Stories from a Cantankerous Imagination
I think a lot about the things that used to set my soul on fire. Hours, days, weeks spent indulging in this hobby or that activity. When I was a kid, there was nothing that made me more elated—or enraged—than the piano. I started playing when I was seven, and took to the instrument like... Continue Reading →
It's the morning after I watched an act of insurrection play out in front of me live on Twitter, and I can't stop thinking about Grant and Emilia. Full disclosure: they're not real. Not in the social security, birth certificate number sense, but as real as characters in my manuscript can be. Their stories take... Continue Reading →
2020 has been a hard, weird, stressful year. There hasn’t been a lot to look forward to, as it seems like the future has been cancelled. But one thing we can count on is that Netflix will barf out a bunch of Christmas movie nonsense and people like me will watch it. It seems as... Continue Reading →
I don't know what to say. Writing is where I go to process things I don't understand. This morning, I'm out of words. Over the weekend, I witnessed an explosion of righteous anger. I watched Black people march down the streets of major American cities, including my own here in Ohio, protesting injustice when they've... Continue Reading →
I have been stuck on my manuscript for weeks. I wish I could say this is an anomaly, but I've been here before. I'm usually quite disciplined at the beginning, writing in consecutive order and making sure my plot is moving forward. Then, in the last fifteen percent of the novel, the train starts smoking... Continue Reading →
K E Hubbard 