Dang what a deal!

I'm not sure how many pages I have written so far, but this writing thing is a whole lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

I first thought if I didn't have facts and figures to check when I write, the writing would come easier. I may just turn out to be an article writer. What I'm writing is turning out to be clever little stories.

Ha! Clever. I'm shocked that I would call myself clever. In fact, my Pop used to tell me "you've out-smarted yourself again"! At least I'm amusing myself with the little stories I've written so far.

It's a miracle to see that amid my 'so-called-crappy life, I've seasoned it with comedy. Maybe that's been a survival technique.

I'm actually wondering at this point if all these small stories can be stitched together to make one book. More to the point, why would anyone want to read anything I write?

Sing Mary Lou Sing! Week one.