Notes from the Intermission
Reflections on Act One: Revisions and Process
Greetings—
Thanks for watching the rehearsals for The City Is My Mistress. I couldn’t be happier with where the novel is now. I’m having a blast. I hope it’s been fun for you so far.
I know I promised Chapter 12 this week, but you’re getting a sexy director’s cut of Act One with commentary instead.
Let’s get to it.
Revisions, revisions, revisions…
I didn’t find my voice—or confidence in my house style—until after Chapter 6. That’s when I started polishing the earlier stuff and never really stopped.
This week I rolled up my sleeves. I’ve deleted a lot. Added a little. Things are much tighter now. The word count on one of the drafts almost made me stop tinkering, but I forged on.
Other tweaks:
Fewer chapters…
There are five longer chapters instead of eleven short ones. This was one drawback of weekly serialization. It hurt the flow, but it is what it is.
The Young Mutt…
The narrator now addresses The Young Mutt as Marlon Brando, or just Brando.
My reasoning for using The Young Mutt is complicated1.
I changed it in the revisions because it read too clunky as a whole. Okay in small bursts; annoying in the long haul.
The creative process is messy. Welcome to the front row.
The important thing—Act One’s ready for prime time. (Or at least until I start picking at it again.)
I encourage everyone to read it. Takes about 40 minutes.
Moving forward, Act Two won’t appear in chapters on the site. It’s going to run as one long On The Road–style scroll—same treatment as Act One in the end.
Notifications will still hit your inbox when chapters drop with links to the living archive. This way, you’re always getting access to the freshest drafts if you fall behind.
Sometimes, I make revisions hours after I publish, but that does nothing to the troglodyte lurking in your inbox. Delete that trash!
This is your key to theater, kiddo…
Things are getting good, so I’m locking the doors.
I’ve gifted everyone paid subscriptions so I can keep it exclusive. I’ve got the crowd I want. Everyone else can screw.
If anyone has technical issues, reply to this email. I’ll hook you up. As you can see, paid subscriptions are extremely valuable.
Life Mimicking Art…
Now for a little bit of fun.
When I was writing Chapter 11, 9/11/06 was on my mind. A lot. After one of my writing sessions, I went to run some errands in Park Slope.
Walking up 5th Avenue, I watched a guy lean this photo against his building, light a cigarette, and walk away. I went home and finished the chapter that night. Only in New York City, baby.
One last comment…
Comments have been turned off on the chapters.
As Jon would say:
It’s art—
not a fuckin’ MySpace page.
Translated: It’s an aesthetic and creative choice.
Many of you have reached out personally to comment on the work (much appreciated, by the way.)
For those who prefer a more performative approach, comments are on for this post.
If you have something to share, now’s your shot.
That’s a wrap…
In both film and plays, I directed everything I wrote. I’m big on rehearsals. It sharpens the writing. You can take risks. Get to know the material. Work stuff out.
That’s what this is for me and this novel.
Appreciate you being a part of that space.
Your eyes are my whetstone.
It makes the work better.
The curtain rises again on 11/20.
Chapter 6.
Enjoy the ride,
Brad
Initially, the book was going to alternate between chapters: one from the current POV; a second from the POV of a cube of weed; a third from the POV of Marlon Brando (a prima donna stage dog who thinks he’s actually Richard Burton, reincarnated.) It was meant to be an absurd existential trip where the objects were defined and our human protagonist was not. Refusing to let the narrator call the dog Marlon Brando was, at the time, a philosophical choice about whether meaning exists independent of perception. Aren’t you glad you read the footnote?