I still need to get the workflow of doing the whole thing online, but I have a title (above), a website (somedarkplace), and a start on my story for National Novel Writing Month.

I can still remember the first time god spoke to me, “That was stupid,” he said, “But you’ll live.” I don’t know how long I lay there after his first words, blood saturating the tawny clay dirt around my head, slaking the thirst of greedy dead earth, slowly expanding like used motor oil staining hot concrete. I don’t know how long I lay there after his first words, my ears ringing and leaking warm clear fluid, as I studied a singular cloud formation in an otherwise empty sky. “Cirrus or altostratus?” I asked god, but got no answer. Either way I decided it looked like a duck and lonely.

That there’d been an explosion I could remember quite well, as I’d been the one with the bright idea of setting off a pipe bomb. The confusion came when I tried to remember things like: how many bombs had I set off? had I been alone when I was doing it? what went wrong, how did I end up on my ass, and how long ago was that?

It was summer then, the sun was setting, and mom would be pissed.

It’s not a terrible beginning. Anyone want to offer me a book contract?