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Thursday, September 15, 2016

The Writer's Life 9/15 - Inside-Out

I wrote Inside-Out, a novel, sometime in the 80's. It is a portrait of where many relationships seemed to be going, seen through the eyes of a thirtyish man and the woman he loves, Brooklynites working in the NYC school system. It was sexually explicit in its early incarnations, significantly less now. Along my life's journey, as the pull of my hormones subsided, I came to believe that less is more in the literary art of sexuality -- unless one is writing erotica, of course. If I'm still around in 2019, I will self-publish it through Create Space. It is third in line of my remaining four manuscripts. Fourth is my attempt at a readable take-off on James Joyce's Ulysses, which I'm tempted to title Ulysses for Dummies. First in line is Five Cents, a love story of a combat veteran's readjustment to civilian life, which, if all goes well, will be out in January. Second is Present and Past, a lost generation novel with a film noir touch. Here is a brief excerpt from Inside-Out. The woman has just returned from spending a Jewish holiday with her family:

   He was dozing when Karen entered.
   "Let's go out," she said, switching off the television. "I've been cooped up all day. I have a headache."
   "I'll get you some aspirin."
   He splashed his face at the bathroom sink. She was already dressed, in loose sweats, when he entered the bedroom.
   "I've been getting a lot of headaches lately," she said, taking a glass of water and a tablet from him.
   "Think it might be the pill?"
   "I've never had a problem with it before." She took a second tablet from him. "Must be tension."
   He sensed she was hinting it would be foolish of them to live together.
   "The pill scares me. Anything that alters the body chemistry does."
   "It's too convenient to give up. Besides, the headaches probably have nothing to do with it. Are you trying to get me to go off so I'll get pregnant? I wouldn't have the baby even if you got down on your knees and begged. And how would you even be sure it'd be yours?"
   He winced.
   "You deserved it. I can beat you any time I want. You're not as smart as you think, and I know exactly what hurts you, what makes you tick. I don't know how you could even consider me having your child. I want to be free. I want to enjoy myself. Can't you understand that? And I can imagine what a baby'd do to my hips. I'd hate the kid for it. Is that the type of mother you want for your kids?"
   "Suppose I offered to stay home with them?"
   "You would," she said contemptuously, hurrying toward the door.

My thanks to the kind folks who made purchases at the floating book shop on this glorious day. The intense heat that characterized much of the summer of 2016 is becoming a distant memory.
Vic's Short Works:
Vic's 5th Novel:'s 4th novel:
Vic's 3rd Novel:
Vic's Short Story on Kindle:
Vic's Short Story Collection:
Vic's 2nd Novel: Kindle:
Vic's 1st Novel:

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