Alright, it’s time for me to come clean. I’ve got some things to confess:
- I bite my fingernails — but not when I’m nervous or bored… just when they get too long.
- I wore Original Jams for at least two full years longer than anyone else I know. I found out a few years later that everyone in 6th grade made fun of me behind my back. But that’s alright; I’m my own man. And I’d wear them still today if I had a pair that fit.
- My first kiss was a girl named Dixie, and I’m from south Alabama. [I had to say “a girl named” or you would have thought Dixie was my pet — I don’t roll like that.] And yes, she did kiss me despite the fact that I only stopped wearing Jams the year before.
- I used to hate Philemon in the New Testament, because I learned in a song that he bruised James. Which is my first name. Which brings us to…
- I can barely sign my name in cursive, and that’s the extent of my cursive abilities. My name is Brett Harrison on my checking account, because I can’t do the cursive ‘J’ in James. It’s pretty much the same as a lower case ‘f,’ and I get confused.
- My first cassette tape ever was Janet Jackson’s Control. “What kind of parents let their 9-year old son have a tape from which the biggest single was titled ‘Nasty?'” you ask. “My kind” is the answer to that question.
- My second tape was Billy Joel’s An Innocent Man. Maybe a bewildered parent’s attempt to make up for wrongs done…?
- As soon as I finish this blog post I’m driving straight to Wal-Mart to buy my 6-month old daughter a T.I. album.
- In sixth grade I knew for sure the coolest clothes a guy could ever sport were grey sweat pants and Eastlands, complete with the Eastland Knot. No socks.
- I desperately wanted to be named Tanner when I was a kid. My reasoning: Brett was not an adult name.
- I will eat almost anything before I’ll let a baked potato touch these lips.
- I sometimes check behind the shower curtain when I’m at home alone. That or I just hold it until Christie gets back (not the shower curtain).
- I once lit a neighbor’s yard on fire, so I could report it and become a hero. When my mom came out to see the huge fire, there wasn’t one. There was, however, a 2-foot square of charred grass… and in its very center rested a book of matches from my dad’s company. I didn’t get a medal OR my name in the paper.
- I secretly want to become a professional writer, and so, am subscribed to the blog of one Rachelle Gardner, Literary Agent.
Rachelle writes some good stuff. And right now on her blog you can enter a contest to win prizes. I’m not sure what the prizes are because I’m not that interested in them. [I know they have something to do with stuff that helps writers be gooder.] But what I am interested in is the contest itself. All you have to do is enter a one-sentence book summary — I suppose it can be real or imaginary. Mine… imaginary.
Rachelle even explains how to write a one-sentence summary, though most of that part seems pretty common sense to me. I mean if you’ve written a book and are trying to push it on agents and publishers, shouldn’t the one-sentence summary bit come naturally? I figure Rachelle could save herself a lot of time by not teaching these aspiring young authors the secret formula of a one-sentence synopsis. That way she could automatically throw out any author whose summary consists of randomly strung together words and punctuation not remotely resembling the abbreviated version of a story. But, hey, she’s the literary agent.
My submission follows. And I’m thinking about actually writing the book:
Colonel Bradford’s Crush by James Brett
A decorated World War II veteran falls madly in love with Cheetos
— I mean madly in love.
The contest deadline is this Saturday, June 5th, 11:59pm ET. Make sure you get your entry in.
And if you don’t mind, leave an extra copy of your entry in my comments section. I’m not giving away anything to help you make it as a professional writer (except practice), but it’ll be fun to see what everybody comes up with. And maybe someone will see your awesome one-sentence summary and offer you a huge book contract. Or I guess, more likely, they might see your summary and click the link to visit your blog. Hey, a prize is a prize. Beggars can’t be choosers.
Or if you’d rather not post a one-sentence summary, you can confess to something in the comments section. Though I hesitate to make that invitation. And mom, don’t worry. I don’t have the Janet Jackson tape anymore. I already gave it to Baylor.