Mental Fiction and Warcraft

Because writing is war and life is a heap of fiction. Yes, I said it. Writing is war. There's a billion fish in the sea, in the sea, in the sea, but oh, oh, oh, it felt so empty without me. But I'm not a jester.  I'm a thinker (and sometimes a doer). It's a big sea out there and lots and lots of competition. The days of partners pulling manuscripts from trashcans and sending them to publishers for their significant other to get lucky with a major publisher are probably over from the day when Tabitha King did this for old Steve back when psychic teenage girls on the rag and abused by their zealot religious mothers roamed the fears of picture-perfect high school students and their parents. Anyway, I don't want to go to much into that right now.  It's not the time, nor the place. But I do welcome you here.  After all, I'm here to corrupt minds and warp values.  I don't know if I'm specifically neglecting to quote anyone with that expression, but I