My newest novel-in-the-works, Is the Bar Open Seating?, is going to be a crass, semi-autobiographical work with Bukowski influences. Below is an excerpt from the opening chapter, Nice to Fucking Meet You.
“I have finally done it. I’ve succumbed to the cliché. I’ve dug deep into the platitudes and situated myself in this coffee shop armchair to string words together and call myself a writer. The coffee itself is sub-par made palatable only by the healthy dose of whiskey I added to its caffeinated depths, but as I said before, I am not here for the coffee. I am here in hopes of embracing the banality and inspiring myself to spew some sort of literary substance.”
As always, comments and criticisms are appreciated. This work-in-progress is copyrighted, so don’t be a thief. Be original. Enjoy!
I am an avid reader, and by that I mean I usually read a different book about every 1-2 weeks, depending on my schedule. There has never been a story that I have hated no matter how childish, graphic, or unrealistic. All I demand from books is an intelligent and well told (preferably well written) story.
Before I left for Africa, the last book I read on American soil was 11/22/63 by Stephen King. I’m not here to write a review for the novel. If you want that, feel free to click here. I simply want to share my feelings about the story.
The book started slow, but by the 50th page I could not put it down. The Kennedy Assassination has fascinated me since my parents took me to The Sixth Floor Museum in Dallas, but there was something so entirely different visualizing it through Jake Epping’s (the novel’s main character) perspective.
As a lover of history and travel it was fascinating to see a man from my time experience all of the political, social, and cultural transformations of the late 1950s and early ’60s. Epping’s journey to follow Oswald took him to a variety of cities across the US. Having visited several of the same cities, it was interesting to read about what they were like 50+ years ago.
It was the first time that I had “a blast” waiting for the resolution in a novel. 11//22/63 challenged me with moral questions and forced me to acknowledge that sometimes there is no monster to blame for the bad things in life. It is simply the fault of man.
I recently read that J.J. Abrams has picked up the story and will produce/direct a miniseries based on the book. It will only air on Hulu, but no dates or casting have been announced. I look forward to comparing my experiences with the literary version to that of the film version. I can only hope the miniseries will be equally enthralling.