Paul and Sandy have been dating for three months, and this is their first weekend away together; the relationship is still in the groove: both parties still on their best behavior, teeth brushed and flossed, sex interesting and creative - well constructed narratives of their respective pasts.

Paul loves Sandy's hair, her long legs and her tits like perfect champagne glasses, and Sandy loves Paul's humor, his intellect, the way he looks at her when they make love, but as they…

Psychiatrist Ivanovo was forensically meticulous as his statement to the Dublin High Court shows in the way he pursued the cause of Muldoon’s dementia and reached a disturbing conclusion, passing it on to the police who followed the trail back to a neo-colonial villa in the Bermudas on Paradise Isle, where Patricia McCarthy and her lover resided.

Neighbors identified Muldoon from pictures, alias Patrick Doherty and, just as Ivanovo suggested there might be, on a shelf in a…

Donned in bronze polished I stand on this heat-hazed shimmering plains. Greek helm with red horsehair plummage covers the golden hewed hair of mine. Strapped to my left arm is shield round while in my right I hold the twelve foot spear Alexander made famous in his march against the Persians. To the right of me five hundred men in close formation, shields up and spears leveled. Behind me, ten ranks deep, another five thousand.

On the far left flank I see the flowing…

The New York Times sets it up just like a bad Law and Order episode. We’ve all seen these TV "true" crime shows, where the victorious police arrest the perpetrator of some foul deed and then turn him over to the prosecution, as we wait with baited breath for the…

Arlene's Kohler tub is extra deep, sparkling white, and outfitted with eight spectacular massage jets. Her towels are made from majestic white cotton of exotic origin, and she has a matching monogrammed bathrobe. On the day before her regularly scheduled manicure and pedicure, she treats herself to a long soak. Fragrant candles, spa-rainforest music, gels, scrubs, and tender sponges wait nearby. It is so quiet, she thinks, that she could fall and break her neck without disturbing anyone.…

"Let the little birdy sing her song, or listen to her wailing from the grief." My little daughter read that in a poem once, and now she sings it to sweep up any little broken shard of silence she leaves lying around. And oh, does she sing it. God, her voice is something terrible, but I just let her keep on singing. It gives her something to do, keeps her from asking about…

The room I'm in is quiet for once. A girl swings to and fro in the back yard. A boy upstairs embraces Thomas the Train in his sleep. A man lifts weights in a back room. A dog sleeps by the window.

Their absent sound is like one hand clapping.

So, umm, whatever happens to those in-between moments? You know, those moments where nothing really happens, and that we all forget the moment they pass? Do they cease to exist because we forget them? Do they even really exist in the first place? Well, I know they exist in the first place, 'cause I'm in one right now. I'm just wondering if this little moment in which I'm…

Writers write stories with a central theme, plot, twist and irony. They write characters who think, feel, dream, grow and die. They write symbols, connections and tie endings to beginnings along a believable resonating arc. They write conflict to achieve momentum and plot: man vs. man, nature, society or himself. The writer's work imitates life.

Real life ignores foreshadowing.

Step 1: Walk in and lay down the law-short, simple, to the point: I'm a hard-assed teacher, and I have the highest expectations for you, so get used to it!

Step 2: Look them in the eye, hold them to those standards, watch them flounder a bit at first.

Step 3: Hold steady and be consistent while they get their minds wrapped around the fact that rules change for no one here.

Step 4: Begin to slowly raise the bar while you watch them rise to the…