The Book

In a previous post I mentioned writing (and finishing) a book. I’m going to start this project within the project today. All I know for sure at this moment in time is that it can’t be a serious book. It has to be about real people who don’t want to kill each other, impregnate one another or kill themselves. The only suicide I envision writing about is social suicide.

Right now I’m thinking that the main character is a man. In his mid-twenties, anti-hero, not socially inept, but he’s definitely struggling with his mediocre lifestyle. First page – he’s mentally challenged by his squealing alarm clock. Naked and hyperventilating - resisting awakening in a desperate kind of foetal position. I picture him going through a quarterlife crisis. Crisis meets depression meets young man - and turns ugly.

Not really sure about his name. Sean? That’s a good name, but maybe too fancy. A little too Puff Daddy/P. Diddy. I need less Diddy, and more Daddy. Stephen, perhaps? Frank Allen Taylor? A slightly freakier middle name would be good. Frank Diedrich Indiana Taylor? Or just Indiana, because his mother, the former hippie, used to have a crush on Harrison Ford? I don’t have kids, but this namethingy-thing is hard. I don’t understand how they decide or come to an agreement, these parents. And I’m only trying to name a character here. On my own. Jeez.