Citizen Jim struggled to stand after we were flung through a weird void in the creative process contained within my brain.
Once upright, he looked around. “What is this place?”
I told him it was an antechamber where people could decide whether to continue reading the story. If they wanted to keep reading, they’d be redirected when they subscribed to the newsletter I would send every now and then from kristalsheets-dot-com.
“So you’re holding the second half of the story hostage? What are you, the SLA?” he asked.
He knows I always love a good Patty Hearst reference. That’s why Citizen Jim is my best friend and the person I love most in this world!
“I’m not extorting anyone—there’s no charge. And I don’t want full name, occupation, groceries for everyone in Oakland,” I said. “I’m not asking questions like, Where did you hear about us?“
“Okay, well, if all you need is their email and permission to sign them up for the newsletter, I can’t really object to that. And I’m sure most of the people who read these stories found them by accident on a computer in the prison library,” he said. He nodded to signal his approval of my plan. “Go ahead with the form.”
I went ahead with the form.