The Summer Swing: Snakes and Stephen King
In some capacity, I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. I penned my first story in the first grade, a thriller featuring two snakes duking it out over a tasty fly at the top of a “really big rock.” (Spoiler alert: The fly makes a last-second escape.) I’ve filled the time since with sporadic journal entries, essays — some for school, some not — personal memoirs and a couple of dreadful attempts at poetry.

















