The Red Lolli

It was Harry’s Supermarket
The place we all knew
The place we all went to.

Boss Fight

The chill ran up Zach’s spine before he heard the sickly sweet voice.

“You’re so busted.”

Another

Mama was quiet. She was always quiet when she was angry, but this was the longest time yet. Two days. It had been two days since I last heard her voice. Papa would try to talk to her. He made her dinner, carried the groceries in from the car, cleaned the house; he did all the things he usually never did, but it still wasn’t enough.

Who I See

I would look in the mirror and see a slew of different things. Curls that run rampant, tickling the underside of my tanned chin. The ends are blonde, a spur-of-the-moment choice made to kill the lower part of my hair follicles. It was a look I’d done often in high school, and one I wanted to pick up again in adulthood. Many praised the color, pointing and smiling, some I could see the humor or judgement that danced behind their eyes; humor and judgement I chose to ignore because in my own dark browns, the color of a rich chocolate that morphed to caramel in the light, I looked at the short style in appreciation and awe.

The World of Styles: A Starting Point

So, I’ve promised writing advice. Well, Bookoholic’s, I’ve come to deliver. Here is the very first bit of advice I’d like to give you all for your writing. Every author has it. Every author has struggled with it. And every author has found it. So now, let’s talk about yours.