If you are reading this, I don’t believe you.
No, I’m serious. I don’t believe in blogs, I don’t believe in bloggers, and I especially don’t believe that anyone cool spends time reading them.
I know, you’re saying: “How could we be having this conversation if I’m not reading this?” That would be a good point, but I’m sitting on my porch writing in the present (your past), and you’re stuck solidly in the future (your present). How do I know you exist?
No wait . . . I’ve got an idea: Come up to me in the present (my future) and say “Robot Ostrich.” Then I’ll know it’s really you.
So why, if I don’t believe in blogs, am I writing one? Well, simply, I intend to be a player in “the industry” within five years. If my partner and I make it, that will be a good story (especially since it will have been written in the past . . . which is now the present). We are both Iowa country kids: no money, no connections, no shortcuts. We’ll need to get there without handouts or favors. If we do, then America still works. If not, well, America probably still works, just not on weekends.
And thus begins the Journey: Hollywood or Bust.