Making The Novel

Introduction:  Exodus  was to have been the “Paradiso” section of a projected Dantesque trilogy, with the overall title of  Under Heaven . So far, I’ve only completed the “Inferno” section to my satisfaction: a book entitled  Secret Orbit , which I finished in January 2020 and which seeks publication as a standalone novel. Hell is always the most fun. The “Purgatorio” section exists in the form of another unfinished novel ( Cockayne ) mostly drafted a couple of decades ago. It is unlikely that the trilogy will ever be completed as planned. So call this one failed. excerpt from Exodus Day 2 The worst is over. In those days, before this happened, whatever it is that has happened, we lived in London. Now I remember. It was my home for many years, though it was not where I was born.  Are we in London? I ask. It’s still just about recognisable, you say, laughing quite softly, but in a friendly way. London, England, Europe, Earth, the Solar Sys...

Introduction:   Herewith the opening pages of  The Shenanigans  [Scottish Version], which is a failed enterprise. I'm currently writing an English version of the book that is entirely different to the Scottish one; apart from the title they have absolutely nothing in common. If I complete the English version and publish it, it will require a different title because, confusingly, a book of short fiction of mine, also entitled  The Shenanigans , though it has  nothing at all to do  with either the Scottish  Shenanigans  or the English one, is due to be published this autumn by Grand Iota. I hope that’s clear. Excerpts from THE SHENANIGANS [Scottish Version] What will become of the flea circus now that Professor Pappalardi has gone? The live fleas are bereft, especially those who eschewed Bowser the cat and suckled daily of Pappalardi’s blood. As for the dead ones – most of the troupe, in other words, for de...

Introduction:  This failed novel’s concept was inspired by Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novel,  Fahrenheit 451 .  But, candidly, I might not have taken the novel-writing seriously enough since, if I recall correctly, I mostly was interested in finding a way to recycle the voluminous wine-tasting notes I’d collected as a member of a wine-tasting club in New York City (the " Robert Parker " mentioned in the novel refers to the real wine analyst). This excerpt was written during the late 1990s and, as such, also can be considered a "newbie" writer's effort. Fahrenheit 55 At midnight, the moon was an amber coin pasted against the lime-green sky. The sight made Edgar shiver despite January's 80-degree temperature that was making the glass in his hand sweat. His wife, Gladys, had been asleep for nearly two hours, but Edgar couldn't sleep from anticipating their move later that day from the apartment they had shared for nearly 50 years. As he sipped his a...