There was a time when all I wanted out of writing was to get the madness in my mind out. There are too many thoughts in there. A lot of them are not pleasant. So, I write and it somehow drains the bad ones out a little bit. Now, I write for lots of reasons, including money. But that brain drain is still important.
Someone who cares a lot about me questioned the logic of writing “dark” stories the other day. I love this person and respect their opinion. The argument was that, since I dabble in depression anyway, writing dark, bleak, sad, and sometimes depressing stories must be a bad idea. Continue reading “The Beautiful Darkness”
It is important to understand that different people have different brains. Genius, I know. But this point was driven home to me recently. I pay a lot of attention to what is going on in my head and the heads of those around me. I am the first to spot a hawk or a lizard. I can sense a motorcycle before I can hear it. But I am largely oblivious to many things.
To wit, my buddy Josh lives down the hall from us. I watched his dog over the weekend. My wife went over once and mentioned all the cute pictures on the walls, the giant fish tanks in the kitchen, and the fact that his kitchen tile is our bathroom tile. I had never noticed any of these things.
Continue reading “Looking”
Susan stepped through the doorway and into the abrasive sunlight. She had not been outside of her apartment in weeks. Her skin rebelled…burned. She could feel her pupils shrink, and they were already pretty pinned to begin with. She needed cigarettes. The cartons she had purchased lay in a pile by the door, empty, mocking her. She could hear them. She blinked and crossed the street. Continue reading “Blackout”
I have been approached about reading at a large, literary hippie-fest in San Francisco (and I mean that in the best sense). I said yes. With trepidation. It is a huge event. And it is an honor that they thought of me. I have a story that would be perfect. There is, however, one giant-ass issue. I hate to read.
Let me clarify a little. I hate to read out loud. More specifically, I hate to read things I have written out loud. Hate it. I usually refuse. That’s why I write for heaven’s sake – so people don’t have to listen to my stupid voice.
Continue reading “Speaking of…”