Today I learned that Cheez-Its were invented in Ohio. There’s magic here. There’s also magic in a fresh notebook.
The Fifth Child digs into the muck of living beyond the bounds of time, consensus, and normalcy. The novel’s crisis is simple; its implications are not.
Interstate Scene 10: They say evolution occurs most rapidly in body parts that attract lovers and frighten rivals.
This morning I fed a robot a few sentences from the novel I’m writing, and it generated some startlingly accurate pictures.
I sneeze whenever I glance at the sun, which I’ve always taken as proof I am a night owl.
Interstate Scene 9: Maps of the Arctic give me vertigo. All that blank bright land feels like leaping off a rooftop.
