There’s something that rings melancholy in the air when an artist dies. This isn’t to say that it’s not sad when others pass on, but my heart has a deeper pang when a creative soul dies. How much more work would they have shared with the world, making it a better place? How many more books written, films acted in, projects made by, paintings made by, if the artist’s time had not been cut short? I learned today that one of my favorite actors, Philip Seymour Hoffman, has apparently died of a drug overdose. What saddens me more is that this type of death could have been prevented. It wasn’t a deadly car crash, a heart attack, something that we can’t control. This was something in his control, and he lost his battle to it. And I also find regret. About a year ago, I had the opportunity to see him in a Broadway play. I opted to see something else instead. Now, I will never see him on Broadway again. Regret, indeed. No matter what demons are out there, a message to artists: keep going. Let your heart keep beating so you can continue your artistic pursuits. RIP.

Happy Halloween week to all :) I will be traveling on the actual holiday, so I haven’t spent as much time with decorations and such this year. But, the writing brain must be satisfied :) I’ve taken an old paranormal short story (by old, I mean probably 7-8 years old) and revamped it, polished it a lot, and put it up on Amazon for 99 cents. Buy on Amazon now.