On September 12th, I’m going to go to my old alma mater and talking to some young adults about being a writer, and how they, too, can be writers when they grow up. It’s like career day, except I’ll be all by myself. Which doesn’t scare me. If I screw up and they all hate it and me, all it means is I don’t ever go back again. Right? Worst case scenario: never return to my high school again.
You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to write a story about, like fucking SWAMP THING going back to his high school and giving a talk to students about how they could grow up to be Swamp Thing. Or, a vampire. Maybe some kind of ghostly apparitional entity.
Ooh, or Cthulu!
Yes, that is how I will keep my cool while presenting to lots of children. I’ll just remember that this is all fodder for the story that I will write about Cthulu returning to his high school, and talking about how kids can be a Priest to an Elder God when they grow up. (First, study real hard in your non-Euclidian Geometry class…)