When you're down - which I am at the moment - you tend to get stranger than usual ideas and in my case, that says a lot.
Last night I was chatting with some good friends about my decision to declassify myself as a writer as I haven't done anything more than this blog all year, and I am not worried - which would usually worry me.
During our chat, the subject came to mind that I almost died in my sleep two years a short story called Death of a newshound https://www.draft2digital.com/book/62636 has been written about the night.
That's correct this harrowing story is free on Draft2Digital. I must warn you, my friend Julia who read the story, asked me to change a few things so my friends wouldn't get scared. Such is my talent at writing, even now, I write so well I can scare people who know me well.
The night in question came at the end of a week when I almost choked to death twice, and I was worn out from the lack of sleep.
Why am I still writing?
Yesterday, I said I had quit writing, so why am I writing today? The answer to the question is simple - like me - nobody cares what I write, so I thought why not continue.
Irish poet Brendan Behan once wrote The only bad publicity is your obituary.
Last night's chats brought to mind the thought that many writers sales get a surge after their death. Perhaps that evening was my chance at being recognized for my writing, and again I missed the opportunity.