i'm all stirred up these days because i have work to do that actually gets me somewhere. when i write, people read it, and people care. so when my novel is done (soon) it will have an audience, i hope.

i found my voice writing about my own coming of age, in 1975, when i was 21, at a vegetarian restaurant in iowa city. because it's so personal, i have trouble distinguishing truth from a superimposed crime that makes the novel passable, but i don't have any trouble conjuring up the feelings of being a kid in a big world and trying to make the best of it. there were wonderful people back then, but of course i have to throw the criminals in there too, or i don't have a novel. and it has to be believable. some of what i did was just plain downright not.

ah but the feelings of 1975, I think it's fun. and i'm almost done, and i actually have a marketing plan. hallelujah!