2017 will be the year of the fire chicken and also the year I become unrecognizable due to my transformation from a spineless invertebrate to a motherfucking cobra with a spine of steel
I dearly wish I could draw better dogs because a trio portrait of Pit and Rave and Squid is necessary.
someone: whats ur ringtone
me, who has had their phone on vibrate since 2008: ???
when ppl ask me why I write science fiction, I love to give them grandiose answers like “well you see in the future, anything is possible, including the eradication of racism, sexism, and all of the cruel -isms” or “my imagination is too small to be contained to the world we know, you see” or “Ray Bradbury possessed me with the frenzied spirit of Ethereal Words after he passed and I Can’t Stop” but the truth is today I went to write that my character’s fighter smelled like fast food but I couldn’t think of what that was called for a second and I just kept typing and I wrote “quickfoods”
and that is perfectly acceptable
and that is why I write science fiction
my work muse dropped in to pet my faux-fur coat and to describe me as “a constant anomaly.” I’ve never been so happy with a description of me in my entire life
just registered that I laugh like a zebra sometimes
/inhales: YOIK! YOIK!
me: sweet I just need 200 more words to pass my goal
my brain: hey why don’t you go index some useless stories from 2004 instead
you know that place where they film all of the car commercials and this Pentatonix video?? well.
I slept there once. and the moon was the closest it’s ever been, and the stars came near and I oozed down in the cracks in the dry mud and I slept in the tiny dry rivers in the dust
never let it be said that REDWALL did not entirely, without a doubt, shape my writer’s voice and my adult writing career