Thanks to JA Tyler for nominating IN THE RAPE YEAR OF THE GHETTO TODDLER THE HOUSES WILL AWAKEN for a Pushcart, I am sure the Pushcart ma'ams will just kiss their fingers when they think about the idea of including a tale of hyperbolic toddler rape in their edition, $$$$$$$. Regardless, the nod is most appreciated.
If you are from the government and are reading this, I can't help it that my blog shows up in google as the top result for so many keyword variations of boy scout porn, it bothers me too.
I have been spending all day every day pretty much editing SCORCH ATLAS, it is almost due. I vastly reorganized the stories into a much better fit and arc with the outside eye of Ryan Call, which helped a lot. After so many times reading the stories I am finally beginning to feel they are done done. Nitpicking though is making me slightly insane. I feel paranoid or that someone is touching the back of my head without me being able to feel it. I feel more excited about the book now than at any other point.
To take breaks from editing SCORCH I have been writing chapters of a 'more normal' book which will eventually turn in on itself most likely and also become fucked' and also editing RICKY'S ANUS, which seems like no kind of relaxation, but it's all I can think to do. Some parts of the book are frightening me but I have been really surprised how little editing has been required beyond the first 20 pp or so when I was still getting revved into the idea. Other than formatting and some things I'm doing with structural punctuation, the sentences are almost exactly as I've wanted. I have sent little pieces here and there to magazines we'll see who vomits on what.
The scene where Ricky finds his grandmother inside his mattress wrapped in hair and proceeds to try to cut her out is particularly vibratory, here is a graph:
The head of Ricky’s cock was eating a plate of spaghetti Ricky had hid from his mother under a false bottom in the nightstand where Ricky had also hidden pictures of the sun, pictures that would unlock the secret room lodged in the Epcot Center if presented at the right hour with the right disease. The years altogether future-coming in one long black nod in Ricky’s blood.
There are maybe 2 current editors in the world who would publish this book, if that maybe, yadda, I may print it on rice paper and open a restaurant where it will be served for all meals. Maybe it should be called RICKY'S BLOOD instead of RICKY'S ANUS.
no fuck that
Hey, that's neat Blake. We think that's really swell Blake. No, Blake, really, totally sweet. You have a doorknob on your flub.
I don't know why my imagination has tended toward such violent sexual imagery this year. Maybe 09 will be about fish and lanyards.
I can't tell you the # of people who have msg'd me recently saying some variation of: I hate everyone.
HTML Giant is a pea's carrot.
If this blog were on TV, I would have a guy walk out from the side of the screen now in a red/white plaid suit coat and a straw hat and do a hand-slappy dance with a campy grin to announce: YOU CAN STILL PREORDER EVER, MY LOVEYS!!!