brianrayfiction.com Blog

Been away so long I hardly knew the place. Gee, it’s good to be back home. Leave it till tomorrow to unpack my case. Honey, disconnect the phone. I’m back in the USSR.

Wednesday night a girl hops up and says, “Will you marry me?” I say, “Sure, but why?” She says, “Because I get 50 more points.” Then she slips a ring on my finger and throws her arms around me, shouting “yay!” Such is the neon smothered tourist-friendly area of downtown Louisville. Bachelorette parties roam the streets looking for defenseless young men. Horrible karaoke blares from the rooftops. I’ve completely underestimated how much soul-force AP grading takes. By 5 pm I have just enough fumes left to hit the gym and then be productive for two hours before 1) giving in to peer pressure to “check out the night life” or 1) lying on a sofa in a state of despair at the thought of tomorrow. I’m in bed by midnight all week, so I can be on the way to our convention center by 7:30 am.

Percival Everett is not Sidney Poitier. Likewise, I am not Robert Pattinson – who plays Edward Cullen in the Twilight movie. (I appreciate the compliment.) Yesterday a noisy woman I’ve been scowling at for days, as I’m trying to grade 150 essays in 8 hours, stops me coming back from the bathroom and points at me. “Edward,” she says. “That’s who you look like.” I think, “Edward who? Edward Scissorhands? Edward Norton? Edward…Hopper?” Upon explaining, she tells me the movie isn’t worth seeing unless it comes on cable – but the books are fun.

Copies of my novel arrived today, the hardback. They look swell; I like the compact dimensions, a little smaller than the usual size. The cover image is sharp. Even if you think my writing sucks (which it doesn’t), you can rest easy that your money has purchased a true work of art that’ll look wonderful on your bookshelf or toilet.

Right now is a helluva a time to head for the Smoky Mountains. I drove slow through them on the way back from KY. All I have to say is wow.