Spelville

That's the working title for my tale of the few to survive a disease that one could almost describe as the Earth acting in revolt against infestation. Every major species was stricken. Spelville is the name of a riverside settlement where a family of three resides, living in isolation for years before getting discovered by an expedition of twelve men on a mission to learn if any women at all survived. Before they came to Spelville they had found none - 

Multiple Stories

I think nearly all writers have more than one work in progress. I have recently made considerable progress revising an older tale of mine and expanding it into a longer, more rounded, more readable, manuscript. It's a dystopian tale about a woman who lives alone for the first ten years, before being discovered by another survivor, and then things start to happen to her. 

Poppy Fields of Mars

I never wrote anything remotely like this before. It is a book of sub plots, with a giant cast of characters. It careens from dark to light, from humor to tragedy.  Mars and his wife, Joanna, are a team of sexual adventurers, until his wife strikes out on her own. Wounded by the betrayal, he discovers within himself a desire to go mainstream and abandons her. There is a strong element of revenge in his subsequent sexual encounters, before he selects a woman named Dance to share his future. Theirs is a troubled relationship, destined to fail. Her depression  as a gang rape victim drives her to suicide. In the dreamscape of sexual adventures, Mars encounters a bizarre list of partners. He finally breaks away from the life of the player, and has a series of adventures, before the plot is resolved and like Ulysses goes home. It has yet to be picked by a publisher.

I Knew it Was no Best Seller

I wrote Beyond the Deep Water with the full realization it would likely have few readers. It was my life mission, at the time, to gain the catharsis the writing afforded and also to state my case to the ones who would pay attention. Until one has read this book, one knows virtually nothing about me, whether as friend, acquaintance or otherwise. I lived the greater portion of my life like a cockroach hiding in cracks and shadows during the history of the greatest decades of the wealthiest nation in history. With the exception of a few episodes I maintained sanity in the face of being ridiculed and ignored. I quit school at age 16 and worked for relatives, framing houses. They most reluctantly employed me, for I was considered too slow, too stupid. Thoughts of approaching a stranger to ask for a real job terrified me and I stuck with them. The year I turned 20, desperation drove me to hitch hike across four states, with two dollars in my pocket and no change of clothes. A car wash hired me to vacuum cars, in Long Beach, CA.

Every day was a climb up a rugged slope, with a raging beast strapped across my back. Even when I married, the struggle never abated. Only the calm that comes with old age has eased my burden in the slightest. During the writing of my book I gained self knowledge I might otherwise have remained ignorant of the whole of my days.

When I set out to write it, I intended to tell the whole story of my entire family. For years I turned out a chapter here, some pages more now and again, but was unable to combine the whole into a cohesive narrative. Discord with some of my siblings made me delete most references to living persons, leaving me with a short tale indeed. I turned to fiction to bind it together and was able at last to wrap it up, with the introduction of Rusty as a ghost.