Knife Skills, A Serial Novel – Part 35

A brief note on craft:

To those of you who have read this far: Thanks for sticking with me. I realize that this is an unconventional way to write a novel, and that there are numerous downsides to this approach (I’ll discuss some of them in a moment.).

One of the longstanding challenges to writing long-form fiction is often referred to as “finding the time to write.” In fact the time is always there — the challenge is finding the urgency to write, the need to put writing fiction ahead of some more practical and / or enjoyable pursuit — earning money, eating food, taking a nap, catching up on Project Runway, and so forth.

Turning Knife Skills into a weekly serial has made me responsible to you, my real-life readers — however few in number you may be, I am greatly in your debt. In effect, you are the reason I’m writing this. I’d like to formally say “thank you.”

I’d also like to apologize. I know that there has been a lot wrong with the novel so far. “Slapdash” is a word that comes to mind. There is much in terms of physical description, sense of place, sense of time (particularly seasons), and so forth that I think I’ve done a bad job with. There are many chapters currently about 1,000 words long that should probably be 2,000 words long, so that they can breathe, and so that you’re more effectively brought into the world I’m trying to assemble. I’m sure that there are bits I should cut, characters I should add or strengthen, things that need to be reconciled or focused. Too much dialogue, too much tell, not enough show.

When I finally wrap this puppy up — probably somewhere between installment 50 and installment 60, but who really knows — I’m going to throw the comments open and ask for your feedback. I’m also going to print the whole thing out, and read it with a red pen close at hand. I’m then going to revise the hell out of it.

After that, I don’t know. I’ll probably bounce it off of a professional reader or two. Maybe from there, maybe a PDF version of a finished book, or it goes in a drawer, or who knows what. I’ll keep you in the loop, and hopefully we’ll have something readable by the end. Thanks again for bearing with me.

– James Norton, 1/27/10

Each Friday, the Heavy Table presents a new installment of Knife Skills, a culinary novel presented piece by piece as it’s written. If you’re uncomfortable with salty language, please be aware that characters regularly use words and phrases unacceptable in polite conversation. In the author’s imagination, some members of the food service industry have a tendency to swear. For previous and subsequent installments, visit the Heavy Table’s Fiction directory.

Robertson was awoken by a knock on his door. It was loud and determined enough to be the police, and he wondered, momentarily, if maybe it was.

“Godammit,” he said. “What time is it?” he yelled, at the door.

“It’s 4pm on a Wednesday,” said Kaplan, through the door. “Should I leave? Are you feeling OK?”

“I’m feeling OK,” said Robertson, shambling to the door. He unlocked it, and Kaplan, impeccably dressed in a tailored white suit and blue and white-striped Albany-collar button down shirt, strolled into his apartment. Robertson took a moment to consider his own outfit — nondescript black boxer shorts and a Saint Paul Saints shirt with a cigar hole near the collar — and grunted a welcome to his friend.

“Are you sure you’re feeling OK?” said Kaplan, trailing off. “Hello, what are these?”

On the kitchen counter of Robertson’s apartment were 18 different big crescent-shaped empanada-looking things, laid out in three neat rows of six.

“Cornish pasties,” said Robertson. “I’ve been playing around a bit.”

Continue reading Knife Skills, A Serial Novel – Part 35 »