It is now two and a half years since I left the United States. I write stories when I have time, grow older because there is nothing better to do, and spend the rest of my time reading or thinking or doing those bothersome chores which I try desperately to avoid. In two days I will be twenty six and this means nothing to me. I would not call myself an optimist, but I never would have anyway. The dreamer is dead, and that leaves only a pragmatist, and no one really cares what he thinks. In the back of my mind I still wonder, but I no longer allow that part to dream. What sense is there in forsaking what my mind knows for what my heart feels?
A few things for those who would like to know:
A few things for those who would like to know:
- I submitted a few stories to two online magazines and await their reply. It's the first time, hopefully not the last.
- The novel is moving along, though still slowly.
- I'm considering extending a short story about an old man into a novella.
- My newest short story in development is about zoos and animals, and people tend to like these things.
1 comment:
your subjective truths have changed, my friend. 2.5 years isn't that long and 26 isn't that old... leaves room for you to change quite a few more times, yet.
it's interesting you posted that your birthday is coming, because i was just wondering today when your birthday was. i hope you have a beautiful birthday, justin.
i actually had a thought for the short story you sent me... i'll write you soon, or see your green dot!! =)
Post a Comment