This is supposed to be some sort of “about me” page, where I fill you in on who I am, what I’m doing, why I prefer wearing a belt instead of suspenders*, all of that important-sounding “stuff”. I’m just not sure how to do that. I’ve got tons of “about me, here I am, oooh, look at this nice beer I had with dinner” stuff out there on the web, and I suspect you could look there for more but… enough of that.
So. Let’s just say this: I used to write, was told I had promise, went to some writing conferences, then university to get my degree in writing, and promptly stopped. I don’t know why, so it’s unlikely that I’ll stare into my navel and pop out some verse about how “I lost my way when I was 23/ oh, me…”. Suffice it to say that I was doing other things, and I found them interesting.
I still do, by the way – I like my business, and respect Wallace Stevens for his (along with, well, everything else). I’ll be writing here as an experiment, in this weird echo chamber called the Internet, and it’s likely going to be all rough drafts. So, pick apart as you will, QA them, make a mockery – I’d expect little else, based on the level of commentary we see happening on every opinion/ news post that gets published out there nowadays. It’s a savage, uncivilized age we’re unwrapping, and I’m thinking I’d like to sing a few songs about it.
Occasionally.**
Oh, and the disclaimer (I am stealing this idea from another):
All work is expressly mine and may not be used without my permission. Excerpts may be used with credit given to myself and a link to the original content, at Writermoe.wordpress.com. Unauthorised use and or duplication is forbidden. I can be contacted directly at mrtnburns@gmail.com, for any requests and further information.
*Wedgies. Suspenders give me wedgies. Also, I lack the panache to pull them off.
The artist as an awkward little man. No. Not really. I have no idea who this kid is, but I know I want to rescue him from his future.
**I make absolutely no guarantees towards quality, nor towards quantity. You should resent the former, and be rather grateful for the latter.
