I Am Not A Threat

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter of the book yesterday. I am trying to get it finished and find a lpubisher by Christmas. It will make good presents for people.

One of the difficulties I have had in writing the book is what and who to put in. I am always afraid of painting someone in a bad light. In reality, there were few bad times growing up. I mean, I only got beat up once, and that was for calling another guy’s girlfriend. Did not understand that one. I mean, she and I had been friends long before he came into the picture. But I am not worse for wear, and I escaped Hoopeston with all my appendages, and my teeth.

Recalling people is something I am not good at. I used to be, but time and copious amounts of titrates of non-neutral elixirs during my college days has left holes in my grey matter. That is why the book is sometimes fiction. I have to fill in the blanks, and unfortunately, my friends memories are not much better than mine. And, strangely enough, they remember things a bit differently than I remember them. So whose got truth and who doesn’t? Doesn’t really matter when you write fiction. That is why it is called that. If it were real, it would be called fact, or non-fiction.

So, some of my characters might be themselves, some might be mixtures of people. One thing I have discovered, though, going through my yearbooks as “research”… I had a lot of female friends. I only had one really good girl friend in high school. All the rest were my friends, and I am still acquainted with most of them. We have not gone out for coffee lately, but, then again, I live a few miles away now. We keep up on Facebook, though.

I often wondered why I was able to have so many girl friends, but no GIRLFRIEND. I have come to the realization that I am easy to talk to, but not especially good looking. I can listen well, and I validate women, but when came to doing the horixontal rumba, or being someone they took home to mom and dad, I did not quite fill the bill. But their mom’s did love me, because I did not threaten their daughters with an overwhelming sex drive. I was a “brother” ; not husband material.

But somehow, when I went to college, I changed. Like my best buddy Bill. When we parted for the summer, he was barely my height, when we went to room together at Eureka College, he was well over six feet tall. Me? I must have gotten better looking, especially towards the end of the keg.

But the writing goes on. And thanks to my friends who send me ideas I keep coming up with ideas and avenues. So, keep those emails coming.

Doughnut