Yeah, I know it's a stupid title. Does it sound artsy? No. First off, a little about myself. Mainly, I'm a writer. Or claim to be. This blog was my wife's idea and I can't say it isn't a bit pretentious--why the hell would anyone care about a writer trying, in the most vain, to get published. You see there, "in the most vain," that's literature. Here's the skivvy on me in a boring, simplistic format:
Location: Central Illinois
Education: Bachelor's in English--graduated with honors
Occupation: I'd rather not say.
Likes besides writing: Reading Cormac McCarthy, Harry Crews, the classics, Chuck P, Bentley Little, Jon Krakauer, Bret Easton Ellis; watching movies that don't suck, Lost, weightlifting, playing basketball, Cardinal Baseball, spending time with my family.
Dislikes: My job, Stephen King, Chicago Cubs, all East Coast sports teams, math, Geico commercials, not getting published.
So I decided to start a blog. It's a desperate attempt really at getting published. I heard once that another writer was DISCOVERED by a blog she had which was read by somebody who was somebody. Also, it's an exercise in writing daily. So why not. I will use this medium to bullshit, rant about everything from not getting published to anything else that strikes my fancy (strikes my fancy is a cliche). I may post a short story from time to time w/o the slightest fear that anyone will rip me off and publish it, have it made into an Oscar Award winning film, and be set for life.
So that's it for today. I have bronchitis, a fever, and snot stretching towards my space bar. I will sign off regularly with a quick critique of my current entry.
Today's critique: I notice I've used the word so a lot at the beginnings of sentences.
Witticism: And, as always, I'll call you--you won't call me.