In the flash of time, there’s always room for pleading a case for literary sympathy — one more time a request to purchase my novel on Amazon.
Self-published in March, “Brown-Eyed Girl With A Cold Corona” is a tale of what it’s like for a middle-aged man to tumble down Alice’s rabbit hole in real-time.
A description last month from the first post-plea to please buy my novel: ‘Although set in the genre FICTION/Romance/Fantasy, “Corona” can also be labeled as ‘Horror’ — this guy falls in love with a ghost, and we all know when a ‘ghost’ is involved, it’s ‘horror.’ In this case, though, the ambiance is not the slasher/gore variety, but more of a delusional, near-erotic dream than anything else. He falls in love with a murder victim after the murder.‘
And this plot pulsates through a mid-90s Spring break in a coastal California town.
As I’ve written before, I’m not good with marketing. And not good at all at patting myself on the back. Attributes required to sell my book. When I wrote the first draft in the summer of 1994, it appeared the project would most-likely be ending-up a kind of therapy — it was a weird-ass, heavy-duty, emotional period (divorce, etc.) and seemingly the strange was softened by writing a weird-ass literary work. And as I’ve explained, the setting, the structure of ‘Corona‘ is/was my own life at the time.
Buy the book — click here to purchase — please, please.
Despite words and words — I’m as these then-boys describe:
Low-brow fiction aside, here we are once again…