I had a dream last night that I was looking at the cover a book I’d published. It had to be a dream, right? I’m about as interested in publishing as I’d be in sprouting feathers and dancing in the New Year’s Parade.
It was an interesting cover, it gave away the plot of the novel I’d written, so it had to be re-worked just a bit. I woke slowly in the splendid stupor of dream-land fame (the best kind of fame, really, as it requires no picture opportunities), and thinking what a really great novel it was that I’d written. Even though it was only in my dreams, it was a great mystery novel. I worked out a couple of plot twists before fully waking, and then I realized, in no way related to the novel I’d written, how many strong, fully functioning, honest women I have in my life.
Check out my links: http://www.fatherluke.com/links/
I don’t do math, so you work out the percentages, but look: Women.
Mostly women, anyway. Rough bastards all of them, wanting the truth above all else. Sacrificing nothing to be able live lives based in honesty, love, living creative, happy lives in worlds of their own making.
Them men I link are the same: Rough, honest, bastards, and sacrificing nothing, and living large, and writing clear, and hard about what hurts.
Hemingway said that. Write clear and hard about what hurts.
Bless all you magnificent fucks.
I love each one of you.
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Okay,
Father Luke
jenifer.wills
