Ghosts of the Places We Live Update #18

I’m still working on my novel. MNFringe slowed me down. Also, I’ve been a little on the stuck side heading into the 1999 section. What I need is a day or two where I can focus on the novel to the exclusion of all else. Maybe I can work this out sometime in September.

I think maybe I’m too tired from Fringe to think clearly right now.
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Ghosts Of the Places We Live

Posted in Uncategorized on August 12, 2014 – 3:51 pm | Comments (0)

“Invisible People:” 5 Performances As Part of the Minnesota Fringe Festival and Speculations Reading at DreamHaven Books

This is everyone’s reminder that the Minnesota Fringe Festival production I am taking part in, “Invisible People,” opens this Thursday, July 31st with 5 performances at the Minneapolis Theatre Garage -711 West Franklin Ave, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55405. Tickets are $12 and you need a Fringe Festival button, available at the venue for $4

Showtimes are:
Thursday, 7/31 @ 5:30 p.m.
Saturday, 8/2 @ 10:00 p.m.
Wednesday, 8/6 @ 8:30 p.m.
Saturday, 8/9 @ 7:00 p.m.
Sunday, 8/10 @ 1:00 p.m.

Description:
Invisibility tops the superpower list . . . but what is lost when we’re not seen? From a writer fearing his own erasure to a young man attempting to hide his transgender self in a monastery, it’s two true stories by two Minnesota-based writers in one can’t-see show.

Their stories—which are quite different, on the surface—are intertwined in one unified performance.

Michael Merriam fears that his loss of sight will make him invisible to those around him. “It all started with the fliers,” he says, describing the people passing out fliers advertising shows, political candidates, or grass-roots causes that begin to scurry past him when they see his cane.

Christy Marie Kent tries to become invisible by entering a monastery, thinking that hiding from women will cure her from wanting to become a woman. When this fails, she gives in and transitions to womanhood. “My physical transformation begins with this, hormone pills created from the estrogen-rich urine of pregnant mares. On the bright side, the sweet candy coating almost disguises the taste of horse pee.”

Explore with them the depths of the human spirit. Discover the ability to make the best possible lives for themselves—for ourselves.

Isn’t this what we all want?

http://www.fringefestival.org/2014/show/?id=2786

But wait, there’s more! I am also taking part in The Speculations Reading Series this Saturday, August 2nd at DramHaven Books, 2301 38th St E, Minneapolis. Each Speculations Reading runs from 6:30-7:45p.m., including a post-reading reception with free soda pop and cookies.

I will be reading from my newest novel Dark Waters, and probably something in support of my short store collection Whispers in Space. We will have books for sale, things to give away, and a drawing for a door prize!

Posted in Uncategorized on July 30, 2014 – 8:18 pm | Comments (0)

“Invisible People”

This is everyone’s reminder that the Minnesota Fringe Festival production I am taking part in opens this Thursday, July 31st with 5 performances at the Minneapolis Theatre Garage -711 West Franklin Ave, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55405. Tickets are $12 and you need a Fringe Festival button, available at the venue for $4

Showtimes are:
Thursday, 7/31 @ 5:30 p.m.
Saturday, 8/2 @ 10:00 p.m.
Wednesday, 8/6 @ 8:30 p.m.
Saturday, 8/9 @ 7:00 p.m.
Sunday, 8/10 @ 1:00 p.m.

Invisibility tops the superpower list . . . but what is lost when we’re not seen? From a writer fearing his own erasure to a young man attempting to hide his transgender self in a monastery, it’s two true stories by two Minnesota-based writers in one can’t-see show.

Their stories—which are quite different, on the surface—are intertwined in one unified performance.

Michael Merriam fears that his loss of sight will make him invisible to those around him. “It all started with the fliers,” he says, describing the people passing out fliers advertising shows, political candidates, or grass-roots causes that begin to scurry past him when they see his cane.

Christy Marie Kent tries to become invisible by entering a monastery, thinking that hiding from women will cure her from wanting to become a woman. When this fails, she gives in and transitions to womanhood. “My physical transformation begins with this, hormone pills created from the estrogen-rich urine of pregnant mares. On the bright side, the sweet candy coating almost disguises the taste of horse pee.”

