Miss Tick sniffed. “You could say this advice is priceless,” she said. “Are you listening?”
“Yes,” said Tiffany.
“Good. Now … if you trust in yourself …”
“Yes?”
“… and believe in your dreams …”
“Yes?”
“… and follow your star …” Miss Tick went on.
“Yes?”
“… you’ll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren’t so lazy. Good-bye.”
Courtesy of The Wee Free Men by Sir Terry Pratchett, 2003
It’s true, you know.
Submitting your book to beta readers can be a daunting prospect. What if they don’t like it? What if their suggestions mean you have to overhaul your entire book? What if the book is no good at all? Writing for the public is always underpinned by a certain amount of nervousness. But we can prosper from reader feedback, both positive and negative. Responding to how other readers view your work, as opposed to what you see through your own eyes, requires a willingness to adapt, but it also offers a broad range of new opportunities.
Every reader is a different person with different experiences. That means that everyone has different ideas about the same thing. The point of hiring beta readers is to gain an understanding of how your book is perceived by others. We as writers tend to get too close to our own work. It’s our baby, and we coddle it. It’s not that we overlook flaws or plot holes, but rather that we don’t even realize they’re there. Having them pointed out to us can be painful, sometimes.
But once we take a day or two to mull over the feedback and start our next draft, a whole new world of possibilities opens up. Weaknesses in the story can be turned into new strengths. Filling in plot holes unlocks new avenues for the story and new directions for character development. Glorious opportunities to make your story even better, to develop themes and plot points that never even occurred to you.
None of us are perfect writers. We’ll never be perfect writers, and we won’t see every shortcoming in our work or the chances to capitalize on half-formed ideas. We need an extra set of eyes to see what we ourselves cannot, both the good and the bad. A little encouragement and a kick in the pants to sharpen those details that don’t sit right with readers.
Every book we publish will be better than the one before. Your first book might be hot garbage. Your second book is a slight improvement. You third is a breakthrough in quality. And so forth and so on. Can’t do it without listening to constructive opinions, though. No writer is an island. If you plan on publishing your work, you’re going to need to listen to your readers. And often, they have a lot of worthwhile things to say.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
There’s a fine line between being likeable and being charismatic. A likeable character – affable, friendly, trustworthy – is someone you want to be around for a chat and a drink. A charismatic character – inspiring, motivating, commanding – is someone you want to watch from a distance . There can be overlap, of course, but when writing a charismatic character, keep in mind that they don’t have to be nice. And a likeable character can be as dull as dirt, oddly enough. It depends on the reaction you’re trying to get out of your readers.
Understanding the type of character you’re writing and the feelings you’re trying to draw out of your readers is important. Likeability and charisma are just two of the facets found in any character, but they are important ones. Consider your protagonist. Does he draw others to himself? Does he make friends (and allies) easily? Why? Do you intend for him to be just plain affable and good-natured? Or maybe he is forceful and commanding, the type of person who gets what he wants through panache and strength of personality?
Knowing which you want determines which of the two traits you’re shooting for.
Likeable characters are, well, easy to like. And we like people who are like us. Most importantly, such characters possess empathy. They have hearts, and they not only understand how their actions affect others, they care about the consequences of those actions. And we generally like that in the people we’re in close contact with on a regular basis.
Charisma is awe. We don’t necessarily want to be around them constantly. We are amazed by them, but they are best enjoyed from a distance. They’re natural showmen, they get others pumped up and ready to see something spectacular. They represent what we want to be. A charismatic character can become a symbol or ideal to aspire towards.
Is there overlap? Absolutely. Many, many characters in fiction possess both traits. But even then, there tends to be a weight toward one or the other. Whether hero or villain – yes, villains can be easy to like, too – the two traits must be separated from one another to recognize them for what they are, and ultimately, to understand the impact you want the character to have on your reader.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
I like dark stories. I like stories that are grim and violent and seemingly hopeless. I like stories where the heroes are battered, bruised, beaten, foiled, and know great loss. I like stories filled with injustice and overwhelming evil trying to smother out the good.
