Names are kind of important, right? Without names, what exactly would we call one another? Specifically, how would we refer to those individuals from our coyote ugly-type one-night stands who we're equal parts shocked and embarrassed to become reacquainted with in the morning? For the fools who haven't seen Coyote Ugly: A coyote ugly-type one-night stand is when you'd rather chew off your own arm than risk waking the ugly son-of-a-bitch passed out beside you. If you haven't had a coyote-ugly one-night stand, congratulations. Also, you're going to hell for lying. To be fair, most of us . . .
It's interesting—to me, at least—that I've been writing for about one hundred years now, and still have not discussed topics that are common in the gay community. Or aged . . . I haven't seemed to age in one hundred years, either. Thank you very much. That's not completely true. I've been writing since I was twelve. Back then, my content focused on murder and mayhem. Still does. Recently, I finished Bury What Remains, my latest psychological suspense manuscript, and lots of murder and mayhem ensue. Side note: If you're an agent looking for a new author to represent, allow me to take a . . .
It's officially 2020, a new year—hell, a new decade! As if you needed my blog to alert you of the fact, right? Thank God for that, too, seeing as I haven't blogged in . . . Well, let's just say it's been a while. And while I'm acknowledging that elephant in the room, the one where I only produced three blog articles last year when it was my resolution to write at least one article a month (oops!), let me address another elephant: me! Yes, the other, much bigger elephant in the room is me, myself, and I. Unfortunately, yet noticeably, I've put on a little, fine—a lot—of weight. What can I . . .