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Wildly Interesting Books

  • Adam's Task by Vicki Hearne
  • Anything by Colin Cotterill
  • Auguries of Innocence by Patti Smith
  • Big Box Swindle by Stacy Mitchell
  • Darwin: A Life in Poems by Ruth Padel
  • Gehry Draws
  • Human Smoke by Nicholson Baker
  • Out of Our Heads by Ava Noe
  • Stylepedia: A Guide to Graphic Design, Mannerisms, Quirks and Conceits
  • The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larrson
  • The God of Small Things by Arundahti Roy
  • The Long Fall by Walter Mosely
  • The Martin Beck Series by Maj Sjowall and Per Waloo
  • The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski
  • The Wrecking Crew by Thomas Frank
  • Vermeeer in Bosnia by Lawrence Weschler

Thursday, November 01, 2007

It's All NaNo All of November

It began last night at midnight. Here's an excerpt from my NaNo novel 2007. 2,150 words and counting.

It was my second to last night at the Coyote Club in Grafton Arizona when the thing happened that changed everything. The Coyote was a tacky town bar. It took at least two drinks to make the place glitter. It was decorated as if it were in another part of the country trying to look like it was in Arizona. This always cracked me up. When I mentioned it to Georgia one time she had no idea what I was talking about.
“But it is in Arizona, don’t you see” I explained.
“Right”, she said. “So that’s why it looks like Arizona”
“No, because it is in Arizona, it doesn’t have to try so hard to look like it is”.
The conversation went around for a while before I gave up.
On this particular night, two drinks down and a third on the table, I was enjoying the lit up plastic cacti along the bar and the neon coyote in the front window. I was leaving, getting out, and life was good. The Coyote owner, Joey Soucie, bought us a farewell round, though it was only me leaving. Life was very good. I didn’t much like it when the two creeps burst in from the street and shot Joey dead behind the bar. It was almost closing time. The three of us were the only ones in the place. Ray and Georgia were facing the bar and I was facing the creeps. I got a good look at them. Too bad for me. The tall one turned, aimed at me and fired. I went down like a clay duck at the amusement park.

People: Help me out here. I don't think the ducks at the amusement park are made of clay. What are they made of?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I like it. Hope you don't forget to include the psychotic who thinks he's a character in a novel (and that the novel is a bourgeois art form.) This Saturday I should finish the "Blig Blug writes a novel" segment.