One of the most terrifying things an author can experience happened to me yesterday. I opened up the master file (which I had saved in multiple locations) of my memoir (Candy Apple Butterscotch) to correct a minor formatting issue that had been bothering me since the initial release back in 2018. I was plodding along tweaking the formatting in each chapter when I suddenly discovered that six chapters were MISSING from the document! I thought maybe it was a fluke and that the

Oh, Lavender Raindrops. This story is the finished version of my very first attempt at putting together a novel. It has been edited for clarity, but the storyline is still a mess. Those who have read it have enjoyed it. It's not to say that it's a bad attempt at a first novel, but comparing it to my more recent endeavors illustrates quite a contrast. I started this project in high school right after September 11th, 2001. 2001 was ages before I was diagnosed with PTSD or even

Being stuck in the house over the past month and a half has been challenging to say the least. I’ve struggled with it in many different respects, and also used the extra time to my advantage. I’ve been extremely introspective in most recent weeks and after a conversation with my sister decided to revisit my very first novel. I started this project in high school right after September 11th, 2001. 2001 was ages before I was diagnosed with PTSD or even really recognized how mala

The sun slowly began to peek over the horizon as Paul shuffled quietly down the street. He had been making the same journey for nearly sixty years: three short city blocks from his well kept brownstone to his small jewelry shop. Paul sighed as he dug into the left pocket of his well worn khaki slacks, searching blindly for his keys. After several moments he produced a large silver keychain. “There you are, old friend.” He mumbled to his reflection, which shone back brightly i

Isaac arrived at the school promptly at 7 am before many of the faculty had a chance to claim the prime parking spots. He swung the car into the first open spot he saw and killed the ignition. Before exiting the car, he stared through the windshield at the large brick building. The school appeared to be from the turn of the century. It was gothic in style and quite foreboding. This meeting was the first time he’d made it to the school campus itself. Whenever he received a new

All families have their strengths and weaknesses. For the Fosters, it was no different. Isaac, the Foster family’s patriarch, made his lot in life by enlisting in the military immediately after college. It was the quickest and most accessible way out of the tiny Midwestern town where he grew up. He served admirably through his young adulthood, bouncing around from place to place, overseas and domestically until fate brought him to a small Alabama town where he met Adrianne, t

One of the most terrifying things an author can experience happened to me yesterday. I opened up the master file (which I had saved in multiple locations) of my memoir (Candy Apple Butterscotch) to correct a minor formatting issue that had been bothering me since the initial release back in 2018. I was plodding along tweaking the formatting in each chapter when I suddenly discovered that six chapters were MISSING from the document! I thought maybe it was a fluke and that the

The sun slowly began to peek over the horizon as Paul shuffled quietly down the street. He had been making the same journey for nearly sixty years: three short city blocks from his well kept brownstone to his small jewelry shop. Paul sighed as he dug into the left pocket of his well worn khaki slacks, searching blindly for his keys. After several moments he produced a large silver keychain. “There you are, old friend.” He mumbled to his reflection, which shone back brightly i

“I don’t like guns, and besides, what’s more scary? Some guy with a gun, or some guy running at you like a maniac with a sword?” Noah countered in response. I thought about it for a moment before replying, “Well, I guess you’re right. If some guy was running at me with a sword, I guess I would run away, but what if whoever is after you has a gun? Running at him with a sword isn’t going to stop a bullet, and why would you want to get right up next to someone to hurt him? Would

“I don’t like guns, and besides, what’s more scary? Some guy with a gun, or some guy running at you like a maniac with a sword?” Noah countered in response. I thought about it for a moment before replying, “Well, I guess you’re right. If some guy was running at me with a sword, I guess I would run away, but what if whoever is after you has a gun? Running at him with a sword isn’t going to stop a bullet, and why would you want to get right up next to someone to hurt him? Would