I moved into that studio apartment with a twin bed, a dresser and a coffee table. I think I still had my bean bag chair from college. No TV, not even a phone at first. There wasn’t much room anyway, so this basically filled the apartment. I read Stephen King books, smoked, and drank coffee.... Continue Reading →
More than My Bartender
I still remember the night this photo was taken - that's me on the left. Of course this is not the real one. That one is stored safely in an album, in a box, in my memories. It was a night that was mundane - I was probably sad, I usually was. Broke, hating my... Continue Reading →
Starting Out
I recently started writing my very first novel. It's been a couple of months now. I started out writing for hours every day. I could not seem to stop, the scenes were coming to me. Now, a couple of months in, I struggle to write for even 30 minutes. I find myself judging everything I... Continue Reading →
Maxwell T Quinn 