“anything that can fight to the death without making a sound… well…”

One problem that continues to haunt the on-going writing of the new novel is the voice of the narration.

It’s a first-person, present tense story, told by an overly imaginative 17 year old experiencing 1992 for the first time… but I know how the world is going to shake up from there, and sometimes it’s hard not to give little “future-voice” type teasers of information for later-developments…

For example our narrator anti-hero is a Misfits fan- like any good, weird New Jersey kid growing up in the 80s. Now I happen to know that despite all possibilities at the time, the Misifts will reform and record new material- it’s debatable how Nick (our hero, the Reverend Doctor Syn, pre- seminary and doctorate) will feel about the Michael Graves albums once those happen. I think they’re a ton of fun, but I didn’t grow up an OG Misifts fan… I know people who refuse to listen to anything after Danzig left the band out of loyalty: “That ain’t Misfits, man!” they’ll sneer…

This is besides, and to, the point.

Also: The Sex. Jesus Christ, but I’d forgotten, 16-17 year olds think about sex a lot. And in some cases, do a lot about it. Or at least talk about it all the damn time. Fucking, sucking, kissing and groping, fondling and tongue-dancing all show up a lot- which surprised me, in the writing of it.

So my problem there ain’t the sex, it’s that… I’m not uncomfortable blowing a characters head off with a 10-gauge shotgun. But having a character blown by a preternatural teenaged girl? That can make me a little uncomfortable.

See, it’s like this: Unlike my first novel, where the characters were all based on actors (understandable, since the project came to life as a screenplay first), the new book is based more on actual events- put through a post-modern pulp fiction filter. So there are characters in these stories that are based, more or less, on people I know- some of them more than others.

Mostly you, all five or six of you that read this, and especially the majority of them that are in the blogroll…

And now I’m (gulp!) making them do stuff. Not the monster fighting, dimension hopping, gore-spackled comedy of excess that is yet to come (and it is on the horizon) but, you know, the sex stuff.

And it’s making me feel like a fucking pervert! So I guess the question is, will I be able to look some of my friends in the face, once they’ve been immortalized as randy teenagers and young adults, without feeling like, somehow, I’ve violated them?

And when two characters meet for the first time in 1992, but I know they aren’t going to consumate their relationship until 1999- during a blackout, on New Years Eve, after destroing the Y2K Bug (actually an arachno-rodent hybrid that the Convergence Generals are trying to unleash on America)… it’s sometimes hard for me (heee, hard!) not to make some kind of benevolent, crafty trickster teaser- which raises the issue with the 1st person/present tense format: does that mean the story is actually happening while Nick is writing/telling it? Which would explain why he’s so often confused, angry and horny= he’s a teenager who doesn’t have the benefit of hindsite… part of me doesn’t want to lose that…

…or alienate anybody by first turning them into heightened reality characters, and then making them fuck.

Waiting Room

Le sigh.

It has been a frustrating time as I try to edit Novel 1, finish Novel 2, plus screenplays & wife and son… not to mention that I do have an actual job that does produce paperwork and data entry as well as fresh air and lifting heavy things/operating heavy machinery…

Novel 1’s edit is SLOW. It is FRUSTRATING. The Novel itself; ain’t half bad I’m glad to say. But I am a shit-ass copy editor and MY copy editor is a stay-at-home-mom with very, very little actual “free” time.

Novel 2 is writing itself, taking it’s sweet fucking time now in the 4th part. Which is fine, I’m not trying to rush this one. 1st Draft will be done- as in begining/middle/end/epilogue by the end of the year, that much I guarantee for my own sanity.

Scripts.

Lil’ Horror Project
We just met w/ the producers on our lil’ horror project: she is a GREAT lil’ project. Legitimately scary, unique, and with some great moments. Anyways, our producers love-love-love our last draft, which is a great warm blanket of… well, I don’t think either Bettie or I (or even Sam) are feeling all that enthusiastic/up-beat about the project. It’s in their laps now, so we need to wait for them to do something. A problem with screenwriting: you can only do so much with a project that has producers, the time needs to come for them to step up and do their fucking job. Our director, sweet strange thang that she be, also loves it and is upbeat about it, so that is nice as well.

Afghanistan
Script is a little more than half-way writ, and this weekend Bettie and I totally fixed a major hiccup in the finale, firmly seating it into the “fucking spooky” realm that it belongs in… Ah, a good feeling. We both can’t wait to start writing it again. Oh, but wait! Bettie doesn’t have real time during the week to screenwrite- and my work computer has no Final Draft… the Laptop is too precarious and weird to risk travel on the Vespa w/ and evening writing Does Not Work for this combine. Solution: we wait until October and spend our mini-vacation house-sitting at Cassandra’s Grove to beat the living shit out of this story, in between trips to the beach. SWEET.

There are other projects, of course, I’ve been writing notes for a 3rd novel, we’ve both hashed out about 30% of a fantastically funny passion project- a comic/affectionate take on a certain activity that is overdue a fictional study… there is still our terse, brutal little Western that needs to be polished and (gulp) sent out… AFTER we are happy with the ‘Stan project we’ll worry about those. And there is our overly chatty, brutal big Western that we hope to revisit and fix in the near future…

It’s frustrating though. Things like laundry, vaccuming, groceries, diapers, play-time and sleep keep overwhelming me and I feel like the writing is on a back burner lately, which makes me resentful and pithy and weird. Stoopid, stoopid. It’s a hard mantle to toss off when I get like this. But toss it off I must, so I will.

Sam gets upset every morning when I go to work, which makes me feel simultaneously wonderful and horrible. Bettie has days where she struggles with balancing Mom & Homemaker which frustrates her intensely, which in turn frustrates me (I’m such a follower). So we’re ALL frustrated with creative output right now, indirectly or straight on.

Sigh. October approacheth. Thats something, at least.