What is Love?

I know that offering a late submission on the second day of class is frowned upon, but in my defense:

Anyway, I have just now returned home from Eastern Sunday dinner. It was less about Easter and less about Sunday than it was about dinner. Also, there was the Game of Thrones premiere, which was less about Games and less about Thrones and more about offering itty-bitty crumbs to tantalize the crows (us) that have been starving for nine months as we awaited a new season of intrigue and betrayal.

I worked at the bakery all day--if work is the word for pointing at products panic-ridden customers did not see directly behind themselves--and then retired home for a nap. Ladies from my church left plastic eggs with scripture quotes on my doorknob.

The afternoon was devoted to the Larkin Clan. This consists mainly of my two wives (First Wife and Wifey), their boyfriends (The Boyfriend and Captain*), and my goddaughter, Riverbug, provided by First Wife and Captain. There was food. A dish shattered in the oven. As First Wife and Wifey both hail from strong Irish backgrounds, and there were mashed potatoes, I made more Irish jokes than I did on Saint Patrick's Day.

Because I'm an ass, that's why.

And it was a happy, simple, noisy affair. When I am with these people, I forget myself. It is as if all of the little bits of me that I find impossible to love or even like simply dissolve in their presence. I become less of a person, and more of an ingredient. And at this point in my life, uneducated and unfinished as I am, I believe that is what love is.

I hope your holiday was as pleasant.

-J Larkin



*I don't have a proper nickname for this man aside from 'Man' in conversation, so, given his affection for all things solar and his general command of every given situation, I am now dubbing him 'Captain'

Sailing In

Hello, hello.

If you have found this blog, you are probably already aware of everything I am about to write. If you are still reading, you maybe just enjoy the brain-sound of my writing. I'm cool with that.

My name is J Larkin. I am, currently, an unpublished, unrepresented author. I write YA fiction, and I have a preference for fantasy-touched things. I have completed two novels, one of which has been safely tucked into 'tomorrow' territory, awaiting refurbishing after failing to garner any interest. The second, more recent one is currently being handled by Beta readers. This July, I will be attending a writers conference in Washington, where I will wear all my ritzy things and try not to be awkward as I rub elbows with people who have been in this business for decades. If I continue to eat my daily dose of Lucky O's, my career as a writer may be advanced. That would be pretty awesome.

I've started and then, with casual guilt, abandoned two previous blogs. One I left behind because the name no longer reflected what I wanted to do with myself, and the other I just sort of wiggled away from as I became more invested in my shiny new book. But writers write, and I think it is important to have some place outside of my head to deposit theories, ideas, feels, fuzzies, and whatever else is clanking around in there. I could keep a diary, but blech. I like the thought of someone *not* me benefiting from my words--even if it is only on the level of 'Well, at least I'm not as stupid as J.'

And, lest you doubt my penchant for stupidery, let me assure you that I have my moments. Once, I tested a miniature magnifying glass by beaming a dot of sunlight onto my own palm. Yes, it burned me. Yes, I had a moment of wonder. Yes, there were witnesses. Yes, I had paper or fabric or anything else at my disposal. I simply did not think until I smelled my own skin burning.

Shame.

I have roughly seven thousand brothers and sisters, but, shockingly, only one niece and nephew. I have very few friends, but the relationships that I maintain are powerful. Like, 'Here, have my spare kidney' powerful. I am claimed by one godchild, who is a beaming beacon of light, and have another one in the oven. More than anything, I hope to become the sort of person that they can be proud to own.

I live alone, which can be wonderful for things like making up stories and then reading them back to myself over and over using different voices and making the slightest alterations in syntax. My day-job is in a bakery, which is sometimes like Mean Girls meandering through Willy Wonka's factory, and sometimes just like any other job. Which is to say, Mean Girls at any one point.

At times I am quite poor, but so long as I can pay my rent this can actually prove entertaining. There is meant to be a romanticism to the writer who can't afford a can of corned beef hash, isn't there? And money is a fluid concept. It comes, it goes, it is earned and spent over and over. Unlike time, it is in constant flux. And unlike time, I occasionally have enough of it.

Anyhow, I will strive to add something to this blog every day. It may only be a sentence, lamenting a recent Doctor Who development. It may be a picture, or a video, or a massive blurb about something that really, really pissed me off or really, really inspired me. But, to keep it alive, I will feed this blog. Every day. Unless I have given prior notice of my absence.

Nice to meet you!

-J Larkin