Slightly off the Mark
Finally, a test we can sleep through PDF Print E-mail
Wednesday, 19 June 2013 21:17

by Mark Hunter

A while back I was tested for allergies. It’s something that needles me still, in each arm, once a week. During the follow-up meeting, the ear, nose, and throat doctor informed me that my ears were clogged, my nose stuffed, and my throat raw. He also asked how I’d been sleeping.

“How should I know?” I asked him. “I was asleep.”

 
Gilligan must die PDF Print E-mail
Wednesday, 12 June 2013 21:56

by Mark Hunter

Gilligan should have died.

Hold that thought, I’ll get back to it.

When I was young I couldn’t understand why girls were attracted to bad boys. Then I finally figured out that this phenomenon isn’t limited to me not being able to get a date: It’s a part of the very fabric of our society:

 
Birds of Georgia PDF Print E-mail
Wednesday, 05 June 2013 20:02

by Neil A. Case

When I get up early these days, so early the sky is just getting light and the sun is not yet visible at the horizon, and step outside there will already be birds singing. Often the first bird I hear will be a robin, singing from one of the maple or oak trees in our yard. From early spring well into summer, wherever there are homes with lawns and shade trees or parks, robins are our heralds to the dawn.

 
Lilacs, parades, and henway: The problem with adults PDF Print E-mail
Wednesday, 05 June 2013 20:00

by Mark Hunter

The problem with adults is that we’re not kids.

Specifically, we lose that wonder, that joy of discovery that comes with being kids. The coolest things happen right in front of us, but because they happen every year and we’ve seen a lot of years, we forget how cool they are.

 
The burning insecurities of writing fire PDF Print E-mail
Wednesday, 29 May 2013 20:43

by Mark Hunter

All of you authors out there with high self-confidence levels, please raise your hand. Okay, I see you there, Anne Rice. Anyone else? Not many …

My career as a writer had been a series of battles in which my insecurities are fought, sometimes overcome, but at least revealed. It took many years to convince myself I could write well. Then it took more time to convince myself I could sell my fiction, and I was really only sure of that when I – well, sold my fiction. Now I work toward convincing myself I can someday write for a living, and considering the pathetically small percentage of writers who manage that, I’m assured of plenty insecurities to come.

 
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