Blah
So here's the deal. I started writing a story recently. The first part was wonderful. Dark and deranged. Beautiful and blessed. Some heavy themes as normal. It fucked me up though. So i stopped. I'm exhaussted. I have an itch to travel, i have the destination in mind, i just have no currency to get there. I spent it all last year with those nine novels, those nine stories that seem so estarnged and peculiar to me. I decided to stop the story i was writing (which was a re-write of Heaven is full of arseholes). Without my reserve of crazy, i was pushing my car along a sticky tarred road. It was a fucking horrible experience, for me, my wife and my kids. So I stopped and scrapped The Hunter (Heaven's was perfect to begin with, no need to tread on old and aborted philosophy, rehashing the same tired point of view). I did however ake part of what was written and added it to the original Heaven is full of Arseholes story, adding about another 3,000 words in total, and realy adding a far more twitsed and complete perspective of heaven as presented in this philosophical perspective of the idea of Agape and its fundamental flaws. If you hate the yucky stuff, hey, trust me, there's none of that.
YOu can read the new edition here on Good reads or download via direct download or via torrent via The Free Art Collection here:
http://cseanmcgee.blogspot.com.br/201...
Hey, just a note, buy a book. DIgital fucking sucks. It's not sleek, it's not sensual and it doesn't have a smell.
With the first third of the story (the hunter), i plan to use it in another title called Happy People Live Here, a story about a family daling with the release of their daughter form a psychiatric clinic after murdering her brother during rough play. The story also follows a lonely 55 year old academic who is trying to rationalise her violent relationship by seeing a score of other men, only to find that there is nothing more sincere, than her lover's apology. And finally, a young writer dwells over a letter from a publisher that could chnage his fate and purpose.
IN regards to the rest of The Free Art Collection, eventually i will find someone kind enough to help me edit my works properly. I don't have the money or the time or the patience and psychologically speaking, it is near on impossible for a writer to visualise grammar errors and typos given that writing itself is an unconscious act, in the editing process, the subconscious (knowong the flowo fthe story), introduces the missing words into the ocnscious flow and oversights can and are plenty. So if you complain about the errors here or there in any of the pieces, I understand and i ask you to kindly go fuck yourself. Just kidding. I will be working on revising ALex and The Gruff in due time. Seriously though, go right ahead and fuck yourself. Critique the story, not the color of the man's teeth.
So that's it. I can't tell you when writing will start or end. At the moment i am trying to be a human being, like the rest of you. TO be a more coniderate husband, a more animated father and a master who takes his 4 monsters on longer walks.
It is not a good feeling to deire to write but to have no fuel, no venom, no source. Imagine if you will, having vomited for 9 months and for a moment, you marvelled in how colorful was the bowl but then your stomach churns and you heave and you lurch and you screech and you hurl and your fingers clutch and slip and scracth on the col porecalin but nothing comes out, not even bile. That's kind of how i feel. Too sick to feel normal, not sick enough to get it over with.
Take Risk and Take Care,
C.SeanMcGee
YOu can read the new edition here on Good reads or download via direct download or via torrent via The Free Art Collection here:
http://cseanmcgee.blogspot.com.br/201...
Hey, just a note, buy a book. DIgital fucking sucks. It's not sleek, it's not sensual and it doesn't have a smell.
With the first third of the story (the hunter), i plan to use it in another title called Happy People Live Here, a story about a family daling with the release of their daughter form a psychiatric clinic after murdering her brother during rough play. The story also follows a lonely 55 year old academic who is trying to rationalise her violent relationship by seeing a score of other men, only to find that there is nothing more sincere, than her lover's apology. And finally, a young writer dwells over a letter from a publisher that could chnage his fate and purpose.
IN regards to the rest of The Free Art Collection, eventually i will find someone kind enough to help me edit my works properly. I don't have the money or the time or the patience and psychologically speaking, it is near on impossible for a writer to visualise grammar errors and typos given that writing itself is an unconscious act, in the editing process, the subconscious (knowong the flowo fthe story), introduces the missing words into the ocnscious flow and oversights can and are plenty. So if you complain about the errors here or there in any of the pieces, I understand and i ask you to kindly go fuck yourself. Just kidding. I will be working on revising ALex and The Gruff in due time. Seriously though, go right ahead and fuck yourself. Critique the story, not the color of the man's teeth.
So that's it. I can't tell you when writing will start or end. At the moment i am trying to be a human being, like the rest of you. TO be a more coniderate husband, a more animated father and a master who takes his 4 monsters on longer walks.
It is not a good feeling to deire to write but to have no fuel, no venom, no source. Imagine if you will, having vomited for 9 months and for a moment, you marvelled in how colorful was the bowl but then your stomach churns and you heave and you lurch and you screech and you hurl and your fingers clutch and slip and scracth on the col porecalin but nothing comes out, not even bile. That's kind of how i feel. Too sick to feel normal, not sick enough to get it over with.
Take Risk and Take Care,
C.SeanMcGee
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