Speculative Fiction Writer, Mental Health Advocate, and Moderate Culinary-Obsessive.
A lot of what Mort had been saying did not add up for Gil. He also didn’t think the man was lying, though he certainly seemed…
The needle arm of the hi-fi listed to the center rim of the record, eliciting a succession of soft repeating crackles. Mort…
Gil was sure in the time of the previous family — the one with enough suburban pride, free time, and expendable income (when…
On Tuesdays, Gil would throw open the double glass-paneled doors leading to the deck with a dismissive gesture, letting them…
Most of the time, I don’t know. Months will go by where I hack away at something half-heartedly, only to be asking the same question from above.
Is it for the sheer enjoyment of putting words on a page or screen? Sure, maybe. Sometimes the words come easy…