Rush your story, lose the plot.   There comes a time with every book that I write where I grow tired of my own story and how long it is taking to get to the meat of it, the real action, or the end. With each uptick on the word count at the bottom of my computer screen, I am agonizingly aware that I am nowhere near finished. There is so much more that is needed to round out the story well. The crazed side of my brain wants to rush to the finish line, regardless of the necessar

The sword was neatly tucked away, strewn with autumn leaves and unread ancient tomes. It had been lost, now only a useless trinket without a name. No one remembered its tale. No one remembered its glory. No one remembered the blade at all.   Its home stood beneath an ancient witchwood tree, its keeper long dead. His bones collected dust within a shadowed corner, the hollowed sockets of his skull bereft of coal gray eyes, and yet these old bones watched and waited. After so ma

I don’t look the part now, but in my youth, I was a competitive swimmer. The thin body is long gone; technique is faded into the haze....

Val couldn’t deny that she was a bit apprehensive about having a CT scan done but that was only because it was a new experience for her....