I don’t like the darkness for its own sake. It’s true that I enjoy battle scenes and war stories and am not averse to violence. But I don’t enjoy the blood for its own sake, either. And I’m no masochist who watches bitter stories simply to sit alone later on and feel bad about the state of the world.
I like dark stories because the lights in them shine all the brighter. The sun is easily ignored on a sunny day, but it makes itself known when it breaks through the storm clouds. Moments of compassion and hope are all the more meaningful in a story filled with sorrow and cruelty.
We know what good is when it is juxtaposed against evil. We know what heroes are when they stand in the face of the impossible. We know what hope is when it defies despair.
When a writer understands that a dark story can still be uplifting and not merely a means to rage impotently against the wrongs they have known in life, then that story can be something great. We learn that life can be cruel, but we don’t have to be.
Did you like what you just read? Are you a writer, or just looking for fun content? Do you want more, but are worried about missing new posts? Please subscribe! I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
It hasn’t gone anywhere, and it won’t anytime soon! My first book, A God Walks Up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – plus with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths of old never went away, they just moved on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
It’s the worst insult you can toss at a writer. It’s the deepest cut, the ultimate condemnation.
This reads like bad fan fiction.
Amateurish, incompetent, dubious, self-indulgent, outright moronic – these are the connotations those six words carry. Fan fiction is the respite of those who cannot write, but insist on doing so. Taking what others have already made and twisting it into their personal playground of poorly conceived plots. The refuge of the untalented.
Except it’s not true. Well, mostly.
Stories written by fans about their favorite movies or books or other franchises have garnered a collectively dismal reputation. They’re just a means for disgruntled people to “fix” stories they felt were ruined by the original creators or a way to make up romances between two characters that they happen to like. Now, these types of stories aren’t necessarily poor quality, but they tend to be made purely for the author’s own self-gratification. Consequently, quality isn’t an issue, only that the author gets what they want out of the story without regard for whether others will enjoy it (which beggars the question why it is posted online).
On the other hand, there is fan fiction that is comparable to published works, displaying not only raw talent but an understanding of plot structure, characterization, and reader engagement. Some of them are indeed so-called “fix fics” and romances, but just as many are original ideas, what-if scenarios, unofficial sequels, and other creative content. There’s the bad, the good, and the exceptional.
I wonder how many fan fiction writers could become successful mainstream authors if they so chose.
But what does this matter to you or me? What can aspiring writers who seek to publish, whether independently or through traditional publishers, find of worth in the world of fan fiction?
To put it plainly, writing fan fiction is really good practice for a writer.
I’ve written fan fiction. I wrote fan fiction before I published A God Walks Up to the Bar specifically to cut my teeth on writing for an audience. Fan fiction sites don’t require author names. You can make up any username or web appellation that you want. Anonymity can motivate shy writers, among whom I can be counted. The boldness inspired by a sobriquet can finally push you to take the plunge into getting your work out to the world. Plus, you get your first taste of criticism, good and bad, and develop the thick skin you’ll need and the ability to discern between worthwhile critiques and meaningless heckling.
If you’re a serious writer, fan fiction isn’t an exercise in self-indulgence. You want to tell a good story, and sometimes, building off a preexisting idea can be just the spark you need to flex your storytelling muscles. You can explore freely, experiment with writing styles to see what works for you and what doesn’t, and most importantly, you get to write. Practice, practice, practice. That’s how you improve as a writer.
