“How’re the eggs?” I asked Beta (not her real name), one of my daughters—I have four—and twin to Alpha (not their real names) who’s five minutes older. Beta has a poor opinion of scrambled eggs and preferred fried. But the way—the pace at which—she emptied the bowl, showed she liked them. “They’re good,” she confirmed. […]
The end of 2018 I did some calculating—and reflecting—on what’s been accomplished since deciding ten years ago (in July 2008) to focus full-time efforts on my writing and publishing. Since Summer 2009: 1,593,906 words of ghostwriting (9 novels — 9 memoirs — 12 nonfiction books/guides) for clients. This besides the work of publishing 73 titles […]
I like dark chocolate and sometimes have a piece in the morning with my coffee. There’s a brand of individually wrapped pieces called Dove™ that includes brief thoughts and statements inside the wrapper. With our preparation for the holiday season each year, my wife buys bags of them and–one year–I thought to begin on December […]
A moment in time as told by a grandmother to her granddaughter that highlights the heightened feelings of first love and her discovery of the true meaning of Christmas. Song on the Wind (a link to the story is also further below) was my 2016 Christmas story. On 12/8/2018 I’ll re-share my 2017 Christmas Story WHITE […]
A 2,295-word short story; a post-apocalyptic tale–young girl’s vignette–of a society devastated by politics and an event that turned part of the population into inhuman creatures. Watcher In the Window
“Life was as delicate as the paper held in her hand.” Lessons learned… from what was found in the old trunk.
Head still down, she looked at the vines that started under the dead leaves lying before her. Following the green of their winding on the trees that lined the path brought her eyes up, climbing their height as the vines did. They were life; growing infinitesimally and breathing as she looked at them. And as her head lifted she saw in the distance an opening through the trees at the crest of the hill she’d labored to climb but was only halfway there.
On Monday August 30, 1993, I got the call I do remember. Shock is too thin a word. The hardest hit to the most sensitive part of a man doesn’t come close to conveying how I felt when my brother told me my mother had shot herself. She was only 61.
Began writing mid-January 2018; just passed the 100,000-word mark. Historical fiction (my fourth story/project in the genre) for publication Spring 2019. The Rome he has been trained to serve, the Rome of Augustus and Germanicus, was gone. In its place stood Neronopolis, ruled by a megalomaniac brat.” ―James Romm, Seneca at the Court of Nero […]
I answered the phone, and after the “Hi, how’re you doing,” he had started the conversation: “I believe many of these students have already formed the way they view life. If they don’t have basic honesty as part of who they are…” It was Tom Faught, one of my clients on the phone; he’d emailed […]