Aquaman lives in the Days Inn swimming pool...

From Chapter 1, Page 8

I backstroked – letting the water caress my naked body. I imagined that it was coming to life and making love to me. Wanting me. Wishing it would take me under and fill me. Drowning me with passion. Laying on my back in the water, I let the relaxing flit-float, flit-float drift me away…

I dreamed about Aquaman coming out of the water. Blonde, perfect, frat-boy Aquaman. This entire time he’d been hiding in the Days Inn swimming pool waiting for me to jump in so that he could finally ask me to marry him.

Aquaman said: “Hi Joseph, I’ve come to take you to the Hall of Justice. You’ll get to have breakfast every morning with Wonder Woman and help me feed my fish.”

Water suddenly spurted out of my nose and I woke up with a shock. There were other people coming into the pool! Where was my swimsuit? Frantically swimming over to the ladder my trunks were hanging off of, I quickly pulled them on just as the elderly couple from Detroit walked onto the patio.

The elderly woman instantly recognized me. “Well, hello stranger! Look Louis, it’s the man at the front desk. Are you checking in guests here as well?”

I politely laughed at her joke, looking longingly at the pool water. Oh, if only Aquaman really did live in this swimming pool…

The Writer becomes the Character...

From Chapter 1, Page 6:

I looked at my book sitting on the table. My salvation. My way out. And I realized that what I thought would be my flying carpet out of this town was just a bunch of papers with words on it.

My voice was an unsteady whisper. “I see.”

Cynthia reached out for my hand. “Oh, Joseph, don’t be discouraged. The way you write and use words and show your humor – you are gifted. You have more talent in your fingertip than I do in my entire body. How I managed to crank out two mystery novels and get them published – it’s a fluke. And of course, now that I’ve stopped smoking, I can’t write worth a damn anymore.”

Cynthia opened up the cigarette box on the table and took out the pack of gum hidden inside.

Not wanting to give up hope, I said: “Maybe if I reworked some of the chapters…”

Cynthia shook her head. “I want you to go out there and get some life experience under your belt. Then write again. You’ll be amazed at how much richer your stories will be.”

“Life experience? What am I supposed to do – rob a bank?”

“I have a dare for you. Instead of being the writer, why don’t you try being the character for a change?”

One Singular Sensation...and a Very Embarrasing Situation

From Chapter One, Page 4:

But they took my money and gave me a membership card. And I promptly enrolled in the morning’s aerobics class – I wasn’t brave enough to enter the labyrinth of the weight-lifting room. I still had a ways to go before facing that Minotaur of Masculinity known as the bench press.

“Are you a runner?” The aerobics instructor asked me after the class.

“Um, yeah…kinda,” I nodded, for I was a bit of a regular jogger. I had done it to lose weight for the senior musical last fall.

We did “A Chorus Line” for the high school musical. What should have been one singular sensation was instead something comparable to an epileptic seizure by a lactose-intolerant psychopath. It was ridiculous material for a bunch of kids from Western Kansas to perform, and our small-town audience which was used to “Hello, Dolly” fare had watched the play with disbelief, confusion, and in the end…boredom.

“You have great legs - maybe you can even teach this class one day!” The instructor winked before leaving.

Her praise and unexpected flirtation (even though very innocent) made me look at myself in a different way. I paused to stare at myself in the mirror of the aerobics room. Hmmm…my legs weren’t too bad. Could I be attractive? Could I even be (oh, it’s ridiculous to think it) a sexual creature?