Can Someone Who Does Not Like to Read Become a Great Writer?

Q: I saw your performance today at MDC. I think I have a book in me, I would like to write a novel, but I have to admit that I do not read books except those I must read for school. Can someone like myself who does not like to read become a great writer, or should I just give up and do something else?

A: I think I have answered this question before, or something pretty close to it. I find it to be a very annoying question and find that it shows up all too frequently.

My simple answer is this: give up and do something else.

People learn to speak, by listening to others (their mothers and fathers, their close household kin).

If no one speaks to you, then you will not learn to speak. It is as simple as that. And if you do speak, you will have no sense of how horrible you sound to other people.

So it is with writing. Writers learn to writer by reading.

Before we write, we must first read.

And if we write, without first having read, we will have no idea how horribly our books read to other people.

"But I don't like to read," you argue, "and I don't want my style to be influenced by anyone else's. I want to be original in my poetry and fiction."

Sigh. You're so young.

But, dear emailer, believe it or not, you have already been exposed to reading if you grew up in this country. You read nursery rhymes and Dr. Seuss, right? You read birthday cards, right? And that is exactly what your so-called original poetry is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good poetry.

And whether you like reading novels or not, you have already been exposed to a very powerful storytelling influence: film and TV. And that is exactly what your so-called original fiction is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good books.

In the beginning, your work may be (and sound) a bit derivitive of the good poets and writers that you are reading. That is to be expected as you are evolving into a creature with its own original voice. Think about the child who repeats the words and expressions of his/her parents and older siblings; ah, but in a few short years, the child is speaking his/her own original thoughts with his/her own original voice.

Writing is like that.

You can't help but to be original because you are you, and you are the only you there is.

But neither can you learn to talk, or to write, unless you begin by mimicking someone else's words.

This is as gentle as I can be in responding to this annoying question, but I sense that you are genuine in your search for an answer. If you ask me again, I promise not to be so nice.

People who do not read . . . groan . . . suffice it to say that writers are not fond of people who do not read.

Why in the heck would you want to write if you yourself do not like to read?

Why paint a picture if you do not like to look?

Why sing songs if you do not like to listen?

I am baffled by emails such as this.

Thanks,

Preston

Politics and Religion

A typical question that I usually do not answer, but this time I will . . .

Sort of . . .

In fact, I'm not even going to say whether the question was about politics or religion . . .

It's getting annoying, people . . .

This, I hope, shall put it to rest . . .

________________________
Q: Far be it from me, Mr. Allen, to ask what side of the debate you are on, but do you not feel a need to guide those who are on the wrong path, especially the younger ones?

A: If a young (or old) person is on the "wrong" path and he/she encounters me and I perceive that he/she is not someone's blind, mindless follower out to convert me or to argue pointlessly with me so as to grandstand in the name of his/her religion/political party, then I shall be more than happy to offer my guidance on any matter, even religion and politics.

"When they differ on the issue, they cannot both be right. But they can both be wrong."
--Preston L. Allen, Sunday School 1976

"The first lie is that there are two sides to the argument. Age has taught me that where politics is concerned, there are seldom two sides to the argument. Usually what we have is a debate between reason and someone else's self-interest, and self-interest, because it is unafraid to continue to deceive its base, usually wins. Thus, in politics, the odds are roughly equal in a debate between the mental giant and the mental idiot."
--Preston L. Allen, Miramar barber shop 2005

"I am bothered as much by the atheist as by the true-believer. If the true-believer is wrong, then he/she is a child still believing in Santa Claus, but why write entire books, script entire speeches, and build entire arguments to prove that Santa does not exist? When I meet children who still believe in Santa, I smile at them and say, 'Merry Christmas!' Remember, Christmas is a useful holiday whether Santa is real or not."
--Preston L. Allen, Christmas shopping 2001

