You know how it goes, uh?
You come across someone online (in this case it’s goodreads.com).
You find out, guy’s written a book (yeah, who hasn’t?)
So, you check things out, you sniff the dog tags—suss out whether the dude’s gonna be worth the effort.
All this sound crass to you?
Well sorry, but, last time I checked, time still wasn’t a renewable resource.
I did all that.
And also found out—sample chapters are right there, on his website.
Waiting to be read.
So I do it. Read the first chapter.
Maybe it’s my imagination,
Maybe it’s not.
Maybe it’s the style, the language—the attitude.
Don’t know what it is,
But the chapter’s eerily evocative—not similar, mind you. Not identifiable, or anywhere near that.
The writing reminds me of something,
Like someone I read before.
Shit, look, I’ll come right out and say it.
That chapter—the way it’s written, reminds me, sort of, in a funny kinda way—of my writing.
Like I said;
Probably my imagination.
Anyway, I buy the book—download it.
I’m hooked and read it in no time flat.
The thing’s well put together, it’s got it all,
Turns out, in case you’re skeptical, the reason I love this book is not because the writing’s similar to mine. Turns out, in fact, it’s not like mine at all—it was, really, just my imagination. Turns out, though, one of the reasons I loved the book is that it’s got a hook that’ll snag a whale. All of which, is to say that…
Hell, this guy’s pretty good.
His name’s Gregory Mose.
He’s cool too.
Runs gites in France (yeah, I know, I had to look it up too).
Listen, do me a favour.
Buy his book. Stunt Road.
You’ll find it on amazon.com
And get it at smashwords
It’s only 4 bucks, for chrissake.
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