The climb

Although I have won nothing, I already feel accomplished. A considerable hump or hill or even mountain exists between the concept of submitting a short story to either a publication or a contest and the actual submission of┬ásaid story to a publication or contest, at least for me. Even today after I had poured through …

Life in the Desert

The desert is a lively thing, its dead,  flaky skin nothing more than a mask hiding the biostructure beneath. Ants dig vaults like Moria. Snakes, like elven snipers, lay silent just beneath the brown and sullen grass. Tarantulas range for prey, waring with the wasps and scorpions until they've had their fill and return to …

Hibernating Muse

Summer is the season of writer's block, at least my season of writer's block. Every summer I involuntarily take a break from my almost daily writing habit. I spend the days kicking my hibernating muse in the side only to see it stretch, yawn, scratch its scrabble tiled face - which frankly needs a letter …

Oh, How We Grow.

I woke up this morning somehow knowing how I could re-write a certain story I had written in college. This story, "One Flesh," had been the pride and joy of my Fiction writing class. Well, I thought it was the pride and joy of my Fiction writing class, anyway. It was the story of a …