40 something gay men can't write novels as little girls. I know you want to and I know it's unfair! This is America for heaven's sake! I know you think you were a quirky little person and it's time to show the world how clever you were, coping with complex circumstances by fixating on a simple happy place as a defense mechanism, etc. etc. I'm sure you were a creative little cat and nobody has appreciated your adolescent genius quite like your adult self. Really -- I believe this. Bravo to old souls and curious, tiny sponges. You're just no longer convincing once you're all grown up and writing for the New York Times Best Seller list. Please stop. Unless fictionalizing a brilliant child that is loosely based on some version of your former self is an easy few million, in which case, I loved this book and we need a few more of these next year! Anyone care for a harrowing tale of overcoming adversity in North Florida?
"On the girl's brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means,
I survived.
In a few breaths' time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them the same way we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means, this story-teller is
alive. The next thing you know, something fine will happen to her, something
marvelous, and then she will turn around and smile."
