Part of the Family was fifteen years old when the judge finalized the adoption papers. We ate at my favorite burger place after the signing ceremony. I’d already finished my double cheeseburger and started in on my extra-large side of fries when Dad turned to me and said, “You’re officially part of the family now. It’s time you truly understood.”Read More »


The_Battle_of_Towton_by_John_QuartleyThe victors trudge off the battlefield, no less aching and injured than the opposition. Blood dries brown and sticky on armor. Swords and axes imbued with the power of the righteous during the fight, now sap the remaining energy from the arms that wield them. Heads bowed and faces somber, the soldiers who can still walk make their way through the field—once green and full of life, now strewn with muddy corpses—looking for survivors. Those wearing the colors of the king receive what rudimentary medical services available. Those wearing the colors of the traitor receive the sharp end of a sword.Read More »


2016-04-18 17.53.19 (2)I surround myself with people who feel deeply but who struggle to appropriately express their emotions.

My life is filled with artists. They write and sing and paint and create things in many forms. They channel their feelings through themselves into media to be shared with others and they feel as though they have let others in.

I understand that feeling. Read More »


writers blockI’ve set a timer for 20 minutes and turned on the classical music. I’ve used the bathroom and closed all the irrelevant tabs in my browser. I’ve had a healthy breakfast, ingested the proper amount of caffeine and checked all the truly urgent things off my to-do list. It’s time to write something.

Yes, this is yet another post about how hard it is to write. It seems as though my inability to write is the only thing I am able to write about these days. I have lots to say about how I have nothing important to say.Read More »

3/31/16 QW- Jamie’s Carnival

For 20 minutes, write a(n) quiet story.
Setting: Carnival.

The stillness, which would have seemed eerie to some, felt like home to Jamie. He spent his whole life in the shadows of the ferris wheel and the carousel in daylight and had come to know their creaks and whispers. He considered them friends, although since he’d never had any real, human friends he wasn’t sure exactly what that meant.

Jamie’s mother and father had worked for this same carnival before the accident. They, too, had grown up within its circle of wagons and tents. They, being more palatable to the eyes of the “normals”, had known its boisterous side, though. They saw the carnival as a frantic, panting beast to be tamed with whips and chairs. Jamie knew the true nature of the carnival. Jamie knew that the carnival, like himself, just wanted someone to see her tattered edges and spent just a moment trying to mend them.Read More »