Sociopathy and Psychopathy are nearly the same disorder, clinically speaking. The differences aren’t worth noting here except to say that it is generally accepted that Psychopathy is a genetic disorder, resulting due to parts of the brain not developing fully, while sociopathy results from an interruption in personality development by abuse or trauma, usually in…
What? How many times a day do you say that? When I started my business in the late 90s I worked from home, alone in a condo in Fairfax Virginia. And having come from the loud and hectic world of an Internet company, having been the head of education with classrooms only feet away from…
We’re getting closer every day. Splinter Self is being edited for release—developmental edits, line edits, and proofing in progress—and in the interim, the cover and first teaser book-trailer have hit the street. The momentum for this release is building slowly (“slowly” owed in large part to my long hiatus from publishing), but the excitement from…
I slept well last night. It was a hard sleep, as is evidenced by the deep, red, swollen, imprints of pillow seam across my face. Even as I drink my second cup of coffee I can still see the red stripe. I started writing Splinter Self before I’d even finished Predator’s Game. The plan had…
It was an ideal day, that day. The temperature hovered around the mid seventies throughout with a mild breeze approaching from the southwest. It had stormed the night before, so the oft rutted dirt roads approaching the then-capitol splashed as horses and carriages moved into the city for the final debate. Of those who had…
When your mind is filled with information, worry, and emotion, it’s easy to get to the end of the day and feel the time just evaporated behind you. As you get older you begin to feel the same way about weeks, months and years. I remember as if it were yesterday, the time I stood…
Like hot dusty air, it burned with each breath. It didn’t matter that the air was clean and cool…my scene had me choking, my eyes watering. When to breathe? Writing my story (or rather, my story shoving me through a tube, squeezing me out at the other end with frantic key strokes) consumes me in…
S.L. Shelton 