It was like Jurassic Park, but with monkeys, and I dangled at the top of a giant tree, more than a hundred feet from the grassy fields of earth, desperately holding on and trying to help a monkey that had been bundled in plastic wrap and tied to the trunk. He was screeching and crying. I, myself was terrified of falling or of my pursuers finding me and pounding the living shit out of me.
I think the most important thing I’ve learned is that it’s okay not to fall into a category. I used to spend too much time writing to fit into a mold and I was always unhappy with the end result. So I suppose I learned the joys of freedom. Now that I write what I want, how I want, I’m much happier.
How I would tweet the premise of my nearly completed debut, or how do you cram a novel length story into 140 characters? Basically, it comes down to a few points….