Yes, I want to write the book. You know the one: the big press release, the movie rights, the one that is hyped enough that even a hermit has heard of it. But let’s be realistic here, it probably won’t happen. I don’t write about angst-ridden teenage vampires, secret societies, or overly-ambitious wizard kids, the stuff that the masses gobble up faster then free French fries at Mickey D’s.
Truth is, I’m not really sure what I write…yet, but I know it sure ain’t Pop-Fiction.
There is a lot of stuff swirling around in my brain; a lot of people up there trying to tell me their story and I can’t seem to type fast enough to get it all out. I’m sure that somewhere in the chaos of zombies, WWII vets, and a suicidal Joe-Schmoe there is a winner, maybe even the one that makes me a million – and then again, maybe I’m just smoking crack. Who knows?
What I do know is that there a crap-load of beauties out there throwing kissed on paper, crossing their fingers that they'll stumble across the illusive prince. Competition is stiff and I’m going to have to kiss a whole lot beasts before one turns into a best seller. Hopefully it will be before that last petal falls…