Just When You Think Youll Never Get Back on the Blog... I got a questionnaire from Pen-L Publishing last week, with a request to get busy and fill it out and hurry. Of course, I wasted no time running to the fridge for a beer. It didnt taste quite right, not yet being nine-thirty in the morning, so I grabbed an ice cream cone out of the freezer and ate it with a beer chaser. Wait a minute! Im off topic. The questionnaire. Oh, yes - Page 2, Item 1...Write a brief biography At first, I thought they meant MY brief biography, but as they say in Portugal... No. I almost fell for it, too. If they had wanted me to write my own biography, they would have asked me to write a brief *autobiography*. I had to laugh. Not the reserved self-deprecating laugh of a high-bred gentleman amused at his own near-buffoonery, but the...wait a minute...on reflection it was the reserved self-deprecating blah blah blah. I had another chocolate-dipped vanilla ice cream cone and an amber bock. It was starting to feel a lot like breakfast. Who, I asked myself, can I hire as my official biographer? I was stumped! Shelby Foote was inconveniently dead at the moment, and Paula Broadwell wont return my calls. To be fair, I probably overstepped the line, offering her breakfast and all. Whats a Southern Gentleman to do? Thats right. I cheated and wrote it myself. It was pretty good, too. I had three versions, including a big-screen epic starring Mark Wahlberg as me and costarring Matt Damon as Mark Wahlberg. Basking in the afterglow of genius, I could see myself reading my own biography to a sold-out crowd at Staples Center, taking a bow and blowing kisses as ten thousand voices chanted Jon! Jon! Jon! Hey, Jon. Move your head out of the way so I can lick my butt. Damn. Mister Buzzkill himself, my live-in agent and freeloading editor, the rescue cat...Peanut. Without having been asked, he climbed down my manly, hairy chest and started reading. You cant do the video, he said. Matt Damon actually *is* Mark Wahlberg. It wouldnt work out. Then he shot down my first bio as being factually inaccurate. Youre not an angel, Peanut said. To be an angel, youd have to be dead. Actually, I was sort of happy about his vetoes. He hadnt said anything at all about Official Bio Version 3 - Jon, the Epic. But Peanut wasnt finished. Half the lines in here dont rhyme! he said. What do YOU know about it? I shot back. Youre a bloody CAT. Everything you say rhymes! OK, screw you. Send em the poem...I hope that you do. But Ill tell you what...Id hate to be you. I have to admit it, Peanut made sense. I scrapped all my bios and then recommenced to write something simple, without a subplot, or villains or victims who always get shot. I put in the hours to tell who I was, while my furry fixed editor hocked up some fuzz and then dragged off my ice cream while I cleaned up the rug. But thats what beer is for. Its also for celebrating. Its official. Dream Talker will be available in May! I have to get back to writing my bio. What rhymes with official?
Posted on: Tue, 25 Feb 2014 05:46:56 +0000
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