Banish me to a dark corner, chain me to a keyboard, and I will gladly be a word slave. I'd sit there all day, with only an occasional demand for a coffee break.
I'm a would-be (wanna be) author, middle aged, fairly repressed, but extremely BLESSED with an amazing wife and two brilliant boys.
For several years, I've been haunted by images of the starving, drug addicted, victimized teens of the streets. I write about them a lot.
“I don’t think this celebration is about me. It’s about us as a family. It’s never been about me.” Anybody who knows Dave Kienlen would not be surprised to hear such words come from him during his own retirement speech. Look closely at those words, for they hold […]
Two golden discs of tissue paper float to the carpeted floor of my hotel room. I’ve heard it said that our heartiest laughter is the kind that is shared with others, but I manage a genuine chuckle, despite my being alone. Gold doubloons for everybody! The golden discs […]
You can’t expect to change the world with every sentence you write. It may be too much to expect you can change even a single heart with a thing you write. But we don’t write to change things any more than we sleep to wake up in the […]
I’m reading the third book in Brandon Sanderson’s The Reckoners series. In these books, Sanderson describes a version of our world in which a mysterious orb one day appears in the sky and miraculously grants superhuman abilities to a percentage of the world’s population. Some people develop […]
You said ‘God is cruel’ the way a person who’s lived his whole life in Tahiti might say ‘Snow is cold’. You knew, but you didn’t understand.” Stephen King, Desperation Days such as this exact pressure on a writer. There is pressure to write something poignant and profound, something […]
“Blue heron,” was the first thing he said, and he pointed to a patch of sky to my left. This he had to say twice, as his first attempt was cancelled out by the ear buds I wear whenever I attend this path –– this valiant […]
In my teen years, I spent considerable time pondering the nature of knots. How is it, I wondered, that I can wrap up something like a string of Christmas lights in a perfect loop, stash it in a bin, and somehow, without the slightest manipulation of human […]
