Ah, now here’s where Writing All Wrong might save you a few days in the unemployment line. Or, if you’re an entitled millennial, it’ll spare you a few days of not having the keys to your dad’s Lexus until you find a job. (Just kidding – he’ll talk to someone at his work and have you hired directly into management).

If you’re not fortunate enough to “know a guy or gal” — then you’ll need a sharp résumé to ticket your way into a job interview.

“Great candidate!” — Lord Shredd, The Résumé Annihilator™

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But instead of getting that interview ticket punched, it’s your face that will be punched if your résumé contains the following:

Continue reading “Delete These Things from Your Résumé Right Now — Part 1” →

Ah, at long last, where we get back to the earthen, dirt-hugged roots of the writing craft.

Copyright Joseph Samuel Priestley & The Harrogate Archaeological Society – Original Image

“Your writing is grinding the gears of my imagination when they are mine alone to turn.” 

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Speaking of dirt, there’s plenty of it to find in the fiction writing world, but none more so than this common gaffe, this novice tell, the one thing that many writers need to stop doing to make their fiction better:

Continue reading “Stop Doing This One Thing and Make Your Fiction Better” →

Another slice off the narrative roast:

“Yak at Ledar” by TravelWayOfLife is licensed under CC BY 2.0

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Feast.

Thank you Jesus, the hard-working nomads of Engywha uryot’ha, and the sacrifice of one spit-roasted yak. The nomads had done some construction in the center of town, rearranging the tents and tables to accommodate most of the village. Like lines of ants summoned to the hill, we all traced through the sands to the tent cluster, eager to pounce on this festivity. Had to admire their modular prowess, puffing up the “rooftop” and seamlessly linking their tents. They must have given their interior decorators some purpose, evidenced by the descendent aubergine fabrics, torch illuminated, resplendent ceiling accouterment.

We gathered around low tables, not much more than darkened sheets of wood upon brick. Not much used, easy to stow and re-use. Can’t just peel off the yak and eat it on the spot. Could still smell it lurking in the air, the aromas having come to rest in our new hall. I try my best to immerse myself when given the chance, but I didn’t try that hard here. Found Clean and other fast friends in a matter of moments. I bowed out of courtesy, ready to capitalize on desires long accumulating in interest here.

“You looking quite happy, Sir Michael,” noted Clean.

“Looking forward to the feast you all put on. Great timing for my arrival, right?”

“Quite,” he added. “They’re serving.”

I snapped my gaze toward whatever activity began at a nearby table. Two husky nomads set down a heavy red chest on a table. Kids, being kids and all, squeezed in through the cracks, barging in between the seated adults. You’d think they wouldn’t take to grown-up food. Prayed within that they honored guests, travel writers, and elders first. In that order.

“What’s in the box?”

Continue reading “Excerpt 2: The Last Travels of Sir Michael Zazu” →