Tag: fiction

  • More Than a Story

    When I was a kid growing up, like any other kid, I had dreams about what I wanted to be when I grew up. A writer wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t even on the radar. Not even in the same universe. Yet here I am, telling stories. Like most kids, my list was the…

  • Holy Smokes

    Kids have a natural talent for doing risky things. Sometimes those things are brilliant.Sometimes they’re creative.Sometimes they’re hilarious. …and sometimes they are just plain stupid. Me? I had a special knack for doing things that somehow managed to be all four at the same time. Growing up, one of my more “unique” skills involved fire.…

  • Big Willy

    Memory has a way of stretching summers, of making small yards feel like stadiums and ordinary bats feel like legend. Football is over, and spring baseball is here. Reliving last year’s fall classic through highlights is in the air. Talk of the big bats has cracked open the can of nostalgia, reminding me of one…

  • We Don’t Travel Alone

    Funny thing, that tradition of naming vessels… and now pieces of tech, pets, toys, nicknames for each other — even drinks. This thought seed was planted some time ago while taking my son to Starbucks. It’s crawled its way into my forward consciousness a few times since, despite me gently pushing it back. But when…

  • Internal Mayhem. External Excellence.

    I’ve been told — by a handful of my closest souls — that they’ve often wondered how my brain is wired. How it works. “It’s not normal,” they say. I’ve wondered the same thing. I’ve always known I’m different, though. Wired differently. So here it is — my attempt to explain what I suspect is…

  • A Conversation with That Guy in the Mirror

    There are some days — not often — when I need expert advice. Or at least someone intelligent enough to argue with me without filing a complaint. It doesn’t happen much. And I don’t usually tell anyone when it does.The last time I mentioned it out loud, I was one concerned look away from an…

  • Eight Days and Counting: The Monkeys Found the Wi-Fi Password

    Is there such a thing as over-writing? We’ve all heard the term overeating. Some of us have lived it. No point in lying about it. Just accept it and move on.  There’s over-drinking. Over-exercising. Overworking. Over-seasoning (no one asked for that much paprika, sir). Over-texting — because three question marks in a row is not…

  • That Confident, Wet Bean

    I don’t “drink coffee.” I experience origin stories. You see, most people think coffee is just… a beverage. A tool. A caffeine delivery system. A brown emergency. I find that reductive. Coffee is an agricultural narrative. These are not “beans.” They are seeds—hand-harvested at altitude, kissed by volcanic soil, slow-dried under ethically ambiguous sunshine. When…

  • Arbitration in Bright, Unreasonable Colors

    When fistfuls of M&Ms are called upon to deal the world’s grievances,it is usually because the day has already tried us. Because the Wi-Fi faltered.Because the coffee betrayed us.Because someone replied all.Because the dog found the one square foot of carpet that mattered most. Because the password requires a symbol we cannot emotionally provide.Because the…

  • Using Words Like Paper Airplanes

    Some people write books to tell a story.Others write to document a journey.Still others create fantastical worlds — giving us somewhere to go when we’ve had enough of our own. Me? I think something in me kept whispering, Don’t forget this. The laughter.The small-town summers.The kitchen-table conversations.The quiet lessons nobody applauded — but that shaped…

  • Halfway Is Dangerous

    Every so often, I convince myself I am entering a new era. A healthier era.A more disciplined era.An era where I make wise choices and drink reasonable amounts of water. This was one of those eras. It began with walking. There’s something appealing about the idea of walking. Not the intense, power-walking-with-armbands kind. Just the…

  • So What Now?

    I’ve always been a reflective one. Mostly introverted… which is, in my somewhat isolated opinion, weird for a hyperactive, over-caffeinated individual such as me. You’d think someone constantly vibrating at espresso-level frequency wouldn’t spend so much time quietly staring into space. But I do. A lot. At home, on quiet weekend mornings with coffee in…

  • Operational Necessity

    As a kid, I had a huge appetite. Historically speaking, most teenage boys eat more than their apparent capacity would suggest. Me? That has always been true—at pretty much every age. Even now. Though I will admit, these days it makes me less aerodynamic and decidedly more sluggish. I’ve been asked how I can eat…

  • The Coffee Made Me Do It

    I need to come clean. I didn’t mean to overindulge. Honest. No one ever wakes up and says,“Today feels like a ten–Reese’s kind of day.” And yet… here we are. It started with coffee. Because coffee is the gateway. Coffee whispers things like,“You deserve a little treat.”“It’s basically breakfast.”“Chocolate pairs beautifully with me.” And who…

  • To the Beat of the Hallways

    Working at a school—regardless of your position—comes with its own brand of daily adventure.  Teachers plan lessons. Counselors balance emotions. Secretaries manage the pulse of the front office. Custodians keep everything moving behind the scenes.  And no matter how carefully you prepare, there is a predictable unpredictability that comes with working in education. Schedules look…