Publication is always a thrilling yet stomach-churning experience for me. I love releasing my work into the wild, but I dread what will happen next. Mostly, I’m waiting to hear from “that guy.” I don’t have a specific “that guy” in mind. He’s more of an archetype; a self-taught scholar who becomes filled with righteous rage whenever a writer doesn’t meet his criteria for good work. See, if the writer doesn’t get a piece exactly right, it’s a slap in the face for “that guy.” Seething in his attic apartment, he hammers out a persnickety e-mail or letter explaining how I failed him.
Then, when I finally sneak up on him and spin his chair around… IT’S ME!
Or Hitler. It varies.
…let me know by e-mail dan [at] mrdankelly [dot] com. Just curious.
Two months without the instant gratification of Twitter, Facebook, Pinterest, or Tumblr. LAND’S SAKE, HOW HAVE I SURVIVED?
Four thousand words about the Portage Theater, packed off and sent to Gapers Block. IT IS ACCOMPLISHED.
Up till 2:30; woke up at 6. I was trying to finish my as-yet unmanageable Gapers Block article about the Portage Theater. Circumstances prevailed to prevent me from finishing last night, and I am so very tired. I have Jasper TX’s song “braille” on repeat. I am steeped in the gravy of exhaustion.
“Nobody gets to hear me sing.” Frank Stadic
She pushed her way out, by the way. NO JAIL CAN HOLD FLYNN KELLY!
