Dude, I'm just writing stories.
Fair and unfair suggest some kind of cosmic scales that lean toward balance. No such thing exists.
Remember my little book of short stories? I've set up a Goodreads giveaway for it!
There's a temptation, when publishing a short story, to explain it.
This is a terrible country in which to grow old. Perhaps they all are.
I have stuff I want to have written, and that means I have work to do.
Is my mind more organized? No, it is not!
I think Project Hail Mary might have two Mad Things going on.
We need each other. This pandemic, oddly enough, has made that fact screamingly obvious.
Today, for now, I'm okay enough.