A Novel Idea?

I think I’ll write a novel about characters who are completely fucked up, force them to play together and see who survives.  It’ll be just like real life.  Aren’t we all novels in progress?

Everyone I know, myself included, are a little fucked up in some way(s).  I’ll be in it, once or twice, myself and I.  After all, Deon Mumple is as much a work of fiction as you think he is.  Or maybe moreso.  Edon Pleumm can be my French alias, I suppose  Or maybe the simpler Nom De Plume… yeah figure that one out–use all the letters, now.  WTH were my parents thinking.  I guess it’s funny.  Who the fuck knew I’d want to write?  So if you were wondering why I’m a writer and why I’m a little fucked up, I guess there’s a clue right there.  Thanks, Mum!  And Dad.

Deon Mumple, the fictional one anyway, can be a serial killer in the mode of … (pardon my ADD, but I could be Mode Plenum too… wtf is a plenum anyway?  Oh holy shit, I just looked that up and it’s something about fullness, or compressed gas, or hot air if you will…  fml.  Or Demon Plume, I like that one better, don’t you?) …  a fictional serial killer in the mode of fictional Dexter Morgan, because in real life I have a conscience and rage and I think evil should be exterminated.  Except, how boring to always kill people the same way?  Deon would strive “to let the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime,” like he learned from Gilbert & Sullivan.

If Deon dies, he should be treated in a special way, perhaps dying in the mode of one of his fantasies.  Maybe he should meet several of the women he has flirted with, damned sexy writers all of them, orchestrated by his soon-to-be ex-wife, the poor widower, and they all have his way with him, with the coup de grâce causing a fatal heart attack, being delivered by the hot wife herself, after all, she deserves justice too, doesn’t she?  Deon Mumple is a complete ass anyway.  He deserves nothing better.  I mean, a fine, classy woman like Mrs. M. should be treated with the proper level of respect, not for being awesome, but just for being a woman.

If he doesn’t die, the fictional Deon should gently bring Mrs. M. into his dark world and they can be a team of killers, OR, maybe Mrs. M. might have an agenda all her own that is even more compelling than simple dark justice, and she draws him into her world and out of his shell.

I’ll percolate this.  Do any of my six followers think that might be interesting reading?

It’s either a novel idea that’ll make me millions, or it’s a shitty idea that should never see ink hitting paper.



4 thoughts on “A Novel Idea?

  1. I never noticed until recently but pretty much everything I have ever written has an underdog/fucked up but still awesome/this person isn’t hampered by mental illness, they;re a badass…I guess I am writing both what I know and what I wish was my reality in fiction form. Hey, least this way I can kill off assclowns without prison time or a panic attack.

    Write what comes naturally to you. I’d totally read Fifty Shades and Moods Of Mumple.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I think everyone who’s normal and honest with a jigger of humility would classify themselves as “underdog/fucked up,” and everyone who truly loves them would classify them as “awesome/hampering notwithstanding” and/or “badass.” Hmmm “Fifty Shades and Moods of Mumple” would get me into interesting terrain. Some of my favorite terrain is, um… curves.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. My family describes me as “moody” “difficult” “high strung” “rebellious” “a slob”…The only ones who think I’m badass are my sister and her kid.

        LOL@ the curves reference. Made me wanna send you a road sign that said “dangerous curves” then say, ooops, safe search was turned on, I guess. 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      2. My sister would say those shitty things, but only because she thinks I could be more badass if I tried harder. In other words, she loves me ::turns to avoid vomitting on keyboard:: but thinks I could do better if I “just” had a better perspective on life. so does my wife, and my daughter, they think practically like my sister which really means it sucks to be me around them. THEY say it’s not as hard as I make it out to be. Well, FUCKITY FUCK their superior grasp of reality anyway. I mean, thank God they have the perspective, but fuck the thought that I could think the same way because I’ve tried and when I think positive it all goes to shit anyway and I feel worse for my false hopes. Who the fuck is sis to tell me this, SHE stays at home not working, and hates going out just as much as I do. I think all of my writer friends are badass, mostly because they were able to overcome tremendous bullshit like I struggle with every day and manage to cope, AND write, despite their emotions, doldrums, ass holes, speed bumps, and burdens, of life. I fucking hate the store parking lot because I hate speed bumps even though I drive slowly and there are a hundred speed bumps to go over (might be a mild exaggeration) just to get to a parking spot. For every undercarriage scrape, a hundred FUCK YOUs want to come out of my mouth. If people drove like me (slower than my dad, and I’m NOT an old man, I just drive like one because I respect pedestrians, small children, and speed limits and can’t afford tickets and speed bumps suck ass), we wouldn’t need speed bumps now, would we? What I need in my world is a personal shopper and $500M so I could have them drive over those instead of sending me out undefended into the petri dishes of life.

        Liked by 1 person

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