No Do-Overs for the Pivotal Moments

No Do-Overs for the Pivotal Moments

He slumped into the crowded barbecue like he had arrived at his own funeral. Early twenties. Medium height. Wrinkled pants. Scuffed shoes. Glazed eyes. Scowl that stood out stronger than the colorful tattoo peeking out from his sloppily cuffed sleeves. Another guy...
Why Writers Write

Why Writers Write

In high school my friend Teresa could sing like a lark. And she did, every chance she got. One day I asked her how she did it. How could she overcome stage fright and sing songs in front of hundreds of people, without fear of rejection or critical feedback? Her...