A blind man with two glass eyes that are too large for their sockets. They seem to pull the corners of his mouth into a permanent smirk. His name is Cletus, he tells me. “How do you like being a writer?” he asks. “It’s great, really great,” I say. “It is a lot like having a case of hemorrhoids you can’t get rid of. You should try it,” I say. “Okay,” he says. His name is Cletus, he tells me again.

All good writing is swimming under water and holding your breath. -F. Scott Fitzgerald