My Writing Comes From Ideas That Make

...one Reason I Became A Writer Was That I Figured Out That If You Call Yourself A Writer, You Can Read All You Want And People Think That You Are Working.

A Work That Intends To Be Art Must First Be Entertaining.

. . . Jess Believed, That She Thought He Was The Best. It Was Not The Kind Of Best That Counted Either At School Or At Home, But It Was A Genuine Kind Of Best. He Kept The Knowledge Of It Buried Inside Himself Like A Pirate Treasure. He Was Rich, Very Rich, But No One Could Know About It For Now Except His Fellow Outlaw, Julia Edmunds.

I Am Called To Listen To The Sound Of My Own Heart -- To Write The Story Within Myself That Demands To Be Told At That Particular Point In My Life. And If I Do This Faithfully, Clothing That Idea In The Flesh Of Human Experience And Setting It In A True Place, The Sound From My Heart Will Resound In The Reader's Heart.

Punch After Punch After Punch. February Is A Mean Bully. Nothing Could Be Worse - Except August.