I published the revised and much improved Bunny Man late last night/early this morning on the anniversary of Elvis Presley's birthday by happy happenstance. I first wrote and published Bunny Man in 2008 when I was fascinated by the bizarro genre. I submitted the manuscript to a bizarro publisher after reading several examples of bizarro fiction. My discovery was that the titles were often much more exciting than the actual text. I felt, and still feel, that Bunny Man is superior to every other bizarro novella I've ever read. The publisher disagreed with my assessment. My manuscript was rejected.
I lost the file of the original manuscript but I had a paperback copy of the latest revision, published at eBuLLieNCe PReSs in 2010. So I sat at the computer with the book and had much fun revising and adding black and white photographs. I'm a weirdo. I enjoy revising much more than I enjoy writing the rough draft. Writing the rough draft is akin to beginning a new romantic sexual relationship, which has always been torture for me. I identified as a love addict for years. I've only recently decided to stop seeking, stop trying, just focus on myself and my humble little poverty level life. I thought I loved falling in love but in retrospect it seems love has always been a mirage in my life. I'm not sure why I was crazy in love with any of the men I at one time believed I was crazy in love with. I've given my relationships much thought and analysis. My brain is pretty much a pretzel at this point. I can say that I was truly in love with only one man in my forty-three years on this planet. I think this is pretty common. Most of us try and keep trying to create some semblance of magic with new partners. My dad just married his fifth wife in his sixty-third year of life and says he finally found THE ONE. My maternal grandmother just buried my maternal grandfather, a man she married when she was eighteen years old. They are the only couple I personally know who didn't just love but adored each other for over six decades. Elizabeth Taylor believed she had two soul mates. Mike Todd and Richard Burton. She had seven different husbands. Common. People marry for a variety of reasons. I married twice and I know exactly why I married both times. So. Love. Yes. I'm done until a reasonably attractive, intelligent, interesting man convinces me otherwise. I haven't met the motherfucker yet. Of that I am certain. So the rough draft for me is like falling in love. The pieces are mostly all there but you don't know what the hell to do with them. How is it going to turn out? Is it going to ROCK or SUCK? The suspense is killing me. I don't want a tombstone. I want to be burned to ash and scattered. But if I were to have a tombstone those words should be carved in stone. THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME. Maybe it's my impatient first house moon. Maybe it's my crazy sixth house Venus in Aquarius. I don't know what the hell it is. But I prefer revising, perfecting love/words that have already been created. Makes perfect sense to my Mercury in Pisces in the seventh house squaring my Saturn in Gemini in the tenth house.
And I assure you, avid readers: Bunny Man is the most entertaining, hilarious, love bloated bizarro novella you will ever read. So buy it, already.
I lost the file of the original manuscript but I had a paperback copy of the latest revision, published at eBuLLieNCe PReSs in 2010. So I sat at the computer with the book and had much fun revising and adding black and white photographs. I'm a weirdo. I enjoy revising much more than I enjoy writing the rough draft. Writing the rough draft is akin to beginning a new romantic sexual relationship, which has always been torture for me. I identified as a love addict for years. I've only recently decided to stop seeking, stop trying, just focus on myself and my humble little poverty level life. I thought I loved falling in love but in retrospect it seems love has always been a mirage in my life. I'm not sure why I was crazy in love with any of the men I at one time believed I was crazy in love with. I've given my relationships much thought and analysis. My brain is pretty much a pretzel at this point. I can say that I was truly in love with only one man in my forty-three years on this planet. I think this is pretty common. Most of us try and keep trying to create some semblance of magic with new partners. My dad just married his fifth wife in his sixty-third year of life and says he finally found THE ONE. My maternal grandmother just buried my maternal grandfather, a man she married when she was eighteen years old. They are the only couple I personally know who didn't just love but adored each other for over six decades. Elizabeth Taylor believed she had two soul mates. Mike Todd and Richard Burton. She had seven different husbands. Common. People marry for a variety of reasons. I married twice and I know exactly why I married both times. So. Love. Yes. I'm done until a reasonably attractive, intelligent, interesting man convinces me otherwise. I haven't met the motherfucker yet. Of that I am certain. So the rough draft for me is like falling in love. The pieces are mostly all there but you don't know what the hell to do with them. How is it going to turn out? Is it going to ROCK or SUCK? The suspense is killing me. I don't want a tombstone. I want to be burned to ash and scattered. But if I were to have a tombstone those words should be carved in stone. THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME. Maybe it's my impatient first house moon. Maybe it's my crazy sixth house Venus in Aquarius. I don't know what the hell it is. But I prefer revising, perfecting love/words that have already been created. Makes perfect sense to my Mercury in Pisces in the seventh house squaring my Saturn in Gemini in the tenth house.
And I assure you, avid readers: Bunny Man is the most entertaining, hilarious, love bloated bizarro novella you will ever read. So buy it, already.
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