Upcoming Releases from Monastrell Books:
Intra-Coastal: One Year On St. Pete Beach
Intra-Coastal begins vividly as a crime/beach/drug memoir, but becomes something much more.
Dear contributors... fiends, all....
We are now in the aftermath of the campaign for INTRA-COASTAL. I put 100% into this campaign, although it was difficult at first to take crowd-funding seriously. I'm sure I made a few hundred mistakes along the way; I never allowed the experience or the concept to transform me into that Awful Thing which befalls so many: the used car salesman. I suppose that if I had, the campaign would have stood a better chance. And just as certainly, I'd have acquired supporters who were dreadfully ill-suited as readers for this type of licentious material. I instead remained up front, true to my ideals and true to my word: this is not an easygoing book, and it's not meant for an easygoing audience.
Bottom line: $1438 raised out of a $7K goal. $1438 is more money than anyone I know currently has, and I take that amount very, very seriously. The campaign has ended, the hold was lifted, that sum went directly to Lana, my landlady. If some strange patron magically materializes and throws in the remaining $5.5K, again, the entire sum goes directly to Lana. This campaign has been about time, and time only. And me, being me, I'll take the weeks and run with them, if there are weeks. And if there are months, well: I came up with a figure of 24 weeks, 6 months, to produce a substantial piece of art that resists categorization and flaunts a disposition that is not for the weak of heart, baring truths hard enough to chip a tooth on. And in the end, trust me, I will emerge dirtier than the rest. The role of the writer, Celine always said, was to cover himself in filth. This I done.
And I don't mind doing that, if that's what it takes to find some poetry and share it along the way. During the last 4 weeks, an astounding 24 of you guys chipped in because you believe in my abilities, and you share in my distaste for the current trends in American literature.
And I know that none of you guys are rich, which makes me all the more driven to shape Intra-Coastal as something which has no precedent, and as something potentially dangerous. That number, 24, seems far greater to me than 1438. It's a profound degree of affirmation that no writer of either humility or conviction would ever be so foolish as to take for granted. Quite the contrary, it is in fact ALL I currently possess: a loyal readership. I can't afford to lose you!
I will go as far down this dark road as you allow me, and then, I'll go a good piece further.
Thank you all so much.