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FPTP Available Now

You can now pick up your pocket sized copy of FROM PILLAR TO POST at Lulu. Coming soon to other sellers and in other formats.

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/nathaniellay

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New story / Old story

A couple years back, I started a short story called “My Night With Abe”. It was about a bored man returning from work one night and coming across a suicidal teen on his walk through the park. He then proceeded to talk the boy off the ledge. It was an important story for several reasons. One, it helped me vent during a rough time I was going through with depression and the loss of my fiancee. Two, it was set up in a way to help with those hurting from suicidal thoughts. And three, it showed how someone who may see themselves as “in the way” or “a waste of space” can truly change a life.

As of yesterday, I have returned to that story in a sense. It will have two versions; they will be companion pieces. The one I started is from the suicidal kid’s view, and actually opens with a story based pretty strongly on some recent events in my life. You’ll follow him to the finale, which will be his attempted suicide. His view of the story will be very important to people that have never experienced depression or suicidal thoughts (it will hopefully help them understand the feelings that go through us), as well as to people who are familiar with it (they’ll be able to relate and hopefully vent along with the character, which can be therapeutic -- this is why music lyrics help so many of us get through hard times). 

The other version of the story will follow the bored man, which is the old story I wrote years ago and never finished. It will of course be rewritten, and be the shorter of the two. But both stories will be direct tie-ins to one another.

I’m excited for this project and, if it can be finished in a month’s time, maybe it will make FROM PILLAR TO POST. But that seems rather ambitious considering my schedule and how often I sit down to write these days. Either way, I think it’s an important story that will also help me through my current heartache and hopefully help others who have or are experiencing similar issues.

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A few days back, I ordered 3 paperback proofs (mass market size). They should be here in maybe a week. Pretty excited! December is coming too quickly though. I’m not sure all formats will be available in time. I may only have paperbacks ready. The hardback proof needed work still and needs another printing done with its changes. And I still have the ebook format to finish. That’s really repetitive work!

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Last round of edits

I am half way through my last round of edits for From Pillar To Post now, and should be finished this week. Then I will be ordering the paperback test print, as well as another hardback print (this time with a slip cover instead). December is coming so quick!

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Back

I have been absent from this blog for at least a month now, maybe more. But I am back, and will be posting updates regarding my upcoming release of FROM PILLAR TO POST. 

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Excerpt from “The Trunk”

The following is an excerpt from The Trunk, available now on my Store page for free download:

“A bottle of Corona, please.” “Sure thing.” Walter Handover sat on the bar stool with his body hunched over the counter, his hands clasped before him. He had three day stubble on his face, and his hair was a mess. His eyes were sunken, but he seemed lively nevertheless. He had a smile on his face and was bobbing his head from side to side as he waited patiently for his order. A moment later, it was placed before him, and he thanked the waitress. Behind the counter, hung on the wall, was a large screen TV. It was playing a sports highlight reel. One glance in its direction and Walter knew he was not interested. So he turned around in his stool, glass in hand, and observed his surroundings. Most of the people in the bar appeared to be over fifty, and as such, there was a somewhat quiet atmosphere that encompassed the room. Walter may not have been quite as old as everyone else present, but he knew he was trudging along life's road. He had his aches and pains, some of them now daily. He was leaving his prime, if not already out of it completely. On some level, he had accepted this, but maybe not as peacefully as others. He fought the disappointment and pain with a darkness he embraced away from prying eyes. It was the same darkness that had led him to the bar for a victory drink that evening. He was feeling lifted, even knowing that such a warmth was only temporary. It always was, as was everything else in life. He had proven as much back at the house. But the time for that was gone for the day, and the present was drawing him to the alcohol at hand. So he took a long drink, wiped his lips, and nodded to no one in particular. The noise of the place – which wasn't really noisy, but just a collective sound of various conversations and a multitude of televisions – had become merely a hum for Walter. The vibrations played rhythms in his head that soothed his tired bones, and the overhead fans provided a cool breeze to diminish the sweat coating his body. For several moments – perhaps, minutes – he closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was a form of meditation for him, though the waitress didn't know that. She came to his end of the counter and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You all right, sir?” Walter opened his eyes and fixed his smile her way. “I'm very good, thank you.” The waitress smiled back and walked away. Walter watched her go and took a drink from his glass. The beer felt wonderful in his mouth, just as he had hoped it would. His plan was to finish the glass, order another, finish that as well, and then leave for a walk down to the wharf. He hadn't been to the water in a while now, and  felt as if his legs needed a good stretching. They were stiff from the time he'd already spent indoors that week. He also imagined that the air outside would do him some good. The stench within his house had become horrendous, and would take days to clear (even with all the windows open, as they currently were). His peace was soon interrupted when Jerry Porter – a large neighbor of his from down the road – took a seat beside him. Walter feigned pleasant surprise, but wished the man gone immediately. Jerry was a talker, and sure enough the man began flapping his gums in Walter's direction. “Hey there, Walt. You going solo tonight?” Jerry's bushy beard looked to be tangled with food from the meal he'd just had elsewhere. His shirt was stained, and his glasses wore obvious smudges of grease. Walter looked at him briefly and felt a disgust rise within him. “Yes,” he replied simply. Jerry ordered a beer and inspected the waitress as he did so. While he waited for his glass to be poured, he turned awkwardly in his stool – his overhanging belly tightly pressed against the underside of the counter – to face Walter. “Where's the wife this evening?” he asked. “On vacation,” Walter lied. “For our twentieth anniversary, I gave her a week at the spa. She needs a chance to relax.” “Don't we all,” Jerry chuckled, taking his freshly poured beer and drinking greedily from it the second it was placed down before him. Walter said nothing. He continued to scan the bar aimlessly, praying that Jerry would get the message and leave him alone. But Jerry wasn't the kind of guy to  pick up on signals given to him by others. He was the kind of guy who continued to push and push until someone finally yelled in his face. He was a lonely man, the type that was always starving for attention. And maybe that was why he ate so goddamn much. Whatever the case, he was at least a nice enough person. But that didn't mean Walter wanted his companionship at that moment of jubilation. Jerry was oblivious, as usual. “So it's your all's twentieth?” Walter nodded and sipped from his Corona. “Damn. That's quite the milestone. She didn't mind you sending her away?” She seemed to plead a little as I choked the life from her, Walter thought. But aloud, he said, “Not at all. We spent a couple romantic evenings together first. She just left this morning. She was looking forward to her time away.” Jerry shrugged and finished his beer. “I guess couples need separation occasionally.” “Damn right,” Walter said quietly. Jerry didn't hear him. “So what are your plans for while she's away?” he asked after ordering a second glass from the waitress. Walter gave it a moment of consideration. “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe go some place myself for a few days.” He hadn't really thought of his next move, he realized then. Maybe he'd give it some consideration during his walk. “When was the last time you did that?” Walter looked over. “Did what?” “Got some time off on your own.” “Oh,” Walter said. “Well...I don't know. I guess it's been a while.” He drank from his beer. He had about a quarter left. Jerry, however, was half way through his second tall glass. Beer had dribbled down his already messy beard, and at some point he had acquired a bowl of peanuts. His free hand was working through its collection as he talked. “You know what I like to do when I get away from it all?” Away from what exactly? Your empty house and stacks of manga porn? Walter thought. “I go camping,” Jerry said with a nod, as if he were reminiscing. “Camping?” “Yeah. Up North. Place in New York. Lydia's Shadow. Real quiet town in the mountains. I go there a few times a year.” “You don't say.” Walter quickly finished his beer and pulled out his wallet. He wanted to get that walk in before Jerry completely ruined his buzz. “Yeah, you should think about it,” Jerry told him through a mouthful. “Give me a call if you need directions or anything.” “I'll do that,” Walter replied, placing a five on the counter. He nodded goodbye to the waitress and headed for the door. “Wait!” Jerry called after him. Walter turned in half step to look back. “Tell Carol I said hi,” Jerry said with a wave. Walter smiled lightly and nodded. Then he headed out the door. The sun was just beginning to set, and there was a cool breeze in the air. Walter was wearing a light coat, and felt comfortable enough. He crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk and turned right. The road went downhill about a third of a mile, and ended at the wharf (which he absently called the pier, despite the lack of one). It took about ten minutes for him to get from the bar to the end of the line. It was a decent loop to work off a drink, though pissing usually had to wait until you reached the bathrooms at the bottom. Otherwise, you had to risk public urination, and the cops were always going up and down the road. Their precinct was just a few minutes in the opposite direction. Walter wasn't as happy as he had been before Jerry interrupted his good time, but he felt his spirits returning now that he was alone again. His legs were stiff, but he knew they'd loosen soon enough. His upper arms were also sore, and he imagined that was from the strain of the headlock he'd put Carol in that morning. They'd probably hurt worse tomorrow, though; that's how it always went. As the road gradually began to decline, he thought of what he should do next. He could probably get away with telling people Carol was on her spa retreat for a week, but not much more than that. So he needed a long term plan. Eventually, it would have to be announced that she was missing. Maybe she was kidnapped during her trip? Robbed and killed? Could he pull that off? He wondered. With anger, he realized her car was still parked in their driveway. So how did she leave then? A taxi? No, that didn't make sense. There really weren't any taxis here in the farm lands. What if he told people she went with a friend? Someone he didn't know well? That could give him the ability to struggle pulling a name and face when asked for details. He supposed that was possible...he needed to give it more thought. He had a few days to work out the details. In the meantime, he would have to stay away from other people to avoid questions. Because questions led to fake answers that he could later confuse with himself. He'd done it before, though not with something as dangerous as this, granted. The point was that he didn't want to get stuck in any webs, especially of his own creation. Shit, Walter. Don't ruin tonight, he thought irritably. Just be happy she's gone. You can bitch about this other shit in the morning. Yes, that was what he'd do. Tonight was for celebration. He was finally free. He could worry about his cover story later. One carefree day wouldn't hurt. So he continued his walk with empty thoughts of happiness and relief. He reached the wharf soon enough, and took a seat at one of the benches opposite the water. There, he sat until the sun had gone down completely. He closed his eyes and let himself melt into the moment. When he opened them again, it was dark outside and he needed to pee. So he headed for the restrooms down the walkway. Luckily, they hadn't been locked for the night yet. When he was finished, he leaned over the sink,  splashed some cold water against his face, and looked into the mirror. “It's time to take back all those wasted years,” he promised himself. He then thought of all the fights he'd had with Carol in the past month alone. You need a new job, she'd said. Ask for a raise, she'd said. Go fix up the yard. It's looks like shit, she'd said. It all seemed so...well, ordinary. But damn it if ordinary wasn't the problem. That, and the consistency of her complaints. They seemed endless in Walter's eyes, and it was blinding him. He hadn't expected marriage to be a walk in a park, but had found himself surprised by the way his had gone from so good to so bad over the years. The fact that it had been a gradual transformation didn't seem to really matter. What he was fixated upon was the gnawing, stinging battle of spite and disappointment in which Carol had strung him up by his ankles. It seemed as if he should have been able to cut the rope much sooner than twenty years. And at that moment, he loathed himself. It was like a sudden realization that he'd always been the problem. In a flash of anger, Walter struck the mirror with his fist, shattering it. One shard caught him on its way down, and left a small cut above his knuckles. After taking in several deep breaths, he moved over to the next sink and washed out the blood. When it continued to drip red, he used a length of paper towel to twist and tie around his hand. Then he left.