And just as important, it’s completely free. The barrier of entry is even lower than for an indie publisher. No need for a budget to pay editors, beta readers, and cover artists. No need to maintain an author’s website. No need even for a business license! And the marketing is free, too. Fan fiction, by its nature, is about something already popular and well-known, so your writing can possibly attract more readers than your other, original works. Which is, well, not really fair, I suppose, but let’s try to stay optimistic here. More readers means more criticism means more improvement. Writing fan fiction is a fantastically low-risk method of developing your writing. It’s a great way to discover your own identity as an author without worrying about finances and other aspects of publishing.
All of which is to say, if you’re interested in getting into professional writing and feel you want to practice your skills and test the waters of public reception, fan fiction is a great starting point. And as someone who loves things to come full circle, I’ll just end by saying that someday, you may look back on these early experiments and chuckle … because now people are writing fan fiction about your work.
Did you like what you just read? Are you a writer, or just looking for fun content? Do you want more, but are worried about missing new posts? Please subscribe! I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
It hasn’t gone anywhere, and it won’t anytime soon! My first book, A God Walks Up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – plus with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths of old never went away, they just moved on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
The story of the redeemed villain is a common and provocative trope in storytelling. It’s always fascinating to witness how a thoroughly evil and vile figure can turn around and repent of their ways. We like to see these tales play out and watch what happens next. It appeals to us.
Maybe the villain is likeable enough that we don’t want to see them die, or maybe we even see a little bit of ourselves in there, and hope that their redemption means there’s hope for us, too. Whatever the reason, a villain’s redemption is a major story beat, and should be treated as such. Which, in turn, means that writers should seriously consider it before going through with it. Is it the right move for the story? Is the villain truly redeemable, that is to say, is it a logical and fitting step in their growth as a character? Are they willing to seek redemption? Most importantly, can they be redeemed in a way that the audience finds natural and believable?
It’s easy to fall in love with a good villain and not want them to die. So, some writers just … give them an out. The villain evades consequences, sobs a few tears, gives a dramatic monologue, and skips on over to the side of good. And are welcomed with open arms. But is that how it would actually play out in the context of the world you’ve written? How bad is your bad guy? Did they blow up a planet, or just steal a few pies? If it’s the former, do you really expect them to be immediately welcomed and trusted by the heroes?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about a villain-hero team-up. Sometimes, good guy and bad guy have to work together, usually against a worse bad guy, but the villain remains clearly villainous, just currently motivated by shared interest. To be redeemed, a villain must be penitent. And to be penitent, a villain must truly feel remorse. And in feeling remorse, a villain must show a change in action and motivation.
A redemption arc is character development. The character will not be the same person at the end of it. Indeed, we writers should seriously consider this fact. If the villain was likeable because of their villainy, then redeeming them may in fact hurt them as a character. They’re no longer a villain. Will that take away what made them interesting and engaging?
On the other hand, you could have the villain redeemed through the classic act of self-sacrifice. It worked for Darth Vader, didn’t it? But, and hear me out, I think this is a bit of a cheat. Imagine how different things would have been for this classic movie villain if he had survived and had to stand trial before the people whose friends and family he had slaughtered. He would have to face his daughter Leia over the destruction of Alderaan. He would deliver himself into the hands of the Rebel Alliance he had hunted down for the whole trilogy. He’d have to live with the memories of his crimes. He’d have to do more than gasp a few words to his son as he lay dying to convince us he was truly changed. He would have to make his redemption stick. An interesting thought, no?
Redemption arcs are fascinating. They offer an incredible opportunity to explore facets of a character that usually aren’t. How and why does the villain do what they do? What would make them stop doing it? Can they stop? Do they have doubts? Do they value something greater than their current goals that they would give up their desires for? These are the sorts of questions that can help you figure out if your villain is a candidate for a moral turnaround.
The most important question to ask is: Does it serve the story? We are talking about fictional characters, after all. They’re not real people, they’re figures in a narrative that we as writers have the responsibility and privilege to manage and direct. Redemption and repentance in real life is quite another thing entirely, even if they do inspire our work. Real life is fuzzy. We can’t truly know other people’s motivations. But we can know exactly what motivates the characters we write, and so we can answer this question with confidence: Can my villain stop being bad?
