I’m still not used to this blogging thing. The other day, my father told me that he reads these things. That made me pause and wonder if I’d said anything incriminating. . . . (He did chastize me for not mentioning him often enough.)

I guess I should get used to the idea of strangers reading what I have to say. Still, it’s an odd feeling. I still remember when I first met a stranger who’d read one of my books. I wasn’t sure what to think. Here was a person who knew me completely through my writing. They didn’t know Brandon the man, only Brandon the storyteller.

I guess, in a way, that’s the point of all this. However, that doesn’t make it any less odd to see it actually happening.