Notebook

Up until yesterday, I was working feverishly on an ambitious online fictional autobiography called A Brief Survey of Contemporary Fiction, Literature, Prize Winning & Award Winning Books, Famous Authors, Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Reviews, Periodicals, Diaries, Letters, Journals, Banned Books, Imprisoned Writers, Literary & Artistic Schools, Movements & Manifestos, Short Biographies, Summaries, Criticism, Notes, Opinions, Reading Lists, Essays, Discussions, Forums, Links & other Information of Interest to Bibliophiles and the Common Man. Trouble is, I bit off more than I can chew. My original plan was to write the story of my life as it could have happened had my life been interesting, and then present it alongside a wealth of literary information gleaned (i.e., stolen) from hundreds if not thousands of reliable Internet sources. What I quickly learned, however, is that stealing is hard work � much harder, even, than writing, which, now that I think of it, is a lot like stealing from oneself. Anyway. Suffice it to say, I quit. But to show you what I was up against (myself) and that my intentions were good, I�ve included my Author�s Note below, and as much of the first chapter as I was able to complete. To save space, I am leaving out the stolen information about banned and controversial books and contemporary authors that came in between, even though it is by far the most interesting part.

(Interesting Stolen Information Here)

Chapter 1
I should begin with what Jane Smiley, Dean Koontz, and Tom Clancy once told me over coffee in 1984, but I won�t, because Dave Barry and Amy Tan laughed at me several years later when I brought up Franz Kafka before a concert given by the Rock Bottom Remainders. They were fine up until the show, even a little smug, both of them having appeared in the New York Times Book Review, The London Review of Books, The Los Angeles Times Book Review, the Washington Post, and Publishers Weekly � as did Hunter S. Thompson, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Michael Crichton. Then I noticed a sudden metamorphosis. This really bugged me. It was not only a tale of two cities, but many more. There were even a few Dubliners involved. �Ah-ha!� I said. �If only I could show you a portrait of the artist as a young man � then you would realize what fools you are.� Then the lights went down and the Rock Bottom Remainders took the stage � I mean literally, right out into the alley. . . .