I've decided to participate in National Novel Writing Month this year. I've been working on games for all of 2011 and this has proven to be a wonderful break. I don't have to consider, "How will the players use this?" or "How can I balance this with that?" Really, it's been a lot of fun. And the writing is fast-fast-fast. I've been burning through this thing and I'll be posting the chapters as I go.
I wanted to write something "non-magical." That is, something that wouldn't fit on the science fiction/fantasy shelf. So, I decided to write a crime novel. I like fantasy novels less and less these days. I'm reading too much Stark and Palahniuk and Ellroy and Burroughs and writers who don't view massive page/word count as a virtue.
I have a goal with this book: "Write like a shotgun blast. Immediate, deafening. And make the outcome painful and bloody." Also, I want the opening line of every chapter to be a barbed hook in the eye: you can't look away. And with that in mind…
When Paccini turned around, the masked man put a gun in his face, grabbed him by the collar and twisted until Paccini could barely breathe.
Vincent Paccini was in his blue leisure suit. It did not compliment his figure. He was a soldier in the Bonanno Family running one of those loan shops you see when you get off the freeway. He wasn’t too bright, and he knew it, but he appreciated the trust Anthony Bonanno gave him by putting him in this place. And now, there was a masked man pointing a silenced pistol at his face.
“Oh, shit,” he said.