Donald Trump is worse than any horror story I've written.

Oh. I get it now. God had Nader beat my ass and my mom leave my dad just so Jodi could learn how to chop onions and use a propane grill. Great. Awesome.

As if I'd had time to drug it in the two milliseconds she'd let me out of her sight.

Now, Mr. Antonio. I understand that there are people who are close to you who want me dead.___o, mija. They don__ want you dead.___hen explain this._ I handed him the picture.He chuckled again.__o, they don__ want you dead. That would be too easy. They want revenge.__old sweat broke out all over me, but I kept my face calm. I looked at him straight in the eye.__ell, then they are going to be quite disappointed, aren__ they?_ I flashed my teeth at him.__enorita, you might want to warn Senor Smith, you see, my nephew he doesn__ like to share, and if he sees another man after you, he__l get very, eh, aggressive._ The silver fox looked at me and winked.__h, he won__ have to worry._ I said as I was walking out the door. __ doubt he will be alive long enough to know Agent Smith.__hen I slammed the door.

The new contract between writers and readers is one I'm prepared to sign up to. I've met some fascinating people at events and online. Down with the isolation of writers I say! And long live Twitter.

When you succumb to cynicism, darkness, pessimism and sarcasm you are amplifying imbalance and negativity.