Manuscript is Out

I sent out my manuscript last week. A hope and a prayer, right? The word count is less than what the publisher is looking for, but if the story wows it, the word count can be worked around. If it's an "on the fence issue," then the word count will mean rejection.

I could add a few scenes, but it would change the story and the flow. I crafted it carefully. It moves like I want it to. It is short, but sweet, and at this point any additional scenes will probably do a disservice to the overall experience.

We shall see.

I finished Selfish, Little. It was far from pleasant. Gave me two nightmares. Got to hand it to the author, Peter Sotos, for that. His work is not easy to read, but he does have some valid points on the media and how it handles child sex crimes. I've written about it before here and on the Cancerous Zeitgeist blog, so I won't delve into it again. Needless to say I'm onto more pleasant books now. I'm reading about the rise of the Fourth Reich in Jim Marrs book of the same name. From child murderers to Nazis. 'Tis the season, right?

A friend asked me what I would like to come of the manuscript. First and foremost is the book. I want it published. In the past I thought I would never let my books be optioned for movies unless I had some say over them. (Hey, I can dream.) I have since changed my stance on that and have gone the James Ellroy route. Just give me a check. I don't give a fuck what you do with it. The book exists and no movie can change that. Books a book. A movie's a movie. Pretty simple. Ideally, I'd love to get enough to quit my job and write full-time. That would be the dream. Of course, it's been years and that hasn't happened, and I don't expect it to, but I'm trying to think positive. Writing is what makes me happy. It is therapeutic. It can inspire. That's all good stuff. That has meaning. That gives me a legacy to leave my daughter.

(On a related note, John Lithgow was on television last night. I pointed him out and said, "See that guy? He wrote a short story at the same time I did. Amazon published both. Mine outsold his." She told me that was pretty cool that a "normal" guy outsold a "famous actor guy." Damn straight.)

It's a good dream. A positive one. If it happens -- great. If not -- I'll keep trying. I know the story has merit. I would not have wrote it otherwise. I know there is an audience for it, and I know it would make a great movie (I would put Rob Zombie in place as director).

I'll keep you all posted.

Selfish, Little: The Annotated Nightmares

Transgressive author Peter Sotos' Selfish, Little: The Annotated Lesley Ann Downey is what I would describe as not being for the faint of heart. I actually blame it for a horrible nightmare I had ... and I can't stop reading.

It would be easy to dismiss Sotos as a racist pedophile (descriptions that are, I believe, accurate), but you can't dismiss the fact that Sotos has a keen eye to how the media eroticizes missing and abused children. He's candid about his desires, actions and thoughts. The media is not. For him to call the media on this is not only brilliant, it is also a fascinating insight into the mindset of Sotos.

This book was given to me as a birthday present from Mirror. She has wondered if it was the right thing to do. It was. It was actually on my Amazon Wish List, so no complaints. Can I recommend it to anyone? No, not really. After all, this is not I Stand Alone, which at least has artistic merit. That's not to say Sotos' work isn't artistic. It is ... but for a very select few.

Chris Hansen from To Catch A Predator (a show I think is very guilty of the exact things Sotos describes) needs to interview Sotos. I'd love to see the two of them go at it.

Consider yourself warned.