Meet Nicholas: or, Hello There! | Crafting My Author Biography

Novelist. Reader. Archaeologist.

After high school I hit the road. A spontaneous bus ride to Mexico City led me into the hazy mountains, the deep emerald forests of Chiapas where I discovered the beautiful and heartbreaking world of the Maya (yes, they still exist) and found something deeply rooted, down in my heart of hearts: A need to be part of something greater, to commit myself to people less fortunate.

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Opening lines: A Story About Identity, Revolution, and What it Means to Be a Modern Human. A Work in Progress #LiteraryFiction

Excerpt from The Outsider: A Memoir?
“The sky out my window is that fiery red which makes the heart swell with life and there it is again: that sensational expanding within my chest, rising to my throat, gripping and stinging my eyes.”

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The Outsider

The sky out my window is that fiery red which makes the heart swell with life and there it is again: that sensational expanding within my chest, rising to my throat, gripping and stinging my eyes. Oh, no. Not again. I bury face into the scarf. Traces of fig leaf and sandalwood bring her rushing…

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Am I Fooling Myself?

Am I fooling myself? Despite many attempts to complete my novel the writing continues to be obscured by vague details and scenes fall apart before closing. I understand how scenes work, and spend hours a day taking notes on published authors –what makes their work flow and read so beautifully?– but I can’t seem to…

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One: I Could Kill Myself | Two: I Could Go To Africa –scene from The Outsider, A Novel.

*unedited from rough draft (The Outsider: A Novel) I woke up one morning in a state of complete despair and found myself debating the absurdity of carrying on like this when I had options. They were clear as day and night and manifest out of who-knows-where: One, I could kill myself. Two, I could go…

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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.

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A Triangle Under a Spotlight Sun

“I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. Feel the sun beating over my brow, speckled and damp and her brow wet like honey. The blood rushing and wet like honey. The blood rushing. The beating heart in Kansas City. The honeyed skin, the beating hearts, the beating suns. Wet like honey. A triangle…

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