MORE 'WRITING' POSTS
To me, this is one of the best parts of writing and reading stories—getting a chance to visit some wonderful places on earth, even (maybe especially?) if it is from the comfort of my own snuggly bed.
Grief is weird. It’s hard. It’s a process.
When my therapist told me I was diagnosed as on the autism spectrum, I sobbed with joy and relief. There was something. Not wrong, but something that could explain why I was the way I was. I wasn’t just making it up.
In expanding my perspective to learn as much new information as I could, to listen to as many voices as I could, I became more aware than ever of how much I didn't know.
There is a place for quiet, always. And there is space for quiet ones like me—who feel so very much—to say what they need to say.
I always say that there’s a fine line between the stories authors choose to tell, and the stories that choose us.
There are people out there–often whole communities–just waiting to embrace and celebrate you for who you are.
Once we let go of the concept that characters can only be inherently good or inherently bad, we can start creating complex book characters who are both and neither.
I asked my mom a question I was given for a blog interview: “What the hardest obstacle you’ve had to overcome?” My mom looked at me for a moment, then said, “Ah, how about the fact you couldn’t read until fourth grade!”
Children of the Black Glass began some years ago on a family road trip, when we found an obsidian deposit near a dirt road on the wild side of a jagged mountain range.
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