Ever wonder why are there so many genres of music but not of books? Basic business. The Book Industry Study Group has compiled a list of numbers called BISAC codes, which all published books must be filed under. This makes it easier to market, sell, and stock books based on these categories. And while BISAC codes are always expanding, it is still sad that literary art has to be so confined by the practicality of an old business model. Personally, I’d love to see what a book genre entitled “shimmer pop” or “chilltronica” read like.

You can check out the current BISAC list for Fiction here.


I have removed my wristwatch. I dislike it when I type and it clatters against the edge of my laptop keyboard. When I take it off, it usually means I’m about to pump out a good five pages of text. It is always a good sign.


More than anything, I am frightened I will die before writing something noteworthy. As morbid as that sounds, it bears thinking about. No one knows when their time will be up, and how we spend today will define our legacies. Are you writing?



Writing is not like dancing or modeling. With those art forms, your peak is twenty and it’s all downhill from there. With writing, time and age does nothing but enhance and build one’s skill and understanding. So stop stressing out, trying to write the perfect story right nowand realize that it might not come until you are sixty. But when it does, it will be amazing, formed out of all you’ve done before.


They say writing is cathartic, and I would be the first to affirm its therapeutic properties. But there are also some wounds that it cannot patch, no matter how poetic or literary your style. Some holes cannot be filled with words.


Sometimes stories are like naughty children. No matter how many times you put them to bed and shut the light, they pop back up and run out of their little room again, crying ‘Pay attention to me! Write about me next!’

I suppose the only way to get rid of these annoying brainchildren is to simply write their stories. It will give you something to do in the meanwhile, and who knows, maybe something great will come of it?


Certain words feel similar to me – either they feel related in my mouth when I say them, or they invoke a certain color or smell. For example:

Page. Magic. Squirrel. Whisper. Flamingo. Dustbin. Cricket. Anthropologist.

These words have similar feelings, even though they are not necessarily connected in meaning. Is it just me, or does throwing the word ‘Truck’ in there seem to mess up the fragile sequence? A good, satisfying sentence results when similar words are grouped into arrangements like bouquets of flowers on the page.



Your muse is a jealous lover, and the pact you enter into with her is dangerous, all-consuming, and demands your dedication. She won’t be cast aside and wait patiently for you to return to her. She’ll snatch you away from more pressing matters with a sudden burst of inspiration and that itch to write at the base of your skull. Or she’ll leave you, let you stagnate in front of a blank page for weeks, if you do not give her the constant attention that she demands.

To appease my muse, I think I will go to a cafe and sit quietly and listen to her, pen in hand, free from other distractions. Maybe then she’ll learn to love me again . . .