The GOOD news is that the reason this blog has been so inactive is because I spend all my free time working on TALES FROM THE LAST GREAT LAKE.

I just have the grand finale to write and then the first draft is FINISHED.

Just a reminder that this blog isn’t dead; the author is just very busy and trying to get this book wrapped up fast as I can. You’ll be hearing about it long before the ink dries, don’t worry.



As long as I can remember I have wanted the answers to everything. Into my preteen years I needed to know things like “Who is God?”, “Who am I?”, “Why am I here?”, “Why is all of this happening to me?”, and of course “What is my purpose?”

When I thought I had the answers, I was content. Content to let myself sit back and assume everything I had been raised to believe was true. Content to not change my worldview. When the answers were taken for me, I had to open my eyes.

Now I don’t have the answers, only a sense of wondering and aimlessness plaguing at me. But maybe…that’s not such a bad thing?

Maybe we will never know who we really are in this life…and that’s okay.

Maybe we’ll never have a definitive answer of who God is, what the universe is made of, and why we’re here…and it’s all okay.

It’s not about having all the answers. It’s about experiencing everything this plane of existence has to offer before we’re sent back home.

I’ve lived my whole life never feeling like I truly belonged, like I never had a place I could call home, and at this point I’m learning to accept the fact that I might feel this way until the day I die. I won’t be home until I leave my body and join the stars. But until then, I have shit to do.


Ruger stood outside the church building the following Thursday morning, a day that had been forecast for a cloudless sky and a gentle breeze from Canada, paving the way for a perfect day on the lake for boaters and fishers alike.  Instead the air smelled of rotting lemons and tasted like a curse soured by time.  And instead of a blue roof adorning the auditorium, clouds the color of cavity ridden teeth sagged down and cast the humidity of a room without windows.  The marquee downtown began to flicker out the beginning of the end of its days.  And instead of a sweet wind rustling the leaves, the air hung as still as a corpse, and the only sound was that of the cicadas chanting in every field around town, surrounding civilization with the wild cry.  A sickly yellow haze passed over the land.  Sweat poured from places people forgot they could even sweat, soaking them in their own stench until no one offered an embrace or arm on the shoulder, or even a handshake, but they kept to themselves to drown deeper into the steam clutching at their throats, until the night may offer a small bit of comfort.  It was not turning out to be a golden summer.

–  TALES FROM THE LAST GREAT LAKE. Work in progress. Coming soon.

Why I Write What I Write

You probably noticed that this blog has not been active recently. Lots of new stuff has been thrown onto me lately. New car. New job. New home. New friends.

So, between moving into a different place, working full time, and adjusting to life all on my own, it’s been tough to make myself stick to my writing and not put it off too much.

When I finally had a day off today and enough time to write, I found it difficult to enter back in the swing of things with so much else on my mind. I could be worrying about budget, my car running low on gas, keeping up with social connections, picking up prescriptions, or a bunch of other things. It’s so hard to focus sometimes.

But I also found that it’s not enough just to want to write a good story. Not enough to want to finish this project just because I started it.

In order to keep at it, I have to remember the why. Why am I writing this book? Why does it mean so much to me? Why have I put so much of my time and energy into a story that’s still far from done?

And when I go back to answering that question, I find the Muse sitting down next to me and draining the lead from my fingers. I guess for me the satisfaction of finishing a project or the possible success of a project can’t motivate me.

And most of all, if I can’t honestly answer why I’m writing what I’m writing, maybe I should not be writing it at all.

For me that “Why” answer has varied from “Dammit I had a bad week and I can indulge in a self-insert fanfic all I fucking please” to “I really need to write this in order to process my past.” As long as there is a why in the first place.


One little thing I really love – and I don’t know why, I just do, and I always have – are buildings that are currently being used for a purpose they were not designed for.

Not far from my house there is an insurance company housed in a former gas station. And an old stone house that is currently a dentist’s office. I don’t know why but seeing things like that appeals to some level of artist in me. Maybe it’s just the aesthetic appeal which I’m a…major slut for. If you ever see a building like that I’d love to send a picture of it!

So naturally, in my book, I have two settings like this and perhaps in the second draft I’ll add a third. One is a library that used to be a hotel. The other is a pagan shop that used to be a gas station. Probably my favorite settings I’ve used in the book so far.

Will make a new post introducing one of my book’s main characters soon. Stay tuned!