If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
Image Source: “THE Supervillain’s Lair” by nicknormal; Licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.
We engage in dialogue every day. We talk with people face-to-face. We type emails, send letters, conduct Zoom meetings, send messages via social media. We even talk with ourselves. Any conversation we hold is a dialogue, and wherever there are two or more people (or you and the voice in your head) there is conversation.
Since dialogue is such a vital part of real life, it is reasonable to assume that it is also important to writing. And this is true. Characters talk to each other, and the manner in which they speak and communicate is important. Everyone has their own voice, their own mannerisms, accents, affectations, slang, tone, rhythm, and personality. Most stories are going to have dialogue of some sort. They tell the reader who the characters are, how the world works, provide information about the plot, and so forth.
But unlike the real world, where two people can keep a conversation about absolutely nothing going for four hours, writers need to be choosier about what their characters say. Every piece of dialogue carries weight. And it can serve several purposes that can improve and flesh out your story.
So, what does dialogue do for a story? What point does it have? Well, I respectfully submit three here for your consideration.
Characterization
We know what people are like through the way they speak. The things they talk about, how they talk about them, and what they don’t talk about all tell us who they are. People reveal their personalities and values through their words. Actions may speak louder than words, but words still count for something.
Is a character brooding and moody? Witty and optimistic? Intelligent and thoughtful? Brash and shortsighted? The narrative can describe a character as such, but their dialogue should carry through on that description. Different people talk differently. Just consider all the people you know. Do they all talk the same? Do they all respond identically to any given situation or topic? How do their background and experiences influence their words?
Furthermore, characters change over the course of a story. Consequently, their dialogue changes. Perhaps a rude character becomes kinder, and his words are sprinkled with more empathy and compassion. Someone may become obsessed, and her dialogue slowly becomes fixated on a single focus.
Or a character surprises. The stoic deadpan warrior cracks a joke at a key moment, demonstrating he’s not as humorless as he appears. The comic relief offers heartfelt insight that inspires others to action.
Worldbuilding
“You’ve never heard of the Millennium Falcon?” “Should I have?” “It made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs.” – Star Wars: Episode IV
“The Dauntless is the power in these waters, true enough, but there’s no ship as can match the Interceptor for speed.” “I’ve heard of one. Supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable. The Black Pearl.” “There’s no real ship as can match the Interceptor.” Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
What is the Kessel Run, anyway? If you’ve only seen the movie, you’ll never know. But it’s a challenge for space pilots to navigate, apparently. And there’s the subtle implication that the speaker is a no-name making empty boasts.
The Black Pearl apparently is a fairy tale among sailors, setting up the supernatural overtones of the Pirates of the Caribbean film franchise. Also, the British Navy has some really nice ships and isn’t to be taken lightly in this setting.
Do people explain everything when they talk to each other? Do they launch into a five-minute expositional speech whenever they mention something the reader or viewer doesn’t know about? No, they generally don’t, unless it’s in an appropriate context. People in real life make offhand references to stuff all the time with the assumption that their conversation partner understands. Sometimes they do, sometimes not. But that kind of dialogue in a fictional world makes the setting feel more real. There are things that characters take for granted, for instance, and there are legends and folklore that have seeped into the culture.
Explanations aren’t always necessary. Characters talking about this or that thing that’s never followed up on is more like a real conversation than prefacing every explanatory statement with, “As you know…”
We may not know, but the characters do. And as long as it isn’t vital for us to understand, it makes for a fun bit of worldbuilding.
Story Progression
Amazingly enough, characters tend to take action when someone tells them something. Shocking, isn’t it? The king commanding his loyal knight, the messenger arriving with bad news, the lovers making plans to escape to a new life, the villain announcing his diabolical scheme to his archnemesis … Dialogue moves the story along.
