Well, fine, I am writing one. It's not finished yet -- but the folks at the National Novel Writing Month don't care, since they gave me this picture for the first 50,327 words, which I wrote in November.
They gave me other pictures, but this one is better. Really, the others are even less impressive.
At the moment, it is called The Other Bakersfield. According to the synopsis I had to fill out to get all these pictures (and a certificate I can hang on my wall or my hard drive), it's about a ghost town that gets a second chance. It's also about artists and dogs and electricity and guilt and what it's like to lose your mind. Because I could, I invented a musical genre and a pharmaceutical drug to make things interesting.
No, you can't read it. Not yet. In the end, it will be about twice as big as it is now. There's still lots to be done. But I appreciate your interest, honestly I do. Tell your friends about it, and tell them they can't read it either.
I can give you the first sentence, though, if you'd like. The first sentence is this:
Rubble.
congratulations!
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