There is a day no more depressing as the last Sunday before school starts. It’s was my 12th last day to live. Someday, I’ll write a story beginning with those sentences. However, my summer has been no vacation and I’m paler than ever.
The final draft of Bee is under wraps. Bee is about Bogart Richardson, a dyslexic teen who competes in a spelling bee. I can’t wait to pitch it to agents and publishers because it has a “Snakes on a Plane” high-concept. This is no Rocky, but Bo does accomplish great feats in spite of the odds against him. “Have unrealistic expectations,” has been my motto for the last couple of years. So far, I’ve written two books, one which has placed in a national contest, and I have struck the “aspiring” prefix from my “writer” title.
Unless you’re reading this on mobile, you’ll see I’ve rehabbed the blog. My infinitely talented wife, Anna, gave me the idea for a logo. It suits me well since I’m perhaps the worst self-editor than most GOP candidates <rimshot>. I’ve redesigned my business card as well, seen below:
I will be blogging more on topics of writerly concerns. I’ve avoided the topics of religion and politics, but I’ve got opinion and concerns like anyone else. Writers have duty to sketch what’s in front of them and interpret what it means. It sort of reminds me of the Sufi parable about 5 blind men defining what an elephant is. We’re all snarling bigots when it comes to interpreting the present, rocking angrily in our chairs and bemoaning about good ole’ days of Neverwere. I just attempt to clean the spots off my glasses and expect to squint a lot.