In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.
He said his eyes rasped audibly when he blinked. Which wasn’t very far from the truth. Very small amounts of dust particles crept into his eyes at night and bonded with his [...]
Categories: series
In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.
She was writing on paper so thin the ink was bleeding onto the table. Indelible marks on the forty-year-old Formica. So obviously this was the end of nothing. Hints of thoughts were [...]
Categories: series
In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.
My gran used to say, “There’s only darkness until you open your eyes, but never stare directly at the sun.” But when I combined those two pieces of advice, I noticed that [...]
Categories: series
In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.
We were looking for a savior long after saving our ideals was beneficial. I mean, we couldn’t conceive of deeper shades of bleakness. Marshall Pennigton had a slick-toothed smile and apologetic eyes. [...]
Categories: series
In November of 2004, I didn’t write a novel. This is a series of excerpts from all the novels I didn’t write that month.
Sometimes what I crave more than anything are the keys. He used to say that he loved they way they sounded when he tossed them. Like singing. Their collisions in the arc [...]
Categories: series
