Most people don’t know this. If you asked them to compose a list of hazardous occupations, writing probably wouldn’t make the top ten, or even the top hundred. In fact, it might not appear on the list at all. And why would it? Aside from stabbing yourself in the eye with a pen or dumping hot coffee in your lap, what could possibly be dangerous about writing?
Not literally, of course. If that had happened, I’d be blogging over there instead of here. And as far as I can tell, I’m still firmly trapped in this reality. It’s probably more accurate to say that my heart and soul were transported.
How did it happen? I’d love to tell you it was by means of a top-secret alien technology or the experimental efforts of scientists in a parallel universe. But it was neither. All I did was drive to my local cinema to watch Terminator: Genisys.