"So you want to be a witch? You are now into Wicca? Good luck, young man, and enjoy the miseries that will ensue. I hold nothing against Wicca, as I hold nothing against Christianity or any other religion. However, you are in college and one day you will hold a degree and be a job seeker in a largely Christian, Jewish, and Muslim world--these religions all perceive themselves to be on the light side and perceive Wicca to be on the dark. I think you are deliberately giving yourself a disadvantage, perhaps to prove a point--young people are always out to prove points, and that in and of itself is not a bad thing, the real problem being that the young have a great deal of passion and very little discretion, and therefore they often rebel, so to speak, 'without a cause.' If you are genuine and passionate in your unusual belief, why wear it on your sleeve? I have my doubts about you, young man. Now, we both know that no Christian, Jewish, or Muslim god is going to come down and strike you if you make this decision; but no Wiccan god is going to protect you either. All of the gods, both light and dark, are too busy for that--at least the gods have been too busy for that for the last 10,000 years. Perhaps they have been sleeping. But man is neither too busy, nor sleeping. Man is wide awake. Man has idle time. Man has idle hands. Man will strike you down in the name of his god of light. If you're looking for a fight, then join the dark side. If you're truly looking for spiritual enlightenment--it's not on the outside, it's within. It's not in a religion or an anti-religion--it's in the heart and the mind. Be a good person. Be good to people, please. Don't let a god or a devil or a witch or a warlock tell you how to be good. Goodness is already in your heart. Just be good, cuz. And when you find a real cause to fight for, you know that you can count on me."
--Preston L. Allen, to a young cousin 1992


________________________

Now please, no more religious and political questions.

Thanks,

Preston

A Gambler Dreams

Wow, this new semester is taxing me mightily with work.

I've got tons of papers to grade and I am almost finished with my latest novel, so instead of writing for my usual one hour a day, I have been writing 3 or 4, which leaves me little or no time to blog.

Sorry about that, guys.

Instead of answering emails this time, I am going to post a few weird dreams I have had and maybe you can tell me what they mean . . . maybe they represent winning lotto numbers or something.

When I finish the new book (in the next few days), I will be able to start blogging again with regularity.

____________________________
Dreams

1. I needed money to gamble and my account only had $200 in it, so I went to my youngest son, age 5 or 6 it looked like, and asked him for $400.

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $400.

When I saw the money, I decided to press my luck and said, "Really, son, I need another $1000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $1000.

When I saw this, I said, "Son, I really need $10,000 . . . is that okay?"

The 5-year old (who in real life is 14) said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with a bag full of money. $10,000!

So I put the money in my wallet and noticing that he disapeared to use the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom and took out his bank pass book (which no one uses these days). To my astonishment, his balance read, $300,000,000! My 5-year old was a millionaire.

Now I became very exited.

When he came out of the bathroom, I said to him, "Really, son, I need $100,000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and when he came back from the bank this time, I put the hundred grand in my wallet and headed for my car to go to the casino and gamble.

My wife stopped me at the door.

She said, "Do you not even want to know where he got the money from?"

I hadn't thought about that. "Where?" I said.

She said, "From his father."

"But I am his father."

She said, "No! Tommy is his father, and you don't even care!"

She stormed off loudly weeping and shedding big tears, and I shrugged and headed for my car. Whoever Tommy was, I would deal with that when I came back from the casino. For now it was time to gamble.

2. My father and I were on an island. I think we were stranded there. I was sooooo hungry. Somehow it came to my attention that my father was not as hungry as I was. Somehow I noticed that he was gaining weight despite being stranded on the island along with me. I begged him to tell me his secret.

He refused at first, but finally broke down and told me.

He said, "I learned this trick from years of sailing on the high seas as a merchant marine. Sometimes on the ship, we run out of food for weeks. When there is no other food, we prepare and eat our feces. But you have to do it the right way. Here, let me show you."

He took me to a tree, reached up into its leafy branches, and pulled down a square, brown cake of his feces that had been hidden up there. He handed it to me. It didn't smell so bad, but it felt heavy and solid like a rock in my hands.

"Eat up," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

I took a bite. It was nasty. Now inside my mouth felt like it was full of spiderwebs. And there was something crunchy in my mouth, too.

When I looked down at the cake of my father's feces, it was oozing bloody human fingers. I tried to spit it out, but the stuff was sticking to the inside of my mouth. My mouth was oozing blood.

3. I had a dream about my mother, who passed recently, and I don't remember whether she was actually in the dream or whether she was just a ghostlike voice, but she ordered me to read her journal out loud. So I read it out loud. I don't remember what I read, but she shouted very angrily, "No, don't read it in order. Read it backwards in the mirror."

I took it to the mirror and read it out loud backwards.

