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Tippy Gnu
My last name is pronounced Guh-NEW, and rhymes with canoe.I began writing when I was five years old. About all I could handle back then were a few scribbled letters that were hardly legible. But ev...voir plusMy last name is pronounced Guh-NEW, and rhymes with canoe.I began writing when I was five years old. About all I could handle back then were a few scribbled letters that were hardly legible. But eventually I expanded my works to include the full alphabet.I wrote my very first short story when I was in the third grade. And it won an award. The award came from Mrs. Gypsum, my third grade teacher, and was actually just a letter grade. I think it was an A, but it could have been a B. Or a C. Would you believe, D?Hell, I can’t remember what grade I got. But it turned me on to writing so much, that in the 11th grade I wrote another short story. I was in a high school creative writing class and my teacher, Mrs. Nutt, insisted that I write a short story. Damn her! So I scrawled one out, and it got a few laughs from the other students.A few laughs is all it takes to encourage me. I can’t remember my grade, but I do remember the scowl on Mrs. Nutt’s face. So it was probably an F. But it was fun to write a story that my fellow students liked, but my teacher hated. So I kept up the good work, and somehow I passed the class.I had so much fun that a few years later, in college, I signed up for another creative writing class. I intended to sail through without doing much work, by simply submitting all my old high school short stories, to fulfill assignments.I found it very easy to get Professor Mushroom’s goat, and this encouraged me to chuck all my high school work, and come up with new material, specially tailored for her. That got my creative juices flowing. And somehow, I passed the course. She gave me a B, for Bitch. But I think I deserved an A. For Asshole.Out in the real world, I realized how hard it would be to make a living from my rogue writing, so I got real jobs and pursued real careers. I was a disc jockey for a few years, but that didn’t pay much. Greedy, lazy bastard that I am, I decided that I needed a government job. So I managed to get hired by the U.S. Postal Service, and started throwing letters into mailboxes for a living.But in a sense, I really was writing for a living. Management tried their best to fire my lazy ass, so I became a union steward and got good at writing grievances. This was how I got my start in non-fiction (although some claimed it was fiction). It was a lot of hard work, writing contentions and organizing exhibits and such. But I had to work this hard in order to keep my cushy job.I’m now retired from writing, er, the Postal Service, and can spend all day lazing about on my ass, while drawing a fat pension check. Ah, this is paradise. And yet, I’m still writing. What the fuck is wrong with me? Writing is grueling mental labor.The ghosts of my lazy past haunt me. I can’t sleep unless I write and give back to this world. I have to atone for all my past laziness. I will admit that I’ve tried selling my books, but usually nobody wants to buy them. So my fucking karma is forcing me to give away some of my books for free.I hope you enjoy the free reading. Consider it compensation for all those postage stamps you’ve bought. And thanks for helping me clear my conscience.voir moins
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