What have I been up to? Thinking, walking, pulling weeds. And starting a book, a novel this time. Rock & roll science fiction, I call it. That makes it lots more fun already. Maybe I can actually get into this. Wouldn’t that be amazing?
Someone emailed me recently to say that she was “loving your writing” since my mother died. Poor Helen, no wonder. A few years back but over 20 years since my father died, we were visiting and I had a letter to mail. She picked up the envelope, glanced at the return address, and noticed for the first time that I’d dropped the “Jr” from my name: “‘John H. Farr,’ is that who you think you are?” she asked with a smirk. Imagine saying that to a grown man. I should have decked her. Pow!
Apparently it’s easier to be myself when I’m not busy pulling arrows out. Jesus, is it any wonder some of us start “late”? I’ve been rolling for a long time, though: teacher, metal sculptor, cartoonist, painter, bronze caster, songwriter, news site editor, Web designer, columnist, author—so what’s this thing about just starting? Why did I say that? Are we counting money? They all made money, every one. That last one still does! I’m a friggin’ genius, I am. But it wasn’t enough, see? You probably don’t, but that’s all right.
And so I write my novel. Maybe I will have a pot to piss in, maybe not, but I will have my book and so will you.