Michael Scott Hopkins

So, I’m at it again, reading The Grapes of Wrath for what is probably just shy of the tenth time. Could be the eighth. Or the ninth. But whatever the number, those readings have taken place over more than forty

Then again, there’s always a “but…” I’ve taken pains to make the case that running is the “proper” writing addiction, but I have not made the claim that it is the perfect writing addiction, nor will I. For all its

I was fortunate enough in college to have been in an English program with truly outstanding professors. One of the most brilliant of these was Professor H. Renowned in her field, Professor H was as hard-nosed as they come. She

In the preceding posts, I’ve written that running is an addiction, and it’s true; it’s an addiction so strong that it can kick a nicotine addiction’s ass and “run” it the hell out of town – for good. Inherent in

I’ll spare you long descriptions of the in-between parts of this journey, the physical symptoms brought on by panic attacks, which tell the mind that the panic is about some kind of real health crisis. Or crises, more like. There

Smoking is ritual, and in some ways a rewarding one. There’s that moment just before you open a new pack when you tamp down the tobacco into the paper by smacking the top of the pack onto your palm several

It was the Air Force’s fault that I became a smoker. That marginal fraternity of snuff dippers I’d belong to in high school was known as FUBAR, an acronym for “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition,” derived from military slang, though

You know that warm fuzzy feeling you get when your novel of murder, demons, and mayhem gets a 4.8 rating out of a possible 5 from IndieReader reviews? Well, I’m grooving on the feeling right now. The Things in Heaven