BEST LINE OF THE DAY (from The Rejectionist’s review of Anonymous): “I find complaining about scholarly inaccuracy in a Roland Emmerich film to be analogous to expressing displeasure that Transformers does not correctly represent the mechanics of the internal combustion engine.”
“Spanish Blood,” a short story from The Simple Art Of Murder anthology by Raymond Chandler.
“Habeas corpus,” an ironically titled essay on the non-necessity of murder in crime fiction, by Lynne Patrick at Hey There’s a Dead Guy In The Living Room. And, in the same vein, I’m catching up on the shenanigans at Slushpile Hell.
A science piece at the New York Times about how causing senescent cells to self-destruct could prevent many of the symptoms of aging. Sounds like forced retirement for the microscopic set!
I love this article. It is realistic and honest, even brutally so, but tough and helpful. Love it, love it, love it.
A few days ago, I posted an analysis of hits at this website, listing the 
In a damn* interesting piece yesterday at Talk To YoUniverse, Juliette Wade discusses how writers can navigate the differing perspectives of characters inside and outside a culture group.
At 
Remember the last time I posted an item on writing? Yeah, me neither.*
I may be one of the luckiest writers on the planet. “How so?” you ask with your brows flat like a pair of furry balconies for your brain’s apartment. Let me tell you.
Following the