Wayne Gray

Are you listening to Gaelic Storm, perchance? LOL.

Okay ... now I REALLY have to edit chapter five.

Cool. 🙂 I hope you enjoy it. It's the only Mystery/Suspense I have ever written. The mystery part was kind of by accident. 😳

Now you're doing it on purpose! 😋

Noooo ... LOWER expectations! Lower them! Then any surprise is a happy one!

It will just force me to use my self-discipline. I hope you enjoy my work. Thank Tim for me, please. I appreciate the plug.

OMG, I'm supposed to be writing and editing. This thread is a delicious timesink.

Or Instant Pots?

Good gravy, it is a good thing I've eaten!

It's pretty easy and rewarding. Follow this advice, impress guests. They never need to know how easy it was.

Many thanks for the fine welcome. I appreciate the venue to learn.

Shephard's Pie for us. Simple, good, easy. Thinking about an Instant Pot myself.

So many questions! You'll have to return for our next episode of, As Hailey Turns for the answers! I'm glad you're curious. 🙂

Thank you. I hope you continue to enjoy it. 🙂

Yeah. Paul could hold me down any day. 😈

Nice article. I read every line of dialogue I write out loud. If it’s not right, it will become apparent quickly using that tiny trick. Though, verbalizing also highlights bumps in all of the writing. I just need to figure out a way to avoid driving my husband crazy as I mouth lines.

Damn it. Now I’ll look like I’m copying you if I put music in mine! 😊 I once wrote a song specifically for a story. I recorded myself singing it, and linked the file, so the reader could hear the melody if they wished to suffer through my voice. Readers loved it. This is where the very first idea that there might be merit in multi-media stories began in my mind.

A couple of days passed and despite a clear forecast the weather continued to act fitfully. It snowed off and on until about five inches of the stuff had accumulated. All of the locals were only mildly surprised by this. It wasn't typical, but it did happen. Though it was supposed to warm up today, which meant it would be a slushy, muddy mess if that forecast held. That early Saturday morning he parked himself on the couch at his aptly named coffee table. There was a steaming mug of the liqu

Photography: I'm only just beginning to dabble in photography. I'm also starting to use these pictures alongside writing. This influences my work, in that it encourages me to set my stories locally so that I can include applicable visual media within the writing itself. My readers find the combination compelling, even though I am a rank amateur with the camera. Social Awareness: My job includes a lot of work with folks who have fallen through the cracks of the larger society. I work for a safety-net healthcare provider, and I daily see the terrible choices presented to people in fiscally difficult positions. It has instilled in me a need to write characters who have these same trials and issues. I figure the more exposure others have to these people, the more understanding and acceptance there will be for them. There are many other interests which show up in my work. Construction, alternative building methods, cooking, rural living, camping, each seem to find a way to rear up in many projects I'm working on.

Always. I'm writing a story now with D/s elements, and I need to get it right and to ensure that I'm respectful of the life. Things like this help in an unquantifiable, yet significant way.

This is a great poem. It sent chills over my skin. Thanks for the snapshot of your perspective.

Thanks for all of the comments, folks. I appreciate you all. 🙂

Hahaha. Yes, indeed. He's in his early twenties, and everything is firing on all cylinders in that respect. Add to it the feeling that he "can't" have Paul, makes him want it all the more.

Thursday morning arrived in a swirl of snow and wind. Corbin's alarm woke him at six AM to a wintery scene outside his windows, and he shivered in the crisp air inside his home. The fire had died down to embers over the night, and he threw back his blankets then quickly put on his sweats and sweater. He had worn his wool socks to bed, and they stayed on his feet. "Fuck me it's cold!" He couldn't quite see his breath inside, but it was close. He went to the fireplace and poked at the ashes an

Thanks, Carlos. Specifically, thank you for the message with the link with the writer's guide to numbers. It's very helpful.