Here I am, sitting on the couch, pondering this post — considering doing something on the photo that inspired my novel — self referential to a degree of great ickiness… Perhaps. I’ll see if I can make it palatable, or not.
I like to TALK with people about the process, but I get bored by pontificating writers on their craft, IN PRINT. Weird? I don’t want to know their playlist, or if they scribble at Starbucks, or their theories on imagery and characterization — basically, I’m just not a nice person. Unless you can ride along on an author’s synapses writing is solitary — outwardly dull while in the mind opening universes — there’s no way you can make it sound interesting. “So, I sat down and then I pulled Moby Dick out of my ear…”
Well, that was a rant!
The novel that’s in the publishing pipeline, the one I’ve been hinting at and jabbering about on this site had its genesis in a photograph by Julius Shulman. The house is the Kaufmann Desert House designed by Richard Neutra.
Let’s see, what’s the book about? It’s about a young lady of academic pursuits who happens to be an elderly Hollywood Mogul’s daughter who falls in love with an agent on a trip to Palm Springs from her home in Manhattan – and murder (?) ensues.
Oh, and if you’d like to hear me contradict myself completely on writers and the author’s process read this interview in two parts: