The start of a soundtrack to my first full-length...and a couple other random updates
I was brushing my teeth this morning when it suddenly occurred to me that my efforts in the previous entry -tempting you to purchase and read my first full-length novel, “The Demon Lover: Art and Offences,” https://a.co/d/02mrq7mc with a one in a million, or billion chance- might not be sufficient in attracting more than one or two readers. Alas, it turns out I was more than correct! For, upon sitting by the hob, I searched for and found one lonely goose egg of a number staring, misty-eyed back at me underneath the aforementioned title on my author “stats page.”
“Confound it!” I swore, and my poor cat leaped from my chair, spilling my porridge upon the floor in the process. Picking up the dish, I vowed that somehow I’d attain one reader, and obtain from said reader, one review. But how? I reached for my jug of smoking bishop, which had been simmering since I can’t remember. I stirred it round and round, humming an ancient shanty taught to me by my late Uncle Cornflake. Taking a sip, I considered offering this would-be reader a handkerchief, only used once, that I’ve carried around since my professional mourning position in Bleakstone. Oh, but how could I part with that? Consequently, I considered mailing said reader a daguerreotype photograph of myself with Dan Cody, taken during my brief tenure on the Tuolomee. Thick as thieves we were. There I am, pardon my spillage; no, no, in the center there, arm and arm with Dan and his always furtive wife. How I miss that pink pinstripe! Alas, but it would only be a matter of time before the high authorities come tracing this connection up to my present position as professional dog food taster for Meyer Wolfsheim. No, none of this would do. Sipping the bishop, I asked aloud, “what, besides books, are the fascinating people of Goodreads interested in?” So deeply did I ponder this question, stroking my chin as I’m wont to do during moments of high mindedness, of sagacity.
“Why don’t you peruse the details section of fellow authors and friends?” my cat chimed in, while licking whatever was left from the porridge upon his paw.
Begrudgingly, I searched, and found one startling similarity; many readers gave homage to not only their favorite authors, but favorite musicians as well. Some, with more than ordinary bluster, even dared to share said musician’s Spotify links.
“I’ve got it!” I shrieked, and yet again, upon scampering off the armrest, half way up the bed curtains, my dear cat smashed the jug of smoking bishop, spilling its contents half way across the chamber.
Ah music, I mused. I, too, like music, therefore, fellow Goodreaders, I shall now share the soundtrack as it were to “The Demon Lover”. For, it so happens that whilst I was writing my first full-length novel, I was listening to a particular album, indeed, quite a singular composer and as a result the songs on this album, of loss, of love, etc. scarcely do they mesh with the trials and tribulations of Scottie Cafferty, the protagonist. And, nobody to the best of my knowledge, has thus far knocked upon my door with a bonafide Hollywood contract, begging for the opportunity to turn my first full-length novel into film, but I believe they will someday, for it would be a fantastic film. Nevertheless, allow me to expound upon the songs themselves.
It’s a guitar album, really -boldly shaped itself into one in front of my very eyes; all aggressive and distorted like, real horrorshow. It’s a Racecar. His best songs yet; flashy and unabashed. It’s a Racecar.
Indeed, amidst the interminable exhaust of cheap, grey motor cars she sped into and out of Scottie’s life like a sleek, red Racecar, nevermore to be seen, never forgotten. https://open.spotify.com/track/4Y1sYe...
“Civil Blood” is the only overtly political song he’s written. As a rule, he keeps his leanings private, at least to actual friends, and he’ll continue to do so, but he had to at the very least comment on the chronic tribalism occurring of late. The message in this tune is amazingly simple: think for yourself. Base your conclusions on substance, not on who fits your team’s narrative. Like he said, simple; but vital. Maybe that’s why it sounds like a damn monster movie. This song helped me frame where I wanted Scottie to end up; not with any hatred toward either side but a higher awareness despite his meager upbringing. https://open.spotify.com/track/0HuKeC...
I know that's only two songs and there I went and promised a complete soundtrack, but please, pardon me, I pray you, I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Alas, if only I had Titania who would wind me in her arms.
One more thing, in regards to Book III, I'm pleased to announce it’s coming along rather swimmingly, a saucy story indeed. Poor Joe.
“Confound it!” I swore, and my poor cat leaped from my chair, spilling my porridge upon the floor in the process. Picking up the dish, I vowed that somehow I’d attain one reader, and obtain from said reader, one review. But how? I reached for my jug of smoking bishop, which had been simmering since I can’t remember. I stirred it round and round, humming an ancient shanty taught to me by my late Uncle Cornflake. Taking a sip, I considered offering this would-be reader a handkerchief, only used once, that I’ve carried around since my professional mourning position in Bleakstone. Oh, but how could I part with that? Consequently, I considered mailing said reader a daguerreotype photograph of myself with Dan Cody, taken during my brief tenure on the Tuolomee. Thick as thieves we were. There I am, pardon my spillage; no, no, in the center there, arm and arm with Dan and his always furtive wife. How I miss that pink pinstripe! Alas, but it would only be a matter of time before the high authorities come tracing this connection up to my present position as professional dog food taster for Meyer Wolfsheim. No, none of this would do. Sipping the bishop, I asked aloud, “what, besides books, are the fascinating people of Goodreads interested in?” So deeply did I ponder this question, stroking my chin as I’m wont to do during moments of high mindedness, of sagacity.
“Why don’t you peruse the details section of fellow authors and friends?” my cat chimed in, while licking whatever was left from the porridge upon his paw.
Begrudgingly, I searched, and found one startling similarity; many readers gave homage to not only their favorite authors, but favorite musicians as well. Some, with more than ordinary bluster, even dared to share said musician’s Spotify links.
“I’ve got it!” I shrieked, and yet again, upon scampering off the armrest, half way up the bed curtains, my dear cat smashed the jug of smoking bishop, spilling its contents half way across the chamber.
Ah music, I mused. I, too, like music, therefore, fellow Goodreaders, I shall now share the soundtrack as it were to “The Demon Lover”. For, it so happens that whilst I was writing my first full-length novel, I was listening to a particular album, indeed, quite a singular composer and as a result the songs on this album, of loss, of love, etc. scarcely do they mesh with the trials and tribulations of Scottie Cafferty, the protagonist. And, nobody to the best of my knowledge, has thus far knocked upon my door with a bonafide Hollywood contract, begging for the opportunity to turn my first full-length novel into film, but I believe they will someday, for it would be a fantastic film. Nevertheless, allow me to expound upon the songs themselves.
It’s a guitar album, really -boldly shaped itself into one in front of my very eyes; all aggressive and distorted like, real horrorshow. It’s a Racecar. His best songs yet; flashy and unabashed. It’s a Racecar.
Indeed, amidst the interminable exhaust of cheap, grey motor cars she sped into and out of Scottie’s life like a sleek, red Racecar, nevermore to be seen, never forgotten. https://open.spotify.com/track/4Y1sYe...
“Civil Blood” is the only overtly political song he’s written. As a rule, he keeps his leanings private, at least to actual friends, and he’ll continue to do so, but he had to at the very least comment on the chronic tribalism occurring of late. The message in this tune is amazingly simple: think for yourself. Base your conclusions on substance, not on who fits your team’s narrative. Like he said, simple; but vital. Maybe that’s why it sounds like a damn monster movie. This song helped me frame where I wanted Scottie to end up; not with any hatred toward either side but a higher awareness despite his meager upbringing. https://open.spotify.com/track/0HuKeC...
I know that's only two songs and there I went and promised a complete soundtrack, but please, pardon me, I pray you, I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Alas, if only I had Titania who would wind me in her arms.
One more thing, in regards to Book III, I'm pleased to announce it’s coming along rather swimmingly, a saucy story indeed. Poor Joe.
No comments have been added yet.
