I’ve been trying to be a writer for several years now, ever since my first big success with a first draft in NaNoWriMo 2013.  Not being a writer in the sense of seeking publication, because I don’t need that nod of approval from a corrupt doddering industry that will require me to bow and scrape and schmooze, to have a fucking twitter account.  No, I’m aiming to have some works edited to a level I feel at least worthy of self publication.

Self publication is a real thing now, not just the scam of vanity presses filling sad boomers’ garages with boxes of unsellable novels.  It’s not like that, but it is still exactly as ridiculous as you’d expect it to be, the field glutted with pure trash, editorial standards basically nonexistent.  But there are people trying to do good stuff and I’m going to be one of them.  Hey, look at our own Mr. Bolingbrook Brinkman, actually taking the time to edit his own masterpiece.

Right now I’m working on a story that, last fall, I was having big delusions of grandeur about.  It was a hot idea for the moment, and I was catching insomnia from imaginary interviews with Rachel Maddow.  But reality had a lot of meathooks along the way and I got real disinterested in the project, just too depressed to write.  And as I looked at it today for the first time in a month, I realize this is a “novelette” at best – finished, it will be 15,000 words if I’m lucky.

Nonetheless, I’ve decided I’m committed to getting this thing done ASAP.  I wasn’t feeling that before, so I didn’t share this, but hey, maybe putting this out here will push me to get it done.  Enjoy the rough draft of the cover, and imagine what literary delights it will hold in store for you…

 

 

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