So!  The hellish process of taking a postmodern style novel and developing it into a  story salable to Hollywood is such an ass crusher that after uncountable attempts to do it correctly myself I finally broke down and hired a professional, WGA West type screenwriter to work on it with me.  The story is still recognizable but the changes and omissions are immense.  Here on this postmodern blog will be posted a little bit of the Hollywood Treatment every few days.  My nerves cannot stand to do it at any other pace!

Postmodern Literature; Brooda 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Brooda

Weiss felt that New Year’s Eve is essentially amateur hour.  Her husband Baker loved it, thought it was the ultimate party time.  Baker loved getting dressed to the nines, Weiss did not.  As far as Weiss was concerned New Year’s Eve ended with the ball drop but for Baker it went on till sunrise.  Baker…

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Postmodern Literature; Of Brooda 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Of Brooda

She was a Kazakh from western Mongolia and I wanted to lift up her frock.  Her people hunted with golden eagles in the snow.  We were far from it at this point in our romance; in fact we were stranded in Costa Rica, near the Playa Carrillo.  Look, I’m an American from Boston and she’s…

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Postmodern Literature; Of Brooda 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Of Brooda

Clark was a model in a Stefano Ricci ad.  He wore a suit and overcoat and stood in front of a locomotive among some majesterial mountains.  As we all know, Stefano Ricci’s slogan at this time was Honour – Power – Pride.  It is believed that Clark was able to use this to his advantage…

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Postmodern Literature; Directives 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Directives

I crashed landed in Boston like a motherfucker when I was sixty one years old. My partners didn’t like it, and indeed there was talk of fustigating, but I had to put those other places well behind me. I stuck to my guns. Clarity, of course, only comes with age. I mean, I’d started wearing…

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Postmodern Literature 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature

Thomas Brane hit the big time in professional philosophy – if indeed the phrase “big time” can be applied there with any modicum of accuracy – when he was well into his mid fifties.  Very late one evening, walking home from a date that hadn’t gone well, as he was contemplating his newfound notoriety in…

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Postmodern Literature; Embellished Journalism (So Called ‘Creative Nonfiction’) 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Embellished Journalism (So Called ‘Creative Nonfiction’)

If there’s only one thing you can remember, make it be this: The consequences of your ignorance almost always become the content of your sorrows. I like to study the spit out wads of gum in the urinals in the gym locker room.  I enjoy seeing how long the same ones remain there until staff…

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Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory; #8 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory; #8

I don’t know the story of the Book of Judith, but the work on Cassidy’s first page of her story isn’t very good – the writing is flat, nondescriptive, simple, merely a list of who the characters are and what they do: “Chad Nebu was in his 12th year as leader of the Warpath Men…

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Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #7 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #7

Tears now; they fall off her cheek and onto the plate, on top of the bread.  With one huge last burp the percolator settles.  Now another ballad,  bluesy version of some Broadway show love song.  “Sometimes I think he isn’t going to make it,” she says, trying to buck up and not let her tears…

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Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #6 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #6

He had to be physically restrained, carried away from the foot of the coffin.  Kneeling to pray, he remained there way too long.  People began to get uncomfortable, especially since no one knew who he was or why he was in attendance.  He began to cry loudly, yelling out “This could have been me!  This…

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Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #5 150 150 COMET FOX by Peter Quinones

Postmodern Literature; Bullet Hole Memory #5

He would simply stroll into the funeral home, get in line to view the body, say a brief prayer at the casket, make up some line when he gave condolences to the family (“I used to work with your husband years ago”).  When caught at it – the directors and other employees if the funeral…

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