In 2013 I got drunk and wrote a short story concerning my cousin. Before 2013 I had ignored writing as though it was a waste of time.
The story is raw and at times tough to read. Descriptive in nature. The story is not fully edited and full of ridiculous errors I wouldn’t make now. However, it’s real. My wife, Megan, self published the book for me. I wrote the story hoping it would help my cousin. Though he loved the writing, I’m not sure that it helped in any way.
If you want to read a moving story about a man trying to handle his demons, loves dogs, but not himself enough, here –
I took the photo. Sugarloaf Mountain, South Dearfield, MA is on the right of the Connecticut river and Sunderland is on the left. This is where the story takes place.
This catapulted my mind back to where it belonged.