the truth about James

This is the tale of a man named James
A man of good report but then also kind of lame
Not lame as a three-legged dog that would hop
But lame is in – he was to write a novel with me but then he just… stopped

Yeah, that’s right. He stopped cold in the middle of starting like this tale no longer rhymes. He asked me to join him during National Novel Writer’s Month and he even took a week off – a whole week to get a nice head start – to get his head right to craft this great tale that he had been building for 10 years. Yeah, that’s what I said. 10 years. Most beautiful outline of a novel that a man would ever want to see this side of glory. And how many chapters were born of this most perfect outline?

James? Can you tell the people how many chapters you’ve written since November? What’s that? One hundred and huh? One? As in one chapter or…? No way. 10 years and the beautiful outline of a novel that a man would ever want to see this side of glory and all you have written is ONE chapter? James? Really?

My most talented and dear friend, James – the developer who is smarter than a Roomba and can do more tricks than a gang of monkeys on a grapevine. The ever gentle James – the man after God’s own heart who seeks to simplify while growing. The multifaceted and multicultured James – the man who can, in appearance, be mistaken as an Italian, a Mexican, and a Isreali unibomber all on the same driver’s license. Dear James – the procrastinator of all procrastinators. I started a novel with you and because of you and you have but one chapter to show for all of my blood, sweat, and ink tears. James, I salute thee.

This was the tale of a man named James
One of my best friends but then still very lame.