It read, "Hop home on your one foot, demon day. Hop home on your one foot, demon day."

I said, "Mommy, what does it mean?"

These were the words to a silly tune she used to sing to us, playfully teasing us (her sons), whenever we lost to her at checkers or some other game. I never understood these words, though as a child I used to squeal with delight when she sang them.

"What does it mean?" I pleaded.

She said, "Look in the mirror again."

I looked in the mirror again.

The mirror was cracked.


4. My daughter was in the backyard with my mother-in-law. My daughter, who is now 18, was a toddler of maybe 2 or 3 in the dream. She was wearing a little blue jeans overall dress set and a deep red shirt underneath. My daughter was lying on her back, and my mother-in-law Was trying to teach her how to pee on the grass. I heard my daughter crying pitifully and my mother-in-law shouting commands like "Shame on you," "Do it right now," "You're a big girl now, you should be able to do this."

When I looked between my daughter's legs, she had a big, black, bushy vagina, like an adult woman's vagina, and instead of urine coming out of her, she was dripping white semen.

My first impulse was to run and help her, but I slunk away in shame, hiding my eyes from her nakedness.

When I was safely inside the house, I screamed, "Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"

I listened with all my might, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from outside.

I woke up sobbing and shivering.

5. This one is the most recent. Last night I dreamt I was walking across a mattress upon which slept a large black jungle cat--a panther or something. A voice told me, "Be careful," but too late--I shook the mattress and the large predator awoke and pounced on me. He bit me hard on the hand, and having no other way to fight him, I bit him hard on the head. I don't know how I did it, but I put his entire head into my mouth and bit it, as though he were no bigger than a house cat.

Then I awoke.
___________________

Thanks,

Preston

My Politics

Dear loyal emailers, thanks for the emails, but as I have stated many times, politics is one of three things that I do not discuss in public, religion and sex being the other two.

I do not publicly discuss politics even in the era of Obama and Palin--though I am tempted.

But if I were one who discussed politics, I might tell you to go out and vote--vote your conscience.

Thanks,

Preston

Write What You Know

Q: I took an honors creative writing class last year and I have read lots of books on writing, but what do they mean by write what you know? They all say that but I don't really understand. My English teacher gave me some good feedback but I'd like to hear what you think.

A: Yes, we always say that--write what you know.

Write what you know, but what do you know? You are still young, a high school student, right?

Well, let's try to understand it this way--write what you don't know . . . . Now think about that for a while. Think of all the things you don't know--how interesting would those things be to write about? How difficult? How much research would you have to do? How interesting would it be to read? Write about nuclear physics, for example, something that neither you (I presume) nor I know very much about.

But you do know what it means to be you (among other things). So now let's go back to that nuclear physics assignment. What if a kid like you, say, found out that his new stepfather was a nuclear physicist . . . after a little research on nuclear physics, you would find that story a lot more natural for you to write, and a lot more authentic feeling for the reader to read.

The best stories are always in one way or another about human truths--and you, because of who you are, know the truth about being a teen--or maybe you know the truth about getting a new stepfather that is out of your league--it is that truth that will make the story worthy of reading--even though it is, for the most part, a complete fabrication.

"Writers have to know how to tell the truth before they know how to tell a lie."
--some guy whose name I don't recall

"Fiction is the lie that tells the truth."
--John Dufresne

"Authenticity comes from personal truth. Speak your personal truth and you have found your voice as a writer."
--Some guy named Preston L. Allen

Now don't confuse "write what you know" with "limit yourself to writing from your limited, peronal vantage point." Study. Research. Learn things. Engage the world. Live life. Study people. Learn people. Then tell the truth disguised as a lie.

I often tell people that BOUNCE, my novel written from the point of view of a black hispanic female who is still in love with an abusive ex-husband, is my most autobiographical novel. And it is. Cindique is me, but so is her lover Roderick Redd . . . I will not explain further.

At a reading once, a woman asked me, "How can you presume to write from the point of view of a woman?"

My answer was a challnege, something like: "Because no one knows THIS woman better than me, not even another woman. In other words, you may know women, but I know Cindique. I also know my mother--who do you think could write more effectively about her, you or me? Writers must learn to write the personal truth of all of the characters that they create. Writers can't be afraid to write out of their sex, or out of their race and ethnicity, if that is where the personal truth leads them."

