I have known real love
Love met in the haze of
Love met in the hail of
And the still cold rain
Of early spring
I have known real love
In black and white
And the purest drive of passion
Made for music,
Made for movies
And the greater pages of literature
A love of guts
Like The Ring of Fire
Love is a Dog from Hell
I have met love for the ages
I really did
The stuff of legends
I swear to god
Love that drives you to madness
Love that drives you
To a life of pure
And honest labour.
Some men would rather die in the hell of battle
As other will lose their soul on a line.
I was the latter and still don’t know if I regret it.
I have met true love
Love stuck in the endless fights
Of ego, pride
And the trappings of ambition.
There really is nothing worse than ambition.
But I stuck with it
Or high water
I stuck with it.
And the best
It has to be the worst
Is I still can’t say why.
At last, I can announce it.
My next novel will be out with up and coming indie publisher, Down and Out Books, on July 22nd, 2016.
It’s been a lot of hard work and patience, but I believe it paid off in the end. I would like to thank Eric Campbell from Down and Out Books and Benoit Lelievre from deadendfollies for making this happen. Additionnal thanks are due to mr. John McFetridge for the blurb.
You can PRE-ORDER the ebook here :
About the novel :
GRAND TRUNK AND SHEARER
When Cillian Kennedy’s body was fished out of the canal, no one believed his death was due to natural causes.
But when the police wrote it off as an accidental death, four of his friends and family roamed the city in the search of any clue that may lead to the killer.
Answers were found down dead end roads, on the edge of the industrial harbour front, in an abandoned building now a crack den, through obscure networks of anti-racist skinheads, the racist Heritage Front, former gay bashers, the flailing Irish mob and the Mohawk MMA circuit.
Featuring some of Montreal’s most notorious neighbourhoods, and told in a uniquely gritty raconteur voice, GRAND TRUNK AND SHEARER offers more than the typical run-of-the-mill mystery novel. At a crossroads between noir, private eye and literary fiction, it is a book that will please those who have come to ask more of the genre with profound characterization, down to earth style, minimalist setting, believable violence and flawless dialogue.
Praise for GRAND TRUNK AND SHEARER …
“D’Arcy Kennedy’s search for his brother’s killer is a gut-wrenching trip into a world of people left behind by gentrification, forgotten by changing politics and trying to hang onto what little family they have left. It’s authentic, it’s raw, and it’s got heart. It’s a trip worth taking.” — John McFetridge, author of A Little More Free
Praise for Ian Truman …
“The Factory Line captures an entertaining voice in a highly readable manner which relays the exploits of some blue collar factory workers over the course of a day.” — Brian Lindenmuth, Spinetingler Magazine
“Truman has an incredible ear for dialogue…There aren’t two pens like [his] in the writing business.” — Benoit Lelièvre, Dead End Follies
“Truman’s A Teenage Suicide follows a group of friends working through late adulthood issues of identity, depression, and lots of tough choices. Set in and around Montreal and in particular its punk, art, activist and student scenes, its down-to-earth raconteur style provides an enduring snapshot of young-adult life in the big city today.” — Expozine Awards
I am about to announce my first “officially” published work, as I was lucky enough to team up with an up and coming indie of the publishing world, and I found myself thinking about the path that led me here.
Part of my intellectual process is to understand patterns very easily and part of my spiritual search is to understand the origin of such patterns (or paths) and their influence on the person I am today.
It is often said that any artist who’s “made it” had to fail time and time again in order to learn and grow. I can only say that the clichés are true as I was trying to figure out how many pages I had written and scrapped before getting to this point.
I did a pretty complete breakdown of everything I could think of between being a geek writing his own role-playing games when I was in fourth grade and looking into a chunk the huge market of mystery writing. (soon to be announced officially.)
3 role-playing games – say 90 pages total
4 short stories in high school – say 20 pages total.
2 personal essays in junior college – 80 pages total.
5 “short” political dissertations – 200 pages total.
20 smaller college works – 8 to 12 pages – say 160 pages total.
(I’m not even gonna count all the weekly 2 to 7 pages assignments)
About 50 songs (music and/or lyrics) – 50 pages total
1 really bad script – 90 pages
1 really bad novel idea – 60 pages
2 full length plays – 120 pages total
1 short movie script – 6 pages
1 good full length movie script – 100 pages
3 novels : say 800 pages
1 self-made translation : 140 pages
2 poetry collections : 160 pages
4 years of curating texts for the MainLine Gala for Student Gala.