Character motivations shift and change as people learn more about each other. Alliances are made and broken. Riddles are solved and treasure maps deciphered. The plan to take down the evil empire is concocted. Plot revelations are, well, revealed.
A story can’t move along without communication. Dialogue is a bit like a meandering river. Each interaction is a journey downstream from one point to another. It can take a while, and there are plenty of sharp turns, and the destination can be radically different from the start.
Sometimes, all a story needs to get going is a quick and innocuous chat. Things have a tendency to snowball from there.
And these are just three ways in which dialogue is vital to telling a good story. There’s plenty more out there. Feel free to share any that come to mind in the comments. After all, what is the comments section, if not another way to have a conversation?
If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
I’ve talked about tricksters before, and nine months later, I realize I have more to say.
Tricksters are fascinating to read about and to write about. They’re the weirdos who exist on the fringes of polite society. They’re the ones who can get away with what other people can’t. They’re stick their tongues out at the world and make the rules work for them, rather than working according to the rules.
Tricksters are fun. They’re fun because, deep down, don’t we all enjoy seeing someone willing to say what we’re all thinking and doing what we wish we could? Tricksters are escapist characters. They pay back the jerks and the bullies, outwit the corrupt authority figures, and flout senseless and silly rules. We all enjoy our Robin Hoods and B’rer Rabbits.
Writing tricksters is fun, too. Writing the character of Hermes for my books has let me see the world from a different point of view. I suppose writing any character gives you such insights, but seeing the world through a trickster’s eyes …
They’re a surprisingly philosophical bunch. As characters whose primary role is to push boundaries and alter the status quo, they are naturally prone to questioning the point of things. Why are things the way they are? Why should (or shouldn’t) they change? Tricksters are the ones who can call out others for their actions and make the rest of the cast pause and think. And that makes for interesting writing. The archetype can fill all sorts of niches, whether the villainous anarchist, the secret mentor, the voice of reason, or the snarky smart aleck who gets all the best lines.
And then, of course, there’s the trickster as protagonist. Tricksters can carry a story all by themselves. By their very nature, they’re proactive. They get things done. The can save the day (or ruin it – protagonist doesn’t mean hero). Since the archetype is almost always transgressive in some way, he or she gets to give society a kick in the pants, usually by acting so outrageously or cunningly that nobody knows what to expect next.
Speaking of cunning, writing tricksters has also taught me a bit about plotting out, well, plots. I sometimes feel like we live in an age of fiction where schemes and trickery must be excessively complex. Writers like to create grand conspiracies, when a trickster is just as likely to tap you on one shoulder while standing on the opposite side. Committing a trickster like Hermes to the page has shown me that deception can be much simpler. Tricking people doesn’t really seem to be that hard. Often, it’s just a matter of reading people and playing up to expectations. Or remembering that most people just want today to be the same as yesterday and aren’t expecting to be hoodwinked. Then again, written characters also behave according to how the author has plotted them to behave, so maybe I’m just blowing smoke.
So, tricksters upend the social order. They slip into different roles with ease. They’re many things to many people. What they aren’t is moral, upstanding role models.
But …
What if a trickster tries to be moral? Is such a thing possible? Trickery is lying, and lying is immoral. Can you reconcile the trickster archetype with the hero archetype? Transgressing social values and upholding them? Can the two be melded? A liar with a moral compass? Can a trickster follow right and reject wrong? Can anything truly good come from trickery?
Very interesting philosophical musings, indeed. I’m still messing about with such notions in my writing. My version of Hermes is developing as I go, revealing new facets of his personality as my works progress. Tricksters aren’t simple characters, after all.
If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
So, in my last post I went on a bit of a rant about how I dislike how much quip humor is overused in today’s media. So, maybe you’re wondering what kind of comedic writing I do like. Well, lucky you! That’s what I’m here to talk about today.
