By this time next week, I will have finished a novel I haven’t even started yet.  Yes, fifty thousand words is the lower end of what people consider a novel, with some still regarding it as a novella.  And yes, I may fail.  But what if I don’t?  Wouldn’t that be somethin’?

If I haven’t succeeded by midnight at the end of the 20th, but I did get pretty close, I might continue to work on it for a while, and you’ll have to keep ignoring those posts if it’s all clicks and whistles to ya.  But I really don’t want to.  I intend to put my entire ass into it, as they say.

The story is called Josefina and Blasfemia vs. The Wall of Ice, coming soon to a blog near you.  El Muro de Hielo is not a reference to melting ice sheets; it’s, like, metaphorical ‘n’ shit.  I’m a real arteeste.  This is the sequel to a book that has never been written.  I just felt like starting in media res, in the parlance of our times.  It picks up where the previous adventure leaves off – a pretty thrilling moment.  If you don’t find it thrilling, well, all sorts of chicanery follows, and maybe something in those various events will work better for you.

I have a dawning awareness that since I’ve advocated for generative AI, some people will doubt that my work is my own.  I’ve posted an example of using discussion with AI at the genesis of a story (not one I intend to finish with AI or to publish, if I ever finish it at all), which for some people would be grounds enough to dismiss the entire endeavor as cheating and stealing and burning the world to ashes for cheap thrillz.

Not that it matters, but this novel has had no involvement of AI, save the generation of the title placard and some mock-up book covers.  If anyone wants to doubt and hate, I’m not going to convince them.  But it would be pretty silly of me to try to pull a flex like this while just cheating.  The effort is the point.  Plus this is from the heart, yo.  As much as I have a half-assed american dream of some guy in a suit noticing me from across the room and sayin “How’d you like to make a bank full of money, kid?,” I am not aiming this at the big five publishers.

This book is not going to have commercial appeal, is what I’m saying.  Too radical and self-indulgent.  Enjoy the nonsense, for whatever is in it that may be enjoyable.  And join me, with nonsense of your own.  I’d love to see it.

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