Happy July y'all.
I've been busy, working like mad on a story draft, planning trips (look out Denver, Kansas, Connecticut, Dar es Salaam, and London).
The Fourth was one of the best in awhile. I slept in, went for a long run, wrote a little. The hopped a bus, laden with beer, a chilled rose, brownies and onion dip, and went to the beach to a good friend's bbq. We had a lazy afternoon of sun and drinking and catching up; an artist friend took a break and biked over, another friend joined later and drove us to my sis's bigtime event, patio bbq with the fam and then fireworks--mortars, roman candles, black cats, bottle rockets, and assorted other explosives for the kiddies.
I emerged with the only injury, my thumb knuckle blasted and blistered after a little girl waved her freshly-lit sparkler too close. Later on we walked to the lake and watched the official show, then capped off the night with a firecracker fight, the kids wrapped up in blankets, laughing at the bigger kids playing with fire.
Still rocking the band-aids and ointment, but regretting nothing.
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Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
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