In all seriousness, comedy is a great way to develop and humanize characters. We use humor in all situations, including dangerous ones. It relieves stress, it helps us relate to each other, and it can lighten a grim situation. Most everyone has a sense of humor. And you know what? Nobody’s is exactly the same. So what happens when two people pit their humor against each other? Well, sometimes a black eye, but in most situations you get the normal, casual banter that marks so many conversations in real life. And as in real life, writing banter can reveal a lot about what people are really like.
Banter is defined by Dictionary.com as “an exchange of light, playful, teasing remarks; good-natured raillery.” While I doubt anyone uses the word “raillery” in casual conversation anymore, this definition gets the point across: Banter is a two-way (or more) street. It is dialogue, and it is reliant on character interaction. Where two characters interact, you get development and characterization. You also get exposition explained in a palatable way. You can get plot progression, foreshadowing, romance, conflict, and all sorts of other things. Why? Because it is dialogue. Because it is character interaction. Because, unlike quipping, banter relies on sharing the spotlight with someone else.
Good-natured ribbing is a form of camaraderie the world over. Inside jokes and bad puns and the playful critique thereof illustrate the history of a relationship more succinctly and beautifully than a full paragraph detailing the backstory. Verbal sparring is fun to read or watch and can be laden with subtext that delivers multiple messages in a single conversation. Just check out movies and books with great dialogue. Well-written banter makes characters feel like real people.
And quips … well, people do quip in real life, but it’s a lonely game to play. It’s a one-trick pony. What happens when people get tired of one-liners? Banter is more flexible. People throw different types of funny at each other. To quip is to play golf: You hit the ball and off it goes. One and done. Banter is tennis. You hit the ball back and forth, leaping and twisting around to catch it and keep up the rhythm.
I promise my blog won’t turn into a campaign against types of writing I don’t like. I don’t despise quipping. But I do prefer variety and versatility in writing. Banter simply offers more options and has more applicability. Not everyone talks in one-liners. But everyone enjoys a spot of teasing and ribbing. Want to flesh out your cast? Add some banter.
If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
My first book, A God Walks up to the Bar, is available on Amazon.com. Witness the modern day adventures of the Greek god Hermes in a world much like our own – and with demigods, vampires, nymphs, ogres, and magic. The myths never went away, they just learned to move on with the times. It’s a tough job, being a god!
I must confess to a strange reading habit, one that might shock and horrify you. Do not judge me too harshly, for I shall explain myself.
When I start a fiction book, I like to skip to read the last couple of pages first.
“What?” I hear you cry out. “What is this blasphemy? Why ruin the story for yourself?” Calm yourself, please. Let me clear things up.
It’s true that I’m not sensitive to spoilers. I really don’t mind when plot twists are brought up in casual conversation. But this habit is more than just wanting to know how things end. Really, without context, knowledge of a story’s ending doesn’t have a terribly great impact on me as a reader. I have no grasp of the import of the scenes and dialogue. What I’m really interested in is catching a glimpse of the finished jigsaw puzzle, then going back to the beginning to see how the pieces fit together.
Rather than starting a book with no idea of how things end up, I know exactly how it ends. And so, the fun of the read shifts from the “what?” to the “why?” Why is this the ending? And how will my initial impression of it change as I get more pieces of the bigger picture?
I suppose I’m interested in perceiving the author’s mind. How do they assemble the various elements of the narrative into its final shape at story’s end? How are these characters and events inserted into the story? In short, how did we end up here?
Pieces click into place as I read on, and the ending’s significance becomes clearer. Sometimes, I feel like a detective solving a case in reverse. I already know whodunnit, but the howdunnit isn’t so obvious.
And I do it because I’m quirky and it’s kind of a fun exercise to try out. I neither recommend it nor warn against it. Reading style is a matter of personal preference. It’s up to you.
And there you have it. The true confessions of a skipper.
If you just so happen to be enjoying my blog, feel free to subscribe. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Jake W. Powell 