a novel project

"i will be a fiction writer again or die trying."
~ David Foster Wallace

here's a snapshot of my current WIPs:

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO GRACE

An atheist boy. A Christian girl. A mutual passion for rock and roll. When their friendship challenges everything they stand for and music fails to bridge the gap, will a greater love emerge to conquer all, even the hardest of hearts?

status: basically finished; self-doubtingly picking at it until i muster the courage to query agents
query letter (to be added)
chapter 1 (to be added)

FUNFERALS

CLOUD ATLAS for teens meets THIRTEEN REASONS WHY. Told largely through journal entries and online exchanges between its two main characters that are hiding their true identities from each other--a billionaire boy and an anonymously published, bestselling teen author--this Ecclesiastal, post-modernist YA romance explores the root of depression, social media addiction, the awkwardness of first love, and man's inherent need for salvation, while attempting to answer the question: Devoid of God who offers meaning, is life still worth living?

status: half-way done the first draft; by half-way i mean, about 300 pages left to write and maybe a total of 600 to edit afterwards (no biggie). like dfw's Pale King, it's my magnum opus, but hopefully with a better end
a not-so-random sample: page 51

WHITE LINES

YOU'VE GOT MAIL X PAPER TOWNS with a dash of Jane Austen. 23-your-old David Randall is sick of being famous. Popular blogger Jane Bennet is sick of him. All he wants is to forget his sister's death. All she wants is...revenge?

status: finished, but should really be edited
chapter 1 (to be added)

Comments

Ya Hey

this is the kind of beauty i always aspire to translate to my fiction: this cover made me stop and notice the following lyrics as if it's the first time i'm hearing it: all the cameras and files all the paranoid styles all the tension and fear of a secret career and i can't help but feel that You see the mistakes but You let it go it hits me in a new way. "all the tension and fear of a secret career": how often i longed to just obey and finish my book already and query agents and take the plunge, jump into the river of doubt, trust God, let go . how it all feels so secret, this career that's yet to actually be born, held hostage by fear of failure, dependence on self, lack of trust in God's plans. this song is honestly so beautiful (and the cover even more so). it is the bare confession of a band in the midst of an almost existential crisis attempting to unravel the threads of a complex God who will not reveal Himself to the faithless, t

free

it's uncomfortable how quickly the heart can plunge into self-doubt at the mere presence of greatness. even trying to write out the thoughts in my head at the moment has me questioning the intention behind every word, and i cannot stand how self-limiting self-doubt is. being afraid of being judged and once judged being afraid of never being good enough and in turn we curl back into our carapace (hello, new word i just learned today), CTRL-T to a new tab to double-check every word used was used correctly just in case somebody actually comes across this little corner of the internet and judges you for the incorrect use of carapace and it interrupts the very stream-of-consciousness style you're trying to achieve by simply writing out the contents of your consciousness without thinking about it, no editing, kerouac-style, and achieving nothing but self-deception because you know deep down inside that none of this is off the cuff and everything was somehow, subconsciously, premedit

on being an unknown author...

...just remember that the famous reclusive writer j.d. salinger would've envied your anonymity. that thomas pynchon (of V. , The Crying of Lot 49 and Gravity's Rainbow) is probably still in hiding to protect his. the appeal of self-glorification by way of discussing the minutiae of your daily life that is prevalent in our culture remains a mystery for many authors whose only desire is to write without their own lives being eviscerated. in the words of salinger again: "I'm tired of being collared in elevators, stopped on the street, and of interlopers on my private property. I've made my position clear for 30 years. I want to be left alone, absolutely. Why can't my life be my own?" see, we make a grave mistake when we obsessively (key word!) identify with the owners of the content we consume and think we are One with Them and wish we could call them up after consuming their work. for one thing, in religious circles, that's called idolatry punishable

prose & praise

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