There’s only one rule, and it’s got nothing to do with short sentences. It’s simple: Never write about _________.
That’s _________ saving good folks from harm, harming bad folks for no good reason, or going on ‘adventures’ that all end invariably with the words “and where the fuck have you been?”
No one wants or needs to know.
But one day I thought: what if I wrote the most fantastic __________ story. That would really shake things up right?
Then I got a grip on myself.
Until I read something, about how _________ can see things, things we can’t. I remembered how _______ would sit for hours, staring into space, laughing, its eyes transfixed.
I thought maybe just maybe there was something left to say and that’s how it all began.
Sixteen days later I was homeless and hiding out in a brick-wheeled RV parked in a disused logistics warehouse next to an industrial sized swinger’s club. My wife was dead, killed by a shock administered via a modified USB stick and a seemingly decent couple, both local celebrities, were looking set to serve life.
So as I said, don’t write about _________. Best just avoid the subject.