Listen, all I’ve done all my life is read, write, and figure shit out. I’ve been a college professor for more than thirty years, published 5 books and over 100 poems and pieces of non-fiction. I have a Ph.D., and you know they don’t just give those out to anyone. I mean, at least not since I got one.
I’ve worked as a literary editor for a half dozen magazines, written book reviews and articles on a variety of topics.
I’ve written almost 300 mediocre songs, released some albums by myself and with some of my bands. I play guitar, bass, keyboards, and am among the greatest living singers on the planet. I’ve made hundreds of inane music videos, vlogs, and podcasts.
I’ve sold photographs, had shit hung in a museum. I know a little bit about sports, music, politics, eating. I have been known to give LIFE LESSONS!
All of that, and I’m absolutely nobody in the grand scheme of things.
But I get a charge out of helping writers and musicians and artists find their own way, make better choices, achieve meaning and power in their work.
And all you have to do is send me your stuff: poems, stories, that damn Civil War novel, a song, some lyrics, a love letter that started out cheery and then became desperate, a drawing of a wheelbarrow that now has zombies in the background for some reason.
I can’t fix anything. I can’t do it for you. But I’d love to help. Send me anything. I’ll get back to you with some amazing advice. One guy asked me once which of two shirts he should buy. I told him, and it has made all the difference in his life. That’s what I have to offer. That’s my wheelhouse, baby.
PS: Share this link with your pals or your students. Tweet the mother. Link it on Facebook.