When I think back to the initial months of the COVID-19 pandemic, I remember time more than anything. The entire world slowed down. For some, it was agonizing. For others, it was fatal. I’d been working as a freelance copyeditor for around eight years by then, so my paying job filled some of the time vacancy. Keeping a seven-year-old entertained took up some of the rest. With what was left, I wrote a short story and the first draft of a fifth novel. As detailed in a previous

I generally don’t write reviews. We live in a world where too many people give their opinions about everything they love and, more often,...

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before (I read enough of my own writing without going back through previous posts), but I currently...

A writer friend recently told me he’d found his voice. In the way he said it—eyes wide and hands gesturing with a manic energy—it was...