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Writing

Murder She Wrote (Without The Hot Flashes and Grey Pubes)

Sometimes, regardless of how bright and sunny the day, regardless of the obvious physical prowess and protective capabilities of your companion, regardless of your own skeptical nature, sometimes a place will give you a case of the full-on squinkies. This was the case for me a few weeks back, when I was trekking out through a cemetery to a second hidden cemetery with my cop friend whom (until I have permission to call him by name on the interwebs) I will …

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Kicking Your Own Ass (Then Sending Me A Picture)

Step One: Beg, Borrow, Steal You: “I’ve always wanted to write a book.” Me: “And you haven’t because ….?” If your answer to me sounds anything like I have no time or Everyone needs me or I’m so busy beheading these damn squirrels, I will put you in a headlock. BUT I’ll do it with love–probably I’ll even give you a little cheek-to-boobie time (everyone likes that)–because I feel your pain. Writing does require time, that can’t be argued. Words don’t fly …

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Fear & Collaboration in Joytown

I have some bad news, folks: the sun is shining again. That’s right! Hundreds of birds are making their flippity-fluttery return-to-roost commotion, complete with peeps and caws and squawks (with their full-on assault of Cute, how dare they?). Fragrant grape hyacinths are blooming en masse next to my front steps (a creeping, sentient army of evil flora; mark my words, they’re not as innocent as they look). Their scent is putting an extra zip in my step. They’re making me happy, dammit. And that’s a …

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Rapture of the Cold Sweat

So, I was painting my toenails Three-Day-Old Corpse Blue and thinking about ooky stuff, because that’s what horror writers do on Tuesday afternoons when they’re not digging shallow graves, looking at internet pictures that should never be seen, or inventing fruity cocktails with cute names that reflect one’s personality, like “Last Time I Saw Them, My Panties Were In The Punch Bowl” or “Passed Out Naked On The Neighbour’s Back Porch, Which Isn’t A Porch So Much As It Is A Collection Of Pleasantly Cold Cement …

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