Explore with them the depths of the human spirit. Discover the ability to make the best possible lives for themselves—for ourselves.

Isn’t this what we all want?

http://www.fringefestival.org/2014/show/?id=2786

Posted in Uncategorized on July 28, 2014 – 8:06 pm | Comments (0)

Driving Blind: Car Stories

I’ve been putting together my part of the “Invisible People” fringe show and thinking about my blindness and how it impacts my life.

Sometimes people will ask me if miss driving. My knee-jerk response is “Yes,” but what I really miss is the independence, which is what they are really asking me about anyway. But the driving? Well…

It occurs to me that I could write a one-man storytelling show about Michael and his complicated and frankly unsafe relationship with cars as a younger man. Seriously.

Don’t believe me? I’ll post little quick snippets on Facebook and Twitter, just teasers, with the hashtag #carstories over the next couple of days.

Posted in Uncategorized on July 11, 2014 – 7:05 pm | Comments (0)

Post 4th Street Fantasy Convention Report

So 4th Street Fantasy Con. That’s a thing that happened this past weekend.

I had a really good convention, in general. I didn’t make it to all the panels (panel fatigue hit late on Saturday), but the ones I attended were special. I am sad that I missed the “Advice From New Writers” panel on Sunday morning. I had been on that same panel some years ago and was keen to hear what today’s new writers had to say, but we were out late Saturday, and sleep was thing that we needed, desperately needed. I think my two favorite panels where “The Influence of Anxiety” and “The Revision Process” (which was our “But That’s A Different Panel” winner).

As a panelist, I wasn’t at my best this year. I was too slow witted and had trouble sometimes following the various lines of high-level, rapid fire conversation. I attribute part of this to being low level sick all weekend (allergies and migraines) and my meds slowing me down, but I admit that sometimes 4th Street Panels and audience members leave me in the dust with their academic gymnastics and brilliant, deep questions and thoughts. I felt like I handled myself better during the after-panel and dinner discussions, where I had more time to marshal my thoughts and give them coherent form.

I was talking about this with a couple of other writers on Saturday night and we came to the conclusion that there needs to be a panel that is something like “Imposter Syndrome: 4th Street Edition” next year. 4th Street always makes me feel like I’m playing way out of my league and weight-class, but at the same time I always feel like I leave the convention with my game and abilities lifted and improved just a little.

That aside, it was a wonderful convention and gave me a change to reconnect with folks I only see at this convention. One of my favorite things about 4th Street is the ongoing conversation and the chance to have that conversation with friends old and new very June. I look forward to being part of the 4th Street Fantasy Conversation for many years to come.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 24, 2014 – 4:31 pm | Comments (0)

DreamHaven Reading

I will be reading at DreamHaven Books and Comics -2301 E 38th St, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55406 – on August 2nd from 6:30 to 7:45.

I will be at DreamHaven Books and Comics to read from my new novel, “Dark Waters” and from my short story collection “Whispers in Space.” I will most likely bring a tray of brownies and cookies to share around.

Posted in Uncategorized on June 16, 2014 – 8:12 pm | Comments (0)

4th Street Fantasy Convention

4th Street Fantasy Convention is fast approaching. As in it is happening on June 20th through June 22nd. Given that, it seems a good time to stop and post my schedule.

Saturday, June 21, 2014
9:30 AM – Originality and Micro-genre
Readers who are versed in a sub-genre and its conventions can find what outsiders see as minor variations on a theme to be significant and original differences. How does this relate to the frequently expressed desire among critics for originality and ambition, and how is the perception of originality informed by the breadth/focus of readers’ experiences?

Seanan McGuire, Elizabeth Bear (m), Caroline Stevermer, Michael Merriam, Christopher K Davis

Saturday, June 21, 2014
2:00 PM – History as Trade Secret
Fantasy has a long tradition of borrowing (and outright stealing) the best bits from history and remixing them to taste. Sometimes historicity is just an aesthetic gloss, but in others it serves as the foundation for rich, detailed, and complex works. What makes us admire an author bending history to their ends, and which excesses snap our suspension of disbelief?

