A crazy little writer with a crazy little thought

There are many reasons why I’m crazy.  There are many reasons why I write.  One, for myself.  It’s therapeutic, it’s cathartic, it’s whatever; it’s fun.  Another reason is the desire to have someone read a story I have written and say:  “That was the best thing I’ve read this year.  Wait, no, that was the best thing I’ve read in my life.”  Yes, I laugh at that one too, sometimes.  Maybe it’s not going to happen.  Yes, check out that ‘maybe’ – I can’t quite shake the delusion, can I?  All right, chances are pretty good it isn’t ever going to happen.  Chances are pretty good that before it does I will have been struck by lightning – twice – and therefore unlikely to appreciate the comment anyway.  But I can’t deny it’s a part, a very small but yes a very significant part of what drives me to put words down on paper and screen.  The audience.  It’s no coincidence that I am writing this as former UK glamour model Kate Price prepares to publish her 49th – or is it 50th? – book.

Words matter to me.

Words matter to me a lot.


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