I’ve been asked the question several different ways, by a host of different people, but I’ve answered it nearly the same way every single time. Why do you write? That’s it, plain and simple. I’ve always written, or at least my conscious mind accepts this without pushback from my subconscious. It’s what I’ve always done, … Continue reading why i write
“Only you can prevent wildfires.” ~Smokey the Bear
A fire is a conflagration of circumstances. It is a casual match in a dry field, a bundle of sticks, a blowtorch, a spark, smoke, and ashes. It is all and none at the same time, because a fire is within and of itself. It is wind, and breadth, and air. It contracts and expands depending on the air available to it. And the drier the circumstances the better for the fire to flourish. A fire is brilliant to watch, until it can no longer be controlled.
I watch fires all day. No, I’m not a firefighter. I’m a normal person who simply notices the world around him. And there are way too many uncontained and uncontested fires around that could have been taken care of when they were small, before they got completely out of control and those nearby had to run for safety. Of course I’m not talking about the same thing Smokey the Bear has always been concerned with, but rather the harsh words people wield against each other like torches of flame that burn before disintegrating. Continue reading “Scorched Earth”
Silent letters have always perplexed me. As a huge proponent of the English language, I can’t help but consider them my friends, but it’s more like in a “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” sort of way. Why name her “Sarah” when you can name her “Sara”? Why is it a “gnat” instead … Continue reading Hey, Zeus!
These words are not mine Even though they pass my lips Like sparkling lemon water Making me thirst for more The undulating rhythms Of living language thrive They constantly vibrate But I study them from afar These turns of phrase This quickening of terms Shaking me to my core They say such sweet things But … Continue reading Words
Words strung together like beads Sliding in unison on a thin wire Rusty with woebegone decay Hanging like shards of glass From a window shattered and torn This incandescent shadow Hiding in the light of day Speaking without consequence A muttering of well-worn phrases Meant to intimidate by repetition These bullies of stolid syntax Impassive … Continue reading Dead Words
I’m 59,961 words into the writing of my latest novel, and I’m just as excited over it now as I was when I began. There’s just something about watching the story unfold that’s even better than reading a well-constructed book by one of my favorite authors. I think it’s because even though I’m writing this … Continue reading 59,961 Words In