In my case, I mean the blank space of the
empty page waiting just ahead of every word in every work-in-progress. Every
flash fiction, short story, novella, novel. Even now, as I write this, the
blankness, ever ravenous, is threatening to consume this entire article in
reverse, word-by-word. Disappear them. Eat them. Erase them from existence. If
an empty Word file gets deleted does it even make a sound?
See, every little word I send out there into
the void could be the last one.
And the void’s a bit of a trash talker,
too. Likes to taunt.
It says, “Why bother? Just stop and watch
Netflix.”
It says, “Is that the best you can do? They’re
really not very good words.”
It says, “Don’t tell me you think this will
resonate with anyone — do you know how many words are being written by way
more talented people right now?”
The void has an itchy trigger finger, dead-eye
aim and a full clip.
And we wage battle every time I sit down to
write, except those rare times when I’m on fire, shiny and chrome, a witty,
wordy John Wick executing bad guys with speed and style, bam, bam, bam, head
shots everywhere. Take that void.
I love when that happens. I celebrate when
that happens.
I’m sure it’s the same for most writers. Any
artist. Creating something that never existed before ain’ t the hardest thing
in the world, by any stretch, but it ain’t the easiest either. Like anything,
creating has its pitfalls, its downsides, its challenges.
Certainly, the reward of typing “END” or
getting a short story acceptance or holding a book you wrote in your hands makes
the void non-existent, a memory. That is, until the next time, of course.
The void almost got this second entry in
the Carnegie Fitch Mystery Fiasco series on a few occasions. There were some
close calls and it was definitely touch-and-go for a while there, for those months
between the initial burst of writing in March 2018, the next bit in June/July and
the completion in November/December. Lots of staring into the void, unsure.
Lots of creeping doubt. Even more so because a lot of the work was done. It was
book #2 so I already had the character and the setting. I had the style, how
the story would “feel.” And I knew the plot points, my middle and end. So I
knew exactly where I wanted to get to, but all those damn tiny (mis)steps to
get there. That damn blank page that can be so inspiring at times, for what it
could be, but so scary because what if that’s all the story ever becomes?
Finally, though, the story made it to the
end and was all that much better for the journey, for the stops and starts, the
winding path.
So here we are, meeting Carnegie Fitch once
again, after his misadventures in Dead
Clown Blues, with his own void to battle. The void called “The Unknown.” And
the unknown scares him. So he continues doing what he thinks he does best,
stumbling over and through cases, from advance to advance, from feast to famine
and back again. And all with a sly grin
on his face and a smart aleck wisecrack for every occasion.
Dead Clown Blues Buy Now!
Readers may notice similarities to Dead Clown Blues, certain intentional
repeats. I won’t mention them and take away the joy of discovery, if you’re so
inclined, but they exist for a reason. Fitch is stuck in a loop but he’s not
going to escape until he realizes and changes his tactics. Until he enters the
unknown, takes the void head on and sees what’s on the other side.
I always wanted the books in this series to
be an ode to detective/P.I. fiction, full of some of the classic tropes that make
it a blast to read, but also a bit of a self-referential, “meta” journey for a
character trying to be Marlowe, trying to be Spade. And really not succeeding. Even when he wins,
it’s more of a fail upwards than an outright victory.
Most of all, I wanted Dead Clown Blues and 40
Nickels to be good yarns and I battled the void each time to try and
achieve that. For what it’s worth. For that moment, even if it’s just a brief blip
on a crowded radar screen chock-a-block with all the entertainment at our
fingertips these days, when the words I strung together on the page might mean
something to a reader.
So if you pick up a copy, or download the
ebook, I hope you enjoy it.
And keep an eye
out for the final book in the trilogy, Shot
to Nothing, in Summer 2021.
Now, where’s that
damn void? It’s go time.
Daniel Lester writes into the void. Sometimes the void wins. Other times the words win. Over the years, his work has appeared in multiple publications, including Shotgun Honey, Bareknuckles Pulp, The Flash Fiction Offensive, Switchblade,Retreats from Oblivion and the clown noir anthology, Greasepaint & 45s.His novella, Dead Clown Blues, was nominated by the Crime Writers of Canada for a 2018 Arthur Ellis Award. Previously a longtime Vancouver resident, he currently lives in Toronto with his spouse and daughter. The battle with the void continues daily.
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