Tim Cooper (m), Alec Austin, Ann Chatham, Dana Baird, Michael Merriam

Posted in Uncategorized on June 11, 2014 – 6:23 am | Comments (0)

Ghosts of the Places We Live Update #17

Another not very good week for working on the novel. I need to figure out some kind of writing schedule, but my personal life seems to be in such a constant state of changing gears that I can’t find stability in the chaos to work. I’m too tired after work. Weekends are always packed. My two days off seem to evaporate in housework and daily minutia.

It’s starting to drive me a little nuts. I get a little nuts when I’m not writing. Maybe more than a little nuts.

Went to the Pratt Community Ice Cream Social last Friday. I did not climb the Witch’s Tower water tower, instead hanging out in the park while the rest of my crew climbed up to the observation deck. I found myself having interesting conversation with charming strangers who would come and share the picnic table I was at. Saturday we the first production meeting for the Minnesota Fringe Festival show I’m going to be in this year. We are rolling along, and I expect we shall have a read-through of our stories pretty soon.

1. 1700 words written.
2. Went back and added to a couple of scenes in the 1979 section.
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Ghosts Of the Places We Live

Posted in Uncategorized on June 3, 2014 – 6:10 am | Comments (0)

At the Intersection of Life and Fiction

Sometimes life and fiction are a little odd. In my novel Last Car to Annwn Station there is a scene where Mae is in Uptown and runs into Jill. Mae wants to walk over to Dunn Brothers Coffee, but Jill convinces her to go to Muddy Paws instead for both coffee and cheesecake. This scene, which includes them being chased by the Cwn Annwn, is the one I read to audiences.

Muddy Paws closed before the novel came out, and I wrestled with maybe moving the location, but after some discussion with first readers and other writers, left it in as a sort of “Ah!” thing for locals who remember Muddy Paws with fondness. The shop has been sat empty for years.

Well, things come full circle. Last Saturday while riding the bus to the first production meeting for the Minnesota Fringe Festival show I’m going to be in, I saw that Dunn Brothers is moving into the space Muddy Paws vacated. In honor of the new location and with a nod to the ways fiction and life intersect, I thought I’d post that except here. If you are interested, you can pick up Last Car in ebook format at Carina Press, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and in audio format at Audible.

Last Car to Annwn Excerpt

She stared out the window as they reached Hennepin Avenue. Trendy young professionals, hipsters, punkers and goths, and the ever-present teen crowd, filled the area, dressed for each other in their best plumage. Liberally laced in the crowd were what could only be categorized as normals, wandering through Uptown on their way to a particular theatre or restaurant.

This ordinary scene was shattered by the less-than-ordinary participants in the swirling chaos that was the corner of Lake and Hennepin. Mae wondered why she could see them now. Had her encounters with the streetcars changed her, pulled back whatever veil had hidden the fantastical world that seemed to exist alongside the one she had always known?

It was not as if they were everywhere, which Mae supposed made them stand out even more. A woman with the lower body of a goat stood in front of The Rainbow Building. Two manlike creatures, one short and decked out in a red cap, the other tall with hair so golden it shone, argued in front of Calhoun Square. Mae saw the bison-headed man, hunched in his heavy winter coat, waiting for the light to change so he could cross the intersection.

Mae closed her eyes. She did not want to see this world. She did not want to be a part of this extra reality, not if it meant confronting things like reanimated dead children. She feared it was too late to return to her old life.

Mae shivered as the streetcar turned up Hennepin. She climbed off the car in front of the old Walker Library building, the squat, solid structure that stood across the street from the newer underground complex.

Mae stood on the sidewalk and let the crowds of pedestrians pass around her. She was surprised by how much activity there was for a Tuesday night. Of course, she did not get out much; for all she knew this was perfectly normal.

She was not ready to face her empty apartment after the night’s events. Mae wanted something warm to drink and, if not conversation and company, then at least the presence of her fellow humans. She drew her coat tighter around her body and, checking to make sure her bag was closed and secure, decided to walk to one of the local coffee shops.

“Mae? Mae! Over here!”

Mae looked up to find Jill crossing the street toward her, bundled up in her wool coat, wearing a jaunty little knit hat, and looking entirely too put-together.

“How are you?” Jill asked, her breath filling the air with vapor, her eyes and cheeks bright from the night’s chill.

“I—um—I was just going to get some coffee.”

“Great! Do you want some company?”

