Topher Lydon

Can he tell him. A well designed trap already has you before it's sprung. That 25 year old has been in one of the previous books. Now let's see who's up on their Carter Lore.

from now on, it will be a trope

Poor, poor Kenny's beautiful ordered, and structured world is about to run full tilt into the Hickey family

Some memories don't fade

Eight The morning sun, filtered through the kitchen window, cast a warm, dusty glow over the Hickeys’ breakfast table. Mrs. Hickey, with an exasperated but fond look on her face, bustled about, packing two identical lunches with the practiced ease of a woman who had been doing this for far too many years. Clovis, her husband, sat at the head of the table, a fortress of solitude behind his newspaper. He pretended to be engrossed in the headlines but, in truth, missed nothing. Steve, acr

Welcome to the Kompromat kompromat /kɒmprəˈmat/ noun noun: kompromat compromising information collected for use in blackmailing, discrediting, or manipulating someone, typically for political purposes. "the leak shows that kompromat need not reveal anything illegal to be damaging"

Morning, I am up, yes.... upright

WORLD END: T-minus 172 days, 2 hours, and 0 minutes. CBC News Studios, Ottawa Ontario The bright lights of the television studio were a familiar, searing assault on Will's senses. The air, crisp and cold from the powerful air conditioning, held the faint scent of electronics and freshly brewed coffee. He sat in the interview chair, the black leather feeling cool against his skin, and the hum of the cameras and the muted chatter of the production crew was a constant, low-level buzz i

The Shakespeare chapter is a tradition of the High School Carter books. Mister Greenwood covering Othello, and the Merchant of Venice, Will Covering Richard III, and now Blake covering 12th Night. I try to cover a play that directly links to the theme of the book in question. Carter's Army, Othello: in reference to reputation Carter's Vanguard, Richard III: the betrayal of family Carter's Shadow, the Merchant of Venice: Quality of Mercy this one 12th Night: the Masks we wear/what do we hide It's become a tradition of mine, and something I love. AND I still have plenty of plays! And I may or may not be considering another South Carleton High Gay Hockey player story... (because it is the most progressive team in the Province!)

Some one has to call them on it

She is 110% Clovis's daughter. The queen of snark, and yes, she 100% has Kenny figured out.

Seven The auditorium, a cavernous space usually reserved for assemblies and school plays, had a hushed, contemplative air. The afternoon sun, filtered through the high, arched windows, cast long, dusty shafts of light onto the stage, where a single, unlit spotlight seemed to wait in silent anticipation. The scent of old velvet and floor polish hung in the air. Students slouched in the rows of red theatre seats, their attention half-fixed on the stage, where Mr. Wolochowski—a sharp, observan

I remember when I first wrote Carter's Army, and released it on Nifty, waaay back early 2005. I took a lot of flak for the Mustang. How it was an inappropriate car for a High School kid... you know the usual detractors. I have fond memories of that car, the real one, and the boy that went with it. So, screw 'em. Here Twenty odd years later, I am still unrepentant, that car was the right choice, it fit Andrew, it fit the story, and it still fits the evolving story. I wrote about Andrew's father, and I always felt that the car was an important way to show that even though his father was gone that he was still looking out for his son. And I felt, here, that it was going to be just as important for Andrew to share that same experience with Jacob and the other musketeers. Legacy means something, and heirlooms are vital symbols of inheritance. A piece of Andrew's father, Jacob's grandfather that will carry them onwards. I remember when cars meant something. And let's face it, old warhorses never die, they just sound better with age.

Morning folks

WORLD END: T-minus 172 days, 21 hours, and 34 minutes. 308 Manor Avenue, Ottawa Ontario – Carter Residence Will was waiting for him when he finally got home. Exhausted and late, he dragged himself through the front door, the heavy oak swinging shut with a thud that echoed the weight in his bones. The chill of the evening still clung to him as he stepped into the living room. Andrew always appreciated that man, after long days, painful moments, and grinding tension. One look at

Wanted to go for something unique, and non-stereotypical. Just wait till you get to the Mom's... they may seem odd, but their different in their own ways. #teamMOM

You are free and always with my continued blessing, to use that character in ANYWAY you wish my friend. Just remember how he gets without his Hugo, and make sure you put him back... though now there's two of them, I mean I am happy to let you keep one... makes my life easier.

I have bad habits of repetition when writing, I don't notice them. and Profound, unadulterated moments of Impeccable, impudently, impactful IM words....

Clovis is awesome in this one. But Jason is a stand out, a religious man who isn't hard right, demonstrating the compassion that's supposed to be there. I knew a Jason when I was in school, and I know him now. Good man, who does not judge, persecute nor inflict. He has a gay kid now, named Christopher, we didn't last much beyond a year in High School, he was a year behind me, so I had to leave him behind when I left school. But he was my closeted little church boy. His wife is lovely, and knows all about me, he asked my permission to tell her years ago. Consummately polite and considerate. Never owned a TV so he used to hang out with me to sneak away and listen to music and get into trouble. First boy to ever show me his bottom... he had a mischievous streak a mile wide. ahh... memories, some of that town were really pleasant.

Six The warm, humid air of the late summer evening hung heavy and still. The cicadas, a single, pulsating chorus, provided the only soundtrack to the quiet street. The golden light of the porch lamp spilled onto the driveway, illuminating the comfortable, weathered figure of his father, Clovis Hickey. He sat in a canvas folding chair, the newspaper on the ground next to him, a half-smoked cigar held loosely in his calloused hand. He didn’t look up from the street as Steve coasted to a stop

I was wary at first, this didn't seem my kind of book. But I thought, I liked the author's other work. And I wanted something to read on the train. I loved the story, it's so wonderfully tightly written. Characters are engaging and the whole story gave me reasons to keep coming back to it and turning the pages. Look, don't take my word for it, just sit and read it and see what you think of it. I think you will be as surprised by it as I was. Genuinely good work.