Book

Sometimes I have these grandiose day dreams of how I have struck it unbelievably rich. They make me smile and I idly kick around the best imaginary scheme possible and then blow it up into super power size. This pass time passes time with amazing speed.

My favorite one this week is that someone somewhere somehow finds my book and publishes it. Of course they are a good decent person and they set it up so that when the true author is found, me, all proceeds will be passed to me 100%. Of course the first thing that I do is give this do good-er a well deserved and generous cut. The book will have a modest following but enough of one that we could fix up the back yard and add a studio/ art type of room for me and expand the current disastrous mess of an office into something decent with shelves galore for my guy.

The only major problem with this shiny story is that I never did finish my book. The least of my problems is the ‘someone somewhere somehow’ part. I could fix that one. I have tried out different sets of people and I have decided on a successful publisher who happens to be a woman with graying blond hair. She will be on the opposite sides of politics that I am on and will prefer cats to dogs and we will get along famously. The where part is a little more difficult but not impossible because I can lump that one in with the ‘how’. I have thrown manuscripts into the thrift store bin a couple of times. Maybe she is also a flea market fan.

I heard your question Reader; “Why would you throw a manuscript into a thrift store bin?”

The obvious answer, and I am surprised you asked, is that if I had thrown them away in the trash then I would have had to have a funeral. The second option, to pack them, is that I couldn’t because they were hopeless cases. Idle excellent characters that are bored out of their brains are restless bed partners and they were keeping me up at night. They had to move out.

I was completely stumped. Even the story line was bored! I thought that if someone out there could finish the story then the story would find that someone. If not, the irritated employee could throw them out and spare me the despair of knowing I can’t write and shouldn’t bother trying anymore.

I have been trying to start a new one the last couple of years. I am distracted, more the usual, and this one is based off of memories and journals.

So far it is also bored.