|Here I am at the 1972 gathering of the Oulipo congress of experimental writers|
During my earlier academic writing efforts, I was at a small state school in the middle of the country. About as isolated from the publishing industry or anyone with direct experience with finding an agent or a publisher as I could be. At that time an ill defined dream began to take shape in the back of my mind: one day I would write a novel, I would find a great literary agent who loved my work, I would gain the personal endorsement of a famous novelist, that I would be a part of a community of inspiring creative intellectuals and that world domination would follow.
It only took twenty years, but I have accomplished nearly all of the above.
As you may know, I wrote the novel Good For Nothing, I found a really exciting literary agency with a great couple of agents handling my manuscript, I have been flooded with support from family, friends and other artists and writers whose opinions I really respect. And now, Audrey has blurbed me: