Yes, it's true. I've joyfully dropped the mantle of literary fiction --that bedraggled moldy t-shirt given to me at the ucla writers program and was forced to pretend I understood it all.
You see, I found Ayn Rand in the gutter in Venice. Or she said she was, I don't know. I gave her a pack of cigarettes and told her to move her skinny tush over to Pacoima. Anyway, I wholeheartedly embraced crass commercialism. That's right. I've got a store on Cafe Press, and I expect all of my friends to buy something from me. Just think of the benefits. I won't bother you for five bucks anymore, I'll be able to pay for coffee, I won't talk about "when I finish my novel I'm going to go somewhere" --no I'll just go, though I will still stay with you.
So visit the store. Buy lots of items, but do it because you love me and aren't able to tolerate my marginal life as a writer anymore.
Easy-Writer, writer of poetry, novels, short stories, and hawker of mugs and totes.
Items: "Word Warrior" buttons to take to conferences
"My Editor Has Sharp Claws" Stationery
"I'll get a haircut when I finish writing my novel "Cap
"My Editor Has Sharp Claws" Stationery
"I'll get a haircut when I finish writing my novel "Cap
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