I’m an old fool with some new tools and some stolen thoughts on what constitutes a story. I also have an interest in revenge and a righteous need to chronicle a conflict. And I think we should all arrive to meet our Maker with our soul already tattooed with at least one I.S.B.N. After all, we are, The People Of The Book. Right?
So, excepting a few raw attempts at previous posted small and short fiction, I’ve shipped all the other falderal off to Pocket Door Press.com.
I have a new plain here to populate this site with the notions and sundries of story concoction, plot premises, and the trial of working and finishing a first draft.
But don’t let all the tongue in cheek make you stutter about the seriousness of my effort. The games is afoot. The mystery will be solved.
Which is not to say there won’t be muddle and mundane working this project, which Notes@1xpad will chronologically testify, to be sure. And ill-health and old age has me in a hurry.
One other thing. That old saw, write what one knows, can cut both ways. The past may inform, but a Y equals X doesn’t necessarily mark the spot of some personal buried treasure.
So in no way should this journey, or it’s end product, be viewed as autobiographical. It’s a story. A fiction.
And there you have it.