If I think about it, all prayers are the same. They’re meant for healing, for having, for help. It’s a wish wanting to be granted. No matter how you do it — whether you bawl out your eyes or just
2019 is many things. Like starting new stories. Writing poems in Tagalog. Listening to a lot of local music instead of deciphering another’s tongue. Not writing the things I should have, which I regret (coughcoughNOLIcough). Hitting the brakes on querying
There will only be a few rare occasions where I get to write a title like that. No kidding. Maybe this is the only time I could write that. Who knows? In the next decade, I might not be blogging
The last thing Lydia saw was Steven’s cold face before she succumbed to gravity. Her body – tired, bruised and bleeding – was cradled by the trunk of the hundred-year oak tree, a solitary variety in the Forest of Myrrh.
Incredibly talented writers-editors Nova Ren Suma and Emily X.R. Pan unveiled a Kickstarter project last year under the skin-shaking name of Foreshadow, an online anthology of short stories from new and established writers in the world of YA. I saw
I have been planning to write this post yesterday, the 29th, so I could sit down and vomit an entire month of painstaking resilience and joy I have never seen happen all at once. Which didn’t happen, because I was
