The books and music of Ren Cummins
The official site of author Ren Cummins, information about his books and music, a place to find questions, answers, and more questions for those. Links and other internety things, in a sort of one-stop shop.
When I was about seven, my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and my answer was a firm “Spider-man.” I’d read the comics, I knew he existed, and that’s what I wanted to do. Dangerous? Sure, but that’s the price of doing good deeds. With great power comes great responsibility, and, while I didn’t know exactly what my super-power was…
Read MoreLife as a time traveler is probably a lot less glamorous than most people expect. I mean, thanks to all the pop culture icons like Doctor Who or Jules Verne or the Avengers, the expectation is that we all just flip some cool little levers or set the WABAC machine for the year 2525 and pop on over for tea and laser beams. But the truth is nowhere near as interesting - or at least needs a lot less CGI.
Read MoreHow many times have you started to write something, or felt even that first little blush of excitement at a new idea you wanted to tell a story about, only to start feeling the overwhelming horror rise up that maybe you just don’t know enough about it to write it? It’s happened to me… like, every time.
Read MoreThe ship rested at the end of the dock, the sunlight sparkling in a million pieces off the tiny waves that trembled against the shore. The poet could see the captain waiting patiently for the crowd of villagers to end their countless questions. He was happy to share his final words with them, but he could not help but feel the last grains of sand slipping through the hourglass.
Read More“I am great,” he whispered, immediately shaking his head. “No, no, that’s not right. I am the great…. The great… what was it again?”
He sat back down on his cushioned stool, wincing as it creaked beneath him. “I need to get that fixed.”
Read MoreFew noticed the passage of the Raven God. Collected baubles, coins, forgotten treasures dangled from yarn and chimed with each step as he flowed between pedestrians like leaves through the wind. Of the few, they perceived a homeless stranger, pushing a garbage cart, and none met his timeless gaze.
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