I suppose I’m starting this site as a way to give myself the lie, or at least to prove myself wrong. I’ve arrived at what sure seems like failure, after a career beset by defeat, renewed attempt, rejection or indifference, renewed attempt, momentary gain, arrogance, defeat, renewed attempt. I’m tired of it, yet I can’t seem to give up.

Obviously, I’m self-regarding and I know, most of the time, self-absorbed. Or maybe I want to make a spectacle of myself. Here I am writing this down in public, like a crazy person talking to himself in the street. I wonder if that man who waves his arms or punches himself in the head wants others to notice. Does he hope others will learn, even admire, and remember him? Certainly, since he’s homeless, he has nowhere to go but into the impressions and memories of passerby.

If people remember you, you don’t really die, or so I’ve often told myself.

Of course, there may be no passerby. How likely is anybody to enter a Google search like “News AND failure” and happen upon what I have to say? Even if somebody does that, why would he care what I have to say?

For my own part, I’ve never had much interest in the private lives of other writers. I think a piece of writing should stand on its own, without regard to what prompted it.

But here I am, starting to talk about myself.