My Unwritten Memoir

Here I am, writing many thousands of words a year for piecemeal pay. Why didn't I think to write a memoir about the hard life I had growing up on the rough side of San Antonio? Tales of gangs, drugs and friends cut down in their prime. Run-ins with cops and an indifferent judicial system. An interestingly violent near-death. Then redemption with the help of Mama and Jesus.

Strictly speaking, none of that is true, but I'd be going for a deeper truth. (And an advance, and maybe a spot on what's-her-name's TV show.) But I suppose book publishers are going to be more suspicious of hardscrabble memoirs for a while -- maybe the rest of the year. Till then, I'll just have to keep grinding out words with some regard for accuracy.