So this week I reached into the giant stack of old schoolwork and other papers that my parents sent me several years ago. This time I pulled out a contribution to that great American literary genre, the epistolary road trip memoir:
Not to worry, everyone. I got my proofs back from the person who borrowed them, and they’re now on the shelf along with my other books and various sundries.*
The votes are in and the readers’ choice for the next scene of the month is — wait for it — The Wolf. There really is a werewolf in this book, honest — just not yet.
A couple of weeks ago, I posted something I wrote as a kid, Rabbit’s Journal, something that I later learned is called a “typecast” (probably from a combination of “typewriter” and “podcast”). That seemed to be pretty popular, and so, I now present the continuing adventures of Rabbit Rawlings (yes, he had a last name … all my stuffed animals did). For this one, I evidently had an assist from my brother John, although I couldn’t tell you who wrote what.
A couple of weeks ago I posted a scan of an old story I wrote for school when I was a kid of somewhere between six and ten (depending on who you believe). That turned out to be pretty popular, so I requested more scans from my suppliers of embarrassing material from my younger days (i.e., my parents). Behold: Rabbit’s Journal.