Read these two interesting novels by writers writing out of their sex: MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA (written by a man); Damage (written by a woman).

As a CRW teacher, I have noticed a couple things about young/beginning writers.

Thing 1) They tend to write a great deal of science fiction and fantasy stories and stories involving dreams or dream sequences. I think that the reason for this is that, when we are young and our knowledge of human nature is till limited, we write such fabulist fiction so that no one can point a finger at us and say, "You don't know what you're talking about." If they point their finger thus in criticism, we can simply answer, "Yeah, but I made it up, so anything can happen. It's not real. It's science fiction." (As though good science fiction or fantasy is any less real to the reader than any other genre of writing.)

Thing 2) The best young/beginning writers tend to be those who have suffered a great deal of pain and thus have a personal well of painful truth to pull from. Thus, some of the best writings we find in CRW classes is from students writing about abuse, rape, poverty, homelessness, and the consequences of any number of bad choices they have made.

I had a friend in grad school I hadn't heard from in a while. When I did, I said to him, "Hey man, are you still writing? Are you getting anything published?"

He said, "No. After I graduated, I married a beautiful woman and we had three great kids. My life improved. I made up with my horrible father. I'm not sad anymore. I am happy now. I guess now I have nothing to write about."

I guess.

Here's something else to ponder: Although there are many exceptions, most writers write their best stuff AFTER the age of forty,

(After they have lived life a bit?

Hmmmmmm.



Thanks,

Preston

What Are You Working On?

Q: What are you working on right now?

A: I think I answered this one before. At any rate, I answer it a lot. Here is my latest verison of the answer--I am shopping a book that has lots of serial killers in it--it is sort of a sequel to my first novel "Hoochie Mama"; I am shopping a romance about a cougar; I am completing the middle book of the White Face trilogy; I am pondering the All or Nothing seqel, "Son of a P."

It is 5 a.m. in the morning. I've finished my writing for the day. I'm going to bed now.

Preston

Book Club

Q: Hello, Preston L. Allen. I saw your book on my neighbor's bookshelf and I began excitedly to discuss it with her until she told me that she hadn't read it yet. She is one of those book lovers who buy a lot more books than they can ever read. She explained that she saw the book's review in the NY Times and she bought it that Sunday along with several other books that she also hadn't gotten around to reading just yet.

When I told her that this was a book she needed to read, she asked me why.

When I told her because it was great, she said to me, "I've read many gambling books, what is so great about this one?" That question, for some reason, stumped me. I tried for several moments stumblingly and bumblingly to explain what was so great about the book, to explain the addictive plot, to explain all of the insights that I had garnered about gambling, to explain the incredible humor, to explain the unique voice until I finally gave up and yelled, "This book is unlike any other book you will ever read, seriously. It will grip you from the first page and take you on a wild crazy ride not just through the world of casino gambling, but through the mind of a unique character. What I'm trying to tell you is that it's great and unique. Just read it! You won't be disappointed!"

She called me later that night laughing and making sounds of delight. She said, "Great book! Thank you for making me read it. It's not just about gambling, it's about everything. I can't explain it." I told her, "See, I told you." We spent nearly two hours discussing it.

We would like to invite you to come to our book club if that is possible. We live in Fort Walton Beach, Florida. Would that be possible, we see that you live in Miami? Do you visit book clubs as far away as we are? We are able to pay for gas. Thanks, J and T.

A: J and T. Thanks for your email! I'm blown away. Yes, I do present at book clubs all the time, but Fort Walton Beach is really a very long drive for us. I usually try to stick to the Miami area, though I have gone as far north as Palm Beach for a book club reading at Lynn University. However, if you keep loving my book the way you do and passing the word along to all your friends, I just might convince my wife that maybe we should make a trip up there. In fact, give me a call at 786-389-9263 or 305 586-6423.


Thanks for your support.

Preston

Money for the Cure

Q: When you came to our class the other day, you mentioned something about gamblers' getting no sympathy. What did you mean? I enjoyed your classroom visit to my Reading class and your novel ALL OR NOTHING. It is the first complete novel I have read in ENGLISH since leaving Haiti four years ago. Studentfan

A: Yes, studentfan, I enjoyed that Saturday session with your Reading class. I was surprised and pleased to see you there because I have you in one of my English classes and you never mentioned that your Reading class was reading the novel. I'm glad you enjoyed the book.

What I meant by that comment was that most people have a certain amount of sympathy for those with serious substance abuse and addiction problems, more sympathy than they have for gamblers. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

Jane: So How's your uncle Mike?

Suszy: Well, you know, his cocaine problem overcame him again. They caught him breaking into a neighbor's house. He's in jail and we're trying to get a lawyer for him and we're trying to get the neighbor to drop the charges. He's really not a bad guy.

Jane: Poor guy. I'll keep him in my prayers.

Suszy: He tries, but he's hooked, you know?

Jane: Yeah. So sad. So how's your cousin Joe?

Suszy: That jerk! I never want to talk to him again. He set me up and borrowed a hundred dollars--he said it was for the rent, but my roommate says she saw him at the casino right after he had borrowed it from me. What a jerk!

Jane: Yeah, what a jerk! You just can't trust a gambler.



Or here's another way to look at it--

If you had to do one of the following, which would it be?

1) Mortgage the house to get your cocaine addicted brother out of jail?

2) Mortgage the house to clear up your gambling brother's finances?



Thanks,

Preston

A Trap for the Pure In Heart

Q: Dear Preston, I haven't been to "the casino" since September 23, 2007.

In January, I filed Chapter 13 bankruptcy, in part because of the credit card debt I ran up by taking cash advances so I could play the slot machines.

Sometimes I get the itch. Sometimes I really want to play "Double Diamond Run," "Cleopatra" or "Hot Flashes," but I've somehow been able to resist. It's been very difficult lately, though. I've been wanting to go so I can win enough money to buy my friend a concert ticket for her birthday. One of my other friends talked me out of it, thankfully. Another friend thinks I should go and see if I can only gamble a "certain amount" and make sure I can't get more by leaving my ATM card at home.

Well, I just finished reading your book.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

S.

A: Thanks for your email, S (named after one of the characters in the novel, LOL), and thanks for reading ALL OR NOTHING. I hope that it helped in some way, though I know that the only “dependable” and “trusted” ways for a gambler to be helped are to seek it professionally from a mental health counselor or to go to GA—and even if you seek help in one of these manners, you will feel the itch for the rest of your life. Sadly, they can teach us how not to scratch, but they can’t teach us how not to itch.

Therefore, the friend who advises you not to return to the casino to “win” money to buy a concert ticket for someone you care about is right. What many fail to understand about us gamblers is that we are usually good people at heart—we have wonderfully generous and altruistic plans for what to do with the money once we win it. We want to save the world with all of that money, and we would, if we could just win it. The casino is a trap for the pure in heart. You go there to win money for a good cause, and instead you become addicted to the most dangerous vice there is: the vice of throwing your money to the winds for enjoyment. If you go to the casino to win money for that concert ticket, you will lose the money for your rent and for other essential things.

I have been a lucky gambler at times. I once went to the casino to win money to help bury a close family friend. Was God watching me? I hit big on the first machine I touched upon entering—I hit more than enough to bury her and then have a few hundred left over. Then as I was waiting for them to review my ID documents and print me the check, I fooled around with another machine, and hit again! This was not so much as the first time, about half as much—but it was still nice. This amount was small enough for them to give it to me in cash without checking my ID, which I did not have because they were still checking it for the big amount I had hit previously and was still waiting to be given the check for. Of course, I put this money back into the machines and hit again! I was on a roll that night. By the time they finally brought me my check, I had won almost as much in smaller increments on random machines. So that was a good night . . .

But the problem is that the few and far between nights like that helped to create in me the twisted logic known as “magical thinking”: i.e., when I need money, instead of working I will go get it from the casino. Thinking like that leads to disaster. I have too many examples of disastrous nights like that, as I am sure you have.

Our habit is not in the making of money or the winning of money—our habit is in the ritual of risking money. Winning encourages us to take more risks (because we incorrectly feel we are lucky); losing encourages us to take more risks (because our financial situation has been destroyed by our habit and we need to get our money back and ironically the only way to get it back is to . . . gamble more and harder).

But you know all of this already, I am sure.

