Most of us authors are pretty introverted, quiet types. We prefer to communicate through written word, and will rarely say anything to your face (though we might put you in a book and kill you if you piss us off). In fact, the very thought of interacting with our audience (or any audience, for that … Continue reading The Difficulties (and Joys) of Socially Interacting as an Author
Ever since 22 Scars was published, it's been getting reviews on Goodreads, Amazon, and various other websites. Some of these (most, really) were reviews I sought—a free copy in exchange for a fair review—although a few were unsolicited. And the reviews have been mixed. Of the professional, editorial reviews I got, Readers' Favorite said: "Thank you, … Continue reading The Balance of Reviews
I listen to music, a lot. As a former music major and composer, music has been a large part of my life since I was a child. And even though I don't do much composing anymore, it still forms the background soundtrack to my life day after day. Growing up, of course, there were certain … Continue reading Soundtracks to Writing (and Reading)
Now that 22 Scars is alive and well, making its way through the readerverse and garnering reviews (however slowly), I thought it might be about time to start refocusing some attention on my alter-ego, Satis, and my ongoing fantasy work, The Redemption of Erâth. If you aren't aware, before I started working intently on 22 Scars (though after the idea … Continue reading A Return to Fantasy, and Free Books
A girl came into my store the other day with her mother. They needed their phone fixing, or something. Can't remember exactly. What I do remember was her arm. Short sleeves, there was only one deep scar, but I saw the others. All across the arm, left to right. I saw, and I knew. She … Continue reading The Other People
Originally posted on The Bipolar Writer on March 23, 2018.
I dream a lot. In fact, I dream almost every time I sleep.
I also sleep a lot.
Sleeping used to be the way for me to escape the awfulness of being alive, back during the darkest days of my depression. As my illness mutated and changed and I found medications to keep me balanced, the sleep followed me. I sleep at night, without difficulty. I sleep when I’m not at work. I sleep during the day, often for hours at a time. I take naps, snooze, drift off … you get the picture.
And when I sleep, the dreams come. They aren’t bad dreams; nor are they particularly good. In fact, most of my dreams involve mundane, everyday things, like brushing my teeth or driving to work. I can even remember some of them, long after the initial grogginess of waking has left me.
I am also—sometimes—aware that I’m…
View original post 529 more words