I have a confession. I played pretend well beyond what would've been considered appropriate. And I was never alone. My brother, whose memory bank held the lines of every movie ever created, was and would always be my number one playmate. We spent hours in our backyard wilderness--or the quarter acre of wooded bliss--crafting and... Continue Reading →

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 →

“Guess what?” Morgan said, her hand entering the room before she did. Rebecca’s scream of joy made my stomach turn. They gathered around her like crows over a shiny bauble, cradling her hand and squealing like young women do over diamonds in a gold setting. I hoped I was smiling. Was I? I put the... Continue Reading →

The weathervane stands proudly against the gray, its metal blades looking cold to the touch. Spindly trees without their leafy caps frame the weathervane, shaped like an arrow, the end bursting forth like a flower in bloom. The wind whispers over the blades and they spin around its axis, fast enough to blur, then slowing,... Continue Reading →