indie-author

Words raced thru his mind and his fingers ached to capture them all on paper.

Changing imagination into fiction is what I love to do.

Nowadays, the Internet decides if you're good, not the big man in the big office. No matter how important that man thinks he is, everyone else knows that he's not important anymore, and the Internet decides these things, here in the modern age.

Affection is when we can't find any flaws in the other. Maybe I could if I really wanted to, but I don't want to, I accept you as you are.

The ocean swells around us. Sometimes, we are in a bowl of water and sometimes on the top of the lip. The horizon curves.We are sitting on top of the world.In theory, anyone is on the top of their world at every moment, given that the Earth is truly round. But, it__ hard to see that in a subway under New York City and completely obvious out here.

I found him between a reality and a nightmare.

There was balance, harsh and violent like the noxious air in a swamp. But balance, nonetheless. Then somewhere in the fickle mists of creation came humanity, clawing and afraid, grasping and ambitious. Enveloped in a dangerous world, these creatures lived as scavengers; afraid of the greater things of the world. They were beset by disease, lack of claws or fangs, and the lack of habitat to call their own. Lefeyhdie had not provided any particular prey or plant for them to eat. These fleshy, naked beings were doomed to die of attrition. Curiously, these beings never stopped Doing, or Thinking. Breeding to strengthen their numbers. Sharpening rocks, shaping wood, gathering leaves and sticks for clothing and shelter. Eventually they had settlements of great number, crude but effective tools of war. Ancient forces began to pay attention to the growing incursion, plaguing them, slaying stragglers at night. But still the humans held on to the edge of the precipice, knuckles white with effort'.

Bah, he still saw the same stupidity. The image of the hanged man in the farming community of Yondern flashed through his mind. Now there was a war brewing between the Steelwielders and some foreign religion. More mindless loss over beliefs and mythology. But.. he could not deny the noble features in his companions. Although Perfidian was too blithe and Elaina too didactic, they had risked their life to do what was right. He did owe them his life. He could not deny the nobility he saw in many different people, bits and pieces of nobility that shined through under pressure. The guards who risked their lives to protect the villagers, Markham who flew at the dangerous dwarf, swords flashing; even an Eruthian merchant who stopped in his journey to share tales with complete strangers'.

The self-addressed stamped envelope. The representation of everything that was wrong with the old publishing industry.

A wounded animal yet bears teeth

There was a feeling on the air like the eve of the end of the world.

For every blissful moment you must an anguish meet.

What kind of person do you wish to be? A part of those who take action, who try the hardest, or of those who go with the flow?

You have to hold on and be patient. Pain lasts for a while, but you must leave room for happiness when you find it.

I beg your pardon. Sometimes, it's true I can be stubborn.' 'Sometimes?' she added derisively. 'Quite often,' he tempered.

The best songs are written through our anger. Even though feelings change over time, our lyrics will always remain inside the song as a way of reminding us how far and how much stronger we've become since then.

If I could do it all again, I would start three hundred years ago, and write twice as fast.

If I could split myself into five people, I would still be behind on my writing schedule. I see now why James Patterson cloned himself so many times.