Publisher's Clearinghouse

So, by now, I've got quite the collection of writings right here on the Internet, one would think that I could finally refer to myself as a published writer. Unfortunately, there's two problems with that. First, I don't refer to myself - I'd rather refer to others, since I already know what I am going to say. Second, the idea of being "published" has more of a connotation that being able to find Las Palabras de Condon on your local list of e-bookmarks. Last time I checked, you can't go to your local Borders or Barned & Noble to pick up my complete works, nor can you happen across me flipping through a magazine in yet another airport. Nope. Until the written word someday becomes the printed word, it looks like I stuck with "Blogger" on my imaginary business card. (Below the title Chief Awesome Officer, of course.)

Despite all the lists, words, and musings, none of this can count (yet) in my grand publishing career. Actually, has there ever been a time when I've gotten my writing to grow a spine and wear a book jacket? Hmm...if so, it better be a solid representation of what I bring to the literary world. (You're a literary world.) Ok, more than just that one liners, anyways. Alright, let's look through the history of cut and bound literature.

Tale of Two Cities – Sure, I’ve got allegiances to Philly and DC, but you won't find me there.

Tom Sawyer - The only painting of the fence I'm familiar with is in the Karate Kid.

Jane Eyre - Sure, you can accuse a post every now and then of being verbose and unnecessarily lengthy, but that's doesn't mean I wrote that book. Besides, when have I feigned an English accent in my writings? Yep, never.

Shawnee High School 1998 Annual Yearbook - AH HAH! Finally, I knew I'd come across my work at some point. Forget the classics, this is a read that is well worth it. Now, where did Condon get away with getting published in a glorified picture book, you ask? No, not that whole deal where you sign everyone's books - that's not real publishing. You see, the unaware yearbook staff petitions the senior class to take a few minutes out of their final year slacking to put some final memories and other things into words. Even then, I was quick to get my write on. And since I didn't quite understand the permanency of being a published author, my legacy lives on in this book. And now, an excerpt:

Future Plans: Go to college, be successful, and figure out why these pretzels are making me thirsty.

Now if someone was to find my early works in 2005, their first question would have to do with whether or not I've achieved my goals. The first is a given, the second is subjective, but a yes is plausible, but the third remains a question mark. Despite what I promised you as a life goal back 1998 has not been completed. Frankly, I still don't know why these pretzels are making me thirsty. But if I ever get to the point where I can publish again, then will come the time for you to get my answer.

Have to go now. Need a drink.

Stupid pretzels.