Through working on my new middle-grade novel, I've been rediscovering the joy of writing. I suspect that's because, at heart, I'm really a smartass, obnoxious 14-year-old boy screaming to be unleashed on the world. I have to battle the urge to post, right here on this page, excerpts from my book-in-name-only. This is so, despite the fact that with this work in progress, I'm competely allowing my ADD to run the show, and so far the "book" exists only as a series of disjointed scenes thrown haphazardly onto the page. So what? Ask me if I care. I love this embryonic book and it's making me happy, and I don't need your stinking rules.
Okay, I'll just tell you the title, and no more, regardless of how much you beg. The book is called, "IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY?" and it is a loving homage to class clowns everywhere. All of us - and we know who we are - have had that question seared into our brains during our formative years, but only a few of us - and we know who we aren't - have fought back, and won.