You know, the funny thing about writing is that we all hope to accomplish something with our words. Behind every letter, there is an intention or motive – a desire to make a point, if you will. Otherwise, there would simply be no stimulus to speak of. No sounds. No letters. No nothing.
Be it to motivate, inspire, explain, or retire, words all have purpose. So I’m going to attempt an experiment. Because much of writing is done in the subconscious, I believe. I’m going to attempt to woo and mesmerize a literary agent with my words. Because I need a representative to accomplish my goals. I need to put up a freaking building for my mother, and I’m willing to try anything to make that happen. She loved to read, and I’m going to commemorate a Reading Sanctuary to her, no matter the cost. So woo woo, agencies. Here I stand, waving my hand, waiting for someone to usher me into the big leagues. Waiting patiently I am. You want to make money by repping good writers. Ok, Ill be happy to help you do that. But I want to build that building, dammit. Because my Mom deserves it. I want my Mom’s picture and name on the front of a building.
That is all.