I rarely write poetry these days, but some experiences defy capture in any other form. Like last week, when I stumbled into a murder. Running along the river just after sunrise, swathed in the damp-earth smells of recent rain, the rhythm of my feet had lulled me into a meditative mind. A flash of black … More Poem: Rabbit. Raven. Runner
This month marks four years since I released the omnibus edition of my Syzygy novella series. Although a book’s birthday makes me smile like a nostalgic parent, this particular milestone is bittersweet, because I haven’t published anything since. What kind of indie author goes that long without a new title on the market?! One with … More The Mystery of the Medical Muse, Solved (With A New Novel)!
Where I come from, December 21 marks the winter solstice. Short, chilly days invite protracted, warm holiday meals. I always felt a twinge of guilt at gorging on holiday treats while, beyond the picture window of my family’s kitchen, birds scraped for seed in the frozen backyard. Here in the upside-Down-Under, that dynamic inverts: December … More Yeats at Yuletide: Belonging Among The Birds, Berries, and Bees
Just because I haven’t published a new book recently doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned writing. Far from it. Finding myself at a creative crossroads, I’ve explored new genres and formats in an effort to further develop my craft. My self-development paid off: for the first time ever, I had a story accepted in a literary publication! … More “Rocket Man”: my first literary journal feature
“So this is how the robot apocalypse begins,” I whispered to my Laddie under the shrill whine of the drone outside. Back pressed to the wall, I risked a peek through the curtains. The quadcopter hovered against the February sky, red lights winking like the eyes of a giant cicada. “I hope they can’t spot … More Writer-in-(non)-Residence: Living In Limbo During the COVID-19 Lockdown
You know the scene in adventure movies where the protagonist, digging feverishly where the “X” on the map has led, hits metal in the mud? That was me last weekend, only I wasn’t excavating earth, just the closet in my home office. And the telltale clunk wasn’t a spade striking a strongbox, but an heavy … More Buried Treasure: Five Reasons You Should Read Your Old Writing
Wild Type 