Feb 08 2010
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Feb 04 2010
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There is no “1” on my typewriter. How did I not notice this until now?
Feb 03 2010
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Three more copies of No Chinook arrived from the printers today. I ordered these bad boys on Monday, which frightens me a little. Those guys are incredibly fast.
These will find a home in the Glad Day Bookstore, which has been the highest-selling spot for my books. They are super wicked.
Jan 21 2010
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The first typewritten page.
Jan 20 2010
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Jan 17 2010
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Snippet
There are lots of first-draft gold that has to be left on the cutting room floor, and as much as I love this little snippet, it doesn’t fit with the tone of the book, or how the two characters in question interact with one another. Also, it’s one of the few scenes that stayed after I decided to change the entire book from first to third person. Still, it’s a cute little moment, and I wanted it to exist somewhere.
***
The book slips through her fingers. She lets it. She does not care. She is asleep. Her fingers, they hold the book so easily. But they let it go just as well.
She looks at me, through slits, the smallest amount she can open her eyes and still be a little asleep. Her other hand, not the one that dropped the book, came towards my arm and gave it a little squeeze. She was done. This is all I would see of the full life tonight. She was signing off in the dark.
I reached over and turned off the light on her side of the bed. I let the book lay next to her. I knew in three or four hours time she would wake, and she would either put it away herself or read another paragraph before finding sleep again. She would read this paragraph in the dark, and in the morning or whenever it was she would continue, would not remember having read it, but find it familiar. But if I moved the book and she awoke, she would look for it, and by looking for it wake up even more, maybe to the point of looking at the alarm, of seeing the dull blue LED lights display two or three AM. And she would look at these numbers and blink, once or twice, and be angry at herself for finding herself here, in bed, with me. So I don’t touch the book.
Her hands come together, clasping. Her breathing is steady, unwanting. I can see just a little leftover mascara on her rested eyelid. It’s proof enough of life, that we live. In the morning, I’ll tell her about it. But tonight it’s a reflection. And some nights, you just want to hold on to whatever you can.
Jan 15 2010
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This is basically how I feel about the editing process. I know it’s incredibly mandatory and most books would likely not be as good without it, but man does it feel like you’re handing over a pound of flesh to a butcher some days. It’s even worse when that butcher is yourself.
Jan 14 2010
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Self Portrait.
Jan 09 2010
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New Smashwords distribution dates for No Chinook. I wonder why they keep pushing back?
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Buy No Chinook as a physical softcover
Get that “real book” feeling by purchasing No Chinook in softcover format. Simply click this link and pay through Paypal, and I’ll send you a signed copy in the mail.
