Finding The Hours In The Seconds

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…

The Helium In My Head

So it will be 20 days tomorrow. When I woke up on the morning of May 6th, I couldn’t stand, my chest was tight, my head was spinning and nausea rolled over me, wave after wave. The Urgent Care center thought it might be a stroke so I spent the night in the hospital. After…

Zippo my Zippo

Cold against my thigh, I feel you in my pocket reminding me that I want to smoke. Your weight is comforting to me. Unlike your plastic imitators, you have substance, bulk, a heaviness that hints at your great worth. Ahhhh, my Zippo. My first was stamped with the Army Engineer logo. That made Zippo a life icon,…

The troll at my writing desk

He looks like me. He wears my clothes and sounds like me when he speaks, rarely as that might be. The troll at my writing desk is my distorted doppelganger. He comes into existence slowly over a period of days. Sometimes just a shadow, at first. But as my manuscript or editing become more involved,…

He was sad… conveying emotion

When he thought about her, he was sad. If “he” is a supporting character, and the reason he was “sad” about “her” is not critical to the story, then I would be fine with the description. But if there is any significance to his sadness, “her” or the circumstances around either of them, then I’ve…

The Muse…When the Honeymoon is Over

    She walked into my study, her fuzzy bunny slippers slapping her heels with each step. “You have something for me?” I looked up from my computer and smiled thinly, apologetic, before shaking my head. “Sorry. I’m working on it though.” She lingered in the doorway, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. Her robe…

Seducing the Muse

I called out to her, nearly moaning in frustration. “Please! Give me anything.” She didn’t respond. So typical of the fickle, flighty fairy. When you need inspiration, she is nowhere to be found. She shows up on her own at the most inconvenient times; when you’re stepping into the shower, closing your eyes to sleep,…

When to breathe

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…