I don't know what brought you to this page, considering all the millions of books you could be looking at. Maybe it's the dazzling cover art or the clever title. I like to think a friend told about this awesome little book, without spoiling anything. My publisher warned me I have until the end of this page to convince you that you've got to read this thing, and I've already squandered far too much space. So, I better get started.Anybody who tells you that they have no regrets is a liar or a fool. Honestly, don't you have moments or decisions in the past that you'd just love to go back and change? Too bad. It's impossible. Until someone invents the time machine.Nevertheless, that is precisely what I'm doing in "The ReWrite." I'm going back and changing things. I'm going to take myself apart and reassemble the pieces in a parallel universe -- one that doesn't suck quite as much as this one. I'm going to get what I deserve.Don't get me wrong. This isn't science fiction.(Cue the music.) It's just my imagination. Yeah. (2,3,4) Running away with me.And nothing, I assure you, nothing is more powerful than your imagination.I'm inviting you along for a wild ride through the 1960s and '70s, a crazy time when American culture was reinventing itself, and our long, stupid war in Viet Nam was coming to an inglorious end to the sound of screaming protesters, hails of bullets and clouds of tear gas in the streets across the land. That's where we're headed, and, as a bonus, I'll be providing the soundtrack, with a few rock and roll ballads and protest songs that should have been written (by me) back then, but never were, because. . . well, read the book.OK. Here's the plan: take this book to the cashier, or click the "buy" button, please, so I can pay my rent. I'm not a "yippie" like Abbie Hoffman, so don't steal it. Then, off to your favorite coffee shop, and let's get started! Go on. I'm here, waiting in my parallel universe, which begins on page 1. It's 1967. I am 17 years old, in the funky little town ofPort Lavaca, Texas.
