The night felt young, with so many stars in the sky illuminating the porch where Calhoun Mane sat, surrounded by friends. When his friend’s cousin came from the house with a home phone in hand, news of Calhoun’s beloved grandmother sent him to the bottom of a whiskey bottle. A half-gallon stole his consciousness. Absent-minded and violent, he acted out. He spoke adoringly of a woman who raised him from a child and caused more harm than good. A system of unknowingness captured

Eight score years and three years ago, a far greater thinker proclaimed emancipation, a plan to free America from the immoral actions of ignorance. The abolition of slavery was the foresight of a wise man who forged a nation toward a hopeful future of equality. In my elementary classroom and in others across America, educators taught children the brilliance of critical thinking through works such as Abraham Lincoln’s 1863 “Gettysburg Address” and Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I

“This is the real secret of life -- to be completely engaged with what you are doing in the here and now. And instead of calling it work, realize it is play.”― Alan Watts I realized the importance of my role when giggles followed the satirical content I wrote. I always take my role as a creator very seriously. I poke fun at life, and it feels too rewarding. The responsibilities that accompany the developmental process make editing a major ordeal for a writer who pours their

The party split like the Red Sea, with Calhoun Mane’s stubborn antics to blame. He grew more drunk as his cups of beer spilled around the garage. The teenager stumbled into the arms of classmates, trying to be the life of the party. Calhoun should have focused on the birthday girl, Aimee Caraway. Her sweet sixteen had all the luxuries a wealthy family could afford. Judge Frederick Caraway spared no expense to celebrate his princess. Aimee’s smile was a lovely reminder of how

When foretelling a narrative meant to predict the future, I embrace the taboo of a poignant fortune teller. My spiritual realm comes alive through wellness, with consciousness igniting an energetic tone that speaks to each emotional response, written with care. Raising Mother Nature, written to prompt readers' self-exploration, simply guides my protagonist, Calhoun Mane, through a life of sin while countering his choices with spiritually charged philosophy from a satirical p

A committed heart starts beating faster the moment a literary concept becomes vividly alive in my thoughts. When a story outline becomes the basis for writing chapters from my consciousness, the blood races to my brain in anticipation of achieving a new goal. Words come easily as my vocabulary’s curiosity reaches an articulate state, seeking worldly knowledge like a fiendish wordsmith with great intent. I write with a consistent cadence for storytelling, and the flowing ease

In meeting a complete stranger, an open soul consciously awakens trust, and I find a bond through the empathy we all possess. I just stopped at the bank, and the connection I had with the teller began her transformation almost immediately. I instantly recognized that she hurt terribly inside, but I kept quiet. We went about our business as usual. When the topic of my name change came up, I embraced the opportunity. I opened up about the transformation I had undergone on an ho

It was normal for Calhoun Mane to dream of faraway places. He hoped to explore destinations that curiosity kept miles away, yet near to his heart’s desires. Calhoun had heard Metallica’s “Wherever I May Roam” hundreds of times. The road had become his home. The seventeen-year-old version of this adolescent feared nothing at first, but the journey ahead brought many risks. Moving around aimlessly left him vulnerable to environments far more extreme than anything he had known.

Every morning, a particular perspective awakens within me, fueling my desire to live fully. I eagerly look forward to emerging from rest to craft my next endeavor. The hours before dawn seem infused with a magical energy that flows effortlessly from my mind’s eye. My inspiration feels limitless, always ready to surface like mountains that touch the sky. The morning profoundly stirs this passion within my soul, as if activating a mechanism that illuminates the world with envis

The evening offered little to do as rain pounded the Houston suburb of Friendswood, Texas. Calhoun Mane sat on the screened porch with a sketchpad and a pencil, drawing a caricature of Michael Jordan. The dim porch light made it hard to see the lines as he spun the pad to apply each line perfectly. He drew the head large enough to capture the basketball legend’s details, but he kept the body one-third the size of the head to fit the rest of the page. He had drawn characters f