An unspecified amount of arts events and designs
Plus plans for a series of 5 graphic novels which I have yet to count…
2166 pages of “unsuccessful” or DIY writing to get here. At least 420 pages of which I literally scrapped. Most of it I used but have yet to pay out and some if it I actually look to make small amounts of money from.
I’m not even counting the letters, proposals and blog posts.
@250 words a page, that’s over half a million words I wrote before I got a book deal. (541 500 to be precise)
(With all the proposals, treatments, blog posts, letters, homework, submissions… I’m confident I’ve hit the million words by now… but let’s stick to manageable figures for now.)
So I guess the message is this, If you write every day, or even every week. If you started young because it felt natural to you, keep doing it. Half a million words and counting…that’s what it takes.
If that number scares you, you should probably do something else.
“Until you die or it dies in you” – Charles Bukowski.
I’ve just completed two major projects, apparently the only two for 2015 (I’ll blame this lackluster productivity on my newborn baby and my job doubling my workload while decreasing my wage by 4.8%!!!!)
THAT SAID.. Mar’s “AFTER THE SUN” is shipped out to a few labels (hopefully) and my first full length script POLY will receive the same fate later today.
As for my next novel.. the secret is still valid… you’ll know who releases it early in 2016 for a Summer release of that same year.
ALSO, we’ve set up (with a few friends) an upcoming gallery expo in Montreal’s notorious old port (that’s right!!!) (more détails after the XMAS break)
I’m going out for coffee because this basement is getting to me.
Up next : KILO (a graphic novel) – TRUE NORTH (crime novel) and CRASS (trash/poetry)
Crass, A Poem of Ordinary Havok
How truly painful it is to turn thirty,
And still wishing you were dead.
Once the age of discovery is gone
Once college is done with
Once you’ve outgrown punk
And you stop fighting;
Doing what you’re told.
It is horrible,
It is crass Inching its way in the back of your mind:
It is the blank stare of a life less lived.
And I fear it is catching up to me.
Once you reflect upon yourself
Once you reflect upon your life
You didn’t go to war,
Or didn’t work for peace.
You didn’t look for art
Or a reason
Or a way
Not really anyways.
Wondering if your really tried
Wondering if you gave it all.
If you didn’t do it by now,
You might never will.
It is true.
And I am sorry,
That for every one of us that fights against destiny,
I’ve seen a thousand give up at the slightest sight of effort.
For every Jake Bannon
Every Ian Mackaye
Or Margaret Kilgallen
A million of us…
Running in circles
No moment sacred
None worth living.
The numbers are stacked up.
Relentlessly moving forward
As Herds are gathered,
Ever closer together
Until we choke upon ourselves
And I am no fool.
I am well aware
That I am included in this.
Inching myself down the road
On my hands and knees
Forever trying to find a way
Before it all collapses…
“We are not pretty and we’re not rich,”
So it is true,
We are either grasping at straws
And the despair of hope
Or waiting to die with nothing to do
And we get to live to a hundred now,
How fucked we are.
Yesterday was a pretty good evening. We had fellow parents over, had pizza…the kids ate well, then we took out a bunch of lighting kits in the alley, neighbours lend some power cords and electricity and we got to do our first (semi) pro photoshoot while the kids were painting wooden hearts and the baby was asleep…There`s nothing a few homemade/diy KINOS and 60 foot of electric cords can`t do…
I mention semi-pro because none of us were paid, but within about twenty minutes, there were two cinema tech, one fashion designer, one writer (me) and our publicist next door who were chilling in the alley to take some pictures of the shed (and my promo shot for my next book) at the same time…I guess I do live in a really cool neighbourhood.
And just because nature does not give a shit…a tree will fucking grow anywhere…
…In my next novel, of course… (but the title caught you, didn’t it?)
I was sitting there, struggling to try to get my character in and kill the guy he’s supposed to kill and find a way to somehow cover his tracks and try to make it sense and I was sitting and writing and writing and re-writing… shit wasn’t working and WORSE, shit didn’t sound like my book or my characters…
Then I said to myself, “fuck it, I’m burning down the motherfucker.”
With the guy sleeping in it.
I just set fire to the house.
Because my character’s that kind of an asshole anyways. He ain’t no fancy hitman. He’s a guy who gets pissed and just does shit and this time he wanted to burn down the house. It made sense right that moment so he fucking did.
Simple as that.
Which leads me to a kinda-well-known writing tip: Let the characters speak for themselves, they often know what they’re doing better than you do.
Keep writing every day, (I know I’m having a hard time with it.)