So what's the deal with all this Outlaw business anyway?

As promised some time ago, I finally got around to this part: Outlaw Authorz began in a summer writer's workshop in 2017, when Ol' Burnin' Beard there nearly got a whole group of writers kicked out of the library during his reading.

I know, I know... That's some outlaw shit there, huh?

But you would've thought I got caught molesting kittens or something, as much as one of my compatriots gave me grief at the end of it all. She happened to be the same one who suggested we all read our pieces, and no one really wanting to seem obtuse, we read our work and offered up our critiques.

Not that some of us hadn't stayed up late, writing carefully phrased, three-page critiques for everyone there a couple of nights before so everyone there could have a chance to look them over before they showed up. Some of us even brought all new material to place before the pack--I had two, in fact, one I just finished minutes before I showed up there--rather than the exact same story and alluded-to events that never actually happen. But that's another rant entirely (the whole blessed point of dicking up my summer evenings was that we all keep those pens of ours flowing through the hottest months).

Now when it comes to the handoff of actual writing, the printed story, I frequently volunteer to go first, just to get it over with. When it comes to verbal presentation, however, I prefer to be last in the lineup. Why? Because I wanna make sure everybody gets their money’s worth.

Well, it was free. But rest assured, it was gonna be a show, especially considering I was reading the piece many of you have read parts of here on this very blog entitled “Mr. Man Candy.” (Those who haven't yet, I strongly suggest it; check the margins someplace, it remains one of the most popular entries yet.

High literary it ain’t, as the title alone might suggest. But I haven't been the only one who thought it pretty damn funny. And I distinctly remember the librarian saying something about that spot being sound proof when we got the keys. After all, it’s a glass cube with televisions and a conference table, dead center of a library, of all things. Surely, someone musta--

Nope. Not even almost.

Not that anyone else had tested that theory. Ol' Mumbles and Whispers over there tested everybody's listening powers the other direction. Not me. That's not my thing. And I made a good eight pages through a 12-page story. Everything’s dandy, in fact. It’s funny, so every time I get my audience to laugh again, I get that much more into my piece. I'm doing little old lady voices, about seven nationalities -- all of which I heard when I wrote, and finally got to share unabashedly, for a change--until some jackass beating on the door, anyway.

Not a jackass, jackass, but close enough, right then. It was a librarian. The Big Cheese, I do believe.

“That’s a great story you’re reading,” he says, “but is there any way you could tune it down a few notches? There’s not a single spot on the whole floor we can’t hear every word you’ve said so far.”

And considering I posted warning labels for the language used here, I was suddenly a tad bit self conscious. Talk about stealing my thunder. I’d been building up for the big finish: Chorus girls, a high wire act, gymnastic penguins, the whole nine yards.

Wound up a flea circus with a bunch of half-crippled fleas.

Well, they wrap up, make plans to meet again and we start cleaning up to go. Of course, ol’ Whispers and Mumbles keep harassing me: “Yeah, we’ll meet back here once again next month, assuming they let us back in, of course...”

“Man, get us kicked out of the library of all things. Can’t take you anywhere...”

I guess they’ll just have to start calling us the Outlaw Authorz, I say. And the other two stared at me like I just belched and shot a golden egg out my ass at the same time. When I launched my Word Press venture at the beginning of 2018, trying to decide what I should call it, it actually took a few failed attempts before I recalled that moniker.

Even then, I was almost certain it would’ve been taken years ago already. The name, that is.

Every once in a while, you have one of those red velvet cheesecake kind’ve moons, the heavens actually will smile on you...

So now you know the resta--

No. That'll probably get me sued... cheesecake moon or otherwise.

This is actually the intro I wrote today

for the all new Outlaw Authorz Facebook page.

It went live at 8 a.m. today

In less than 12 hours, we're going pushing 50 likers so far...