Just sitting here right now Mr. Scratchy, having a coffee taking a bit of a break from the novel. I just finished writing this long scene, and when I re-read it, realized I had given this big dramatic plot twist to my lead character, that I'd more then just hinted at earlier in the story, like three chapters before.
I'm going in circles which means it's time to take a few days break from the novel. Just a few. Two maybe.
I can't seem to find my wrestler. Laugh, it's funny considering. I'll wait. Let me rephrase that, I seem to have lost what I did with my DVD of the movie The Wrestler. But just between you and me Herman, I can't seem to find my wrestler either. I'm starting to think that you're hiding in the shadows beyond the graveyard just out of reach of the duck pond. Yeah, like I said, I need to take a few days off of writing. Brain totally mushy.
Why wrestling? Why Mr. Scratchy, do you think we were both drawn to wrestling? Odd isn't it? Well, I know why I was drawn to it, but what is it that makes wrestlers want to get knocked about all day long? What makes the lot of you want to be okay with the fact that you spend your life being grabbed by other wrestlers, falling down all day, having to spend time laying on your back on a dirty mat that has been sweat on, spit on, snot on, bled on?
I have to imagine you all have a high tolerance for physicality, given the fact you are being grabbed at all day by the other wrestlers, then the fans grab at you whenever they get a chance at ringside and at autograph signings.
These are the strange things that float through my mind every so often. But I don't think anything I say could ever shock you. I mean man, look at the industry you're part of.
Alright Mr. Scratchy, Herman... when the rest of the lights go out, may your spotlight never waver.
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