The wind whistled through the trees, like water rushing down the creek, and I was caught in a flurry of falling leaves. I turned once, then again, and again. Duke was nowhere in sight.

“Any luck?” Molly stood at the top of the hill and offered me her hand.

“He’s not here.” Read More


If Clocks Could Talk

“If Clocks Could Talk”

For a moment, just a moment, I stopped thinking. I took a breath and looked around. I wasn’t in a room full of people who loved me. On the other hand, I wasn’t in a room full of people who hated me either—at least part of me hoped they didn’t. They didn’t know me. But Seth was there, standing just inside the doorframe at the opposite end of the apartment. Read More



In the weeks leading up to the chilly December eve, the mark of another year gone too quickly, I weighed my options: curl up under cozy blankets with my own bottle of wine and my four-legged companions, or venture out of the apartment for a few hours of eating, drinking, and being merry in a pair of tight jeans and tall heels. I mulled over each tempting choice carefully. In the end, I opted for the latter, as I knew there would still be plenty of other nights to keep to myself in the new year.

Though I accepted my invitation to Mila and Isaac’s annual New Year’s party, I anticipated that I would make a quick appearance and be home and in bed long before the ball dropped. I rapped my fist once on the door, was immediately whisked inside, and knew I was wrong. Read More



It was cold that evening, the way it only is in late winter or early spring when the frosty evening air bites at your heels and your lips and the back of your neck and you don’t mind half as much as you did two months ago because you can actually step outside without the wind puncturing your lungs. Read More

Fictional Elevator

There is one question that people ask authors more than any other: What advice do you have for other writers/authors?

In my experience as an undergraduate creative writing student, we had a number of authors sit in on our writing workshops, discuss their work (and ours) with us in class, and give readings on campus. We were encouraged to ask questions and there was always someone who asked for advice. I have read and watched and listened to interviews with authors of all different genres, and every one of them is asked this question at some point. Read More