Apr 2, 2007

I'll show all you whipper-snappers

I'm a 96-year old man, and I've finished my novel. I hear your excuses.

"Who has the time?"

I could die at any time. Hasn't kept me from paragraphing.

"I'm tired."

I invented tired.

"I have writer's block."

A year ago my colon was blocked for three weeks. During that time I finished six chapters and a ship in a bottle. The ideas will make it through, even if nothing else will.

"My novel is based on my life experiences, and it might embarrass people close to me."

You've got a point there. What am I saying? I'm 96. I don't give a damn what people think. Besides, all the people who were close to me are dead.

"I can't find the right publisher."

Afraid of a nasty rejection letter? I could die at any time, but you don't see me quaking in my Barcalounger.

"I would, but I'm busy blogging."

Kids these days.

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