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The hardest part of writing anything is first deciding what you want to say. After that, the words will write themselves. But getting started is the hardest part. 

So I just start. I ramble. Anything I say is fine with me, until I stop. Then, when I stop, I go and try to find another thing to do, and when I’m done, I come back and I try to read the things I wrote and try to clean the mess I made.

I chop it up. I cross and underline. I keep the parts I want and save the rest. And then I try to paint it. Try to bake it. Carve and sing and dance and animate it. Try to place it in a picture frame.

And there is pain, and there is tenderness. My legs get sore. My fingers creak. My muscles pinch along my back and neck. I look around and notice dusty specs. I type one more, I swing one more, I’m just about to snap.

And then it’s like the tower is complete. A ripple here, a polish there, and then I go to sleep. 

Here is some of my latest poetry.

Here are some stories and works of prose.

Here is some of my latest art.

This is chapter one.

Here are my books.

Let’s stay in touch.

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