Day 30: Mayfly Graves

It took them hours to reach it—a flat, dark lake with coarse water, sheltered by the broken sides of what had once been a quarry. James didn’t say it, but Eric knew he could have covered three times their distance in half the time if he'd gone alone.

Writer Confessions 3

Talking writer problems to a non-writer is a bit like chatting up a flat-earther: you assume you're on the same page until you aren't. Every writer writes differently, of course. But on the off-chance you relate, here are the deep, gritty confessions (and precautions) of a habitual fiction-writer.