Meta-Book Update

So, here’s where we are. The manuscript stands at just under 62,000 words (61,922). People are reading it. I will take their concerns and address them and then turn the manuscript over to K. who will do a closer line edit. Then I’ll start looking for an agent.

I don’t really know how that will go. Book publishing is a weird thing. But I just know I don’t want to do it again myself unless I have to.

So, we’ll see.

It’s weird. I have exactly the kind of night I love to write. The Butcher’s gone and I’m in front of the computer, but I’m back in “letting it stew” mode.

I guess I could be researching agents or working on my elevator pitch.

The elevator pitch is tough, though.

It’s about a Methodist minister’s daughter who has an ill-fated affair with the Devil while in the middle of turning into a flock of birds.

Midst?

It’s a Methodist magical realist book about a woman turning into a flock of birds and being sacrificed to Satan.

It’s a fantastical novel about a woman, her possessed friend, her rasslin’ lover, and the Devil.

It’s about a woman who’s pissed at God and the Methodist church, who’s turning into a flock of birds, and kind of kidnapping the Devil’s daughter. She is accompanied by her rasslin’ artist lover and her possessed friend on an adventure in ill-fated menage a trois. Troises. And there are dog people and bird people. And bird poop. And probably dog poop, though I don’t specify.

No, that doesn’t work because it sounds like the possessed friend is in on the menage a trois.

It’s about a woman who must come to terms with her upbringing as a Methodist minister’s kid in order to finish transforming into a flock of birds. While she’s in the midst of said transformation, she befriends a woman possessed by a possessed woman, an amateur professional wrestler, and a host of supernatural beings and ministers’ kids. And she has a menage a trois with the Devil.

Read my book, god damn it.

It’s a light romp through the trauma of being a minister’s kid and growing up to discover that the Devil, though an excellent lover, is kind of a jerk. Plus, birds.

Ha. I kind of like that one. Anyway, obviously, I should be stewing on that.

Yet Another Open Letter to Ron Ramsey

Dear Ron,

By now, I can call you “Ron,” right? I mean, in my head, when I see your name, I make little “pew, pew” noises, but “Dear Pew, Pew” doesn’t really have the tone I’d like to set. I’m writing today to note that you now seem to be saying that you are ready to defy the will of the governor and the State House.

So, I’m writing to ask–You do know you didn’t win the Republican nomination for governor, right? Remember last year, when you were busy acting like a lunatic? That was while you were losing the Republican nomination. You were running around acting like the kind of guy who would make guns with his fingers and go “Pew, Pew” at people, calling major religions “cults,” seeming barely coherent at debates? Remember the debates?

It’s pretty much how you spent last year–not being elected governor–so I’m baffled that you seem to believe that you’ve been elected to the highest office in the state. But, and this is important, I also find it hilarious.

Carry on.

Love,

B.

Forget Getting Drunk, Buy Irish Poetry

I think y’all know that I got my start at the Wake Forest University Press, a small, wonderful press which is pretty much the only place in the United States you can get published if you’re an Irish poet who doesn’t have some kind of major international prize.

Working there was one of the best experiences of my life and shipping out poetry books feels like Gods’ work.

While I was there, we published the Wake Forest Book of Irish Women’s Poetry, 1967-2000, and I cannot recommend it highly enough. If you love poetry and poets, and want to feel all festive for St. Patrick’s Day, buy this book. Less than $20, it’s a steal.

Edited to add: Holy shit! I take back my recommendation! They’re releasing an updated, second edition in October. If you can only buy one edition, hold off. But seriously, anything they publish is going to be good. So, order something random now and get the other in October. You can thank me later.

Have You Read Garrigan’s Story?

Holy shit, if this is not the best, most informative story you’re going to read on the Mayor’s office, I’d like to know what you’re finding that’s better. This article really took me from “What the fuck, Nashville?” to “Oh, I see.”

Shoot, I even feel better about the $60,000 a year part-time jobs Dean’s handing out. Not that I approve of them, but you know, now they don’t look so much like “Oh, here, political friend, have a job” as they look like “Help!!!!!”

This has to be a must-read for anyone who gives a shit about Nashville.