Romance Author and Poet
I sacrificed mundane possibilities for the grandiose fantasy you gave me. I could no longer sit in contentment when thinking of a normal daily life: a life of avoiding alarm clocks, selling off eight to ten pieces of my day for magic beans, and coming home to wash my hands and feet of it while I aged slowly in the mirror.
No, you added sugar to each dream, making it impossibly sweet and addicting.… Read the rest >>> “Sweet (poem)”
The bachata club off of 37th was a mix of darkness and light; the beat of the music disrupting the heart’s natural rhythm, the red and green spotlights sweeping across the room sending mixed signals.
It had been the longest fourteen months that Evelynn had ever remembered. Even after all this time, the city still proved to be heartless and distant, filled to the brim with scurrying ants disguised as people, all of them climbing the hologram of the corporate ladder.… Read the rest >>> “Red Light, Green Light (short story)”
What is the worst thing someone has ever said to you? What is the worst thing you’ve said to someone else?
There is always a haunting echo of a string of words that broke our hearts or that we have used to break the hearts of others. Apologies and reconciliation are not always possible in reality, but are always possible on paper.
Previously we discussed writing imaginary conversations in a fictional format as a form of therapy.… Read the rest >>> “Writing as Therapy: Real Conversations (Writing 101)”
You were my favorite form of insomnia.
Surrounded by darkness, I kept my eyes open, wondering how many stars would fall from the sky before you were laying next to me. I imagined your lips… how they might speak and tease when no one was watching; their ratio of sugar and salt while expressing desire in primordial ways. I imagined them accompanied by the coarse curiosity of your hands, positive they could conjure magic if I could only get close enough. … Read the rest >>> “Insomnia (poem)”
She tangled her arms around his neck, the scent of his lavender laundry soap and his spiced cedar skin crowding her senses. His chest vibrated as he hummed in laughter; half amused, half triumphant.
“Quite obsessed with me. . . aren’t you?” he asked.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder, her skin grinding into his sweater as she nodded. An arm gently wrapped around her waist, warmth – his own warmth – enclosing her.… Read the rest >>> “Betrayal (flash fiction)”
Let’s play with style.
In my previous One Sentence post, I showed you how to play with punctuation in order to change the feeling of a sentence. This time, I’m going to be playing with different sentence lengths and style choices to show you how it affects the feeling of a sentence.
Here’s today’s example sentence:
He fumbled in the darkness looking for the light switch, but when he finally found it there was someone already in the room. … Read the rest >>> “1 Sentence 6 Ways: Light Switch (Writing 101)”
On my Youtube channel, I posted a writing exercise called The Forest. You can check it out here if you want to spend 15 minutes writing today. If you want my short story based on the prompt, read below.
The bag was empty.
I wasn’t sure if I was more upset about losing the most precious stone of the kingdom – the royal jewel passed down six generations of sleezy, worthless kings and queens who had done nothing for their country but burn it to the ground with poverty, lies, and godlessness – or if I was more upset about losing my sandwich.… Read the rest >>> “Writing Exercise: The Forest (Scene)”
I’ve had readers in the past ask questions in relation to impostor syndrome and the fear of failure, and I’ve always hesitated on speaking on it. There’s a good reason for it – and this is the douchey-ish thing ever – but the reason I don’t talk about them is because I don’t have either one.
Imposter syndrome is usually rooted in the fear of incompetence.… Read the rest >>> “Imposter Syndrome and the Fear of Failure (Reflection)”
His eyes wandered where they shouldn’t have.
Benji barely even noticed the poorly produced indie rock dripping out of the bar ceiling speakers anymore, and he had even forgotten how much he hated the peach and crimson lights on the ceiling that were tinting the colors of his paintings on the wall. He couldn’t even continue to fake small talk with his patrons anymore, even if they had come all over the city just to this horrid, useless bar to see his latest work.… Read the rest >>> “Don’t Look (short story)”
She couldn’t help but notice the dark ring of crimson that caressed the edges of his lips even before he drank the wine. She wondered if all demons had such a delicate curve to their bottom lip, or a similar sharp point on the edges.
They must have. It was the only way a demon could speak so smooth and sharp at the same time.
“This is the first time you’ve looked at me like that,” he commented with a victorious smile, looking at the wine in his glass.… Read the rest >>> “Demon Prince (Scene)”
