The Death of Mardi Gras
My brother, Josiah Caleb Miller, was birthed on August 3, 1997: the same day our nocturnal rooster, Mardi Gras, suffocated in my father’s beat-up Dodge Ram. Someone Father had built a barn for gave him a beautiful white rooster with a
“Gotta write! Gotta write!”
This past Friday I was sitting on the couch, wanting to break out and tap around the living room when those in Singin' in the Rain did, not even contemplating anything other than turning my mind into mush for two
Embracing the Change of Time
Today, in the darkness of early morning, we sent Time spiraling forward. At no other point in the year do we ever so purposefully embrace its passage, and at no other point in our lives do we ever take such
The Perks of Being a Manual Laborer
Right now, if college degrees were cashed in, everyone would be walking around with heads full of knowledge and handfuls of change. No longer are students being given freshly-minted dreams along with their freshly-minted diplomas. Instead, they find themselves applying
Avoiding Writing Whiplash
This past month I learned two things: It’s not easy writing a novel without an outline, and it’s not easy driving a car without a speedometer. (Or, for that matter, with one. My first speeding ticket, at 16, involved a Cops-worthy