The Moron Brothers (prologue)

What follows is the prologue for a novel I have started but never finished, before my current project took over my writing efforts entirely.  I wanted to post this because I think that the perception is that these things come easily and whole, that writing is somehow easy for those of us that do it, that a certain measure of success with the craft means that it is all fun and games for us.  It isn’t.  There are a lot of missteps and failures and garbage that has to come out before anything good happens.  Writing, if you take it...

Slam

I’m old now, and out of touch, but when we were kids we called it moshing, or slam, or maybe just the pit.  We didn’t really ever call it dancing, though that was what it really was, just a movement to the music, a release, an expression of ourselves, a bunch of lost kids, angry and disappointed with the world.  To an observer, it looks violent, and sometimes it is, if you get a drunk in there flailing his elbows around, or some tourist jock type dude that saw it on movies or something and just wants to push people around,...

Effigy

What you do when someone leaves you behind is, you dig a hole, you line it with rocks. You take the bricks left over from when you built that flower bed by the side of the house, you lay them out around the hole.  You don’t think about the flowers, you don’t think about how they died, how they didn’t get enough sun where you built the bed, how they withered and wasted away. You go inside and you gather all the things, the tiny hurtful things, the hair clip from between the cushions of the couch, the sock from...

Thoughts on the eve of the launch of my first novel:

Tomorrow, my book launches.  It will pass from my hands into yours, the readers, and it will no longer be my little secret, the little thing that I am proud of and happy about.  It will be yours, to do with as you wish.  Right now I’m sitting at my computer after having already sat in an office chair for eleven hours today for my day job.  I’m sitting here thinking about what all this means, if it means anything at all, what I’m feeling if I could only understand what I’m feeling, how I am supposed to be feeling....