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On Magra Snowberry: Carried by the wings of blood and dust

I.      Magra’s braided hair shone like the wings of a raven in the morning light.  Her face was like a sword. I am rarely surprised by a story. When I write I always feel I am in total control, sifting and judging words and sentences and actions as I move through it. I hold …

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Engaging with Story: The Eternal Flame of Human Consciousness

Me: Morning. Story: Morning. Ready to write? Me: Yes, but first there is something I don't understand. Story: Your natural state of affairs, I believe. What is it this time? Me: This has to do with you. It's more along the lines of a personal question. Story: Oh, dear. I hope this doesn't get awkward. …

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