Mae considered telling Jill she wanted to be alone, but changed her mind. “Sure.”

Mae felt Jill slip her arm under her elbow, locking their arms together. Jill led her the rest of the way through the intersection.

Mae pointed her finger toward Lake Street. “Dunn Brothers is just over there.”

“Yeah, and Dunn Brothers is perfectly nice. But Muddy Paws has cheesecake. Many, many types of cheesecake.”

“That’s quite the walk,” Mae pointed out. Muddy Paws was a good six blocks away.

“It will warm us up!” Jill said, dragging Mae along toward her goal.

Mae looked over her shoulder at the slowly receding Dunn Brothers sign. “We could warm up in there.”

Jill laughed. “Come on, you.”

Mae gave in and followed Jill, heading north on Hennepin Avenue, past the library, the transit station, the goth apparel and gear store, and a dozen small, quirky, independent shops and restaurants, all obstinate resistors against the large corporations swallowing the neighborhood.

“Do you ever go home?” Mae asked as they stood waiting for a light to change, their target in sight at the other end of the block.

“Sure I do,” Jill answered, starting across the street with Mae firmly in tow. “I’ve changed clothes since we left work, which, it seems, is more than can be said for some of us.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a story behind that,” Mae mumbled as they walked into the coffee shop.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and baked goods filled her nose. Her stomach actually rumbled and Mae realized that she had not eaten any dinner, and whatever had been left of her light lunch was slowly freezing on a street in front of the Arneson mansion.

Jill smiled at her. “Good. Let’s order and you can tell me all about it.”

Mae chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, considering what to order and what to tell Jill. Mae wished she had kept her big mouth shut.

Mae watched Jill order a large caramel mocha and a slice of turtle cheesecake and wondered exactly where Jill put all the food she ate. Mae ordered a medium cappuccino and a plain piece of cheesecake.

“I’ll get us a table,” Jill said. “Give me your coat.”

Mae considered pleading that she was still cold and keeping her coat on. She also considered making a run for it when Jill’s back was turned. Instead, she handed Jill her coat and suppressed a stab of panic.

Jill returned as their order came up, and the two settled at the small wooden bistro table Jill had secured. Mae realized how terribly small the table was. There was barely enough room for all their food and drink. It was tucked into a dark corner of the shop, the kind of table designed for the maximum enhancement of romantic whispers.

Mae took a sip of her cappuccino and watched Jill from over the rim of her cup. She swallowed the hot, frothy liquid and, deciding the best defense was a good offense, she opened the conversation.

“What brings you out to Uptown on a Tuesday night?” she said, looking Jill squarely in the eyes.

Jill shrugged and dug into her caramel and walnut-covered cheesecake. “I was feeling restless, so I thought I’d wander down and see if anything was going on.”

Mae nodded. Jill owned a townhouse in the LynLake area. East of Uptown, it was a haven for artists, students and people who lived on the fringe, having suffered less of the gentrification that made the core corner of Uptown looked like an outdoor shopping mall. Mae and Jill were practically neighbors.

“So? Spill!”

“I’m sorry?”

Jill’s eyes lit up. “You said there was a story.”

Mae looked down at her half-eaten cheesecake. “I think it might be more of a—”

“Third date story?” Jill supplied. “Because if that’s the case, then what say we go out to dinner tomorrow night and you can tell me all about it.”

Mae frowned. “I was going to say it was more of a ‘one year into the relationship’ kind of story, and did you just ask me out?”

“That must be some kind of story and yes, I did.” Jill scooped up another huge bite of cheesecake on her fork. She paused before popping it into her mouth. “So?”

Mae rested her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together in front of her. She settled her chin on top of her fingers and tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible. She thought Jill was interested in her, but Mae also knew she was lousy at reading signals. “I thought you liked the ‘hot, hot boys’ down at the Fine Line.”

Jill swallowed her cheesecake and gave Mae a little smirk. “I do.”

Mae sat up straight in her chair in an attempt to, as a friend from college once said, “Get the girls up where they can draw attention.” Mae was not sure if the effort was having the desired effect, but it was the best she could do short of taking off her blouse. She could not stop a slight smile from forming on her lips.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a boy. I mean, I realize I’m a little—”

“Waif-like?”

