It is yet again that time of year, I just realized. Which could explain why I feel like I just guzzled a pitcher of fire.
On the desire I have to get back to why I started “living online” in the first place: writing for the love of it, writing when the story inside is begging to be told.
The acceptance speech I would have given, although the orchestra would have probably cut me off and flipped me the bird.
The soundtrack to this is dueling banjos and the thud of a wad of chewing tobacco as it hits the ground.