~glances at calendar and freezes in shock~

In just over three weeks…The Girl will be eleven.

Eleven years old. In middle school. As in, not in elementary school any longer. My kidlet…She is growing up. I knew this. I know this. I did. But every now and again the reality of it whaps me in the face.


Eleven

Holy crap.

Query: The Theater in Your Mind

What makes a novel, a short story good for you?

Any fiction genre, excepting screenwriting, movies, etc. I want to know about the movies that your brain puts on when you read.

I just read something that grabbed me. Dunno why, except that it clearly conjured a sense of anger and up-to-heredness.


Person A: You OK, man?
Person B: Oh, you know. Nothing that a 2-week border drunk wouldn’t fix.