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The Motorcycle and the Artist

The Motorcycle and the Artist

I have a friend, Charlie, who had been struggling to start work on a graphic novel he had rattling around in his head. He just couldn’t put pen to paper. In an effort to move forward, he decided to housesit over the winter in Homer, Alaska. Charlie figured that the...
The Hospital Crib Muse

The Hospital Crib Muse

I have a sort of muse, at least a disembodied voice that comes through loud and clear, from time to time, especially when I have been slacking off. He is a little bit intimidating. I haven’t succumbed yet to Yeats’ automatic writing exercises, but this muse has crept...