I haven’t posted for a while. I’ve been going though a bit of an existential crisis, you might say.
I wrote my first letter to “Pat” in August of 2014. I started this bog about 5 months later. I still haven’t told him that it exists.I am going to, though.
When I began writing to this man who is in jail, I had one goal in mind. I saw him only as a crime and I saw myself as the next Truman Capote. (Side Note: Yes, I’m totally aware that there have been a gazillion true crime books published since In Cold Blood came out in 1966, but Truman Capote is cool.)
By the time I started actually posting in this blog, though, he’d already become more than that. Pat isn’t just a topic. He’s my friend.
There are probably tons of people who would think that I’m “nucking futz” for calling an accused murderer my friend. I wonder about it myself, so I don’t blame them.
The thing is, they don’t know Pat.
I think I do.
I sure as hell hope I do.
I really want to believe I do.
Because this all became very real on Friday when I had coffee with a Dateline NBC producer to talk about Pat!