The King and I
You can’t judge a secret writing project by its blown cover….
Charlie calls in regularly for what I think of as a cackling session. I know when I’ve written a ton, I phone up a writerly friend…but I haven’t written “a ton” is quite a while… His gleeful blag sessions are always a joy (and we’ve been phone pals for as long as I’ve known him) and I’m praying these recent ones will spur along my embarrassingly sluggish (fourteen years and counting) “project” –working title: Fabulous me, a hagiography. Stressing the ‘hag’.
Tis not a stretch to call Charles Kelly (aka SeeKay) the “king” of mountain bikes. Yes, there are many kingdoms around the mountain, and yes, there are some that are more..uh, well-advertised, but in my opinion, SeeKay (aka CK) is the keeper of the fathomless knobular scripture, and the rightful bearer of the imaginary ermine robe.
He’s a regular guy with regal bearing– “eminence grease” comes to mind. There’s that impressive blog.
There’s the piano dancing…(Kelly Moving Co. relocates unwieldy, delicate instruments thither & yon. Ask him about the time he moved the piano from the wrong house, and didn’t find out about the mistake until the next day).
Oh, yes, the rock n’ roll roadie life…so much wealth!
He’s a bit sheepish about the brandishing of the scepter, but I hope to lead by example.
Along those lines, he’s lashing himself to a chair in order to write his memoir. Which is gushing out of him at a refreshing two or three thousand words per sitting.
“I don’t have a particular message…just reporting on what was flowing past me at the time, and a lot of stuff has flowed past….Now that I’ve told people I’m writing it all down, I’ve blown my cover. I can’t hide behind a veil of secrecy… everyone’s askin’ me how my book is coming!”