I’ve been living on the Bad Side of a Wicked Moon

I love the book I write today. I won’t like it tomorrow. I think I can do better.

SHOULD A WRITER ever be satisfied, or are we destined, or perhaps cursed, to spend, or waste, our days in pursuit of a perfection that probably doesn’t exist.

I wake up in the morning with two thoughts on my mind.

Find a better story.

Write a better story.

I remember the one I wrote yesterday.

I wish I’d written it differently.

We’re all on a merry-go-round and trying to grab the gold ring.

We see it.

We know we can reach it.

I’m not sure the gold ring exists either.

I have just completed the manuscript for my new novel, the second book in my Boomtown Saga series. It’s the sequel to Back Side of a Blue Moon.

I call it Bad Side of a Wicked Moon.

Same characters.

They live under the same dark cloud of the Great Depression.

But there’s hope.

Oil is flowing beneath the ground of Ashland.

Doc Bannister drilled the discovery well.

He’s a con man who gets lucky.

But it’s Eudora Durant’s story.

She’s got the grit.

She’s got the gumption.

I began the novel this way:

A GENTLE WIND ruffled her long white silk and satin nightgown as Eudora Durant watched the hearse rise up out of the fog. It was that mystical hour when threads of daylight were trying to weave their way in and out of the darkness, and mist above the river lay upon the water like ashes in a fire that had burned too long. The sun had not yet awakened, and the frogs still owned the shoreline. Eudora found herself humming “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” by the time the hearse rounded the bend and headed toward the distant lights of Ashland.

Was the hearse coming to take someone away or bringing someone home? It was, she thought, a mighty fine motorcar for the grim reaper to be driving. Not too long ago, he would have been hauling the remains away in a second-hand wheelbarrow. Oil made ladies and gentlemen out of the most worthless scalawags on earth. Eudora should know. She had been one of them.

It has a little romance, a little humor, a little pathos, a little violence.

There’s also a murder.

No.

There are two murders.

And a trial.

It’s a mystery.

The book wasn’t written to be one.

I’m so glad the book has ended.

I was hoping it would never end.

So here I am, and I’m probably no different from any other writer.

I love the book I write today.

I won’t like it tomorrow.

I think I can do better.

I damn well ought to do better.

I don’t even know why I wrote the damn novel that way in the first place.

I’m never satisfied.

I believe when writers are satisfied with the book they have just produced, they have written their last book.

Take a look at this blog.

I’ve said what I wanted to say.

But even now, I wish I had written it differently.

Please click HERE to find Back Side of a Blue Moon on Amazon. It’s book one of the Boomtown Saga.

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  • Scott Bury

    I know exactly what you mean. I love writing as I write, and I love having written. I’m never satisfied with the results. But eventually, you have to hit that “publish” button, because it’s not a story without an audience.

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