The first story I remember writing was in collaboration with my mom. I was sandwiched between two massive metal plates, Mom sitting in a chair to the side of my head, as my entire body was scanned for any cancerous blights on my bones. Patients must be still during the procedure in order to get... Continue Reading →

Whenever I write a love scene, I always consider that my mother might read it. What’s worse is that I consider what my mother might think of me after she does. Writing love scenes takes tact. Too graphic and you’re writing erotica, too prudish and it seems Puritanical, and if you’re not careful, your prose... Continue Reading →