Earlier today, my ten-year-old son had guitar practice. When I reminded him of the class, he […]
The Great Cover Artist Search of 2012 has come to a conclusion, and I have found […]
This blog entry has absolutely nothing to do with writing, so please feel free to ignore. […]
Now that the Kickstarter campaign to raise funds to publish Small Things is over, the real […]
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From Joe's writing

It was the shank of the summer, when the sun is so hot and the air so humid that it’s all you can do just to suck in air. The green grass had turned a sort of scorched brown, and the trees had grown extra leaves just to replace the ones that had shriveled up and burnt off. The sky was so parched that it refused to rain, and the ground practically turned to dust beneath your feet. That’s how hot it was that summer, and that’s why what happened played out the way that it did.

— Memories of a Ghost, chapter 19