Misguided voices in your head. Speak of hatred, anger, death. Whisper signs. Corrupt your mind. Silently lie in wait, of your last breath. Don’t give in. The voice is pretend. Your wounds are real. They throb and bleed. No longer hidden where eyes can’t see.
I need to write a blog today. I wanted to write about me. Me. Me. Me. ME. But I can’t. Because I finished a book called Fuck Love and it was so fucking amazing I […]
Lunam, book one I just sent off the manuscript for my second book. It’s totally not like my first one. It’s a fantasy set in reality. If that makes any kind of sense. It has wolves, […]
In the Big Chill Jeff Goldblum plays writer and he’s asked what his novel is about. He says, “I’m going to write about this weekend.” Glenn Close asks, “What were you going to write about before?” […]