Who do you trust if your own memories betray you? If everything you think you know has come from someone else’s mind, how do you know who to believe?
And who to kill.
I get annoyed with myself sometimes.
Do you know the most aggravating thing about living on a tropical island?
Living on a tropical island.
All of your failed drafts and wasted attempts are probably the best thing that ever happened to you.
I don’t want to write sometimes.
I don’t want to write a lot of times if I’m honest. I love the idea of writing, but actually sitting down in a chair and focusing on words is another matter. It’s not that I’m stuck and can’t write. I’m just lazy and don’t want to.
I like information, okay?
How do things work? How do people think? What’s the best way to do a thing?
A letter found in the archives of the Realm Leapers. It’s assumed to be a follow-up to a previous letter written about the unfortunate stereotypes villains are subject to.
To whom it may concern,
Thank you kindly for your willingness to speak up on the wrongs done to villains everywhere. All the stuff against wearing black, hiring incompetent minions, resorting to brooding as a pastime, and indiscriminate killing holds as true today as it does then.
Because gifs and Doctor Who is amazing.
Josan clutched the doorframe, doubling over with a ragged cough. Smoke pricked his eyes with a hundred tiny daggers. He gagged, pressing his face into the crook of his arm.
Orange flickers laced the opposite side of the great hall, wreathing ornate tapestries in smoke. Josan’s guard gripped his shoulder from behind. As if Seris could defend against this siege.
I love music. I listen to it as I write. I find songs for characters. I listen to it on the way to work. I find a song I love and listen to it twenty times in the next three days.
I’m a walking contradiction.
A paradox in a pair of shoes.
in a plodding mortal frame. Continue reading