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no news is good news...
...well, at least where writing has been concerned. i have officially finished the first draft of this is hardcore. it's rough, it's bare bones, it... it is what it is. upon initial reflection, it seems that this is hardcore is definitely more commercial than desert sessions, yet at the same time being quite off setting and not quite as accessible, if that makes any sense. probably not. oh well. tih is finished, and I am glad for it. it was so hard for me to get around to finishing the story, mostly because i had already moved on to other works. my emotional attachment to the book was pretty much severed, with very little for me to say or do except, well, to finish it. i actually finished it a couple of days ago. it clocks in at a lean 61 pages, done on 10 point font. which basically means it should be somewhere in the range of 140-150 pages once published (with a little creative manipulation of the margins and font...). ds came in at 90 pages, and asthetically, ds looked dense when you tried to read it, so i'm trying to get away from that, let my novels breathe a bit. so you're looking at a book that is just a little over half of what ds was. at any rate, here's another sample...
Will turns his attention to the gas attendant, a blond, slightly overweight of a specimin who’s busy scratching the back of his head as he stares into the sun. The Stranger is busy in the store, rummaging through the fridge, trying to find something to drink. Will steps out of the car and sidles up to the gas attendant. He attempts to say something, but the man just stares at him. He looks back towards the store just as The Stranger steps outside. The two of them share a glance, something a little more than the sky, right before Will takes off. He’s several steps ahead, taking giant strides as he sprints across the dirt. He’s got his fists clenched and they’re swinging by his sides as he runs until his lungs start to burn and his blood boils like battery acid being pumped throughout his system. Will clutches a fistful of his shirt and holds it against his heart as he runs. There it goes, Will thinks to himself, anticipating it, even as his heart skips a beat. It finally happened; it finally broke. There’s no extended warranty policy for the human heart. He’s going to have to replace it or die. He’s going to have to find a heart that he can live with. He can feel it coming over him. He’s sweating as he slows down, near doubled over in pain under the blanket red sky, his gasps for air lost in the air. The Stranger runs up behind him and kicks Will’s leg out from under him, dropping him to the ground. Will scrambles to his feet and lumbers down the road a few meters, dragging his legs as if weighted down with cement shoes. The road is long and stretched out before him, elongated like some sort of cartoon. He falls to his hands and knees and crawls slowly along the ground, only to collapse at the crossroads. North, south, east and west… the four corners of the earth are more empty and distant then ever. He pulls on his shirt, his knuckles white and caught in a death grip. The Stranger leans over him, getting down on his hands and knees before him, leaning in close so that Will could smell him, all of him. He shows him the needle, its point gleaming under the sunlight. Liquid forms at the tip, a bubble of it, as clear as the day. It trembles on the tip, like a drop of pre-cum. “I’m going to sink my teeth into you now,” he whispers and inserts the tip into Will’s neck, penetrating the flesh. Will feels the prick and winces, more from the thought of it than the pain. Psychosomatic trauma is like playing air guitar; in your mind, you’re a goddamned rock star. He can hear Phil’s singing off in the distance like an echo. The last thing he sees is The Stranger’s face and he thinks that Dr. Strangelove is here to stay.
...so there you have it. a piece of tih all for your enjoyment. this is probably my meatiest offering to date on the book. please forgive any typos or bad lines because I'm just too tired at this point to bother. i will be taking another look at the book today before handing it off to adam for a first opinion on this draft. I am already busy working away at my next book, revolutionaries wanted, which will be my political opus about human rights and what a single, human life is worth weighed against western society's values. pretentious? you bet! hard to read? most definitely! what's the point? to make a statement. this book will be a sort of no apologies book. it's time i got back into more earnest fare. tih was a nice break from what i normally write, and it was mostly a half-baked idea that ended up taking steam once i realized that i didn't want to bother with political writing. but now it's time to get my hands dirty. can you tell that i'm excited to write rw? it's gonna be a gas. and i haven't forgotten about live acoustic (open fire). la(of) has sort of been pacified for the moment. as mentioned in earlier entries, la(of) is an experimental piece, where there will be no planning whatsoever. basically, whatever i feel like writing, i'll write, regardless of how illogical or riddled with holes.
hopefully i will have rw finished by the end of spring, for a publication date of early summer. the plan is to publish rw and tih together, so that we can get some sort of deal on printing costs. perhaps do a smaller run of each, like 300 copies. hopefully adam will be finished one of the two books he's writing, and we can then published three books together, and thus have about four books so that when we pay for distribution, it's a bit more worth it. you know, more bang for the buck. fucking capitalism. i'm such a socialist at heart. at any rate, adam's books sound exciting. one is about a guy who goes nuts after a girl he likes criticizes his photos for lacking emotion. he ends up going all psycho and doing horrible things to her to capture her emotions in his photos... the other is about a guy who finds that he'll do anything for this one girl, forgiving all her faults. this book involves a group of people dedicated to consumption and the purchasing of goods and services. sounds like a blast.
wow, i've rambled on for a while now. i guess that's what happens when you finally have a day off after working seven days a week, for five weeks straight, while trying to get a novel done. i need a life.