“I was going to say ‘boyish’ but that works as well. However, I am not a boy.”

Jill rolled her eyes and took a drink of her coffee. “Yes, Mae, I realize that. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like hot, hot girls as well?”

Mae’s posture relaxed and she leaned back on the table again. “Oh. Well, then…”

“Or maybe I like hot, hot lawyers.”

“I could introduce you to some, if you’d like.”

Jill reached across the small table and placed her left hand on top of Mae’s right one. “Maybe I like hot girl lawyers named Mae.”

Mae gave her a soft smile. “Jill—”

Jill released Mae’s hand and leaned back. “This is the part where you tell me you’re not interested in me as girlfriend material, and I get to feel like a damned fool, right?”

“Actually, this is the part where I tell you I’m terrible at relationships, and that right now may not be the best of times for me to start something new.”

Jill’s face broke into a wide grin. “So you are interested!”

Mae looked straight into Jill’s pale blue eyes. “Jill, I’m not going to lie to you. There is a lot of—weirdness—going on in my life right now.” Mae sighed. “There are things I’m not sure I can talk about, not without sounding like a complete loon.”

Jill crossed her arms. “Try me. I’m into weird.”

Mae looked up as the barista approached their table. “Ladies, I just wanted to let you know we’ll be closing in about ten minutes. Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Jill said.

The barista smiled and walked away.

Mae turned her attention back to her cheesecake, devouring it almost as quickly as Jill finished hers. As Mae took her last bite, the voice of Roy Orbison came over the radio playing behind the counter, where before there had been soft Celtic music. Mae turned in her chair and gave the radio a suspicious look.

“Walk you home?” Jill asked, rising from her chair. She checked to make sure the lid on her cup was secure.

Mae stood with her and pulled on her coat. They both moved toward the door, cups of hot coffee in hand. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to. I have to catch a bus at Uptown Station, so it’s on my way. Besides, you still haven’t answered my question.” Jill held the door open for Mae.

The cold air grabbed both women with its brutal embrace.

“Shit!” Jill shrieked as the stiff October winds rushed up to greet them.

“Dunn Brothers was closer to the bus station, too,” Mae said, laughing at her friend’s discomfort.

“Hush, you,” Jill said. “Aren’t you freezing?”

Mae took a drink from her coffee. “In this? This is nothing. I was thinking about breaking out the grill.”

“You’re weird. So are we on for tomorrow night?”

Mae gave her answer a moment’s thought. She had enjoyed herself tonight and in truth, she needed some normalcy in her life. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking that barbecue place in Calhoun Square.”

Mae gave Jill a faux-horrified look. “Barbecue? This early in the relationship?”

“We’ve been out together bunches of times, I’m going to hold you to mid-relationship dating rules. Beside, wasn’t it you who was just talking about grilling?”

The wind rose up and buffeted them, bending the lightweight maple trees along the avenue dangerously and knocking the lighter Mae into Jill.

As Mae steadied herself on Jill’s arm, she heard the faint strains of Roy Orbison’s voice singing “I Drove All Night” from a passing car.

She followed the vehicle with her eyes and found herself looking at four figures trailing her and Jill, about a half block behind them. Mae shivered as she watched them. There was something wrong with the way they walked. Their gait seemed stiff and forced. As she watched, the wind blew back the hood of one of the men.

He had ears, similar to those of a dog, on top of his head. The creature quickly grabbed its hood and pulled it back over its head, but not before Mae saw a long white snout.

“Jill—”

“I see them. Let’s make for the transit station. It will still be full of people, even this late, and there might be a transit cop nearby.”

Mae knew a transit cop would not be able to handle what was following them, but she did not have a better plan. “Okay,” she said softly.

The two women picked up their pace. Mae resisted the urge to look behind her, partially because she knew if she did, she might panic and break into a run, and something told her running would be disastrous. She noticed Jill reach inside her coat and withdraw a metal rod. Mae recognized it as a telescoping baton. She sincerely hoped they did not have to try to fight their way out of a confrontation, the more so because she still had not replaced her pepper spray.

“Cross!” Jill said as they reached the corner at 28th Street, grabbing Mae’s hand.

