It’s National Novel Writing Month, and I forgot to publish this days ago. It’s a letter I sent to my senators, President Biden, and Vice President Harris. (According to Democracy Now! this morning, there’s been a truce.) The Israeli government and Biden claim Hamas has secret headquarters under Gaza hospitals…

NOTE: I wrote an earlier version of this kvetching essay before I noticed that the mailing was from the Bradford Exchange, not just a similar organization. Glancing at their mailings, you’d assume The Hamilton Collection is like the Bradford Exchange. A second glance at the return envelope has confirmed… it…

Here’s an excerpt from a novel I decided I won’t publish. It has some good scenes, and I anticipate turning excerpts into short stories. I drag my cloth bag full of groceries into the narrow front hallway of my apartment and ungracefully drop the bag onto the cat-barf-brown carpet. I…

This is a spooky excerpt from my novel The Vanquished and the Surviving, which I anticipate publishing on my new Substack, Whimsical Words. Vincent saw under the gaslights a raggedly dressed person who was about the same diminutive size and age as he. When he peered at her, she ran…

Here’s an excerpt from my unpublished novel The Vanquished and the Surviving (which I anticipate publishing serially on my Substack, Whimsical Words). After treading around the sitting room and peering out a barred window, Vincent exhaled deeply. He headed for the study two flights above. It had been neglected during…

The following is a short excerpt from my unpublished novel The Vanquished and the Surviving, which I intend to publish on my Substack, Whimsical Words. The corridor transformed from a quiet and still space into a loud and threatening one. The demon stood at the far end of the corridor…

Here is an excerpt from a spooky story set in a slightly different Regency England. I sat alone in the entrance hall, on one of the window seats flanking the formidable front door. As I listened to an inordinately large number of creaks and moans, as though the house were…

This morning I warded my property with rusty antique railroad spikes. They’ll protect my property and me from negative entities — fae, demons, misogynists, narcissists, sociopaths, relatives, etc.

Here’s a spooky story excerpt, set (like many of my stories) in a slightly different 1820s England. I set down his teacup. The other two blinked as it clinked against the saucer. “Would you be so kind as to show us where the ghost is located?” “Yes, certainly.” Percy shifted…