“Do not speak slightingly of the three volume novel, Cecily!” Yes, Miss Prism.
I must confess that I hate the idea of being like anyone else, even if it is good business. Something about the way I have been knit together just cringes at the idea. I was made, I think, to resist the vicissitudes of society. Whatever they may be. If for some reason everybody I know suddenly takes a liking toward Eminem, as they did when Dr. Dre first swept him onto the scene in the late 90’s, I tend to move in an opposite direction. If everybody liked some polar opposite version of that music, probably something written by Phillip Glass, then I would decidedly become a fan of Eminem. At least in theory.
So while all my writer friends are out there doing what makes sense from just about every business-related perspective and writing their three volume series of novels, I’m sitting here at home looking into the mirror saying, “Luke…you must resist the dark side.” And I have tried. But since a certain event happened to me, I’ve had a change of heart.
I’m jumping on the three volume bandwagon.
“But whyeeeee,” you may ask. Hang in there, Theophilus. We’re getting to it.
It has to do with a little book I picked up the other day, and this is the topic of another post. Actually, it’ll be a rant. But I picked up an old dictionary the other day, and as I was thumbing its ambrosia-scented seventy-year old pages, I ran across a word I haven’t seen used in a while: phantasmagoria. That word is like some impossible mix of Ferrari and stretch limo. It’s excessive. But I found that it described what happens in K quite well, actually, and right there, I knew I had a three volume novel on my hands, dammit.
Follow the logic: I can’t rename my novel “Phantasmagoria,” because, well, because it just doesn’t seem right. Instead, I decided on the spot to use phantasmagoria as a subtitle to the already established one-letter title, “K,” which I like very much. The problem then arises that “K: phantasmagoria” sure rolls off the tongue like it’s part of some kind of series. Dammit! So there you have it: destiny strikes again. Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.