And the friend who tells you to go to the casino to see if you can gamble only a small amount is in gross misunderstanding of your addictive condition. You are trying to see if you can control it . . . but we have already determined that you are a gambler and therefore cannot control it . . . furthermore, did you do anything in the interim to “learn” to control it?

Did you go to GA? Did you seek counseling? No?

So here is your answer: of course, you cannot control it. That is not control talking to you. That is simply the monkey on your back talking. That is your itch begging to be scratched. You will tell yourself any lie to get back into the casino—including, “I want to buy a gift for my friend,” or even worse, “It’s my money and I can do what I want with it.”

LOL

But it is not your money anymore . . . really, it is not. It is NOT your money.

You have already spent all of YOUR money. You are now spending borrowed money—money borrowed to save your life!

Money borrowed from credit cards. Money borrowed (I am sure) from friends. Money borrowed from bankruptcy (a program that, despite its name and connotation, is really a system of consolidating and repaying your debt).

YOUR money has already been spent—you are now spending money that you OWE to other people.

No, by law it is not your money, and you cannot do what you want with it (not legally anyway). But you will gamble anyway . . . we will gamble anyway, because we are gamblers and we are ill. We have the worst kind of illness, a mental illness that tells us lies like “all we need is self-control to stop gambling” and “we will save the world and buy concert tickets for our friends with the money we will win at the casino” and “it’s my money and I can do what I want with it.”

Here is what you need to do:

1) Stay away from the casino forever—get help from a program like GA so that you can stay away from the Dante’s inferno called casino.

2) Find a new kind of thrill. Fall in love. Write a book. Take up sky diving. Here is something you may not have noticed, S. See, now that you are not gambling you have a lot more free time—a lot more—gamblers spend countless HOURS a week in casinos—countless. See, casinos not only steal your money. They steal your life. One hour at a time. When was the last time your played with your children? When was the last time you hung out with an old friend? It steals your time--and time, unlike money, cannot be won back. Suddenly all of your children are grown and they are strangers to you. Suddenly all of your old friends have replaced you with other friends. Like the song says, "Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking . . . into the future."

So when you stop gambling you have all of this free time, S, and . . . if you do not fill it up, you WILL eventually end up back in the casino. So why not use that free time to start a business? Help a charity? Do self repairs on the house? Learn to play the piano? Learn a foreign language?

Quitting gambling gives you back your time, so use it, S, or gambling WILL take it back.


Thanks,

Preston

BOUNCE is my most autobiographical novel, though the protagonist is a female

Q: I read your novel BOUNCE two years ago and it was great, I could not put it down. I thought you were a romance writer and read your story in Brown Sugar about the girl who fell in love with her brother-in-law. I wasn't sure I would like the gambling book because I do not know much about gambling and that world, but it is a great book, I am almost finished with it. The two books are different, but the style is the same. The gambling book has me turning pages like the romance book BOUNCE did. I really like your style and I want to know how you do it. What is your secret to making the characters in your book interesting?

A: Thank you. I am glad you mentioned BOUNCE and ALL OR NOTHING because those are two books that still astonish me when I read them. I am turning pages, saying to myself, "I wrote this? I wrote this? When? I don't remember writing this." I am very conscious of the other things that I have written. I can recall pretty much what I was thinking when I designed this chapter or the other, this character, this scene, chose this word. With BOUNCE and ALL OR NOTHING, there are times when it's almost like someone else wrote it. Those are two novels that I can just sit down and read and enjoy like a fan, though I am the author.

ALL OR NOTHING, of course, is about a character that I know well, a gambler, so I can turn off my brain and channel what I know about that world and cruise through the details, writing in a dreamlike state. I am a gambler, P is a gambler, the rest is easy.

BOUNCE is similar. I can't really explain it, but BOUNCE is the most autobiographical novel I have ever published . . . even though the protagonist is female.

Once upon a time, I was Cindique. I was a girl, er, boy, trapped in an abusive situation. My heart was elsewhere, but those roads were blocked to me too, only I was too young to recognize the CLOSED ROAD signs posted along the way. I had to live through the pain, the illusion of love that was really more abuse, but masked. I had to live through the pain. It was the only path that allowed growth for me. For Cindique.

So I closed my eyes and wrote, I became Cindique, I closed my eyes and wrote in a dreamlike state.

Thanks,

Preston