Working Title: Toys in the Attic

For those of you still interested in peering under the hood of this putatively creative mind, we offer this latest installment of the series of posts about which of the novels-in-progress to complete.

In our review of Peter Carey's True History of the Kelly Gang, we referred you to a series of brilliant novels we found intriguing and compelling for their depiction of evil protagonists in the tradition of Crime and Punishment: Vladimir Nabokov's classic and controversial Lolita (1955), John Fowles's The Collector (1963), Evan S. Connell's The Diary of a Rapist (1966), John Banville's Booker-nominated The Book of Evidence (1989), and James Lasdun's The Horned Man (2002). All are told in first person—though The Collector has a middle section told from a POV other than the protagonist. We've long wanted to write a novel along these lines. Sex, misogyny, torture, murder, rape, madness, sociopathy, depravity: all fine subjects for the fictional mind.

Needless to say, this promises to be a somewhat darker novel than the other three I've outlined. I haven't conceptualized it quite as thoroughly as the others—that is to say, I have considerably more work to do on it to bring it to fruition. The premise has the protagonist sitting in a quiet, hidden corner in the attic of his home. He has just learned he's dying and has only a very short time to live. He's going through a box of memorabilia. His immediate dilemma is whether and how to tell his wife of twenty or so years that he's dying or simply to disappear one day and not return. The memorabilia, it turns out, are from past 'relationships' or 'affairs' he's had through the years; thus, much of the book will be told from the POV of his memories. However, as each so-called affair is revealed through whatever token he pulls out of his box, it becomes clearer to the reader that these were no ordinary relationships. His evilness starts coming through as he reviews what he considers to be his life's work—really, the only thing he's ever been truly successful at.

Story questions, naturally, involve his motives for his actions (if there are any, or they prove merely to be outcroppings of his character) and his reasons for staying with his wife and not adding her to his list of victims—these must be thematically and causally connected. The plot, as noted, will follow his decision how to deal with his imminent dying: will he have an 'epiphany' and come to grips with who he really is and punish himself? will he kill his wife? will he slink off into obscurity? will he find a way to perpetuate himself and his deeds such that his evil lives on after him? what will he do with his tokens, i.e., the evidence of his deeds?

The protagonist will not be immediately likable, but he will be complex and intriguing. That has to be his hook. The sociopath, particularly the borderline personality, is inherently seductive. I don't conceive of him as being deformed physically—that seems too obvious, too done already. Yet, there has to be some interesting flaw that we keep coming back to. The wife, too, though a lesser character in terms of presence, will need to be filled out—even if she's mainly off-screen/stage, so to speak. She's got to play a prominent role in his thoughts, and her character must be, therefore, larger than life—I'm thinking Kohler's wife in Wm. Gass's The Tunnel, here. Each relationship will represent a deeper stage in his depravity, though the figures won't be so much symbolic as emblematic; one way I've been toying with is to have each 'victim' represent a missed opportunity for the protagonist along the course of his life, one which if he'd taken would have made his life less miserable (at least he believes).

Unlike the other three, I have yet to write a word on this novel. Nor have I outlined it. If I chose it, I would have a lot of work to do. The work would be fun, but hard; the psychic delving would be intense and isolating, calling perhaps for greater strength and stamina than the others. The other projects in this series have their elements of darkness, but this one would be a deeply dark canvas: entirely chiaroscuro, perhaps. There is less room for the sort of humor I was able to bring to EULOGY. One limitation: this novel demands to be written in first person POV and not free indirect style. EULOGY was an intense first person POV and took place over the space of one hundred hours of what amounted to solitude. I had hoped to try out my chops with the third person in writing this next book; and the other three books in this series certainly allow for that. First person POV is more like 'method acting' writing; free indirect style is somewhat less demanding, giving the writer some breathing space to be himself. If I choose this book, I will have to completely submerge myself in the character of this monster.

Other issues. Query: Could I make it a worthy contribution to the tradition of novels I mentioned above or would it be entirely derivative? Query: Could I make it more than a mediocre piece of psychological realism? Query: Is the subject matter simply too touchy for the current market—I mean, after all, doesn't the public want to see things from the POV of the good guy and to see the bad man get his comeuppance at the end?

As I mentioned, this is the type of novel I've long wanted to pursue. So, what's a boy to do?

Working Title: Jonesey

This is the next in the series of posts on novels in development. Today's story: Jonesey.

Jonesey, a simple, sheltered young man who finds himself alone in the world after the death of his mother, must summon the courage and wit to defy the conniving fraud claiming to be his father who suddenly reappears and tries to involve Jonesey in a criminal enterprise. Only the odd, ghostly young woman whom Jonesey meets on his daily walks seems to offer him any hope of escaping the tyranny of the stranger.

