So, it’s been a long time since I blogged. A long. Time. Or Tweeted. Okay – I retweet funny shit and let’s be honest – I spend way too much time on Facebook under the guise of sharpening my considerably dull wit. But for the most part, I’ve been absent from this website.
I had this book, “Kumiko and Noah Battle the 4th of July,” that I was working on diligently. It started out with some new things for me, such as switching from third to first person, getting down and serious, and ratcheting up the filthy language because why say, “Where’s my ball gag?” when you can say, “Awright you fuckwits. Which one of you crypto-pseudo fascist corn-holers absconded with my ball gag?”
It was going pretty well. Plots where hatched. Characters bumped into each other, causing calamity and chaos. Some interesting monologues. Even a little historical perspective thrown in because for a glimmering moment of literary hope, I took to the notion that I wanted to be introspective instead of setting up a scene involving testicles and a Vitamix.
But something started happening with my desire to write this book. It began to slip away. It faded incrementally. I started thinking, “To what end?” Worse, “Who gives a fuck?” I found myself doing anything to avoid working on that book. I dreaded it. Loathed it. Wanted it erased from my laptop.
As is the popular idiom of the day: I had no fucks to give about this story, its characters and what happens to them.
I let a few folks read the partial first draft. They LOOOOVED it. Fine. Then you write the fucker. Because I’d rather have had my tongue stapled to my chin than write one more word about how Kumiko and Noah Battle the 4th of July.
So going against everything I’ve ever read about writing, I tossed it. Months of work. Fish wrappings. It was okay. I was no longer a writer. Ahh gawd it felt good to say that.
For about three days.
And then that other idea, the one that’s been kicking around inside of me for a year? I started to write it.
I got about 10k words down and then my wife had a massive herniated disc which required seriously invasive surgery with a two month recovery period – which we are currently in the 7th week of – and so I stopped writing MURDERTARP.
And I was on a roll with that motherfucker. I spent every morning walking the dogs in the woods, thinking about the scenes I was going to write as soon as I got back to my desk. And then I got back to my desk and I wrote.
It was full immersion.
Then Jillian got hurt and I stopped writing again.
Meanwhile, every writer I knew was churning out brilliance. There’s a downside to knowing other writers, especially the really fucking successful ones. But I thought about that story every day. Even worked up a great storyboard (wherein I pin all kinds of shit on a wall – pictures, quotes, sentence fragments, dead rodents) that kept me on track.
Jillian’s getting stronger every day now. I’m working out again. Reading more. And realizing that because I’m a type II bipolar guy, I burn hot and then I simmer. Which made it possible to put my energy into my family. Timing, timing, timing.
But sweet Jesus, MURDERTARP is starting to percolate again.
As an aside, my publisher, Booktrope, folded. Honestly, they were kind of a publishing Ponzi scheme. But I did get free editorial and distribution and some blog tours out of them – and I met some great people. But now I’m back on my own and plan to keep it in the house – the house being my little imprint: BUCKLIN 818.
So what is MURDERTARP? I’ll only say that “episode one” is coming out in the next month.
Wow. That was some train of thought rambling. Here’s a logo I designed.