Category: Writing

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Been reading Esmerelda Santiago’s When I Was Puerto Rican and Saul Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals simultaneously over the past couple of weeks, and thoroughly enjoying them both. I was concerned that Santiago’s book would turn out to be another semi-autobiographical disappointment along the lines of Edwidge Danticat’s Breath, Eyes, Memory, with a Lifetime TV plot

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Today’s lesson: How to be productive while getting absolutely nothing you intended to do done! Exhibit A: this web site! I completely redesigned the blog & loudpoet.com so they now share one cohesive look. Weird thing is…I don’t love it. I like it, and I’m definitely going to keep it awhile ’cause it was a

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

1. The Machiavellian Chronicles continue over coffee with my old boss this afternoon [Starbucks. She paid. I still feel guilty!] to discuss the current situation and the interesting direction it took earlier today. She’s the only one I actually trust and things could get very interesting as early as next week so I’m trying to

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

As a kid, I was a big fan of GI Joe. I vaguely remember in the 70s having a couple of the big 12″ dolls and the jeep. I think at least one of them even had “real” facial hair. In the 80s, I really got into them when the 3-3/4″ action figures came out

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Wow! Thanks for all of the feedback. Didn’t expect this much of a response, especially over the weekend. Keep it coming. Non-poetry books: The only one so far that I’ve already read is Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea, though that was a long time ago. I went through my Hemingway phase somewhere in the

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Chapter Two: A Change in Plans

Village Stethlan, Ches 1st (The Claw of the Sunsets), 1372 DR (The Year of Wild Magic) The two stone towers guarding the bridge that crossed the Hazur River and led into the Village Stethlan were just visible on the horizon a half mile away to the south. The quintet had put about the same distance

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Sedaris on Writing

Onion: Does being a full-time writer limit your experiences and give you less to write about? David Sedaris: Yes. It was never a goal of mine to be a full-time writer. I know other people who would never feel that they were a writer as long as they had another job, but I never felt

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Chapter One: Brief Introductions (cont’d)

An hour south of Tashluta, the Hazur river had begun to narrow somewhat to no more than 30 yards at its widest point. Indo Skulldark sat at the rear of the small fishing boat warily eyeing the ragged banks that rose steeply on either side making them easy prey for bandit archers or griffons looking

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Chapter One: Brief Introductions (cont’d)

Belgeon Urthadar absently rubbed at the scar on his forearm as Shann Tharden outlined the impending mission to the Village Stethlan, an outpost farming village on the Hazur River, near the northern edge of the Hazur Mountains that lay southwest of Tashluta. The village’s prosperous brewery, famous throughout the region for its potent Stethlan Stout,

Avatar: Me, in front of my bookshelves, wearing a black t-shirt that says, "runner" on it.

Chapter One: Brief Introductions (cont’d)

The smell of charred wood and flesh had reached his nostrils a full mile before he’d reached its source – each step closer making it impossible to not assume the worst. Corin knew the tangled, unmarked paths of the Black Jungles like he knew his own name – intimately and without effort, moving swiftly towards

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