“What is thirteen but just another number?” She looked to him even though he didn’t look back. “Has the whole world gone crazy?” He nodded the affirmative. She sighed at him.  “You’re proving my point.” He raised an eyebrow at that one. “I’m not crazy.” “No,” she smiled that curious two-faced grin that he knew…

Has the whole world gone mad or is it just me? A man nearly hit a kid today and he called the child’s concerned father foul names when the father expressed his concern. Quite foolishly, I remembered a line from a movie Paul Bettany was in where his character of Chaucer stated that he would…

   “Are you going to finish that?” He smiled at me with eyes that glinted for a second, but never truly smiled back.  I looked to the glass and then back at him, trying to ignore the wobbly feeling in my stomach. I was an adult now. I had to be rational, not impulsive. “It’s…

Tell me that I’m not insane.  Tell me that the little man on the giant cliff doesn’t exist. Dare to tell me that dragons don’t cut the skies, the oceans aren’t filled with monsters, and the forests hide no spirits to speak of. Tell me that the wind rustles through the trees and that the…

She feasted on starlight like a goddess of legend. And she felt her memory fading even as her knowledge was limitless. Her reign, too soon, was at its end. Her own kingdom had no place for her. Why had her own gods abandoned her? Where had infinity gone so wrong?    

She sat beyond the railroad tracks while hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes traced the train cars as they buckled past her. And all the while she saw nothing but the people in those cars, waiting to quietly leave her with nothing but her name. Her name, oh for the love of it…

I sit here surrounded by so many distractions. There are so many books, movies, and songs surrounding me. How can I sit here and just write? I suppose I should just shut everything else out in the name of writing. I have to stay focused. If only it weren’t so hard in the digital age! …

Do you find yourself making time for writing fairly easily or does writing bulldoze its way through your schedule and shout, “Pick me! Pick me!” like an insistent four-year old? I feel, at times, as though writing has become a daily part of life. It’s kind. It’s patient. Occasionally it’s overpowering and forces you to…

Sometimes you must have your voice heard. Sometimes you speak. Other times you do not speak. Sometimes your voice is barely a whisper. Other times you can shout until there’s no tomorrow. But always, you are thinking. Always you must think to yourself, “this is my reality. This is not a dream.” Writers have a…

The dreams which wake me Make memories of mere mist Where falsehoods are found.