The Itinerant

If the authorities haven’t mentioned this, I will––I have problems finding a place to write. The library is too quiet. Come on, loser––TOO quiet? Well, come on yourself …

If I chuckle while listening to The Big Lebowski on my iPod, it can jolt the very fabric of the universe for some grey-haired pensioner next to me reading “Quilts for the American Dog Magazine”. Even if I force myself into a corner of the library the vertical walls of books somehow magically amplify whatever tuberculotic material is now working itself through another pensioner’s throat. So, in the words of Mr. Ed––”Nay” to libraries.

Coffee shops do not serve me well, either. I’m forced by my own neuroses to write in my backyard, at a table outside Quizno’s, or parked behind Safeway. It’s quiet there … until the squirrels come … stupid beady eyes can see into my soul GO AWAY squirrel <sob>.

Cover is basically finished. I think I’ll upload it for this post. Still working on the second book, passed 32,000 words.

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