Once upon a time I wrote for a living. I thought I got paid by the word until I saw my benefits package and realized I'd struck gold. So 37 years later I wrote myself into retirement. Now I'm running wild and free across the literary Serengeti with no one to proof my copy and not an approval source in sight. Of course we all know you're supposed to write about what you know. I know about the human condition, stuff I can't believe just happened, dogs, road trips, the coordinates for all the Cold Stone Creameries, why Walmart looks more Village of the Damned than usual this morning, and so forth and so on. So I drive around, make observations, and write stuff. Yeah.