come hell or high water you are writing something today. You will not leave until you do." »