The inspiration for this novel owes something to John Hawkes's gripping The Lime Twig as well as Melville's essentialBilly Budd. The plot follows Jonesey as he is drawn deeper and deeper into the scheme of the stranger who claims to be his father. At first, he doesn't really understand what he is getting involved in; only as things get hairier does he recognize that what he's doing might be wrong. The story, beyond the awakening of an authentic moral sensibility in Jonesey (before he has merely done what his mother told him to do), deals with Jonesey's abject aloneness in the indifferent world of an industrial city much like you might find in North Jersey and the absence of true sources of aid and comfort. He can find companionship only with an evil con-man and his compatriots. Is relatedness worth the price? Or, is goodness itself enough?

Jonesey is a compelling character, easy to sympathize with because of the death of his mother and his 'specialness'. He has been sheltered and protected from the 'realities' of life by his devoted mother, and now he is all alone and vulnerable. (Of course, this ties in nicely with our Ur-story thread herein; and that's a good thing we think.) Her death, though unexpected and sudden, leaves Jonesey with a house and a small trust fund to see him through, so long as he is frugal and follows her thorough instructions. The man who claims to be his father is evil—human, but evil. It becomes apparent he has designs on Jonesey's paltry inheritance and the house where he claims he once lived (when Jonesey was a mere baby). It's also clear he has grand schemes in which he can use Jonesey because of Jonesey's innocence and naivete; though it is not hard to imagine what will become of Jonesey once the man no longer has use for him. The character of Jonesey, I think, will be hard to write—a delicate balance between competence and mental deficiency, innocence and knowledge (in the mythical sense). The character of the father will be fun to write: a writer's dream (much like the Judge in Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian.

I have drafted only the first chapter of the book, but I like it. I find it compelling on many levels. I have a vague sense of where the book's going, though I haven't conceptualized the specific schemes and crimes in which the father seeks to involve Jonesey. That will involve research, planning, and imagination. Likewise, I don't have a full outline or a sense of all the scenes and chapters yet. It will be an adventure, unfolding as it goes along (not, in itself, necessarily a bad thing). And I still have a quandary about the girl: I won't go into it here, but it involves her very nature, its mystery, and how much to involve her in the goings-on. I love the setting. I love the darkness of the father-figure. I love the chance, with the girl, to toy with reality and realism. I also love the theme of the naif abroad—which is, indeed, the theme of my first story which will be published soon. One other thing Jonesey has going for it: it picks up on the theme with which I ended EULOGY, a young man confronting his own essential aloneness in the world after the death of his mother.

Working Title: Auto-da-fe

Next up: Auto-da-fe (with apologies to Elias Canetti)

When Cameron Stancil, a naive but ambitious pastor of a suburban evangelical megachurch, decides to get his congregation involved in a national political race, he has to find the courage to defy his security consultant—who entices Cam to get involved in politics and then seduces his wife—and the powerful political interests he represents in order to save his marriage, his prodigal son, his church, and even his own soul.

Though it has the outward form of a thriller, the plot here is less formulaic than that of The Lobby. It involves Cam's own personal struggle. Cam Stancil has built his megachurch from nothing. His beautiful second wife is sexually frustrated because Cam is so dedicated to growing his church. His son, a Christian rock musician who leads the worship services and is the heir apparent to the family business, is just out of college and is beginning to have doubts about his faith and his own sexuality. Carlsen, whose firm provides security for the church, is also a political operative for 'the governor' who persuades Cam to enlist his church in the current presidential campaign. Things get out of hand: Cam's son walks away from the church, his family, and his music; Cam's wife allows herself to be seduced by Carlsen; Carlsen becomes increasingly involved in the management and message of Cam's church—much to Cam's chagrin. As Cam senses his family, his church, and his life slipping out of his control, he realizes he must do something to reclaim them—and that something might very well have to be radical and even violent. Of course, the underlying plot borrows somewhat from Canetti's brilliant mid-twentieth century masterpiece.

The most sympathetic character is Cam's son, Kendall, who is just coming of age emotionally and spiritually. (As it stands, his own dilemma is threatening to take over the book. The authorial question is how long of a lead to give him.) Though it is his ultimately his story, Cam is less sympathetic, less likable. Evangelicals won't like the characterization because Cam is somewhat craven and corrupt; secularists won't like it because Cam isn't a one-dimensional stereotypical hypocrite. He is a complex American type: his entrepreneurialism and religion converge, conflicting with his familial role. His politics, too. His wife, Addie, has an interesting story as well: she is much younger than Cam—in fact, she is closer in age to Kendall than Cam. Because of this, she brings an element of sexual tension to the mix that repulses Kendall and ignites something in Carlsen. Carlsen, of course, is the serpent in this Eden, the straw that stirs the drink.

