As I move forward with my first novel, I go with the motivation of a mental halfway mark. I'm reminded of nights in my dorm room, hammering out pages of fiction for classes that week, and being happy. I listened to my younger self, who said he wanted to be an author and an actor, and here I am at 23, actively chasing it.


Novel Excerpt 2/4/2017

“Here,” Mom said, sneaking ahead of me. She pushed the door open. Its hinge popped in intervals. The dark cabin felt stale and musty. Mom reached her hands into the shadowed threshold. “Everyone back up. Unless you want to be doused.” We shuffled against the cabin’s siding, clearing the way behind her. With a swoop of her hands, a low wind reverberated through the log home. Mom stepped out of the doorway as a pluming column of dust and cobwebs blew out of the cabin and settled over top nearby ferns. “Mind if I take the bed?” Melinda asked. Mom gestured to the doorway. “Please, by all means.”

Novel Excerpt 1/16/2017

She took my hand, and the world around us halted. Mom and Arthur became catatonic. The grandfather clock in the living room went silent, its swinging arm locked in a diagonal. A fly buzzing beneath the warmth of the entranceway table lamp hung still in mid-air, right beneath the beaded switch string.