Saturday, October 1, 2011
My mind’s all over the place today. Maybe partly because of a head-banging MRI yesterday.
While tread-milling this morning, listening to Pink Floyd’s Time, trying to knock off in one hour, the endless hours my backside sits in this chair, concocting murder scenes, which I detest, I decided to create my first blog.
Time, this brings me to consider all of the time I’ve wasted writing. Has it been wasted? No. Just venting. And before I go on, why have I started blogging? I think my family’s sick of hearing me complain, so I’m looking for friendly ears, any ears actually.
As I reminisce, I’m thinking of my first “novel” attempt. The Last Resort, a gory horror, which I’ll get back to later, and maybe finish some day.
After The Last Resort, I tried a different approach; Enemies of Indians, a soldier’s account of his Vietnam experience, which included thoughts from his fiance’. There were alternating chapters describing his battles and the horrors of war, with hers, her ‘Letters from Lorus,’ the longing, missing him, romantic pieces of this novel.
Years ago, writers could submit directly to publishers, not like now, where you need an agent, and finding an agent is as difficult as finding a publisher. Back to Enemies, I actually received decent feedback from an editor, who didn’t accept Enemies, but said it was a good idea, very well written, but, it was “too little, too late.” The era of Vietnam stories was just about petering out. The story of my life. Too little too late. Whatever genre I’m writing, doesn’t seem to fit the current market. So now, I’m writing for the market.
First, let me say, Love Dreams, my unconventional steamy romance, started out to be a piece of erotica, which I KNOW the markets love. When I realized I was not comfortable naming all of those body parts (unappetizing unmentionables that actually turned me off but I guess turn many others on) in my book, I toned it down to a very descriptive, hot as hell romance with a fantastic plot, honestly, which to date, the market is not interested in. So my next project is a novel about a serial killer, which I’m working on now.
I’m a peace and love person. What qualifies me to write about a serial killer? Nothing. But I’m willing to try just about anything to find an agent, and a big publishing house. Sweet Dreams, book two of my series of four Dream books, is killing me. I love writing, but I find myself not wanting to write these awful murder scenes. I love the characters I create, even the brief ones, like the ones I create only to be murdered. And to inflict such brutality, suffering, UGH, I’ve walked away several times, unable to continue. Here’s a brief synopsis of the beginnings of Sweet Dreams.
Leonardo Gibraldi, Baltimore state prosecutor, leaves a trail of promiscuity and one-night stands, almost as hard and fast as the Sweet Dreams Psycho, who has started dropping bodies from Louisiana, up the east coast, as he heads for Maryland, where Gibraldi and detective Ben Cassidy are already making plans for him.
Cassidy wants to put the first bullet through the “thing’s” skull, while Gibraldi wants him behind bars, where he’ll try him and fry him for hideous crimes against humanity, including the murder of one-time sweetheart, Gina Bellamy.
Gibraldi, who left Love Dreams and Connecticut behind, builds an anxiety ridden career in Maryland, where his full time companion isn’t a .45, like Cassidy’s, or thrill-seeking actress and socialite Glory Divine, but rather an expired bottle of Xanax, always in his pocket but never used, and a glass of scotch in his hand, that needs frequent refilling.
Gibraldi and Cassidy both know serial killers don’t always follow patterns, and rarely leave a clue, sometimes slaughtering and evading the law for years until they’re discovered by chance, if discovered at all. But if these two lawmen have anything to say about it, the minute the killer sets foot in their city, the tables will turn, and the Sweet Dreams Killer will find out what it feels like to become a victim.
Gibraldi and Cassidy had no idea of what they were up against, until an intended victim who escaped with her life, gave a detailed description of her attacker. It didn’t sound human.
Sweet Dreams contains a lot of hot concepts, as Leo is a total womanizer. But unlike Love Dreams, I’ve decided to leave the torrid romance of Sweet Dreams up to the imagination of my potential readers.