wanna know somethin'?

As the mad dash toward June 26 continues, I find myself perturbed by the strange suspicion that I have written over 350 pages of... nothing of substance.

My buddy Dr. Steve talked about this a long time ago, and I think I laughed dismissively when he said, apropos of writing, something like, "Who am I to be telling other people my thoughts?"

Anyway, Steve's remark comes back to haunt me now, and I think I'm experiencing a crisis of confidence, which is something new for me. I generally think and write with self-assurance. Having done my share of public speaking and theater acting, I'm comfortable making an ass of myself in front of others.

But something's different here. I feel almost as if someone is going to find me out: I read his book, and there was nothing deep in there-- nothing I couldn't have read somewhere else.

Strange feeling. Here's hoping it'll pass.

The manuscript is hanging three-fourths out of my bunghole right now; a couple more grunts and squeezes ought to do the trick, and then, for good for ill, Water from a Skull will be a plop! heard round the world.

(OK, maybe a plop heard by only a couple dozen buyers, but you never know.)


_