THE SIREN OF NEPTUNE'S BEACH: A NOVEL 30 YEARS IN THE MAKING
OVER 30 YEARS IN THE MAKING ... Hard to believe, but true. First attempt was in 1985. A year spent on Martha's Vineyard painting houses and raising hell with a good friend (think that may be my next book). That initial draft went nowhere.
Fast forward to 1997. I'm a pub owner in upstate New York. Living on the outskirts of town -- literally a stone's throw from Lake Ontario -- in a house with my pal (and best customer) Sam (and faithful canine companion "Cuda").
Idyllic place to write a book -- or so you may think. Sam is a really good-lookin' fella. Each night when I sit down to do battle with the blank page, I can hear him on the other side of the common wall our rooms share gettin' busy (typically with one of the barmaids I employ).
The racket emanating from behind the wall I sit facing resembles the audio from an old '70s porno flick. Very distracting. I solve the problem by purchasing a pair of those industrial earmuffs often worn by operators of heavy machinery.
It takes 2 years, but I finally manage to write a draft that goes all the way thru, beginning to end. Only one problem: it stinks.
Fast forward again to 2015. I'm living in Las Vegas (blissfully alone this time). Working as Chef de Partie at a 5 star Strip property and writing for a prestigious local weekly.
Laboring away in my spare time, I manage to complete an entire overhaul of my now 30-year-old manuscript -- polishing, rewriting & cutting some 15,000 words from the bloated original 65,000 word typescript. FInally -- DONE!!!
Only one problem: it still stinks ... or so I believe; in my utterly exhausted, burnt-out, bleary-eyed & thoroughly demoralized state. The one I thought would be my Gatsby, my Catcher in the Rye, my On the Road is a bust. Countless hours spent pounding the keypad; at times writing in what felt like my own sweat and blood -- all for naught.
Heartbroken & defeated, I exile the Word file for my failed masterpiece to the oblivion of a thumb drive stored in an old "Cafe Zero" coffee mug I use as a pen holder.
FINITO!!! ...
Fast forward to the present. My girlfriend, Marie, is laid up with a nasty bone bruise. Bored with Facebook videos of cats playing the piano & unable to find anything decent to watch on Netflix, she begs me to send her something else I've written to read.
I remember the thumb drive I consigned in abject defeat to the old coffee mug sitting on my writing desk. In the nearly 10 years since, hadn't bothered to give it a second look. Against my better judgement, I email the Word file to Marie -- a voracious reader -- with the caveat: PROBABLY A TURD 😢
Next day, I hear from Marie. She's completely beside herself. It's the best damn book she's ever read!!! It made her laugh, it made her cry; kept her up all night turning pages ...
I'm gobsmacked. Speechless. Marie tells me I must publish the thing ... makes me promise to go back and read the manuscript I abandoned nearly 10 years ago ...
I do.
And here we are ...
https://a.co/d/dBJtzRW
Fast forward to 1997. I'm a pub owner in upstate New York. Living on the outskirts of town -- literally a stone's throw from Lake Ontario -- in a house with my pal (and best customer) Sam (and faithful canine companion "Cuda").
Idyllic place to write a book -- or so you may think. Sam is a really good-lookin' fella. Each night when I sit down to do battle with the blank page, I can hear him on the other side of the common wall our rooms share gettin' busy (typically with one of the barmaids I employ).
The racket emanating from behind the wall I sit facing resembles the audio from an old '70s porno flick. Very distracting. I solve the problem by purchasing a pair of those industrial earmuffs often worn by operators of heavy machinery.
It takes 2 years, but I finally manage to write a draft that goes all the way thru, beginning to end. Only one problem: it stinks.
Fast forward again to 2015. I'm living in Las Vegas (blissfully alone this time). Working as Chef de Partie at a 5 star Strip property and writing for a prestigious local weekly.
Laboring away in my spare time, I manage to complete an entire overhaul of my now 30-year-old manuscript -- polishing, rewriting & cutting some 15,000 words from the bloated original 65,000 word typescript. FInally -- DONE!!!
Only one problem: it still stinks ... or so I believe; in my utterly exhausted, burnt-out, bleary-eyed & thoroughly demoralized state. The one I thought would be my Gatsby, my Catcher in the Rye, my On the Road is a bust. Countless hours spent pounding the keypad; at times writing in what felt like my own sweat and blood -- all for naught.
Heartbroken & defeated, I exile the Word file for my failed masterpiece to the oblivion of a thumb drive stored in an old "Cafe Zero" coffee mug I use as a pen holder.
FINITO!!! ...
Fast forward to the present. My girlfriend, Marie, is laid up with a nasty bone bruise. Bored with Facebook videos of cats playing the piano & unable to find anything decent to watch on Netflix, she begs me to send her something else I've written to read.
I remember the thumb drive I consigned in abject defeat to the old coffee mug sitting on my writing desk. In the nearly 10 years since, hadn't bothered to give it a second look. Against my better judgement, I email the Word file to Marie -- a voracious reader -- with the caveat: PROBABLY A TURD 😢
Next day, I hear from Marie. She's completely beside herself. It's the best damn book she's ever read!!! It made her laugh, it made her cry; kept her up all night turning pages ...
I'm gobsmacked. Speechless. Marie tells me I must publish the thing ... makes me promise to go back and read the manuscript I abandoned nearly 10 years ago ...
I do.
And here we are ...
https://a.co/d/dBJtzRW
No comments have been added yet.
