When I sit down to write a novel, the first thing that shows up usually isn’t a plot or a character—it’s a place. A trail I’ve walked a...

I’ve spent most of my life not knowing what the hell I was doing. I don’t say that for sympathy or to romanticize chaos—I say it because...

When I was a kid, I thought my dad knew everything. How to build a fire. How to back a trailer without jackknifing it. How to fix things that didn’t want to be fixed. Later, I thought he knew nothing. That was around the time I knew everything, of course.

🔥 “This is who we are. We burn. Some write. Some rebuild. What do you do?” There’s a reason fire became the heart of Memories of an Ash...

We all have things we don’t talk about. Memories we’ve buried so deep, even we forget where we put them. Sometimes it’s fear — of...