I’m still plugging away on the novel and trying to shove the myriad of story ideas, new contrivances, and tweaks on existing tales into the back of my brain.  I find myself steadily losing steam as moments to work on this seem to get fewer and farther between, but I just keep pushing that self-deadline back, little-by-little, and hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

 Partially as a treat for my 2 or 3 regular readers, and partially as a means to renew my vigor, I have decided to post one of my favorite segments of the book. This is first-draft stuff – so be kind and generous… please? – but, by all means, leave me some commentary to help me get back on track.

 A little background to get you up to speed… Mossimo Cole – reluctant P.I., wasted musical wunderkind and regretfully dedicated orphaned grandson – is on the trail of a stolen Sinatra record of the rarest nature. Obadiah Stetch, the cantankerous old Club promoter/record producer that has hired him has been ‘less than cooperative’ and the exact details of what is on the album are still in question. Cole has been braced by Las Vegas mobsters who also want the record, so it must be valuable, and his single lead is an orderly from the old man’s Rest Home who may or may not be related to an old enemy of Stetch. Confusing matters is the unexpected romantic entanglement Cole finds himself sharing with Stetch’s daughter Rose, and his growing affection for Rose’s little girl, Holly.

 Cole’s best friend and primary source of aggravation is Danny Fox – a loudmouthed, frequently drunk, but highly intelligent and well-read Irish punk rocker also known as Foxy Thunders. I based the character of Danny on a dear old friend of mine who was always in the middle of a good time. While not quite the drunken fool that Danny is, Ryan Fox was the definition of Bon Vivant – living Life the way he saw fit, always at the center of the jubilation and always there for his friends. He had become a mainstay in the local Rockabilly punk scene. I say ‘was’ and ‘had’ because he passed away a few short weeks ago, long after I had written these chapters and, sadly, before I sent him any of it to read. In memoriam I went back and changed the name from ‘Danny Boyle/Danny Thunders’ to ‘Danny Fox/Foxy Thunders’… the least I could do for an old pal.  R.I.P. Ryan ‘Foxy’ Fox, a most hilarious rogue and a Gentleman of the highest order..

R.I.P. Ryan ‘Foxy’ Fox

 At this point, Danny has told Cole about a bootleg record expert named ‘Olaf Skogerbo’ or ‘The Swede’ who may have the goods on the ‘Hot Sinatra’…

 Admittedly, I have wallowed in cultural stereotypes in a couple of instances here, but only in the hopes of subverting them with unexpected traits and attitudes. Also, throughout the story, I have tried to use discrimination as a means to differentiate the protaganist from some of the more unsavory characters, also I thought throwing the two stereotypes together would be hilarious. So read on for Chapter 10 of  Hot Sinatra and leave me your comments, suggestions and (constructive) criticisms.

Continue reading Hot Sinatra revealed! and In Memoriam of a Rockabilly Rebel. →

That’s right! I beat the NaNoWriMo, MassaPuggaFoMoDingo!

After dragging my ass out of bed at 6AM on the weekend and 4:30AM today, I managed to hit 50, 063 a few minutes ago. I am struggling with a mixture of emotions, foremost of which is exhaustion, but also involved are relief, gratitude, pride and – oddly enough – a craving for coconut shrimp.

Now I take the rest of today off to recuperate, then get down to the much more diffcult task of carving out the excessive amounts of padding included to get to 50K words in 30 days. Then I still have about 1/4 of the story left to write.  My one true and passionate goal is to finish a first draft by New Year.

I just wanted to boast, brag, indulge myself momentarily… and now thank the people who showed me support and understanding during the past 30 days (28 really, I did start late.). So thanks everybody who showed an interest and gave words of encouragement. Thanks to my magnificent boyos who were patient and understanding when Daddy needed just 20 more minutes to write on Sunday morning before watching Super Hero Squad. Most of all, thanks to my lovely missus, who whups my ass when necessary, bandages my wounds and my ego when required, and always tells me that she thinks I’m brilliant, even when I know I’m just taking up space.

Love you all, and see ya next November suckas!

So here we are pushing into the 24th of November, 6 days left in the NoMoMuGuGaiPan and I’m sitting at a meager 30K for word count. Chances of writing another 20K in 6 days are pretty close to ‘Biblical Miracle’… meaning nil, zip, zero, nada… Luckily for me, I guess, I’m not terribly worried about it.

There’s been a shitheap of other things weighing on my time, and almost all of them have been more important than hitting an arbitrary goal of 50,000 words in 30 days. I started 2 days late and I may end up in the 40K range, which makes me feel pretty damn good. If I don’t make it, maybe I’ll try next year. As of right now, my main goal with this whole schlamozzle is to finish a first draft of my novel before the new year. Then I can go back to working on my ‘crappy job’ story for Scotty’s anthology and polish up a couple of others for submission. I’ll be honest here; aside from the birth of my magnificent #2 son, 2009 has been a total soul-shaking clusterfuck for my entire family and I can’t say goodbye to it soon enough. I’m hoping that by finishing this first draft and moving into the next decade fresh and (in the most minor of ways) accomplished, 2010 and beyond will be a whole new ballgame.

Check in on November 30 and see if I somehow managed to pull 20,000 words out of my ass…

Until then… let your souls be saved by Rock N’ Roll…

I know, I know… where the hell have I been since Friday? Well, between getting the car fixed up on Saturday, spending a full day with me boyos on Sunday and then back to work with the Cro-Magnon manager on Monday, I haven’t had time for much.

Other than HOT SINATRA, of course.

My word count, as of this very minute is 15981 – just over the goal for today (15000). I’m skipping out tomorrow, so as long as I can make myself focus at 5:30 AM and power through a couple G’s before the kids wake up, I’m golden.

New to the story is a smex-mantic subplot including graphic groping and rated M in-yo-end-o, a ballsy landlady with rough bedside manner and I am about to delve into ‘The Unsung Ballad of Moe Rossi’…

More tomorrow. And don’t any of you DARE forget to remember. I’ll repost my column from last year and you can bet I’ll be reflecting on the ancestors I have who’ve given their lives for our freedom and security, as well as the friends and strangers who still lay their lives on the line for all the little people like you and me, safe in our blogs and homes.