Will turns his attention to the gas attendant, a blond, slightly overweight of a specimin who’s busy scratching the back of his head as he stares into the sun. The Stranger is busy in the store, rummaging through the fridge, trying to find something to drink. Will steps out of the car and sidles up to the gas attendant. He attempts to say something, but the man just stares at him. He looks back towards the store just as The Stranger steps outside. The two of them share a glance, something a little more than the sky, right before Will takes off. He’s several steps ahead, taking giant strides as he sprints across the dirt. He’s got his fists clenched and they’re swinging by his sides as he runs until his lungs start to burn and his blood boils like battery acid being pumped throughout his system. Will clutches a fistful of his shirt and holds it against his heart as he runs. There it goes, Will thinks to himself, anticipating it, even as his heart skips a beat. It finally happened; it finally broke. There’s no extended warranty policy for the human heart. He’s going to have to replace it or die. He’s going to have to find a heart that he can live with. He can feel it coming over him. He’s sweating as he slows down, near doubled over in pain under the blanket red sky, his gasps for air lost in the air. The Stranger runs up behind him and kicks Will’s leg out from under him, dropping him to the ground. Will scrambles to his feet and lumbers down the road a few meters, dragging his legs as if weighted down with cement shoes. The road is long and stretched out before him, elongated like some sort of cartoon. He falls to his hands and knees and crawls slowly along the ground, only to collapse at the crossroads. North, south, east and west… the four corners of the earth are more empty and distant then ever. He pulls on his shirt, his knuckles white and caught in a death grip. The Stranger leans over him, getting down on his hands and knees before him, leaning in close so that Will could smell him, all of him. He shows him the needle, its point gleaming under the sunlight. Liquid forms at the tip, a bubble of it, as clear as the day. It trembles on the tip, like a drop of pre-cum. “I’m going to sink my teeth into you now,” he whispers and inserts the tip into Will’s neck, penetrating the flesh. Will feels the prick and winces, more from the thought of it than the pain. Psychosomatic trauma is like playing air guitar; in your mind, you’re a goddamned rock star. He can hear Phil’s singing off in the distance like an echo. The last thing he sees is The Stranger’s face and he thinks that Dr. Strangelove is here to stay.
...so there you have it. a piece of tih all for your enjoyment. this is probably my meatiest offering to date on the book. please forgive any typos or bad lines because I'm just too tired at this point to bother. i will be taking another look at the book today before handing it off to adam for a first opinion on this draft. I am already busy working away at my next book, revolutionaries wanted, which will be my political opus about human rights and what a single, human life is worth weighed against western society's values. pretentious? you bet! hard to read? most definitely! what's the point? to make a statement. this book will be a sort of no apologies book. it's time i got back into more earnest fare. tih was a nice break from what i normally write, and it was mostly a half-baked idea that ended up taking steam once i realized that i didn't want to bother with political writing. but now it's time to get my hands dirty. can you tell that i'm excited to write rw? it's gonna be a gas. and i haven't forgotten about live acoustic (open fire). la(of) has sort of been pacified for the moment. as mentioned in earlier entries, la(of) is an experimental piece, where there will be no planning whatsoever. basically, whatever i feel like writing, i'll write, regardless of how illogical or riddled with holes.
hopefully i will have rw finished by the end of spring, for a publication date of early summer. the plan is to publish rw and tih together, so that we can get some sort of deal on printing costs. perhaps do a smaller run of each, like 300 copies. hopefully adam will be finished one of the two books he's writing, and we can then published three books together, and thus have about four books so that when we pay for distribution, it's a bit more worth it. you know, more bang for the buck. fucking capitalism. i'm such a socialist at heart. at any rate, adam's books sound exciting. one is about a guy who goes nuts after a girl he likes criticizes his photos for lacking emotion. he ends up going all psycho and doing horrible things to her to capture her emotions in his photos... the other is about a guy who finds that he'll do anything for this one girl, forgiving all her faults. this book involves a group of people dedicated to consumption and the purchasing of goods and services. sounds like a blast.
wow, i've rambled on for a while now. i guess that's what happens when you finally have a day off after working seven days a week, for five weeks straight, while trying to get a novel done. i need a life.
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