Missive to LifeQuakes

Dear World,

I will, though the roof open to the heavens above me, the truck fall to scrap beneath me, though my very mind is brittle and precarious in workings and hold from lack of sleep, I WILL write these books, and then some others after them. Now either manifest an actual volcano under my feet or get the hell out of my way.

I have more important things to attend to. I have a book to write.

Yours truly, and in all due fear to what petty disasters can befall me by your hand,


PS — 1,100 words at lunch today, in spite of estimates, truck repairs, and exhaustion. *nyah, nyah, nyah* Take that, world.

6 thoughts on “Missive to LifeQuakes”

  1. Good for you, Scott! Bare your fangs to the world and show your able writing fingers — it needs such displays from time to time. And write, by all the Gods and Goddesses!

    By the way, I would guess from your posts that you and Thingmaker did not get together for coffee Tuesday eve as proposed. I believe he left Monday before recieving your response to his email. If you would like to connect with him while he’s still in Medford, his phone number is 503-887-1697.


    1. My fangs are, with complete immodesty, bared.

      Thingmaker & I did get together; I was simply too drug out to write of it.

    1. Oh, yes, in fact: *raar* I may have even gone so far as to throw a capital in there — *Raar*

      When I left my car and considered sleeping instead of writing, I realized that Life was at it again, and threw back my shoulders. It would not be going too far to suggest that I was a thing of steel and fire, at this point. The door was shut firmly behind me and I did not walk, I strode to the coffee shop, muttering, “Take that, Life! And how d’you like that?” I may even have given voice to a low growl, assertive and testosterone-laden.

      I even treated me to a cappaccino with lots of honey and extra fluffy milk on top, and asked the nice lady behind the counter to sprinkle some chocolate bits on it.

      *raar*, indeed.

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