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Genre: Other Genres
About TyrannorabbitLocation: Calgary, Canada Home Region: Age:35 Website: In flux! Favorite novels: Also in flux. Favorite writers: Harlan Ellison, Grant Morrison, Geoff Johns, Joe Lansdale, Neal Stephenson, Greg Bear, Garth Ennis Favorite music: Metal. All metal. If there is a more metal novel than this, I will fucking sacrifice it to Satan and then I'll be like, Haha, so much for your goddamned novel, asshole! Non-noveling interests: Metal? |
Joined: August 25, 2009 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 0 NaNoWriMo buddies: 6
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Brief Author Bio: A previous version of Ankle Deep In Gasoline was painstakingly written during the late 1990's but when I was done, I just hated what I'd created - snarky bullshit that somehow managed to be smug and self-pitying at the same time. There might be a hard copy in some friend's basement somewhere, but every hard and soft copy I had is long gone. I spent the next ten years finding things in other people's writing that made me think, "Shit, I hope I don't ever do that...AW SHIT, I totally do!" I also spent those ten years occasionally thinking of things that would've made the book a hell of a lot sharper, until the novel I've long since had in mind scarcely resembles the foul turdwork I farted out in my 20's. Yet I never got around to actually hammering it out. Then I heard of NaNoWriMo. 2009: this will be Tyrannorabbit's year. For a month. |
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Synopsis: Ankle Deep In Gasoline
A suicidally broken former heavy metal musician puts off his self-destruction long enough to investigate another, more capable musician whose apocalyptic compositions are plugged in to something much, much larger than a Marshall stack.
Excerpt: Ankle Deep In Gasoline
"You see, when I turned on the array, I did it mostly as a raised finger to you, personally. A two-minute signal aimed at a random point, well more or less random. I meant it at the time as a gesture of defiance, because I was angry. I wasn't expecting for it to actually be heard.
"If you'd just let me see the project through to its logical conclusion, you could have been the man in charge of selecting where to direct it, and you could have been the one to receive the answers it would bring. Yours could have been the hand of friendship extended to a brotherhood more vast and more wondrous than you'd ever allowed yourself to imagine.
"Instead, you chose to choke that destiny at its very birth, so you could continue to wallow in your fantasy of singular glory in your imaginary god's light. So the answer came back to a dead project, and then, through seeking, to me alone. And like a gracious host, I asked, What can I do for you? And can you guess what I was told?"
He leans in and speaks with a deliberate enunciation. He wants to make sure he is understood.
"He wants to know what happens when you die."
Tyrannorabbit's Writing Buddies
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