Hardly a day goes by that I don’t lose myself down the paths of imagination, seeking ways to free the characters in my head. I see them in a neuron cage, trapped inside bits of story and ideas half-formed. Some are old enough to be in the final stages of decomposition, their rotting fumes making vile what was once curious and new. Others are in worlds vast and full of life yet darkened by an author distracted by the vagaries of life. These characters deserve to have their stories told, yet despite my lifelong desire to spin the yarn of words, I have yet to find the discipline to instill my waking hours with the habits necessary to make them real. The reasons for such neglect are myriad and inconsequential when held against the psychic agony experienced by these trapped souls.
This “One Month of Summer” is an effort to jump-start my writing and extract memorable moments from the last few years, giving them a home safe from the ravages of memory.
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