I thought I'd tap dance my way through a bit of Shakespeare and present a story based on Taming of the Shrew. I posted Motherfucker instead.
This novel originally consisted of four novellas and an epilogue. They were called "Motherfucker" and "Motherfucker's Revenge" and "Bride of Motherfucker" and "Motherfucker's Curse" all of which were four chapters and 30,000 words long, give or take.
The starting point is based on a Phil Phantom story, but I can't remember the name of it. I like Phil a lot and every time I see the word "beaver" I think of him. So the first chapter is a rip, I cheerfully admit it. What comes after that is all out of my own imagination, and based in no small part on two individuals I know and their unhappy romance. She was such a slut! Oh my God...Anyway, where was I?
I never liked the ending much. The epilogue was kind of a finger in the dyke sort of deal. I'm under legal obligation to make a lesbian joke here, but after the untimely death of Bad Fred, I haven't been in the mood to mock lesbians. I'm a little pissed about that.
So, I wrote something called "Son of Motherfucker" which may or may not salvage an otherwise very unhappy story. Unlike a few authors, some popular ones, I don't really go out of my way to paint a rainbow at the end of every hardluck tale. I know readers want to feel good at the end of a story, but some stories just end the same way life does, meaning with compromise and acceptance, and finding satisfaction in circumstances we can't always control.
Perhaps my personal life has too much influence on my writing, I'm not sure. But I think potential readers should understand that about my stories. I'm selling fiction, not happiness, you know? You gotta find that on your own. Fuck, I really turned into a cynical bitch somewhere along the way.