Out Of Stuff To Say

Some nights I sit down to write and there's nothing there. I check the top of my head, find it empty, and conclude I've run dry. Forty-seven years of material and the drawer's bare. Nothing worth anybody's time. This has been happening my whole life. What's different now is that I've stopped believing it. Here's … Continue reading Out Of Stuff To Say

The Room That Knew What I Knew

I found an old Toastmasters competition video of myself the other night. Watching old video of myself is its own small torture — you're looking at a former version, and you can see everything he doesn't know yet. It's like watching a younger sibling do the thing. But I'll say it plainly: it was a … Continue reading The Room That Knew What I Knew

Twenty-Two

I’ve sold twenty-two copies of my first novel. I’m going to sit with that number for a second, because it means two things at once. First — I wrote a book. A real book. A story I’m genuinely proud of. It has four five-star reviews on Amazon from people who aren’t just being nice. One … Continue reading Twenty-Two