“Like Walking Through a Dream” (on North Africa)

“It’s like walking through a dream: where everything glows a soft infusion of yellow-gold and the lightness of being is simply enough.” -excerpt from an old interview on the emotions, sensations of traveling North Africa (Image. Morocco)

Help Support Writers Right to Write!: Donations Provide K-12 Students with a Creative and Encouraging Outlet (funding the nonprofit NaNoWriMo.) Just $300 Is All it Takes!

Help Support Writers Right to Write!: Donations Provide K-12 Students with a Creative and Encouraging Outlet (funding the nonprofit NaNoWriMo.)

Opening lines from an early draft of “The Outsider” : Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

It’s that feeling like walking through a dream. When everything glows a soft infusion or orange, red and gold as if the world has absorbed the sun.

“Getting Over Yourself: Advice for Novelists — A Writer’s Path” |Absolutely phenomenal insight from Richard Risemberg

by Richard Risemberg There are many ways to become a good writer, but one of the best ways to become a great one–besides giving yourself a thorough grounding in the mechanics of language–is to get over yourself. The fact of the matter is that, even though you’re writing the book, the book is not […] via … Continue reading “Getting Over Yourself: Advice for Novelists — A Writer’s Path” |Absolutely phenomenal insight from Richard Risemberg

Rimbaud On Sacrifice and Art

“I'm now making myself as scummy as I can. Why? I want to be a poet, and I'm working at turning myself into a seer. You won't understand any of this, and I'm almost incapable of explaining it to you. The idea is to reach the unknown by the derangement of all the senses. It … Continue reading Rimbaud On Sacrifice and Art

"My sudden love for these two women occupies entirely separate philosophies that i’m only now beginning to understand. Like a rift in the multiverse that is the self. Shay represents stability. Comfort. Success. Whereas Ingrid claims the part of me which belongs to the world. An exotic manifestation of my inner desire to be free. … Continue reading

A Glimpse of Granada

(from an old rough draft of The Outsider) It’s pouring out. The cobblestones are slick and the alley is narrow and dark and the sky above, that maroon storm-black. There’s smoke and exhaust hanging in the cold air. My breath is thick and the streets shine like glass below the lampposts. My pack is soggy, … Continue reading A Glimpse of Granada