Well, 2 1/2 years later, here's an update. I didn't move to Portland. I moved to the capital of the world, New York, NY. I spent some time in Brooklyn, and now I live in the Lower Lower East Side, Lower East Chinatown, call it what you will. Nice enough space, sort of anonymous, almost what I imagine a rooming house would've been like a few decades ago.
For awhile I was eking out a living doing freelance game stuff, and then, for a very unhappy six months, I was employed full-time at a start-up over in Tribeca. Once they went bellyup, I declared myself retired. Now I tend bar at a place in the East Village called Hi Fi, which used to be Brownies. Kind of a shame for the neighborhood that Brownies closed down--they booked some really great shows--but as far as the people who work there are concerned, it was a blessing. Hard to make a living off kids attending all-ages shows and not tipping on $2 sodas. My nickname for Hi Fi is "The Tool Shed" because of the crowd it draws, but my co-workers are top notch. Everyone's got something creative going on, and Hi Fi staff are members of Panthers, Turing Machine, Radio 4, the Hold Steady, and the Little Killers. People are always taking time off to go on tour and whatnot, which is not only good for my bank account when they need shifts covered, but it's awfully inspiring. These people aren't just talking, they're making shit happen.
That's what I'm trying to do, too. I finished my book--it's titled LAPDANCE, though it's come very far from that short piece that appeared here on SG a couple years ago--and in January I signed with an agent. Last month she sent out copies to 20 different publishers, and now we're waiting to see what happens. In the meantime, a very long lost friend of mine resurfaced, read a copy of the manuscript, and announced he was going to paint a painting described in the book. Since he's incredibly talented--as good as any mug's work featured in JUXTAPOZ--I'm thrilled beyond belief. Here's the passage from the book:
"It was a pole dancing Hindu vision of sex and death: a multi-limbed and midnight-skinned goddess, with sharp tusks thrusting from her open mouth, and dark blood dribbling from her lips. Monstrous, terrifying, she was still lovely beyond beliefshe had Tsingtao's face. Seemingly oblivious to the little toga-clad demons that crowded against her stage, she stood balanced on one toe, with her other leg hooked around a chrome pole labeled axis mundi. One of her hands clutched Hondos severed head by his long hair. Another wielded a bloody knife, and a third held her cowboy hat in place. Her top right hand, which, Marshall knew, was traditionally held in a gesture of blessing, was instead extended with two fingers folded and two held out straighta heavy metal salute. She was winking, and that, more than her improbably narrow waist, the saucy tilt of her hips, and her breasts like ripe black apples, was what made the saliva flood his mouth and threaten to spill down his chin."
Man, I can't wait to see what he does. Whether or not some hoity-toity New York publisher acquires the book, it's going to come out, one way or the other, and now it'll have a decent cover. Hot damn.
I declared the manuscipt "finished" nearly a year ago, and though there've been a couple revisions since then, I've been trying hard to get started on something new. Easier said than done! The process of trying to find representation really opened my eyes to the realities of the marketplace, with the unfortunate effect of strangling all my helpless struggling newborn ideas in the crib. Eight or nine story ideas have succumbed to doubt and fear. But I think, I <i>think,</i> I'm finally onto something that can work. Time will tell.
Anyway, that's my story. See you in 2007.
For awhile I was eking out a living doing freelance game stuff, and then, for a very unhappy six months, I was employed full-time at a start-up over in Tribeca. Once they went bellyup, I declared myself retired. Now I tend bar at a place in the East Village called Hi Fi, which used to be Brownies. Kind of a shame for the neighborhood that Brownies closed down--they booked some really great shows--but as far as the people who work there are concerned, it was a blessing. Hard to make a living off kids attending all-ages shows and not tipping on $2 sodas. My nickname for Hi Fi is "The Tool Shed" because of the crowd it draws, but my co-workers are top notch. Everyone's got something creative going on, and Hi Fi staff are members of Panthers, Turing Machine, Radio 4, the Hold Steady, and the Little Killers. People are always taking time off to go on tour and whatnot, which is not only good for my bank account when they need shifts covered, but it's awfully inspiring. These people aren't just talking, they're making shit happen.
That's what I'm trying to do, too. I finished my book--it's titled LAPDANCE, though it's come very far from that short piece that appeared here on SG a couple years ago--and in January I signed with an agent. Last month she sent out copies to 20 different publishers, and now we're waiting to see what happens. In the meantime, a very long lost friend of mine resurfaced, read a copy of the manuscript, and announced he was going to paint a painting described in the book. Since he's incredibly talented--as good as any mug's work featured in JUXTAPOZ--I'm thrilled beyond belief. Here's the passage from the book:
"It was a pole dancing Hindu vision of sex and death: a multi-limbed and midnight-skinned goddess, with sharp tusks thrusting from her open mouth, and dark blood dribbling from her lips. Monstrous, terrifying, she was still lovely beyond beliefshe had Tsingtao's face. Seemingly oblivious to the little toga-clad demons that crowded against her stage, she stood balanced on one toe, with her other leg hooked around a chrome pole labeled axis mundi. One of her hands clutched Hondos severed head by his long hair. Another wielded a bloody knife, and a third held her cowboy hat in place. Her top right hand, which, Marshall knew, was traditionally held in a gesture of blessing, was instead extended with two fingers folded and two held out straighta heavy metal salute. She was winking, and that, more than her improbably narrow waist, the saucy tilt of her hips, and her breasts like ripe black apples, was what made the saliva flood his mouth and threaten to spill down his chin."
Man, I can't wait to see what he does. Whether or not some hoity-toity New York publisher acquires the book, it's going to come out, one way or the other, and now it'll have a decent cover. Hot damn.
I declared the manuscipt "finished" nearly a year ago, and though there've been a couple revisions since then, I've been trying hard to get started on something new. Easier said than done! The process of trying to find representation really opened my eyes to the realities of the marketplace, with the unfortunate effect of strangling all my helpless struggling newborn ideas in the crib. Eight or nine story ideas have succumbed to doubt and fear. But I think, I <i>think,</i> I'm finally onto something that can work. Time will tell.
Anyway, that's my story. See you in 2007.