When one dresses largely in black and belongs to a Wiccan coven on campus, having an older boyfriend who thinks he is a vampire almost makes sense. However, when Roselyn's lover Dryden becomes an actual vampire-albeit a reticent one-and her preternatural roommate Shane is mistakenly taken hostage in her place, it is up to Roselyn to take on the cockroaches of the daemonic world without ending up on the wrong side of a pair of fangs.

We aren't all like that.

Not one hundred feet from our front door, Amber's car's check engine light glows. We cannot possibly proceed to Salem with this looming and unspecified threat - what we days later discover to be no more than a faulty oxygen sensor, but we cannot not take the risk. We retreat, load our luggage into my car, and start out again, only to find that the GPS wishes to take us exactly the wrong way. We navigate thirty miles by logic, memory, and cell phone before the gadget ...

"Propose properly!"

Amber is thrilled to get married. There are few days I return home from work that she does not have The Knot open in a tab, that she hasn't been researching wedding favors or tweaking centerpieces. I know what our colors will be (TARDIS blue and deep purple). I know what her dress will look like (no veil or train, skirt just below the knee, off-white with a sash). I know the sort of place we will be getting married (near ...

You will never convince me that this is not how Cobleskill always looks.

At some point, I am certain that this trip to Howe Caverns seemed like a fine idea. A romantic night in a hotel, complimentary champagne and chocolates, a romantic lantern tour 156 feet below ground. It should be the stuff of memories.

The trouble is that Cobleskill, New York - the city congealed atop the caverns - is among the dullest places I have ever happened upon. If you happen to live in Cobleskill, my sincere apologies. ...

Before I begin this review and for the sake of full disclosure, I should say that the author, James Hutchings, sent me a copy of his book in hopes I would review it. It was a concept I could get behind and I am open to authors (at least those who have a basal comprehension of what I write/like) who can stand my criticism sending me something to review. I am considering doing the same with We Shadows, once I clear it with my publisher. That said, sending me a free book does not, per se, mean I will be ...

Rest in Peace

Her death makes me wonder at my capacity for reasonable emotional responses. I have cried more at breakups or at those movies inclined toward heartstring-tugging than I do in hearing of her passing.

My grandmother had been unwell for a long time. Years ago, my younger brother Bryan - an over-trained nurse - explained that she suffered from congestive heart failure. To me - a novelist and English teacher - "heart failure" as a phrase equated immediately to "prompt death". As far as I could ...

Since I moved, it seemed impossible to affordably find loratadine, the generic version of Claritin. Since it is technically winter and I am less frequently around my mother's pets, I decided to go without. As the days elapsed and the medication clears from my system, I noticed a curious ease of thought, an ability to remember more and longer, the words I wanted coming instantly to my lips and fingers without having to search for them. My dreams grow more vivid and frequent. Further, I seem to heal more quickly (not in any unusual sense, simply that the dozen careless cuts I seem to acquire every month erase in a reasonable amount of time now).

The signs of these side effects were there, but I did not attribute the right causation. How I would feel so inspired before I ate in the morning, what I credited to some intellectual languor inherent in corn ...

"Good" in this context means other than utter, soul-crushing madness.

For what it is worth from a novelist you probably do not know personally, here is my advice:

1. Partner well. Yes, I'm sure that fellow in the biker jacket, slamming beer cans against his head and yelling racial epithets at children, has a certain rustic charm. You are not stupid. You know you cannot change him and glare when reminded. You know it isn't romantic to think you can, however much media conflates love with suffering. However much you pretend you believe there cannot be affection without torture to earn it. I find it honestly regrettable that you find your stable friend - the one with a job, the one who doesn't beat you and insult you in front of his family - a bit dull. However, given that ...
   
   
   

It's true, you know.

"I am going to hide in the closet now," I inform Amber. "And possibly cry. I haven't decided."

Retreating to rooms, momentarily pretending to prevent the other's entry, had been our game since yesterday. She would step outside without shoes, I would bolt the door until she tried the knob. She would dart into the bedroom and sit in front of the door to prevent entrance. It was a childish metaphor in action, a physical statement of "never ...

A welcomed sight

I cried to Amber when I left my old apartment behind. She entwined her fingers in mine and let me vent.

In itself, I am glad to be rid of that place. It had black mold in the ceiling from a conspicuous lack of maintenance and pernicious stinkbugs that liked few things more than dying on my window sills. It was entirely too small, though it served as a decent quasi-monastic cell for a few years (alone, I do not need much more than a bed, bathroom, and ...

Merrill

Daniel and his Canadian companion Eva say their goodbyes well before midnight on New Year's Eve. They, with Merrill in tow, had arrived to Tom's party less than an hour prior. None of them actually knew Tom, after all, though it turned out Daniel had a few coincidental associations among the other guests, none strong enough to overrule spending the rest of the night alone with Eva. I just told Eva that it was a pleasure to meet her (it was, albeit so briefly) and wished Daniel a nice night, ...

A letter a day to Mariah Carey... for some reason.

Falling into the category of "so earnestly weird that it is endearing".

I'm sorry, but aren't there slightly more important issues we really ought to be focusing on? Dislike Obama all you'd like, but this bullshit should not be your priority.

I think someone below is forgetting that Snuffaluffagus originated at Big Birds imaginary friend, so it fits fairly well.

You do realize that both major teams - especially in politics - can be very wrong, I hope. And that one side being wrong does not mean your side is right and vice versa. Most politicians no matter affiliation do not have your best interests in mind.

Except he did not say this. Marianne Williamson did. I believe Nelson Mandela has genuinely done enough that we do not have to force other people's words into his mouth.

I like the concept, but the execution is clumsy.

Nothing I like better after writing for a long period of time than putting an exposed, slightly damp stick of candy in my pocket.

I am sad that I cannot look at art without contemplating what to caption the picture. Frickin' internet.

How is this steampunk? Goggles do not make something steampunk (and those would serve a legitimate purpose to Batman). When he is decked out in wood and copper wiring, possibly wearing a jaunty top hat, you will be reasonable to scorn the picture for being steampunk.