Trey R. Barker is a friend of mine. He’s a Renaissance Man of sorts, having put his fingers in everything from radio to live theatre to music to writing to law enforcement, which is how he currently makes his living. He’s a Deputy in Princeton, Illinois, but because of posts like this, he will always be a writer in my eyes.
Here’s an excerpt from the post:
I am not writer enough to put the stink of the cats and dogs and her own excreta and body stench and rotted food in your clothes and nose the way it was in mine for days. And you’ll never understand how the reek of booze was foundational to every odor in the place, as though it were the concrete slab upon which the house was built.
I simply can not write that well.
Yeah, right, Trey.