Showing posts from August, 2013

High Probability of Coincidence and the Secret Life of the Story Teller

I wrote my first novel just in time for my 30th birthday. It was one long SOB. Near enough 200,000 words. Too many words for a sane person to remember them all.  That’s how come I fell apart over the book. I couldn’t remember all the stuff that had happened and was happening. I couldn’t juggle it all in mid air in front of my brain.  No matter what I tried my brain couldn’t wrap itself around the story.   I finished it, but it wasn’t really finished. There were some really cool passages, some great little chapters. But the glue that tied everything together became this evil dark force that haunted my days and made me wake up in cold sweats every night of the week.  Then I would smoke a few cigarettes, stare out the window at the traffic lights blinking amber off in the distance and wonder what the hell I had done with my life to think I could  write a novel.  The writing of it had taken me prisoner over Christmas, new years. Then January had trudged by, all steam and sweat and broili…