On Bourdain, Suicide, and the Darkness

It was a gray day, not unlike any other. A typical fall commute. I drove towards campus and a day’s worth of academic responsibilities. Another day of grinding, the rinse and repeat existence.

Except it wasn’t.

I remember the sky in particular. There it was, gray and passive, the infinite expanse staring at me with the apathy of the inanimate. The sky looked to me without a care, clouds passing over just as they did on any other day. 

My suffering felt meaningless. Continue reading “On Bourdain, Suicide, and the Darkness”


Landing a Literary Agent at 21

This isn’t supposed to happen.

But what if it is? At least for you…

My thoughts were tempting. I’d worked my ass off writing this novel. I was meticulous. Dedicated. It was as authentic of a work I’ve ever produced…

And yes, I’d pursued agents, and of course I hoped one would bite but…

I didn’t actually expect it, you know? Continue reading “Landing a Literary Agent at 21”