July 17, 2012

I've Always Wanted to Say This

I've always wanted to say this, and now I finally can: "Buy my book!"

"The Weapon of Young Gods" on Amazon

Yes, just another cheap, self-aggrandizing pile of vomit in the sea of vanity pressed-pulp, but this is MY pile of vomit, children, and that makes it so much better, right?

But yeah, after five years, vanity has finally trumped sloth, and I get to pretend to be a writer. Like all deluded, self-important people, I'm not letting silly things like reality get in my way.

Well, sort of. I mean, the vanity-press novel description says:

Set in mid-1990s Southern California, this demented, surreal, and dubiously executed slice of gonzo sunshine noir is narrated by two struggling students, their friends, enemies, and families. Roy (an underachieving freshman trying to stay sober and sane) and Derek (a failed athlete who's starting over and can't catch a break) get sucked into parallel paths of casual mayhem and spastic melodrama. The Weapon of Young Gods is a garbled, spoiled, questionably hilarious tale of arrested adolescence and amateur hedonism hitching a ride on the dying American Century.
...but it should probably say this:
This book is the kind of thing a 20-year-old white American man-child would write—except I was 30 when I started it, so…oops. Sometimes it reads well, and sometimes it reads like a compilation of amateur mistakes and hopeless clich├ęs, like something pretending to be much more profound than it is...but that's how I've always behaved anyway, so hell with it. Might as well leave the thing how it is and move on to writing something better that might supersede it. For a novelist, I sure am a great graphic designer.
It's probably neither of those things, but now it's on Amazon so we'll all just have to live with it. Or at least I will.

And yes, you might need a map. Yes, the Spanish is kind of sketchy. Yes, it's supposed to be that way. And yes, this story is a work of fiction, but some people may find it familiar.

And now I can move on, I guess. This ends the current naked self-promotional spasm of vanity. You may now return to your regularly scheduled happy lives.

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