The awkward conversational pentagon between myself, my best friend, a random fifty year old who started hitting on us, his gold digging sister with a ring on her finger the size of Rhode Island, and an off duty shirtless cop basically made the rest of my life.
Oh goodness this is a loaded question. I have about as many half finished novels as there are fish in the sea. I have one about a doctor, two historical fiction pieces, one about a southern woman, and another about an epidemic. Mainly I work on the two historical fiction pieces, one about a spy of the English king during the Napoleonic Wars and one about Alexander the Great and his life.
I do, one day, plan on writing one all the way through. But I also am ethically against forcing writing. So I’m taking it as it comes.
I am straight, but this might just be because I’ve never met a girl I was attracted to in that sense. I’m open minded. Sexuality is fluid, I respect myself enough to follow whatever path I want to follow.
She gathered up a bouquet of flowers and went about braiding them into her heart like some people would have wound them into their hair.
I don’t really trust anyone that doesn’t care about politics or social issues, because these are generally the people who have the privilege of being apolitical, and of ignoring those specific issues.