Beards and Novels

It’s true, they are two of my favorite things.

November couldn’t be a crazier time. I would like to go ahead and apologize for how unstable I will be. You can thank Whiskerino, NaNoWriMo, and the other things on my plate.

HERE is where you can keep track of my four-month-long beard-in-progress. And HERE is where you can see the word count of my novel. The novel will be called TRY AGAIN, and is a new draft of the thing I wrote last year, originally titled BRILLIANT!

Here’s a brief synopsis:

TRY AGAIN is the story of clashing egos and clanging guitars. It is the story of one mediocre band’s first and final U.S. Tour.

The last thing the world needs is another travel narrative. Scratch that. The last thing it needs is another teenager-comprised rock and roll band. But The Richardnixons aren’t aware of these two things, and certainly aren’t aware of what disastrous place a combination of them will lead. Besides, if you tried warning them they’d spit at your face and watch you run off crying.

When it comes to the road, and to the saving graces of rock and roll, the last thing The Richardnixons need are unbelievers. The first thing they need is to get there before soundcheck.

The Band:

Charley Discovery – Vocals, Guitar, ego, supreme style
Babybear – Rhythm Guitar, Keyboards, vicious teeth
Georgie Ullman – Drums, physical fatness, white socks, self-esteem complications (baker’s dozen)
James Donovan – Bass, dead brother’s ghost on his shoulders
Braxton Evanson Stephenson – Roadie, Nerd of the Highest Order, video game console

and Victoria — Girl

Please buckle your seatbelt.

My Life and Hard Times

Another teensy required reading book to pass the time. I picked it up feeling I needed to learn about this man who writes and draws poor illustrations. He seems to be referenced everywhere, all the time. A classic humorist, people say. A copy was already on my shelf, skinny and hiding. Lynne Truss mentioned the guy maybe three times—some fights he had with corresponding linguists, in particular.

Maybe I missed something here. It was OK. Didn’t do it for me. Just didn’t care. I imagine James Thurber having a profound influence on the later writings of Woody Allen, which I much prefer. In those instances, the world’s shortest biography did shine. The last chapter was terrific. And then it was over.

Here’s a sentence I liked:

Probably no one man should have as many dogs in his life as I have had, but there was more pleasure than distress in them for me except in the case of an Airedale named Muggs.

This was strangely relevant to me:

Her mother loved the name Juanita so dearly that she worked the first part of it into the names of all her daughters — they were (in addition to a Juanita) Juanemma, Juanhelen, and Juangrace.

Interesting things you can learn by reading the back cover:

He died within a year of Faulkner and Hemingway.

He talks “largely about small matters and smally about great affairs.”

Not sure what’s coming next. Some YA, maybe. Now taking suggestions.