When I was in high school I had a part time job in a supermarket. Thirty three years ago today, I was out the back of the store doing some menial task when someone told me John Lennon had been shot.
Many times over the years I've wondered what could have been.
Lennon had just released his first album in five years, and while it's no classic it was certainly more accessible than his previous few releases. At least the tracks that were his were.
It certainly seems as though Lennon was finally open to a Beatles reunion. We can only speculate as to whether they would have even come close to the quality of their previous output should they have entered a recording studio once more.
There are many other rumours about John's personal life that may have led him in different directions. And again we can only wonder.
But we have what we have. And we can play the 'what if' game with plenty of others. Hendrix, Cobain, and Morrison.
And writers. What if Salinger or Capote had written more? What if Philip K Dick had lived past the premiere of Blade Runner?
What if I had started writing twenty years earlier?
We have what we have. We are who we are. I'm here, right now, doing this. And if I don't produce more, then that's no one's fault but mine. Do I have a novel ready to burst from me? Will it even sell?
Stick around. We might find out together.
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