This article appears in the Summer 2022 issue of Alta Journal. OK, maybe the Greek chorus was a bit much, but what can I say, I was young.ĭo I have to tell you, gentle reader, that I failed miserably? My book came out and nothing happened. Oh, and men would line up outside my door begging for a chance to date me, with a Greek chorus urging them on, of course. Not only would my novel knock capitalism to its knees, but the ex who had dumped me would regret his decision and spontaneously combust, and all the kids in kindergarten who hadn’t invited me to their birthday parties would realize the errors of their ways. My seething, righteous rage would infect readers, flow in every vein, and men, women, and genderqueers would rise to demand justice. My novel was intended to blow up how we were perceived. People with AIDS were dying so pleasantly in literature. I thought all the books about AIDS were nothing like what I was living through. I wanted to change literature, or at least change the world. When I wrote my first book, I thought I knew.
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