Sunday, September 25, 2016

Excerpt From My Upcoming Novel

I've been so pre-occupied with writing my novel that I haven't posted in eons. It's not for lack of content. We're living in a speeded up universe. There are a whole lot of things I want to write about. And yet I must deprive myself. The low-hanging fruit will always be there -- and can be plucked from television where the universe can be ignored in favor of discussions on  the existence of Unicorns.

So finish my novel I must.  It's actually my second one. The first was published on Kindle only -- self-published, that is. I never tried to get a trade publisher for it. Looking back, perhaps I should have.  It's entertaining, at least, and well-written if a bit dry in tone. I used a journalistic style, probly influenced by French writers -- thinking right now I was big on Albert Camus --

You should take a look. Give me a pass on the title: "Last Chance."  I didn't name it myself and should have held to its original title:  "Aurelio Must Die." But if you want a lively read, look for it under my writing name : Anthony Ventre  You'll find a couple of interesting stories on there.

Cut to the present. My current novel is tentatively titled "One to the Heart" or "Aim for the Heart," not sure yet. I picked a very funny paragraph (at least to me and my weird sense of humor) to excerpt:


" Being an altar boy was an honor later besmirched by sex abuse scandals covered up by the Catholic Church. But during Costello’s childhood, it was an insider’s track on God, the angels, and the martyr saints, a mystical dance to a background tune of Gregorian Chant.

The shared experience imparted to each of them a sort of deep and latent intimacy.  The Masons might have their secrets handshakes and clannish power-seeking conspiracies, but altar boys held the high cards at the gambling tables inside the Gates of Heaven.


Costello stepped out of the sedan at the convenience store. At first, he seemed not to notice Richie Sparo scrunched down in the cab of his truck. Richie shifted his eyes right to watch Costello working his hands around to his hip, adjusting his belt holster and moving his handcuffs around to a more comfortable position. 
Costello wasn’t particularly tall, but managed to look bigger than he actually was. It was mainly due to the way he carried himself. A muscular frame lurked beneath his leather jacket like the body of some coiled beast. "