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Visit our MENU, redirect to STORE page, and you will find the free PDF download to this single!

“The Trunk” is part of the collection, From Pillar To Post, releasing physically this December.

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7/13/15 - McCoy

I have returned to a story I briefly started some months ago. It is a music related drama, and I’m pretty excited about it. It has been penned for From Pillar To Post, so I will be working hard to finish it this month. To summarize in a simple manner, it tells the story of a magazine editor and his conversation with a famous, retired rock star about his life and the uncomfortable choices he made as a younger man. Together, they create a remarkable and startling biography that becomes an overnight sensation.

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7/13/15 - New Story

Just finished a new story for my upcoming collection. It took two days to write. The first was a month back. Today was the second. It’s somewhere over 4,000 words, shy of twenty pages.

Interesting fact: It’s my first short short to end with a “To Be Continued...”

Look out for The SSC, as it will probably be released as a free single next month.

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7/12/15 - Free eBook Coming

In November, FROM PILLAR TO POST will release in eBook, Hardcover, and Paperback formats online. However, prior to that, I will be putting out “singles” for free. The first will go live in the next week or so. I’m leaning towards THE TRUNK, one of my favorites from the collection, but don’t hold me to that. I may decide on something else.

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One of several cover mock-ups...

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Writers do not have the privilege of sleep. There is always a story coming alive in their heads, constantly composing. Whether they choose it or not.

Coco J. Ginger (via writingquotes)

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