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"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic-bean-buyer, If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, For we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" -"Invitation", by Shel Silverstein

My writings:

Rather than describing the plot of any given piece, I'm choosing to instead give short excerpts and describe them in terms of style and genre, mostly because it's hard to write a teaser for such short works without giving stuff away. Pieces are listed in the order that they were written, with the most recent stuff at the top of the list...


NAMELESS: A dark, vaguely-steampunk piece I wrote for a creative writing class last semester.

Tonight, the nameless man is huddled outside the door, and Rie wants to let him in. Again. When I found her, she was standing out on the front steps and offering him bits of bread she’d saved from dinner. Now, she’s grasping the hem of my shirt, twisting it between her fingers, staring at my side as though that’s where my face is.

Please, Duncan. He’s all wet.”


THE COMPANY (EXCERPT): One of my favorite scenes from the middle of my 2010 NaNovel. Dmitri really just writes himself, and his smartass-ness endears him to me all the more...

“How do you know he was dead?”

“We’d just jumped from several thousand feet in the air, and he was lying spread-eagled on the roof of a building near where we landed. I didn’t exactly stop to take a pulse, since we were in a bit of a hurry at the time, but,” he shrugged, “I don’t need a fancy medical diploma to tell when a man’s dead.”


STUCK: A very short sci-fi piece on the virtues of being able to swear well (sort of). I'm not sure where it's going, but it's interesting.

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” I say. Raul raises his eyebrows but doesn’t speak. I continue. “Our port engine is burned out.”

With a grunt, Raul heaves himself out from underneath the console and clambers to his feet, brushing dust and circuitry residue off his hands before coming to stand beside me.

“And the good news?”

“That is the good news.


INVESTIGATING TANGLES: The first chapter of a quirky, slightly humorous fantasy story with a detective/crime twist. I love the snarky narrator.

As a matter of fact, Eric and I generally have very little choice in when we work, but that’s all part of this glorious profession. Tramping through rocky scrubland with a gimpy knee and a man you can’t standHeigh-ho, the glamorous life...


ICE AND SNOW: A free-verse, semi-prose poem about a brush with the supernatural. One of my only "serious" pieces.

The snow hugs the earth

And the trees, and the ice-covered lake

And numbs the world,

Shushing everything but the creak of my boots

And the rustle of my jacket

(Quiksilver, black, $47.03 plus shipping and handling).


THE DEMON BARBER OF...MAIN STREET?: A short, silly poem. Fun urban fantasy with a darker twist.

No, Mum can’t see his canines--

They’re sharp and pointy-white.

He smiles at her without them,

But me? He shows that bite.


TECH SUPPORT: This short fantasy story, originally published in the Toasted Cheese Literary Journal, was the inspiration for my 2009 NaNovel. Odd and a bit humorous as well. Fun characters.

Under different circumstances, Albert probably would have exercised more caution; he was not a rash person by nature. Normally, he would have double-checked and cross-referenced and asked for a second opinion, just to be sure, but after three days of nothing but musty books and the company of an ill-tempered African Grey Parrot, he was desperate for a bit of excitement and some tangible results. 


TECHIES: A quirky (noticing a theme here, are we?) little sci-fi piece from my sophomore year of high school that inspired the novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo 2010. Again, fun characters.

Swearing, the actor rose from his seat with a lithe grace to confront the bot, the pencil now lying forgotten on the countertop.

"I said, ‘thank you’!"

"I’m sorry sir, I do not under—"

"Dammit, I said ‘thank you’!"

"I’m sorry sir—"

"Thank! You!"


SYMPOSIUM: A sonnet I wrote that also happens to be the most personal piece of writing I have ever done. Don't expect to figure out what it means to me; I'd much rather you figure out what it means to you.

We joked and laughed and argued through the night

And talked of strings and cats and magic lands.

We learned to race the waves beneath the light

And drank from cups that sang between our hands...


A RADISH'S LAMENT: "Silly" is the only word to describe this poem. I wrote it when I was twelve, but still find it highly amusing.

Nobody loves a radish

It's proved over again each year

People eat carrots and taters and snow peas

While I rot in the veggie drawer here...

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