The two women dived into the crosswalk. Mae chanced a glance over her shoulder. Their pursuers had picked up the pace, closing rapidly despite their awkward gaits. They raced along the sidewalk unmindful of the other pedestrians’ indignant protests as the four crashed through in pursuit of Mae and Jill.

“They’re gaining!” Mae cried.

“The station’s right there. We can jump on the Twenty-One bus. It drops off near my place.”

They clambered onto the bus as the driver was closing the door. Trying to catch their breath and ignoring the disgruntled looks they were receiving, they fished out their bus passes and paid.

Mae kept a watch out the window. The four figures skidded to a halt at the transit station and watched the bus pull away, red eyes glowing from under their hoods.

Both women were silent for several minutes, content to let the bus rattle along as they waited for the adrenaline rush to subside and their heart rates to return to normal.

“Well,” Jill finally said, her face flushed. “That was interesting.”

Mae turned to Jill. “They were after me.”

“And exactly how do you figure that?”

“You remember that weirdness I was telling you about? They’re part of it.”

Jill raised an eyebrow as she reached for the pull cord to request the bus to stop. “I think we’re going to need to skip the dating part and go straight to the story.”

The two women climbed off the bus, looking around cautiously at their surroundings. They made a quick dash down Colfax Avenue to Jill’s townhouse. Jill unlocked the door, and both women slipped inside. Jill locked the door, threw the deadbolt and slipped the security chain into place.

Mae gave her surroundings a quick look. Jill’s home was an ordinary two-level townhome. A moderately sized living room, complete with fireplace, greeted her on entry, a smaller dining area was set off to one side, and Mae could see the barest glimpse of a kitchen shielded by the long wall across from the fireplace. The staircase in front of the door led up to the bedrooms. Jill’s taste in decorations and furniture ran toward comfortable, with oak wood dominating the furnishings. The cushions on the two chairs and the couch were a contrasting red. The entertainment center was modest and the artwork on the walls impressionist, mostly tasteful renditions of the female form.

“Look, Jill, maybe you should give me a ride home. I’m not sure how much you really want to know, or even how much you’d believe, about what’s going on. Maybe I should leave.”

“Or maybe,” Jill said, taking off her coat and favoring Mae with a slight smile, “you can have a seat. I’ll make something hot to drink, and you can fill me in on why a pack of two-legged Tindalos hounds are chasing you.”

Mae blinked in surprise. “Actually, I think they might have been two-legged Cŵn Annwn.”

Jill cocked her head. “Cŵn Annwn?”

“It’s Welsh.”

“I don’t know much about Welsh myth. I’m more of a Lovecraft kind of girl.”

Mae stood in the doorway and gave Jill a curious look. “You’re taking all this rather well.”

Jill snorted. “For your information, I think I might have peed myself a little bit back there. And I’ve spilled caramel mocha all over my shoes.”

Mae chewed on her lower lip for a moment, and then sighed. “I shouldn’t get you involved.”

“I think it might be too late for that. Besides, I don’t think either of us wants to go back out there tonight.”

Mae hugged herself. Jill was right. Mae was scared of what might be waiting in the cold Minnesota night. She was afraid to spend tonight alone in her little walk-up apartment. Coming to a decision, Mae took off her coat and kicked off her shoes.

“Okay then. If it’s all right, I’ll crash on your couch tonight.”

Jill smiled. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll make us some tea, and you can tell me all about it.”

Five minutes later, the two women were settled next to each other on the couch, steaming cups in front of them on the low coffee table.

Mae decided to start at the beginning. She put her cup down and reached into her messenger bag, withdrawing the illicitly copied file of Chrysandra Arneson. She opened it up on the table and turned to Jill.

“I saw a living dead girl tonight.”

Posted in Uncategorized on June 2, 2014 – 9:36 pm | Comments (0)

Ghosts of the Places We Live Update #16

Another week of poor writing metrics. I am hopeful things are turning around now that I’ve figured out why I had stalled. I didn’t get as much writing done as I would have liked over the holiday weekend, but sometimes that’s just the way life goes.

1. Wrote about 1700 words.
2. Untangled a plot knot.
3. Made a realization about one of my characters.
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Ghosts Of the Places We Live

Posted in Uncategorized on May 27, 2014 – 1:41 pm | Comments (0)