I’ve been living in my current apartment for almost ten months, but only recently did I learn that the monstrous church kitty-corner to my front stoop is abandoned. I know what you’re thinking, and I agree: I, too, had no idea I was this interesting. I want to tell people about this [read me!]

Word Counts: Yours, Theirs, and Mine

This past weekend I was at a bar with a few folks from work and the topic of writing and fantasy novels came up. This, to me, is always a perilous moment. Compared to a lot of writers, I’m not altogether that enthusiastic with talking about my writing projects with strangers (you know, aside [read me!]

On Rejection, Spring Cleaning, and Lana Del Rey

Jackson is always saying that I’m weird for the way I revel in rejection and criticism, and I think he’s probably on to something. Last night I was out with some coworkers for a birthday thing (happy birthday thing, Liam!) at State Park (which is a gleefully tacky bar in Kendall that [read me!]


In the grand staircase of steps that lead to publication and–I can only imagine–absurd wealth, I’ve always heard that querying is the hardest. There are blogs about querying. There are forums and, I’m sure, in-person support groups where people sip Gatorade out of plastic [read me!]

The Most Humane Way to Murder a Mouse

A few years ago, Katie and I went to the Topsfield Fair with our friend Nick (an event that my mother would call, “a slice of life,” a description she reserves for things like bowling leagues and other congregations of people that are rather–how do I put this without sounding [read me!]

God Don’t Like Ugly

“What?” I say. I take my headphones off. “Looks like barbed wire,” he says to me. I don’t know his name. I don’t know anyone’s name on the SL5 bus to Downtown Crossing. Especially not on a Tuesday morning. He’s pointing at my ring. “Oh,” I [read me!]

Metaphori-weekly! Mud Money Days

“I was a terrible child,” Jackson says to me. We’re on a beach–Singing Beach–which is a short walk from a train station called, romantically, Manchester by the Sea. “Very bossy. I used to boss everyone around. My sister was my little minion, until she figured it [read me!]


My life has been a lot of circles lately. This–as in this act of typing up a post–is the most recent circle. The most recent return. Today Jackson and I are hiding from the rain and writing. At least that’s what our headline for the day was. “JACKSON AND RYAN RETURN TO [read me!]

Metaphori-Weekly! – People Are Like Pencils

People Are Like Pencils  People are like pencils; honed and whole at first, with a core of potential words hidden beneath a sheath of laminate, a hard-gloss finish in any and every color. People are like pencils; sharpened to a lethal point in a moment of whirring tumult, a point that might prick [read me!]

Community Service

The walls of the school enclose a large, overgrown courtyard choked with ivies and brambles. A glossy emerald carpet of pachysandra washes over the stone tiles on one end, like a receding tide, and a few students are pulling at it with rakes and sheers. “We’re not supposed to go past [read me!]
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