The dust settles, and 6/4 recedes into history. Book launch accomplished. Nearly 60 copies sold. For a moment, a span of perhaps six hours, The Grind Show ranked in the top 3000 paid Kindle books. Now it’s at 67,000 and slowly sinking, like Phlebas into the briny gloom.

For now, at any rate. I’ve got plans to resurrect it, do old Dr. Galvani proud.

A key part of said plan is writing Book II.  But what is the logic behind the second book in a series? It’s got to be bigger, better, faster. More depth, greater width, encompass more while hewing to the same core values that the reader enjoyed to begin with. Or something.

Book II. It’s percolating. I’ve got an outline, though it’s but a paragraph long. I’m bringing back the old cast, and mixing in some new. There will be shotguns. There will, it seems, be more of the South West.

I’m reading No Country for Old Men for inspiration. For an idea as to what can be done. Unfortunately, doing so is akin to snorting a line of TNT. I can enjoy the book as a reader to no end. As a writer, it’s awful. McCarthy writes with raw, sustained intensity. There is nothing there but the absolutely essential. The tension does not let up. It’s like staring at the third rail. I’ve got me a case of the Cormac McCarthy blues.

Still, it’s invigorating. Like a dip in a denki furo. If I can tap 1/100th of what McCarthy is mainlining, I’ll die a happy man.

So here’s the plan. I’m going to start writing Book II this week. First draft. Not going to worry about fleshing out the whole cast. Not going to worry about whether it’s sufficiently complex, whether it’s broader in scope, more profound, whatever. I’m going to start, and then send it out to some kind souls and see if it resonates at the right frequency. See if it makes them sit up and go God Damn.

Book II, people. Going to start writing Hunting the Holy this week.