I have tried my best to be a closet freak. I have tried to cut off ties to the cyber world but I have failed and now I am back. It has been a long year and a tough year and nothing good has come of it. I do have a handful of college credits under my belt, more than I did last year. But beyond that I have nothing to show but a deeper dent in my computer chair and carpel tunnel syndrome from playing video games. My brain is mush, my bank account is drained and all for nothing.
I suppose nothing is lost but time and it's now the day to put pen to paper and drag that great American novel out of my twisted mucked up brain, the "child of my understanding" as Cervantes would call it.
The thing that I'm most afraid of is not failure but mediocrity. Let's say I write this book. Alright, that's a feat not everyone does every day but then what? Let's say I get it published. An even more difficult feat (unless I decide to self-publish but what good would that do my ego or my pocketbook)? And then you stumble upon my book whilst perusing through all the thousands of new books on Amazon. Let's say you buy it and read it. What then?
The world spins on and all I can do is write another one. Your copy of my first book collects dust on your shelf or is deleted from your Kindle and my name is forgotten. Mediocrity.
Here is another word: profundity. Ah, why shoot for the moon when there are billions of galaxies to explore! Why settle for a hamburger when fillet mignon is within reach? Why settle for a good book when you can have a great book or better yet: a profound book?
However, most profound books were written on accident. That's my belief and so chances are good that good is what you'll get. Then again, you'll get nothing if I don't start.
I'll let you know how it turns out.
-D. Gage (alias: Nosmo King)