TW Column by Steven Lewis
How many insults must a wingless mortal absorb while some assault bird keeps attack-tack-tackin’ windows around his house?
How many insults must a wingless mortal absorb while some assault bird keeps attack-tack-tackin’ windows around his house?
I’m handicapped as a writer because I had a happy childhood.
No bosses. No deadlines. No editors. No watches. No cocktail parties.
Our beloved agent reported that publishers couldn’t decide whether our subject was 'sexy or disgusting.'
Nutri-prudes want their food revoltingly bland. No fat. No taste.