Ladies and gents, my first novel. It is what it is. — Today, on my eldest sister’s birthday, another firstborn entered the cold light of day amid the Human collective of genetic wildcards. I’m talking about my first novel in a twisted, anthropomorphic way. And here it is! Why not read a chapter or two? I Love You, We Said: An autofiction Shared via Kindle. Description: After a disastrous year at work and some very bad thoughts, young writer Ben Human does…lire.amazon.fr

Great was never the point. — There was a time when writers aspired to greatness. Greatness has nothing to do with it. A time when publishing actually did its job The last great books to make it into the zeitgeist were written in the eighties. …

You really catch such elusive refrain in the most everyday of places.

Writing. Easiest thing in the world. All you have to be is still and empty. Everything else follows. And nothing else will do. What else is there, really? But you have to work hard, try harder, be dedicated. Believe. That’s it, pretty much. Refuse to be swayed. You were born…

A poehem — Storiform Grand went lookin’ for stories. Couldn’t see any as far as he went. Looked in at Tiff’ny’s, Peeked in at Harrod’s, but it wasn’t in icies and ’twasn’t in tents. Storiform thought about writin’ ’bout failure but couldn’t decide on his own or a friend’s. …

A poem —

The In-between Places: a Scrittura prompt — When I was 22, and said farewell to friends, we were no longer children and not yet men — on our way to ourselves from what we were; or lost in limbo again. When I was 18 I stood next to a girl, but really between her and the world, …

You can find great literature in the most unexpected places. Erotica A while ago I thought I’d try my hand at erotica, just once. I guess something came over me as I saw the bewitching changes in my pregnant wife’s body and thought, why not channel some of that energy into…

The unheeded lives of animals — The sunflowers stood close in ordered rows on a short undulation of roadside hill. The greater lee side was hidden from view, and the flowers’ heads turned from the sunset as if awaiting their just and certain death. It was sad and sweet to all who looked, though not all…