Here’s the second in The Bookstore series, in which Eddie talks with (at?) Jericho about Snooki’s piece of “literature”.
There are a few side projects that I have going on, whilst awaiting the release of Flutter: An Epic of Mass Distraction, which is due out in August, and I would be remiss not to pool them into my Whoreville of Compilation here on this blog. After all, it’s point is to let you know how utterly awesome–if not just active–I am. So, that said, here’s the scoop:
First of all, I have officially launched the Ducky Thomas blog in order to keep his persistent quacking about new blogs centered in another room, where he can take care of that himself. He says that he will have one new blog a week, until he can talk me into taking him to new places on a more regular basis. I let him know that I have a job, and it is my duty to ensure that we can all continue to eat. He was a good duck and laughed at the word ‘duty’ for two hours. Check it out. For a duck, he has pretty good stories.
Secondly, I have attempted to be more consistent with entries on the bookstore blog, There Are No Words. Mostly, I’m just filling space with the odd things I hear, and the even odder requests that I get. Becoming involved once more in that blog led to my third in-the-works project.
If you aren’t familiar with the website Xtranormal, then you’ve likely been under a rock. It’s one of the most useful sites for writers (or directors for that matter) with time, energy, and a small amount of cash to spare. I’ll spare the details on how it works (largely because I have an episode coming up for that), and instead post the first 3 episodes in the series simply called The Bookstore. There is some truth to it, to a degree. I have drawn from some of the bits I’ve dropped on the bookstore blog, and added the rest for entertainment. In the end, this is not meant to be a representation of life at my day job. It’s meant to be a series of short films that culminate into a larger story. Life at The Bookstore, if you will. Characters will be evolved, a story will unfold, and a certain author’s books (ahem) will be shamelessly promoted. Oh, and there will be no shortage of loathing for Twilight. So here they are. You can subscribe to them on my You Tube account and you’ll get email updates when new videos are posted. Right now I’m doing one a day, but I would image it will be reduced to 2-3 times per week after I’ve got enough of them created.
Please let me know what you think. This is a work in progress, and I’m always open to input.
Here is #1:
Here is #2:
Here is #3:
I’ve been lax in my James Franco reading, and I’m a little worried now that I may have yet another distraction in the way.
You could hear the collective groan of publication-hungry (or just plain hungry) writers across America when this title dropped. I’m surprised we have yet to hear of some poor writer (again, these are literal descriptives) losing their mind at a writer’s conference and Going Postal in the only way writers can. But no reports have yet to surface of frazzled individuals running amok, covered in toiletries, and without proper caffeination shouting, “Pitch, pitch, query, query, I’ve got a synopsis for you, Snooki! Redrum! Redrum!”
Anyway, it’s sure to be a classic. I watched two episodes of Jersey Shore before coming to the conclusion that I was getting drunk watching it. Something like a contact high from the fumes emanating from the television, I think. This Snooki person–a loose term meant loosely for a loose woman–would scare Animal. And she’s “written” a book? Actually, and honestly, I’m going to be very disappointed if she didn’t write it, even if it took a dozen editors to make it readable. I wanted bronze pages, but, eh, just regular inserts. Maybe some stained pages? A wafting smell of tequila, or maybe you could light it and smoke it? Nah. It’s just a book. And one that begins like a block of cement landing in a black hole: never to be recalled, remembered, or envisioned again.
“Life was hard. But a pouf? That should be easy?”
Egad. It’s a pouf story? That’s the big set-up? Giovanni “Gia” Sputmanti is going to lead us on a charge through the battlefield of this book (where we are sure to find ourselves scarred deeply, if not maimed or wounded beyond all literary resuscitation) with a pouf?
On the first page alone, we get such great lines as “Tonight, humidity was a bitch,” and a paragraph describing the maintenance of a pouf. Oh…yay. On the second page, Gia says “Waa!” She says this. On the page. In quotations. As dialogue.
So, ok, Snooki wrote this. It’s like smelling dinner in the oven, your empty writers-stomach rolling and protesting the wait, and knowing that the bag of Cheetos are but an arm’s reach away, and will do just fine, thanks. So, in I will dive, head-first and likely to discover that the pool has no water. But there will be no shortage of fodder for the blog. James will have to wait.