If you like my stories, but have always wished they were filtered through some janky flash animation and a vaguely Eastern European...

I wasn’t ready. That’s all, really. I just wasn’t ready. In another time, in another place, that may not have mattered. In another world,...

June 7, 1891 Dearest Mr. Abberline, As I write this, I am on my way to Queensland. I hope to find land there, and an opportunity to...

I resisted the idea of the Nanny Box for a long, long time. It seemed inhumane to me. And I guess, if I’m being honest, it felt like an...

When Arthur Bunley died, there was no flash of white. There was no field of stars or flight of angels. There was, instead, the exact same...

Everyday, I wait for my invitation. I wait for the owl to come and tell me what I already know. That I’m special. That I’m different....

When I met Jeremy, he was a mess. An endearing mess, though. In truth, he was basically a hoarder, with mounds of hardcover books where...

I wake up in a white room and I’m under glass. No - it’s a sheet of plastic and there’s a woman standing over me. She’s stern and she...

Somewhere in the house, Danny screamed. His voice was still high and reedy, even though he was a freshman in high school. Carla set down...

2018 wasn't the first year I ran away from writing. It was, however, one of the few where I understood from the outset exactly why I was...

When I was 11, I had a sleepover. It was the only one I ever had. Jenny Dodson, Temeka Kline, and Bethanny Xiu came. They brought pajamas...

Being a deeply self-conscious individual, I think I love the idea of people recording my stories more than I like actually listening to...

I'm a writer. That's the beginning and the end of my story. I'm a writer. I write. I have stories. I have things to say. I am not a...

I am very, very not good at submitting my work to contests, magazines, and other publications. Originally, this came from a fear of...

“I’m sure there’s a good story there,” said Raffi, leaning against the listing prow, watching the French ship gurgle and glug its way...

We've tied Sympathy to a railing on the catwalk over the Void of Lost Remembrance. She does not cry, though I'd prefer that she did....

I have a lair. It sits atop a mountain. It is not an especially tall or imposing mountain, though the service roads are not open to the...

If you'd like to hear some of my words in motion (which is definitely how sound works, don't look that up), check out this edition of the...

Colin eyed the mewling puppy with distrust. "I don't know, Mom," he sighed. The puppy, named Pom-Pom, was an English Bulldog, jowly and...

Dal Kensington clicked his pen as he glanced around the conference room. "No coffee? Snacks?" Sheila Marshall shook her head. She was in...