I've been waiting a long time to write this post and now I don't know really what to say.
Short word: looks like Calamari Press will be releasing my novella, EVER, sometime in the foreseeable future.
Those who happened to be among the gajillion commenters/perusers in the last few days re: my last post might have seen this buried in the comments, as EVER, I think most likely, became the first manuscript ever officially accepted via blog comment.
No clear plans as of yet as to when, etc., as Calamari father Derek White is as we speak perhaps still in the air in midst of his departure from America to live in the fairer climes of Kenya, of which I can only wish to one day follow. (I hope Derek doesn't get eaten by a wild goat: I will find the goat and eat it and vomit Derek back up and paste him back together.)
Save it to say I am beyond excited and honored to have my first full-on book with a press I could not admire more.
Thanks to Derek for this moment even in the midst of his own moment of such huge transition. And thanks to Peter Markus, the other new Calamari captain, for reading and believing in the book, and to Robert Lopez for just being a Calamari brother. It's no stretch to call these guys inspirations to me.
I'm blabbering a little, sorry.
EVER was written over several months during the period between the last story in Scorch Atlas and when I began the 10 day novel. I spent a lot of time staring at nothing between each sentence.
If you are interested in peeking at what EVER is like (I like to think of it as somewhat of a reversioning of Markson's WITTGENSTEIN'S MISTRESS fed through a Ben Marcus shredder and doused with maybe melted WHY DID I EVER and the spit of who I become only during sleeping), the only part of it that has been published to date is on the Unsaid website: 13 Plastic Doors.
Funny, also, and yet not cosmically surprising, that other brother Sam Pink almost simultaneously placed his mindfuck of a collection I AM GOING TO CLONE MYSELF THEN KILL THE CLONE AND EAT IT with the brand new Paper Hero Press. Fuckmaster bananafuck. I am going to mail myself to Sam tomorrow so we can walk into the street and take turns taking wide bites out of small cars while our ears spurt black blood.
I guess I have to get a tattoo, now: I always said I would.