Few books manage to cast a magic spell from beginning to end. Gaiman managed a feat that as a reader left me spellbound and as a writer, left me in awe. Yeah, I’m late to his fan club party but what an introduction The Ocean at the End of the Lane makes! The protagonist starts at a funeral, wanders aimlessly towards the home of his childhood friend then recounts his youth while sitting and staring into her backyard pond. The friendship fostered with one amazing little girl takes the reader on a journey that delights the heart even in its sadness. It is a modern day fairy tale. Between the pages, one will find fantasy, the power of friendship, life with its inherent darkness and Continue Reading →
It sits in me, this restless urge to fight the depths of what I do not know. To bring light to the space where darkness grows. The void, pitch black, the feared and the not. Sacred somehow in its time and space. Of me it does not care, I am merely the beast knocking at its door. The fire breathing tendrils and caught up smoke, trapped and panting with rapid eye. I am the nothing to its all. The attached and unaware. Still I dive the depths and search in frantic waves. This thing that is me, aware and free.
Good news. Finicky Eater hit the editing process. So dear reader, what does this actually mean, aside from Kasha and the gang getting a bit of a make over? Well, the writing is getting tighter, the story stronger. Bad news. Kasha and the gang are more complex than I earlier imagined and what had been a simple story has outpaced my current capacity. So back tot he drawing board. Hopefully, you will have a story worth the wait. Stay tuned.
Its sits inside me, an eternal flame, demanding quietly, gently, something more. Breathing it in, breathing it out, it hungers for all I can give. Every experience, taste and sound it wants to know. Every touch it wants to feel. A bottomless pit I cannot feed enough. It wears my skin. Knows no bounds as it reaches for you, eager to sample yet again another sweet drop of tumultuous heat, rousing from the deepest places in me to the sky. Somehow to bear witness, to prove with nothing more than breath the sanctity of us. Satiation there will never be.