The Word Cloud

Near the end of my novel, the protagonist picks up a 21-year-old literature MA student who writes for a uni paper. A cedar-framed, black-and-white photo of Kerouac is above her bed.

On Saturday, Sailor Jerry-induced haze, I scored a 21-year-old in Vodka Revolution, went to hers. There, I discovered she was on an American Literature MA and reviewed local bands for her uni paper.

And guess what?

Black-and-white snap of Kerouac above her bed.

Delirious, I inhaled more rum – woke naked in her bathroom, Fetherlite condom still glued on, twitching in the foetal position, so dehydrated I was licking the icy plastic of the sticky toilet seat to try and quench my thirst. She found me this way – hasn’t called.

Lesson? Do NOT get too excited by your book. Remember – it is ONLY a book.