I’ve been a bad boy. I haven’t been posting on my poor, neglected blog lately. You see, like all truly creative types, I’ve been protesting. Call me simplistic, but I always thought America was about freedom. I grew up writing fantastic (as in wild, unusual, not as in great) stories and nobody said anything I wrote was threatening. I didn’t know any better—I was just a boy with a tablet and a pencil. I wrote my imagination. Now we have a president who’s trying to slash the National Endowment for the Humanities. There’s no profit in it, you see. And this after having W say just a few years back that freedom isn’t free. What? You have to pay for freedom? Forgive me, but I’ve always been a live and let live kind of guy. My horror isn’t gruesome. It’s existential. Maybe that’s why I have such a tough time getting published. With nearly twenty stories in press I hope my writing’s not that bad. I ...
Blog of a struggling writer.