Title case shall be how we definitely differentiate between viaduct and 792 blog entries.
I think I’m going to put only 10 stories in the collection. I have a vague idea for about eight of them and I’ll to take a hard look at a couple of others for the ninth and maybe write a new one for the 10th.
Once I get all those together, I think the next step is to get some them published in something else before pitching the book. I haven’t done any real research yet, but shooting the moon and sending what I think is my best to some fancy publication like Harper’s once I figure out the protocol is probably my best bet. There’s a writer’s group in town and my next-door neighbor I rarely speak to writes as well. I need to generate some buzz, I reckon, but my work schedule isn’t that conducive to that most days.
The hard part will be getting a list of 10. There are some things that I know I want to include and I think I want to close the collection with the third revision of VSOP. I haven’t decided on the opening yet — I’m considering what I’m tentatively calling Farmer Street, Petersburg — and a lot of them need revisions because, although they’re good, They’re obviously autobiographical blog entries. I have no qualms against revising my true experience into fiction.
I mean, I once opened a blog entry on driving home to Richmond on state Route 5 like this:
Today, the skies were heavily laden like a man who had lived a hard life. The moisture was frozen in place; whatever triggered rain did not come. This veil shrouded the skyline, transforming the city into an illusion in a verdant frame from my angle of approach.
I returned home through downtown and Riverside Drive, that woods-shaded promenade along but hidden from the James River that strips Richmond of its urban aspects in the dead center of town.
It was after 8 p.m. in a rapidly approaching Virginia summer. The streetlights were on but it was still bright enough to see without headlights, bright enough for countless children to protest the call to come inside as I once did.
The perfume of forest wafted through my open windows and sent me home.
Someone give me an advance now.
I can dive into this in less than two weeks.