You May Tell A Tale That Takes

I Don't Have Any Particular Rituals, I Sometimes Like To Write In Longhand When I'm Searching For Ideas But I Do The Vast Majority By Typing, I Can't Always Keep Up With My Thoughts Longhand. I'm Not A Coffee Shop Writer Because I Feel Obliged To Order More Coffee And Then I End Up Over-caffeinated.

...the Thrill Of Being Surrounded By Something Wondrous And Fantastical, Only Magnified And Focused Directly At Her. The Feel Of His Skin Against Hers Reverberates Across Her Entire Body, Though His Fingers Remain Entwined In Hers.

Memories Begin To Creep Forward From Hidden Corners Of Your Mind. Passing Disappointments. Lost Chances And Lost Causes. Heartbreaks And Pain And Desolate, Horrible Loneliness. Sorrows You Thought Long Forgotten Mingle With Still-fresh Wounds.

I Draft Quickly And Then Revise, A Lot.

I Don’t Have The Time To Devote To Circles Or Covens. I Have To Fit Things In When And Where I Can, In Stolen Moments And Cups Of Coffee. Stirring Clockwise To Conjure. Widdershins To Banish. There’s Never Enough Time, And Rarely Enough Caffeine, But I Make Do With What I Have. Besides, Cauldrons And Pointy Hats Are Overrated. Sometimes I See Other Customers Practicing. Pouring Their Cream And Sugar With Studied Intent. Stirring With Purpose. I Add An Extra Spoonful Of Sugar To My Own Coffee For Them, To Make All Of Our Enchantments Sweeter.