Writing for my rent

A portion of my rent, to live here in North Asheville with an old friend, includes writing one piece of fiction a month.

He insisted. I resisted for five months. He threatened to evict me.

My fiction blog, Then The Radio Died, pre-dated The Wilder Coast by three years, but has been more or less abandoned.

If you'd like to visit and read the ongoing saga of Eve and The Lunatics, head on over to this very strange little place. It can be a little shadowy and even sometimes smokey.

All the art you'll see over there is courtesy of Ali Walsh. It may haunt you.