I've drafted approximately eighty or so pages of this book. My outline, however, is not nearly as complete as for The Lobby. In fact, a number of decisions (both plot-wise and character-wise) still need to be made and some need to be re-thought. Completing this book will be more of an exercise than, say, The Lobby because character depths need to be plumbed; but, by the same token, this sort of exploration is what the writing process is all about. The only question is the degree of conscious control I, as the author, should exercise over the creative process in shaping its direction. Also, I believe this book will require more re-writing, revision, and editing than The Lobby, simply due to its greater complexities. There is a certain amount of artistry this book allows for that The Lobby, hobbled by its genre constraints, doesn't. The message, to the extent there is one, also needs to be more subtle so that the final product does not seem either didactic or partisan in its views concerning the intermingling of church and state. Themes need to be hammered out and actualized in the action. Relationships clarified. Destinies determined. I do, however, believe I have the proper bang-up ending, the goal toward which all this struggle aims. And that is extremely important. I also feel it has some timeliness, relevance, and probably some commercial viability (though less than The Lobby).

So: do I keep at it, chuck it, or pick another of the candidates and hold off for now?

Working Title: The Lobby

The first novel I would like to vet (see previous post on this topic here) is a political thriller and, for that reason, probably has the most commercial potential—and that in itself weighs heavily in favor of committing to its writing (for obvious reasons to anyone who is attempting to publish a first novel). It will likely be the easiest of the four to write as well, because I have done a fairly detailed outline.

Working title: The Lobby.

When Rick Frazier, freshly-minted, go-it-alone biotech mogul investigating the death of his estranged brother in a freakish wild fire, stumbles upon what appears to be a terrorist plot to destroy an American city, he must team up with a beautiful business journalist to uncover and confront the perpetrators, a powerful cabal of businessmen and politicians and their mercenary security unit.

As you can see, the plot of this potential novel follows a generic political thriller form: "The basic plot is an ordinary man pulling an innocent thread which leads to a mess of corruption." Rick's personal story confronts his own grief at the sudden death of his estranged brother—an ex-hippie-type, down at the heels, ne'er do well—to whom he is trying to reconnect by purchasing a large tract of wilderness where they camped as boys. He is motivated as well by his guilt at having abandoned his brother and the rest of his family and past associates in the first place on his way to a hugely successful entrepreneurial career. Rick is an American success story (in the Horatio Alger, up-from-the-bootstraps mode). He is a likable geeky sort who has made a phenomenal fortune at an early age. He is intense and focused, smart and outdoorsy though hardly athletic. He is somewhat shy and his social skills are only average. As the novel opens, he is pursuing several deals at once: 1) to cash out of his proprietary business; 2) to join an important social club for entrepreneurs; and 3) to purchase a tract of wilderness where he hopes to build a compound for himself and his brother and recapture some of the happiness of their youth. At the end of his search for an explanation of his brother's killing he uncovers a powerful conspiracy that, because of Rick's own wealth and status, may actually draw him in and corrupt him.

I believe if I set my mind to it I could knock a draft of this book out in a couple or three months. It is so different from EULOGY, my first novel (unpublished), I have half a mind to do it and market it under a nom de plume much like John Banville has done with his two recent genre pieces. The problem is I'm afraid I'll get bored or lose interest. EULOGY wound up being an intense exploration, both stylistically and psychologically. I allowed myself to slip the bonds of realism and explore some serious philosophical and even religious themes, as well as the nature of love. Even revisions proved to be arduous because of the absolute honesty they demanded. THE LOBBY, I'm afraid, won't allow me such leeway. It feels more mercenary, less artistic.

Mein Kleine Geistkampf

I don't usually post about my own personal struggles on this blog but I thought some of my readers might find this particular issue of some interest. As I've mentioned before, I write fiction. My first story will be published later this year or early next—more on that later. Others are circulating. My first novel, EULOGY, is currently under submission at an agency and a publisher, and I have high hopes for it. The work, now, is to come up with another novel so that as soon as EULOGY comes out I'll have another in the pipeline.

Here, then, is my struggle: I have no less than four novels underway. Each is at a point from where I can take it to completion. The trick is to decide which will be most worthwhile to pursue. To which to commit my energies. Over the course of the next few posts I hope to lay out the arguments for each project: including a brief logline, or synopsis, and cursory outline and character sketches; current status; foreseeable roadblocks to completion; etc.

It may turn out that all these projects are hopeless and should be abandoned. It may turn out that all of them have potential and should be developed without delay. It may turn out that one is obviously superior to the others and should be knocked out forthwith. It may turn out that, say, two of them should be cranked out simultaneously—for whatever reason—and the others chucked. Whatevs.

I hope to make this an entertaining discussion, drawing on the lessons of our careful reading of James Wood's How Fiction Works and our investigation of what we've been calling the Ur-story. We shall be turning to sources of inspiration and to critical quotes from writers on writing, exploring along the way the creative process and the nature of fiction among other things.

Come along for the ride!