I howled, kicked, and cried while Hanson sang “MMMBop.” The bedside table, now toppled over on the floor, was the only thing between me and the doctor. Between panicked breaths, I looked to my hands; their shape was changing. They widened at the knuckles, my fingers elongated, my nails grew sharp as talons. And red—my skin was now blood red. Everywhere.

Mac and Sadie Evers, an interracial couple inspired by Betty and Barney but not based on them, tracked me down in my home office and told me their story.

It was late. Her maroon kitten heels pounded against the sidewalk, her stride tested the limits of her pencil skirt. There was no time to dawdle. She had to get to the oddities shop before it closed. She needed another tarot reading.

Chasing nostalgia is pure folly; hanging on to the past and a history that has expired is just time wasted.

While others are front-and-center (we need you), there need to be folks making calls, researching, creating, building, connecting, and…

Real, live people from other realms come to me. The first time it happened, I was a kid—seventh grade, I think?

We saw what the world offered; we weren't interested then, and I can tell you, baby girl—we aren't interested now.

Writer Dear, writing practice is all about the messy mind, the naked thoughts that surface come 3 a.m...

In a secret cobwebbed part of her, she knew what he wanted from her was youth, innocence...

Young Howie writes a story even he doesn't understand...

Life changed, my worldview shifted, and a very different picture took shape as bigger questions surfaced.

So, how does a writer write? I don’t know if there’s a way to do it with any level of sanity no matter how you broach it. I can share what worked and what didn't work.

I want my childhood back. I want to feel safe. To disappear inside a book or TV show and not worry over the state of the country or the...

...That is not what I do. I am not a soft sunset, kissing the mountain peaks. I am not a guiding star high atop the clouds, lighting the...

I don't even really understand anything I've done until I've done it. What's more I can't see its value until I write about it.

I felt like I’d duped myself; sold my lake cottage to live in a camper for an undetermined amount of time.

After a year of not drinking and being okay with it, I gave myself what I'd been looking for: an excuse.

Sacred Contracts (or karmic relationships between souls) are fixed before birth. Souls enter into agreements to aid one another’s growth.

Sorrow and grief are simply misplaced love with no where to go, and I'm kicking myself for not showing love more when John was here.

The bottle had not kept her company like she'd told herself it had, and there were plenty of times she'd convinced herself it did just that.