Like pretty much everyone else, the past two+ years have provided an opportunity to determine what kind of “I’ve been meaning to do that!” tasks I might actually get done if given ample amounts of free time and nowhere to go.
As it turns out, not ticked off on the “accomplished” list:
- Bake bread/cake from scratch
- Go through and organize old files/documents/photos
- Transmogrify lead into gold
- Learn to play a didgeridoo
- Find Bigfoot
- Fix the sock drawer of my dresser
- Watch the entire Ernest oeuvre
- Convince Salma Hayek to leave the billionaire husband she loves for some random 167-year-old guy from Connecticut
- Write the Great American Novel—
Wait! So on that last one . . . .
I’m not saying it’s great but it’s a novel and I’m American, so that’s like two-thirds of the formula. Close enough, right?
Oh, and before typing a letter more: Shoutout to the amazing Sammi Lewis of Poltergeist Soup for the cover!
So yeah, I’ve been working away on this for a while, and now it’s time to emerge from my writing cocoon to share it. Although I’m scared out of my wits to put this out there, tbh. Like a lot of people who write, I’ve gone to bed thinking, “This isn’t terrible,” only to wake up the next morning and be like, “I’m an idiot, I should delete this, smash my laptop, and stab myself in the eye for even thinking of publishing it anywhere, ever.”
And I might (should?) have, except I now feel I owe it to Sammi because their work deserves an opportunity to be seen. I only hope the way I’ve hammered together 100,000 or so words does it justice.
For what it’s worth, this is somehow the best and stupidest thing I’ve ever concocted, and I mean that in the best way possible (I think). Here’s the back-cover blurb:
Sportswriter Nick Brooks is covering yet another boring baseball game when he inadvertently encounters Sarah Rypien, an extraordinary young woman who immediately spins his existence downside up and cattywampus. Before he knows it, the prerequisite chaos/hilarity ensues, dragging him into one of those absurd irregular-Joe-meets-possible-psycho-and-saves-the-world brand of adventures, replete with action, intrigue, mysterious men in Volvos, a very special FBI special agent, 1.5 romances, and a healthy dash of the LOLs. (You know, like Mom used to make.)
Oh, and on a semi-unrelated note: Nick just happens to be sharing his life with an incarnation of the entity commonly beloved as “Satan.”
In this fun, satiric sci-fi romp—packed with enough pop culture references to give the intrawebz a nosebleed—Ray Bendici vaults readers through an entertaining jaunt that bends brains, time, reality, and genres. On the plus side, no one gets turned into a newt.
Clearly, an autobiography then.
Ultimately, the lighthouse guiding this journey to completion has been to create something that will be as fun to read as it was to write. Which is not a low bar to clear as much as it’s a chalk line on a playground to skip over. Still, I hope you all find it entertaining.
For what it’s worth, the title is like Snakes on a Plane—you already know if you’re in or out, and that’s probably for the best. No offense taken at all if you’re out, I get it.
And if you’re in … well, that’s on you at this point. Peruse/purchase it on Amazon, either paperback or Kindle, keep your hands inside the ride, and enjoy mucking about in rayality!