Superstition may not have gotten us into this mess, but when father science came knocking, our blackthorn (known for its ability to ward off evil) door fell right off its hinges. There is only one way to defeat science. More science.

To be clear, the metaphor continued through that second sentence, but I elected to remove my gentle guidance out of a sense of respect for the reader.

Some may be afraid to take up their pike and do their part, but I never falter in the quest to slay the story-beast and finally take my place on that rotting throne within.

Only when the typewriter is begging for mercy, struggling to rub its last drops of ink off, is the idea complete. It is my blessing, and my curse.

But the metaphorical air pressure is literally changing. And each and every one of them has sensitive nasal blood vessels.

These same writers will tell me a page is too much time to dedicate to a nosebleed. That I should crack a thesaurus rather than write the word “nosebleed” thirty five times on a single page. That nosebleed-based horror won't fly off the shelves.

Cancer Wars: a Skirmish of Tumors and Men out in stores now