How To Become a Better Writer

I told Dave not to do it. I saw it happen in a movie and when you’re in 4th grade, you don’t really know which laws of the universe transfer off screen, but I knew this one would. We were walking home from school, trudging through a baseball field of shin high snow wearing ugly rubber boots.

At the end of the baseball field, acting as more of a comfort shield to the houses than realistic target for elementary kids to swing for, sat the metal baseball fence. Most days this was the perfect place...