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Seeing through Layers like Blankets on a Cold Night

My father was am immigrant from Mexico.  My mother a full blood Kiowa/Cherokee from Oklahoma.  They worked the peanut and cotton fields when my sisters and I were young.  I remember ducking the large rolling water sprayers in the fields; I remember the heat coming from the dirt onto my bare feet; and I remember living…

Main Character Slam, Drop, Kick!

Revision is a little punk b#?ch!  There I am toiling away on the second draft, almost to the end of the novel and starting to think about characters in the novel (mentally preparing for the “sweeps” portion of my revision process), and then I come to realize my main character is an asshole. ArtBook ReviewsBooksFamilyFictionlifePoetryPoliticsReligionWriting

The Magic of Intermountain Youth Center

I said it before.  The last grade I completed was the sixth grade.  Then later in life I went on to obtain a Master’s Degree.  I think a lot of it had to do with riding waves.  Not in the ocean.  I’ve never been daring enough to take on those types of challenges.  But riding waves…