(Cover Photo. John “Warwick” Smith (26 July 1749 – 22 Mar 1831) was a British watercolor landscape painter and illustrator)
The novel is being re-written and the eighth draft is easier. It’s still not done. It’s not funny either. I…well so I have to keep moving or my back WILL tighten up. One more yard to go. Thirty bags of leaves (weird word…leafs…leaves Or is it only a regional/dialect variation? Depends on the meaning of leaf. If it’s the tree-bits, it’s always “leaves”.) without a blower. I’ll build you a town by hand for ten thousand dollars. It will be a very nice town too. So many leaves (still don’t like that plural form..Unless it’s the hockey-playing tree-bits from Toronto known as the Maple Leafs…did a real half ass Google search, let me know. I don’t have time to think about this right now…)…
It’s just…so many words. The book will be done. Note to self. By the end of this year. It gets better and I put so much time into it, that the only fear I have is not a release date, but if some jackass randomly decides to gun me down because he lost the lotto or something. The Novel. It will be done by the end 2013. Back to raking. LEAVES…
Another free sample draft below and some kind of reading that I’ll probably delete when I wake up from exhaustion. Oh. There’s 25 free downloads on the draft of more adventures of a dying young man. Who ever wants a digital copy in case you ever go off line like I do, go ahead. I don’t care.
P.S. I read a story about a turtle fence when I was on a smoke break. It was heart warming. I’m glad I’m not in the tea party. I don’t think I’d be a nice person. I don’t know though. We all want the same thing. To rake more LEAVES. Not. Thank you for reading. Oh society…
The Lyre. Things to think about when rake the shit out of a neighborhood #1:
The infant Hermes killed a turtle and on the shell he fastened the gut strings made from the entrails from an oxen he had stolen from his brother Apollo. The national instrument of the Ancient Greeks was the Lyre. Good for them. They’re dead. The Present. It’s time to have a fall fire and drink whiskey. I’ll make one of those things tomorrow or something…
Adventures In American Writing 