Writing Samples

If you are interested in professional writing assistance, editing services, story writing or ghostwriting services, the following samples might convince you that I am a writer you can trust.

Non-Fiction

I had always been done-in by such contradictions.   How was it that I could have incredible relationships with a few people in my life and yet other relationships were in shambles?  How could one project win such praise and another fail to get off the ground?   more…


As nurses, we are too often reluctant to accept the challenge of a leadership role.  We defer to doctors and non-medical administrators when it comes to organizational strategy and day-to-day decision makingmore…


Even as they actively participate in sexual activity, too many women in the 21st century are divorced from their sexuality and sensuality.  They may be humping their brains out and even having orgasms but what they are engaged in is about as deep and meaningful as riding an exercise bike.  more…


As you gain a greater understanding of the phases and processes that every family goes through when they are confronted with an out-of-control teen, your anxiety will begin to ease.  You will realize that you are not alone.  Other people have walked this path before you.  Other people are walking a similar path even now.  more…


In comparing and contrasting the Historical with the Structure/Process models of Family Therapy, it is important to isolate the fundamental difference between the two models. more…


Not terribly long ago, a woman came into my office for an appointment. This woman was not striking in any particular way. She was pleasant looking, neither beautiful nor unattractive. She was, as I would learn, far from wealthy but by no means without resources. She was not famous. As she shared with me, the closest she’d ever come to being famous was being prom queen runner-up in high school.  more…


“Oh, no problem,” she says, glancing up at you and smiling a lovely smile of perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.  You notice her skin is clear and fresh.  And her eyes are blue.  She shifts a bit to give you wider berth to get past her.  As she does, her tee shirt slides up a bit and you cannot help but notice that this sweet, polite young thing of maybe twelve years old (and just barely that!) is not only wearing underwear that is wholly inappropriate for a little girl but she has a tattoo on her lower back!  A tattoo!  Can you imagine?

What was she thinking?  What was her mother thinking?  more…


Fiction

I cannot begin describe the emotions that washed over me. As an archaeologist, I am adept at imagining whole, thriving communities where others see only rubble and broken rock. I can look at a black smudge on a flat stone and picture clearly the burnt offerings of a priest of the early Hebrew ritual. more…


Scotty first saw the stripes on Uncle Ned’s back by chance. He’d gone visiting the slim, colored man who lived down under the hill from their big home on Elm Street and came upon him in the yard as he was slipping out of his sweaty work shirt. more…


She stepped out into the night in time to see the red tail lights of Jim’s car speeding down the dark road. “Damn,” she sighed, drawing her sweater tighter to protect herself from the night’s chill and the thickening fog.

“What’s the matter? Did he leave you behind?”

She wheeled around and found herself face to face with the smug looking attendant of the all-night station. “Obviously,” she snapped. more…


What the hell did these people expect from me anyway? It’s not as if I fit in with them — or even figured I wanted to. It was hard enough to find myself dragged away from the only life I knew for twelve years to find myself in a Catholic school getting taught by priests and nuns who figured if you could intimidate a boy by whipping him with a ruler you could surely break him down by whipping him with a yardstick. The boys in the school only made it worse with their taunts and name-calling. What did they expect me to do? Ignore them? I’d had to stand up for myself. more…


She stood like a small Russian doll, her blonde hair falling out from beneath the rough wool cap, her blue eyes tearing against the cold.  Her slender body was more than double its size, bundled in sweaters and coats against the blowing cold. more…


Sci-Fi

After the meal, Delfic was given gifts by King Shinz that might prove helpful to him on his life-or-death quest.  These included a beautiful sheath and leather belt so he could wear the Dycentian blade, a bow with a quiver that held ninety arrows, and a sack of gold coins.  more…


M. breathed in the scent off the blonde’s body.  Perfume.  Alcohol.  Sex.  A whiff of that in the morning was usually enough to widen his eyes.  Too bad the scent wafting off the blonde’s naked flesh spoke of too much of all three.  Using her fleshy ass for support, M. pushed himself up to a semi-upright position.  “Bloody Christ,” he moaned, rubbing his temples in a vain attempt to lessen the throbbing that was making his head feel like the object of a drummer’s wet dream.  He glanced in the direction of the gun he kept hidden in the side frame of his bed then over at the vanishing shadow of the morning’s messenger of good will. more…

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