[LaFond’s comments are in brackets.]
Hi James,
I'm pretty shocked that your email today made mention of three books, no more no less: "Writing Unchained", "Saving the World Sucks," and "The Pale Usher", as they happen to be the first three physical books of yours that I purchased from Amazon, and all three arrived today! Photo for proof:
I'm not sure what manner of sorcery is going on here, but I'm all for it!
[First, Sir, I am a noted sorcerer, a White Devil of ominous eminence, who once terrified the Blackamoors of Baltimore, yet now beneficently wrangle these put upon fellows in hopes of attaining a berth in purgatory in preference to warmer regions of eternity. One might check my title Woke Devil for evidence, or Boomy’s monologue in War Drums. The book Saving the World Sucks, that money went to my sister, so thank you. Writing Unchained is sold by Lilly Hun, a darling dame who deserved better than this old crumb, so thank you. The latter is the rewrite of the former unedited work, so does give an example of writer/editor compromise. Lilly also edited Road Killing and Your Trojan Whorse, which she made her way into as an example.]
You speak of the condition of posthumous recognition—you will be in good company (Herman Melville immediately comes to mind). I believe your work is bound to be rediscovered, much in the way that another modern pupil of Melville's (Roman McClay) will also find his work in the hands of a less-cucked readership of the future. The world isn't ready for your material—what a bunch of suckers! If there's anything that I can do to help preserve your writings, without stepping on the toes of your current stewards, I'm all ears.
[Well, Sir, I have offered the rights to two people to publish commercial editions of The Sunset Saga in hard back, with no payment to me necessary. They have both backed out. So, and this article will post in February on my site, The Sunset Saga is yours. I must warn you that I did not finish it, that I quit right before the finish line, with only 3 readers garnered from 2011 thru 2019. Now, that entire vast fortune is yours. In large measure I declined doing a final volume, which was to be Titled WhiteSkyCanoe, not out of lack of interest, but due to eye problems and the increasing history workload. I may not write for money primarily, but I am still an American and therefore a whore born, and thus put more effort where the sales are. It has been so long since I wrote all the books but Seven Moons Deep, that I would have to read all of the books to be able to wrap up the 25 odd protagonist story threads.]
I did read Menthol Rampage a few nights back and got a good belly laugh from it! I do believe I've picked up on a small easter egg embedded in the story and I must run it by you. At some point, this exchange occurs:
They headed up into the house as Mister Martin mumbled something about somebody named “Laurel and Hardy” and returned to his truck.
“Who’s Laurel and Hardy?”
“Shut up Bones,” George growled, and they were once again among the pure smell of freshly milled pine that he loved.
My theory is that you channeled the Laurel and Hardy episode where Hardy loses his everloving shit over HORNS!!! Do you remember that one? So please tell me—is Menthol Rampage a modern twist to that Laurel and Hardy episode, sans Hardy and horns? Did you sub Hardy and his hate for horns for Jay Jay and cigarette smoke?
[Oh, I am not nearly that slick. The reference was to the episode where they spend 20 minutes trying to move a piano. Now, the cigarette smoke was an actual affliction that bothered me a great deal and triggered severe cluster headaches for about a decade. I lived in a house full of smokers, and was, while writing The Sunset Saga, forced to leave Sensei Steve’s house and go sleep at the karate school where I coached. Sensei Steve eventually enforced the outside smoking policy and I returned. I got the idea for the short novel when I was sitting a bus bench and a lady moved down wind to smoke and the wind changed. I immediately got sick and stood up to leave and she started to rage at me for being rude. That was it—I wanted to start killing smokers! So started writing instead, even while sick to vomiting, method writing. All of the characters are patterned on people I knew at the time, Doc Dread. The girl friend was based on Barbara, a former savage girlfriend, who when I complained of her smoking in bed, handed me her cig and said, “I bet you won’t whine like a baby now,” as she was suddenly incapable of speech, but remarkably, still able to breathe. The black kid was an actual grocery store employee. Also, at the time, I only had $15 a week for food and depended on women bringing food over. Sensie Steve, after the morning shift girl and the evening shift both brought covered dishes, yelled up stairs, “Hey, Mister Jim, how bout if I put a sign on the front lawn that says, ‘Will fuck for food,’ can I have half the chow?’ So JayJay’s loss of housing if he failed to service his vixen was based on my precarious rental situation and the fact that failure to inflict multiple orgasms on cougars could result in starvation… Menthol Rampage wrote, in three days, itself, based on my own messed up life.]
Your short rampage really is pretty spectacular. So you know, I do plan on buying up everything that you've put out over the years before they wise up and take them down.
[Don’t jinx me bro! My rampage novels include: Thunderbird (Most violent thing I have written, which I erased by accident and rewrote from memory in a weekend), Reverent Chandler, Dollar Joe, By Gaslight, Dancing on the Edge AKA Fat Girl Dancing (collected in Road Killing), Wake Christopher, Writ Hate, American Dreamboat, The Filthy Few, and of Course By This Ax, Jay Bracken’s thread in Seven Moons Deep. All the Jay Bracken threads were rampage fiction, so when I stopped that series I had to write insanely violent short novels to stay sane.]
As for my own work, I've started editing them down. I wrote this stuff back when I was 21, and the experience is much like an older man consulting his younger visage. My younger self had all the creative muses at his disposal but he was very obviously obsessed with Robert A. Heinlein format of lecturing without having experienced life! So I've got a lot of work to do.
[You could use that time lag as a narrative dichotomy, either with an older man telling of his younger self or of two characters of the antagonistic age groups telling the same story, or by alternating character perspective. Don’t waste that youthful view point. Keep it and insert some rusty old foil.]
Let's keep in touch! I'm about to resume the Sunset Saga in-between other authors and I will definitely share my thoughts, if you're so inclined.
[That sounds nice, Tyler. Thank you so much. Speaking of sorcery. I am using your emails for article starters—a bad habit of mine. So, in recognition of my bad character and your good treatment, I am redacting your last name, so that if the Grand Coven ever decides to burn me at the stake for practicing without a license, you will not be thrown on the barbecue. This is very nice of you. I always wanted to speak with fellow writers, it being such a lonely trade. Yet I was rejected by two writing groups based on my published work. I will change your name to any alias you prefer. My articles are scheduled for posting 3 to 5 months out, a reflection of a crooked desire to afflict this sissy world with bad ideas from beyond the grave.]
Sincerely,
—
Tyler W.
