Dead Dwight exert

Thanks to all my readers that have taken advantage of my two day free book promotion… I hope you enjoy reading The Science of Loving. So what am I up to  now, you ask? I’ve just started the first pass edits of my novella Dead Dwight: a dark comedy. I’ll be sending this to test readers (you know who you are.) in a few weeks. I’ll be publishing it under the pen name E.V. Iverson in honor of my paternal grandmother since this isn’t a romance—Sorry fans. Next one, I promise.

Below is an exert for anyone interested:

“I sat on the front porch with a toothpick, full as a tick on a summer night. It just didn’t get any better than this I thought, loosening my belt. I knew I should feel bad—remorseful, something. I munched Darla down quicker than she could say, “do nothin’ Dwight”… Again. Maybe it’s cause I’m dead ‘n all, but somehow I just can’t seem to get all that worked up. I mean, I’m dead, right? Or maybe it’s shock from the whole Darla-Cody revelation.

Cody Billings for Christ sakes! Why him? He’s a lazy, low-down, no account, redneck, inbred lump of stupidity; crazier than a shithouse fly. Last I heard he was in county lockup for siphoning gas out of cars—cars parked across the street from the sheriff’s office no less—mullet-headed dumbass. He’s the reason cousins shouldn’t be allowed to live in the same county.

But, whatever the reason, I just couldn’t quite make myself feel anything, other than a reluctance to leave the porch glider. But Mama’d always been real particular about her kitchen, and I felt I owed it to her memory to put it to rights. Besides, Lord only knew who’d stop by while I went to see Old Hannah. If it weren’t for saving my twig ‘n berries, I’d rather eat farts than cross that old crone’s path.

Heaving a sigh, I gathered myself up and set about doing the supper wash-up. Who would have thought arterial spray could go so far? And cleaving someone’s head to get to their brains was nothing like cracking a coconut. It’s amazing what a man will do for pie.

So’s not to be foresworn, I packed Darla’s leavings into those Hefty bags just like I promised (‘though I don’t reckon she’ll keep,) and mixed up about five gallons of bleach-water since commenced scrubbing, and then scrubbed some more…”

 

 

Update… 12/15 This exert is deader than Dwight. After  initial tests reads I’ve gone back and rewritten the entire book in third person…

Talk to me, dammit!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s