The title of this post comes from Fred (my subconscious mind/muse/internal voice). He's whining again. He prefers to write short stories, but I'm making him help me with another novel.
The only problem is that ol' Fred only wants me to write YA novels. I'm okay with that. No one (apart from Stephenie Meyer or J.K., maybe a handful of others) makes a living on YA, but I'm not banking on making a living at this anyway (that would be, how you say, a pipe dream--although a very attractive one).
I started working on The House Eaters (which will, no doubt, receive a title change). I tried to work the whole adult horror angle (3rd person, the whole nine yards), but when I hear a narrator's voice, it's a seventeen year old boy. Maybe Freud could help me with that...
So, my narrator moves from the city to a rural farmhouse just before his senior year because his mom has lost her job. Their new place is 1/2 mile from a run down house (haunted? not really). He is suspended on his first day (always bullies, aren't there?), and hears the House (as he calls it) talking to him (no, it's not haunted...not in the conventional sense) while spending the day at home. I'm trying to blend some Native American spirituality with "old dark house" sensibilities with a healthy dose of teenage angst and dissolving family dynamics. Whew.
Oh, and The Black Garden is available for pre-order from Corpulent Insanity Press. The book has received a few interesting pre-release reviews.