The development of my person, both personally and professionally, has spoken to my heart: I matter. When I first set out to write, my mission was to learn grammar, punctuation, and syntax. The mission to write and publish compelling stories then took on an entirely different role. I became an expressionist, challenged by clarity, engagement, the concise use of dialect, and correctness, which meant knowing when to break the rules appropriately. The growth I have experienced ha

Awakening to Ohio’s spring equinox fuels my efforts to cultivate nature’s beauty. March introduces Ohioans to the astounding variety of flowering plants as the ground breaks, bringing the season’s splendor back. I have the green thumb of a passionate fellow who digs in the soil to ease my allergy symptoms. Mother Earth is the most perfect host, and I welcome her embodied contributions into my soul. Each droplet falls from the heavens as precipitation, orchestrating the rele

Ribbit... Ribbit... I exist in Midwestern valleys as a human influence, a storytelling river toad, "ribbit, ribbit.” Stay a while on my lily pad. If you kiss me, I won’t turn into a prince; I’ll stay folkloric, kind, and humorous. A North American provocateur, I master simple narratives; my writing sets me apart. What do I know with all my creek experience? Do you speak my language? I've spoken every American dialect and written both simply and elaborately to resonate wit

When I finally found the writing style that gave me originality, my voice became the experience readers need. In my opinion, voice is the most important quality of a manuscript. The author’s interpretation matters most because identifying with a cultural aspect or national origin adds depth to literature. Samuel Clemens created characters from the Deep South, and Huckleberry Finn would hardly be as dynamic with a Northern accent. I use a slight twang in my writing as an influ

Call me insane for believing in the career I have crafted for myself. I wear many hats, stitched from the symbolic blood, sweat, and tears of an ambitious fella. Watch me dance wildly around a table, offering every sweet and tart, entertaining all who come to join the party. The only true obstacle is a hare hurling dishes everywhere. Become my guest of honor. Come on down the rabbit hole. Fall for what I make possible. I’ll serve the creativity of a curious mind, where the ve

An ode to the Father, and Yahweh knows the seed of conception in a mother’s womb long before the introduction fulfills the prophecy. The fruit of life, a tree bearing produce that sustains the very existence of humankind. Breath in life, foreseen by the Word of God and sanctified by faith-led righteousness. An ode to the Heavenly Host, the Christ Child, Yoshua, Son of Man, a gift to mere life. God dawned upon humanity, breathed over a vast knowingness, and constructed a unive

Walking across the stage in the auditorium made Calhoun Mane cry uncontrollably. The crowd clapped for the 2003 graduates of the Ohio Institute of Photography and Technology. Family, friends, and faculty cheered in appreciation as students received their associate degrees in specialized fields. The two years leading up to this moment had gone far too fast for Calhoun. He felt it had just been a week since he had earned his General Educational Diploma. He flipped his tassel to

The ache in Calhoun Mane was a heavy burden to bear. He knew the suffering of a broken heart. He had learned to hide the pain behind a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Such experience made Calhoun a prime candidate for a midlife crisis, except he brought this on by the age of twenty-five. His questionable ability to love made romance appear improbable. He now planned to enjoy life. When Calhoun saw Kameron Grayly for the first time, she glowed in the dim light of the res

When Calhoun Mane signed his promissory note to attend college, he promised to build a fortune doing what he loved. Creativity flowed through his veins like a water hose watering the nature around him. Both faculty and peers noticed that he lacked the knowledge needed to succeed in a program designed for advanced students. They supported his progress whenever possible. After learning how to turn on a lab computer and engage with the applications that followed, Calhoun quickly

After the teacher left the classroom for a few minutes, Marvin Levey threw an acorn and smacked Calhoun Mane upside the head. The embarrassment caused Calhoun to immediately retaliate as classmates’ laughter turned to awe after a single blow to Marvin’s temple landed solidly. When the teenager hit the floor with a thud, Calhoun stood over him, cussing and threatening more of the same punishment. Marvin climbed up into his desk just as Mr. Treadway reentered the now silent cla