I tell aspiring writers that you have to find what you must write. When you find it, you will know, because the subject matter won’t let you go. It’s not enough to write simply because you think it would be neat to be published. You have to be compelled to write. If you’re not, nothing else that you do matters.
Is it fair your life burns so short and bright? Death had asked. “No such thing as fair,” Frank told himself. “If I’m going to burn, it might as well be bright.
What are you?” She demanded. “My dad? Osiris? Are you even alive?” Dad looked at Anubis. “What did I tell you about her? Fiercer than Ammit, I said.” “You didn’t need to tell me that.” Anubis’s face was grave. “I’ve learned to fear that sharp tongue.” Sadie looked outraged. “Excuse me?
