Quote:
Originally Posted by Hitch
AH-hah, I see, I misread your last. Sorry 'bout that.
Yes, I was not wild about the cover and very much not wild about Comic Sans. So, remind me, what's the gist and theme of this book?
Hitch
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It's about a seemingly narcissistic child recounting his difficulties in grooming the next big horror writer. As the story unfolds (Novella-in-flash sequences), we learn more about the narrator and his idiosyncrasies than we do of the author that he - the narrator - is grooming. What we have, then, is a story told by an unreliable narrator. I'm also trying to make it humorous, for without humor we have a lot of dead people. And I know quite a lot of dead people!
Here's one chapter:
Skippy the Pug snored when sleeping, much like Mr. Pease when he fell asleep in his Barcalounger Reclining Chair. He would snort and twist about while taking his nap. I often wondered why he wasn’t allowed to have nap-time at the place where he worked, which to my way of thinking seemed barbaric. I know for a fact he would never be sleepy if he had access to an unlimited amount of chocolate chip cookies. He would be energized, like Speedy Gonzales who is the fastest mouse in Mexico. But what do I know? I’m only two years old. I know there are other kinds of cookies out there - Mommy would often take me with her to a big place full of people and food. The smells were tantalizing!
Yes, Skippy was a very stinky dog. Being a Pug, he had a short tail that curled around and rested on his back. Isn’t it interesting that a dog’s tail is right above its butt? Although, come to think of it, if it was below their butts, this would cause all sorts of difficulties and accidents when they made poopy. I’m glad that I don’t have a tail because if I did then I would need to have a hole in my diaper which, to my way of thinking, would defeat the whole purpose of wearing a diaper. Skippy was a very attentive dog, especially when it involved anything to do with food. Any kind of food. I understood the idea of food, but I couldn’t understand how Skippy could eat anything given to him. If he didn’t like it, he just spit it out. Skippy and I were alike in that regard. I didn’t like food that dribbled down my chin, so it was much easier simply to spit it out. Skippy rarely barked, although Johnny liked to provoke him by making barking sounds. This confused Skippy. I could actually see his dog mind figuring it out: Was there another dog in the house? If so, where was the dog? Skippy would then run into the kitchen where Mrs. Pease lived almost the entire day. Then, in an act that can only be described as pure genius, Johnny would begin making farting sounds with both hands under his armpits, like this: ‘Ffffftttttt! FFfffttttttttt!’ These sounds seemed to drive Skippy into new heights of frustration, which culminated in a series of frantic yelps as Skippy went from room to room in search of the origin of these sounds. After this brief hullabaloo, Johnny was transformed into a virtual writing machine: He would gather his fat crayons around him like a rainbow and start writing. Unfortunately, he had difficulty in distinguishing writing paper from pillow cases and covered mattress, and started writing without any consideration that a sheet of paper was needed. It is my sad duty to report that only a few samples of writing survived this period of intense creativity due to the fact that sheet and pillow case were promptly washed by Mrs. Pease at the end of every week. If I had gotten my hands on these early (and no doubt flawed works), I’m sure I could have revised them into undoubted masterpieces of early fiction that would be avidly studied and discussed for time immemorial.
The lesson we can learn from this is that a writer should never underestimate his dog’s influence on the development of his craft, whether it be the wagging of a tail, or a forlorn bark in the night.