If you write, you know there are a few basic kinds of writers. The kind who plot everything out, and the kind who fly by the seat of their pants. For the longest time, I was the latter.
“Who was it?” I demand, trying to keep my voice cool and collected while my insides writhe uncomfortably. None of them make eye contact. They look around, focusing on a crumpled paper towel by the trashcan, or the dishes stacked by the sink, or the dog. Anywhere but at me.
I open my file, glance with trepidation at the myriad red marks and comment bubbles throughout, and promptly close it again. I just can’t. Not right now.
Felix is a fictional character from Antiquity’s Gate. He is a major player, and someone with whom, should you read the book, you will become closely acquainted. He is a fun-loving, joke-cracking, fiercely loyal Halfsie.
Hold up. What’s a Halfsie?
It was raining, that first day at the library. Sheets of water poured down the long panes of glass, obscuring my view of the swollen river just beyond the parking lot.
What are the things that you look for in a story?
“When the clocks turn back, for an instant, you are simultaneously in today and yesterday. Or today and tomorrow. I’m not entirely sure which it is. I always get confused, that’s why I steer clear of time travel all together.”
I never thought I would die in a toilet.