Imagine a quantum physics textbook with a plot-line woven through it. Or a mystery novel with highlights from a quantum physics textbook thrown in. Either way, the resulting book is Robert Kroese’s novel, Schrödinger’s Gat.
This may be my first attempt at writing what could be called fan-fiction. I doubt I’ll do more (it’s just not my thing), but here ya go: The Doctor’s Visit I was standing in my backyard when the sound… Continue Reading
During my experiences picking up and being a hitchhiker, I’ve come to realize the strangers getting into the car all have one thing in common: out of gratitude, they feel the need to repay the driver. And usually the only… Continue Reading
Today I am reviewing the book Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman, written by Michael Tinker Pearce and Linda Pearce. I would tell the authors two things, 1: please hire a copyeditor, and 2: please just tell me a freakin’ story already!
My mind is somewhere else today. So far, after two hours of “writing,” I’ve managed 154 words on a short story. And I’m pretty sure 81 of them are going to be removed when I revise it.
In college, I learned the two questions to ask to immediately improve your writing. I was taking a class on “Russian literature and film in the twentieth century.” On one of my first papers, the professor had circled almost every… Continue Reading
“So what’s going on?” you might be wondering quietly to yourself. (Or asking me loudly, like Denise.) Well, a few years ago, I wrote a YA science fiction novel, and after a number of drafts and revisions, I have decided… Continue Reading
This Mother’s Day brought something I never thought I’d see: Eminem’s video “Headlights.” I never thought I’d see it because, although it is yet another song to/about Debbie Mathers, his mother, the song is an apology.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to adopt this building as the kick in the pants I need to get to work. I’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about creating. Musing, dwelling, pondering…all that fun stuff.
Let’s face it: growing up, there was nothing worse than when the rubber band inside a G.I. Joe broke. Nothing.