I have been approached about reading at a large, literary hippie-fest in San Francisco (and I mean that in the best sense). I said yes. With trepidation. It is a huge event. And it is an honor that they thought of me. I have a story that would be perfect. There is, however, one giant-ass issue. I hate to read.
Let me clarify a little. I hate to read out loud. More specifically, I hate to read things I have written out loud. Hate it. I usually refuse. That’s why I write for heaven’s sake – so people don’t have to listen to my stupid voice.