Writers are writers out of spiritual necessity. Like a plant needs to be watered, writers’ musings must be written. Beyond that, some writers lavish in the limelight, while others prefer their privacy; some write rapidly and publish proudly, while others create with careful ease and seldom share stories.
It is the work of those so sensitive and raw maternal for their writing that intrigues me, personally, and so when my most endearing client, Ned Theodore Ed, presented me a copy of his travel sketches for publication, I felt more excited as a fan of his writing than as a publisher of a new business deal. His deliberate and graceful—yet never timid or dull—language is like a steady stream, fluid and fruitful. It’s as though rather than writing of the water at the water’s edge, he is one with the water himself.
Now with a tremendous honor, I would like to present to you the Travel Sketches of Ned Theodore Ed, a gentle soul who is my esteemed client and a writer whose work I absolutely admonish. This silent, poetic skeleton, ironically, is the voice of humanity’s spirit and what it means to have a soul among nature.
Continue reading “The Travel Sketches of Ned Theodore Ed” →
Editor and Publisher
(Read Part I, II, and III.)
The power cutting out in Slantia was not a regular occurrence; in fact, it was not even an irregular occurrence, but rather not an occurrence at all. Slantia’s underground energy source was so massive and constantly fueled that on this very average morning, when the power cut out at the cubicle apartments, none of the residents knew what was happening. As far as they knew, it was the apocalypse. Continue reading “I Fuel the Great Machine: Part IV” →
Normally, Ned Theodore Ed would not voyage into the thick of a blizzard in the middle of the night. Normally, N.T. would not leave the warmth and comfort of a fortified house with quilted blankets, candles, and a room full of books, for the sake of throwing himself out into the cold, harsh, sideways snowfall that raged outside, extending into the darkest hours of the night’s reign. However, N.T. did not find himself in a very “normal” scenario that evening, and so contrary to any of his instincts or preferences, N.T. was suited up in a snow coat with a flashlight in one hand, a sled in the other, standing in the garage doorway of Margaret’s house preparing to face the elements.
Continue reading “N.T. Ed and the Encyclopedia of Dreams: Part V” →