When people realize they are being listened to, they tell you things.
It is no loss to mankind when one writer decides to call it a day. When a tree falls in the forest, who cares but the monkeys?
Love isn’t a thing, after all, but an endless series of single acts.
Writing never came naturally and I still have to force my hand to do it.
Maybe I'm a serial regional writer. First here, then there, across the map.
I'm kind of a distractible guy.