The Sock-Monkey As Alone

  I am working on Greed Hunter again and took a break for a week from revising the novel. Though tonight I intend on starting back on the book.   Chapter three's revision will be drastic on the language front. While rereading my prose, I find that it is monotonous and, in general, has the appeal of fingernails being drug down a chock board. So yeah, more drastic changes will be in presentation than in dialog (which I know is also not my strong point) or plot.   I have learned something that may be of use to other writers because while trying not to do what Steven King calls "look ma' I am writing." If you list events, the book becomes dry on a sentence by sentence level. But suppose you also pile on pseudo poetic language. In that case, you lose the rhythm that comes from merely comprehending what is going on (only bad writers obscure the linear events with language to misdirect the reader from their bad story.) and have to reread a sentence to know what it ...

  chapter 2   "One man's civilizations is another man's jungle" -The Rutles song: piggy in the middle.   "stepping out of the realm of history and into the realm of coincidence." - Don Delillo.   1   A sizzling egg, Butter bubbling around it in a frying pan, and a thick slice of wheat toast cooling on a plate on the counter nearby. The tourist was wearing an apron. His large flashlight eyes emitting ever so subtle light.   Teki with his scaly skin and lean muscle shaping and reshaping itself with every movement of the arm attached to his hand, flipping or prodding the egg with the spatula, as if in ritual seduction of the cooking down of Sam's dreams. That of the newly chosen passport that he knew still did not believe he was anything but a hallucination. He began to sing the song that would eventually wake Sam up from a physical hibernation called a Xanax induced delirium.   The song rang out (reverberated) in the house as ev...