Now that Eddie’s Choice is launched, I’m playing around with ideas for the next book. I know it won’t be another Hamilton High story, not that there aren’t plenty of teen issues to explore in fiction: a homeless teen struggling to stay in school, maybe a transgender person who’s been kicked out of their house? But no, I’ll leave that to someone younger and better versed in the ways of social media than I am. I’ll jump ahead and write about life in the 80s. Not the 1980s. Life in the 80s age group. Should it be a sequel to collection of personal essays titled Over 70 and I Don’t Mean MPH? Or should it be a novel featuring a woman in her late eighties. If it’s Over 80 and I Don’t Mean MPH, I’ll have to stick to the truth—close to the truth, anyway. If it’s fiction I can give the old lady adventures and trials beyond anything I care to personally experience. As my born-in-the-late-1890s, quilt making Arkansas aunt would say when faced with a challenging decision, “I’m piecin’ on it."
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