Book View Cafe is a new idea. A group of authors have gotten together to combine their work, and their reach in an internet publishing venture. These are all professionals, and there are some amazing names among them, including Vonda N. McIntyre and Ursula K. LeGuin. Some of the work is new, some classic, much is free but some is available for a fee (a low fee by e-book standards, about $5 per novel and $1 per short story).
The BVC authors have agreed to check in here once a month to answer a question submitted by Yrs. Truly, or the readers of this blog. This month’s question is:
“What’s the book you want to write, but haven’t yet?”
I want to write the fourth book in The Brass Bed series, in which Jewel goes undercover in roller derby to find out why pink stuff is forming on the derby track. Her poor partner Clay, who was in the last book possessed by the bodiless spirit of a porn goddess, finds his body hijacked by the newly-radicalized femnist porn goddess into sneaking onto the same roller derby team in female form. Randy gets stuck babysitting a lachrymose alcoholic genie who is trying to “get out of the bottle.”
I still need to write the obituary novel. In which a horrific dictator, realizing that his obituary in the New York TIMES is going to look just dreadful, decides to do something about it before he actually kicks the bucket.
I want to write a screen or stage play focusing on the plumbing industry. There is nothing in the world funnier than plumbing and I think it’s a totally underused topic. I’d like to give it the whole Coen Brothers treatment.
1. The Minoan alternate history. What would have happened if the civilization we think of as “Minoan” (though that couldn’t have been what they called themselves, as Minos was a Mycenaean king) had been the first people from the old world to visit the Western Hemisphere?
2. The terraforming and war crimes novel, with the underlying question, Why do fictional heroes get to decide what punishment they receive for their crimes, and when they’ve been punished enough, and why do we (the readers) swallow the proposition, “Nothing the justice system could do to Hero X could be as bad as the self-loathing, bla bla bla”?
-Vonda N. McIntyre-
The novel I currently want to write is the opposite of a closed-room murder mystery. It’s an open-fort mystery – a murder set in the middle of Fort Richardson in Texas, which is 300 acres of open paddock (field to you guyz) with a few ruins round it – it never did have walls, to my amazement. (Do NOT think F-Troop, for those old enough.) The murder opens with a guy on a running ride on motor mower sitting in the middle of this expanse with an arrow in his back.
I have a narrator – a stroppy semi-street Australian Sydney-sider- a main cop figure on the US side, lots of ethnic etc. possibilities for both characters and motives, a local source to tap for accuracy, some ideas on how the murder happens, and, alas, a “supernatural element” that shoved itself in the opening scene and I have no idea what it will do for the rest of the book. However, it dictated the current title, which unoriginally brought itself from T.S. Eliot and of course Evelyn Waugh (who apparently had it forced on him and didn’t want it): it’s called for the nonce *A Handful of Dust.*
That’s about par for the course or better for most of mine after the opening scene goes down. It’s in the queue…
A book that’s down the line one generation in my ælven world, i.e., probably at least two books away in the series. The main character keeps staring at me. In fact I had to write a segment of the thing recently, just to get it out of my system.